Amnesia

There’s an an amnesia that occurs when you first wake up that happens to everybody, yet we never talk about it. After someone dies, I’m sure this is what we notice the most, but it happens every day. You wake up. Things seem ok. Then your life starts to pour back to you “Oh my gosh, he’s dead. He’s gone, he’ll never be back.” It happens all the time, every morning.

With alcoholics it’s pronounced. You wake up, you are innocent. All of a sudden the memories come back to you. Last night, oh my God, I drank. Heaven help me, what did I say. What did I do?

It’s inevitable. This amnesia. I think it occurs to protect us from ourselves. Granted, I’m not drinking, it’s been a while since I worried about what I did the night before, but still it floods back…yes, my daughter isn’t speaking to me. Yes, my son is angry with me. I wish it were not so. I’m grateful for the moments I forget. Why is this necessary? I do not know, but I know it’s a way to perform my reentry into the world, and I do have a lot I regret, but I am grateful for all the bad things, all the horrible things, who have made me into the person I am today. I forgive myself….but I have to forgive myself daily, after I’ve awoken, after I have remembered. And that’s ok…..because I’m stronger. Every day I’m stronger and better. So, yes, I hate that stuff, but I have deep gratitude. Thank you Jesus.

Amnesia

It’s Not My Fault

In my former family, the one I had with my former husband, fault was a huge deal. Fault was assigned on a regular basis, and it was usually assigned to me. Blame was important, and it was important to defect it from yourself as much as possible.

The house I left in 2013 was a mess. Laundry everywhere. Clothes that fit or didn’t fit….clothes that had holes in them but could possibly be used as rags. Useless crap piled up everywhere in a huge mess. A floor covered with dog hair and stuff that was useless and had no home. It was horrible.

I thought when I left that it was my fault. I didn’t do my part. The family was better off without me.

My eyes were opened when I took my ex-husband to his home from the hospital. My daughter lives there, and my oldest son during the summer. My youngest son lives with me and he is supposed to spend weekends with his father, but he never does.

When I went into the home, I thought I’d do a little light cleaning just to help my ex-husband out. He’s in really poor health and has no strength to do the simplest tasks. It was like walking into a time capsule. The same crap piled up everywhere. Filth. The smell of dirty laundry was pungent. I don’t even have that great of a sense of smell. I Immediately felt like going to work, cleaning and organizing. The washer and dryer don’t even seem to be working very well. It was nasty. And I could see that it wasn’t ultimately MY FAULT. My daughter is 21. She has the ability to clean her bathroom and do her laundry and she chooses not to. That’s on her. She can blame me, but blame doesn’t improve the quality of her living conditions. Getting up and doing what she should do, is her task. It’s what she should do. It has nothing to do with me.

That is very freeing for me. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better mother, but today my clothes are clean. My husband’s clothes are clean. So are my son’s. I vacuum, I dust, and I clean the bathrooms.  That’s the real me. Yes, I am messy, but it all gets done. My house doesn’t smell. I show my love to my husband and my son through the care I give them. And I know they feel it.

It’s Not My Fault