Letting go…

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One of the life long challenges that I constantly struggle with is letting go of attachments. I tend to hold onto things, people, and opinions long after they no longer serve me. I’ve downsized my apartment by bagging up things that I think I no longer need but they’ll still sit in my closet in a holding period for a month or two just so I can be sure that I don’t really need them.

I hear this statement or variations of it frequently, “Letting go of something frees space for something new and better to enter.” My mom’s version is similar, “You have to remove the old door before you can bring in the new one.”

Why do statements like this become old adages? Because they’re true! But did I think it applies to me? Of course not.

I’ve never paid attention to this wisdom thinking myself so clever. A year ago, if you looked at my storage space for clothes , you would have seen that I just became more organized and made everything (old and new) fit. I was quite proud of myself. Proud and arrogant – two attributes not conducive for self improvement.

These past couple of days have been spent sorting and organizing one of the unoccupied rooms that has become a storage unit. It’s like going shopping at a vintage shop where everything fits me! I love it. The clothes span so many different trends over the years. Some of the clothes date back to my childhood to as recent as the last couple of months. They’re all jumbled together. It’s been a lot of fun reliving memories from when I remembered having worn them last. Some of the clothes are from Justin’s past girlfriends who had great taste as well as a healthy checking account. Those I’ll keep.

Then they’re some where there are some stains that are decades old. Before I even contemplate trying to figure out how to get rid of the stains, I put them in the To-Go pile. “To – Go” doesn’t mean take out but going to where they’ll find a happy home.

A few jackets that were not fitting as well, I was holding on to with the slimmest of hopes that they really did look cute. But judging from the expression on my mom’s face when I modeled them for her, I could tell she thought they were marginally fitting or flattering. Marginal no longer meets the keep criteria. It’s 80% or better satisfaction or it’s gone. Asking, “Do I love it?” doesn’t really work either. Love is too subjective and it depends on my mood at the time.

I’ve come up with a rubric to screen out my clothes. I ask myself “Is it an enduring style, is it flattering, and free of stains? If it meets all the criteria, it goes in the keep pile.

If I can master this technique for letting go clothes, can I apply a similar approach to life’s major decisions?

In aiming to keep life simple, I need to decide what is most important to me. Whatever does not serve my priorities needs to be let go. Top priority is health, then happy family life, financial security, and lastly job satisfaction.

In a happy family life, there are my blood relatives, parents and siblings and then there’s my life partner or to be accurate, lack of partner. While we can’t choose our blood relatives, we can escape from them eventually. “One’s family is only escapable by two things, marriage, and death. Both seem unlikely in the immediate future.” -Anne Elliot (Persuasion)

In regards to my ideal life partner, I’ve decided that I have to plan for success in that realm and prepare myself to be able to receive them when they arrive. Each one of my relationships has offered lessons in life and progressively have become more fulfilling and consequently, the latter ones have also become more difficult for me to detach and move on.

For a life partner, there are all the baseline criteria that must be met before even considering moving to the monogamous phase: honesty, financial security, being family oriented, and compatiblity in life direction, personality, and sense of humour.

Then the nitty gritty criteria that can only be demonstrated over time: Is my partner supportive, loving, kind, and enables me to become the best version of myself? They go in the keep pile. Then comes the sexual compatibility category. That will be tested last. This reordering of priorities will be new for me, which is embarrassing to admit. I’ve been known to be the one who usually gets swept away early on by the endorphins and oxytocin which to date has only led to heartbreak. But if the last test is successful, they will go in the “keep forever” pile which isn’t really a pile since they’re people and there will only be one left standing.

With my 50th birthday, it’s about time I apply a little more restraint and wisdom to my actions. I’m tired of investing myself, my heart into someone and then being left with disappointment and sadness. Is it really a numbers game? If you meet enough people, eventually you’ll find your match? Doesn’t sound like a smart use of time and energy. Instead, it sounds exhausting and maybe requiring a stronger sense of optimism that I find scarce at the moment. For now, I’ll work on myself to grow, transform, and release hidden potentials within myself and find the balance in my life where I can truly shine my light. That light will shine the pathway for my ideal partner to arrive. And that ladies and gentlemen, is my plan.

Setting expectations…

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I’m a terrible planner. I have a lot of ideas but I fail to execute a majority of them because I don’t plan. I also tend to procrastinate but I think that stems from fear of failure. If I don’t start something, I’ll never fail at it. It’s a sure way to succeed at failing. That I’m really good at.

I used to always be too much in my own head. Maybe “used to” is being a little forgiving. I tend to do that still. It’s a bad habit that I’m working at breaking. I would perseverate which ultimately means I waste a lot of time overthinking without taking any action. It’s also called paralysis by analysis and something that my previous romantic partners would be unhappy with and remind me of. I dismissed their observations in the past as them being unforgiving but now I realize how wrong I was. I’m also always late for everything I’m scheduled to be at. Being late occasionally is forgivable, being late all the time, is simply an indicator of poor planning.

The only upside is that I’m really very patient when I’m the one waiting. I could wait for hours and not be upset so long as I’m informed of the lateness. It’s my ability to emphathize with why they’re late that allows me to be patient, because goodness knows, I’ve had a lot of experience being late and then feeling guilty for it. But at some point, even I start getting crabby. I am after all human.

But it isn’t just my own inclination for tardiness that makes me more patient. I have accepted that nothing hardly ever turns out the way we predict. And even when they do, it’s never quite like we imagined. Our happiness then really hinges on our perspective. The classic half filled glass scenario. Is it half full or half empty? The former phrase reflects a perspective of abundance and the latter of scarcity.

Tonight, I was looking forward to going to yoga after a week of not going but I also wasn’t sure if I could or should go. Being with my mom, I feel very responsible for her. It’s not dissimilar to how I felt before her fall. Back then, I tried to compensate for my other sibling’s lack of interaction with her by being with her more frequently. I did it because I felt that I could help her feel better, in other words, I felt responsible for her happiness.

So I wavered in planning. I didn’t have my bag packed until the last minute. I asked Justin to be home with her and he agreed with some reluctance due to the short notice. I felt a little guilty about asking for time away and I didn’t think to inform mom until I was about to leave. I should have known. She asked me to observe and assist the caregiver in cooking and while I did tell her I would be late, I continued to stay and help with the cooking. When Justin finally came home, I jetted off. Along the way to yoga, I speeded but unfortunately, the gods decided to give me a lesson. Studio was locked by the time I arrived for the 6:30 class. I was so bummed and ticked off. My chest was feeling the heaviness. I started blaming my mom for holding me back a few minutes which could have made all the difference in making it on time. Instead of going to yoga, I headed to purchase water at Whole Foods. Mosquitos made me into a pin cushion as I was waiting and my itchiness only added to my bad humour.

Who’s the culprit/who’s to blame? I am, of course. It was disappointment in myself that I allowed myself to miss class that made me most unhappy. I have the responsibility to care of my own happiness. If something is important to me, I need to make it happen. I could ask others for their help but ultimately, it falls on me to accept the responsibility for whatever happens.

Had I set my mom’s expectations earlier that I was going to yoga, I would have felt more comfortable saying no to her request for me to stay back. Had I set expectations for myself that I was going to do my best to go to yoga, I would have given myself fifteen minutes buffer time and would have made it in time to spare. Instead I was stingy with her, projecting my own guilt and incorrectly inferring she would be unhappy that I was leaving. I was stingy with myself for not doing enough to ensure that I would practice knowing that it was healthy for me physically, mentally, emotionally.

Someone told me that he believed that the secret to happiness is just accepting the state of reality and having no expectations. I disagree. I think half the joy in life is being able to look forward to something and dream a little. Fantasize a little. Imagine what your ideal life will be and seek to manifest it. Just know that life doesn’t always work out the way you anticipate and be ready to adjust as you go. Let go of what you think should happen and embrace what shows up. Therein lies the beauty of serendipity.

Yesterday is gone. Let go of the past.

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 “Now we’re worse than exes. We’re friends.” -Anne Elliot 

I thought I was ready to hear from him. It’s been five months, or six months since we ended things and we went our separate ways. I don’t know when exactly things started unraveling. Maybe it was in October 2022 when we had our first conversation and I expressed doubts to him. But since we came together again after Christmas for our COVID quarantine, I would use March 2022 as a fairly good midpoint as our approximate end date. We kind of slid into the break up phase and had one really long and tortuous slow breakdown.

And so I thought I was ready. But I’m not. Reading that he was seeing someone and that it was a committed relationship was hard. I laid in bed after reading it first thing when I woke up. I should have waited. I let the information sink in. As I laid there, I felt the pressure slowly move across my chest. If there was an infrared picture that could be taken, I swear there would have been a shade of red spreading across my heart. Sadness and disappointment.

“Have a little pride in myself!”, my inner lioness whispered (it is after all morning and the household is still asleep). Who is this woman who’s claimed his heart or at least his attention? Knowing him, he’s already full on head over heels for her. I don’t really want to know, maybe not ever. Of course, I want him to be happy…with me. If not with me, then happy in a parallel universe.

In consoling me a few months ago, my cousin theorized that the conditions were not met for us to stay together. I loved him and I still do. Of course, love wasn’t the problem. It was the first adult relationship where I felt I could be myself, totally and honestly and I felt so loved and heard and understood until things started unraveling. The end was confusing and sad. We couldn’t decide who could have given more and didn’t, there were my growing pains away from my sister, and we were keeping mental tabs on all the deficiencies. I say “we” to be charitable but I don’t feel like I did. That was one of many problems afflicting us.

If life could be like Jane Austen’s Persuasion, we’d meet again in 8 years, and have a confusing reunion, realize that neither of us were truly happy without the other, and we’d make the commitment to be together against all odds. We’d make it work because we had to be together. There wouldn’t be question of if but how.

Life is not a book, sadly. Otherwise, I’d rewrite the ending of this relationship or rewrite it altogether and make it a romantic comedy. I’m tired of being sad and melancholy. The only thing I can do now is to let go of the past and see what we can build now from here. Wow, that sounds so grown up!

My journey (ongoing) from shy introvert to social introvert

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As the world opens up more and more, it feels like the pandemic was a distant dream unless you go to Berkeley. There you’ll see customers in grocery stores diligently wearing their N-95’s or their surgical masks. You’ll even see some random drivers in their cars, sitting alone yet wearing a face mask. Your first inclination is to laugh and maybe lightly mock them but then you catch yourself doing the same thing. You realize it’s easier to wear a facemask everywhere rather than forgetting it when you need it or it becomes a fixture on your face and you forget you’re even wearing it. But for the most part, the world seems to have moved on until someone like the Queen of Denmark tests positive the day after attending Queen Elizabeth’s funeral and you see a photo of all the world dignitaries (with their heads encircled) marking their proximity to the Queen. Whoops. Everyone in that photo is probably regretting not having worn a face mask right about now.

In any case, you’ll likely find yourself being invited soon to gatherings like weddings and parties especially as the fall turns into winter and holidays commence. If you’re anything like me, you look forward to social gatherings with anticipation, dread, and anxiety.

I’ve never use to label myself as an introvert or extrovert. According to the few personality tests I’ve taken, I’m apparently more of an introvert but I can function in large gatherings. Just as an advance warning, don’t be taken aback by my directness. Sometimes, I want to be efficient and concise in my communication and I understand it can be misinterpreted. If you’re being kind, you can say I’m blunt. If you don’t want to believe in my good intentions, you can interpret my forthrightness as being tactless. Honestly, I rarely mean to hurt anyone’s feelings intentionally. So please try not to take it as a personal offense.

But enough of the preemptive apologies. My former partner described me as being “aspy” which was our code word for having characteristics that are on the “Asperger’s spectrum”. Key idea is that Asperger’s describes a spectrum of attributes ranging from minimal to maximum manifestation. I’ve never been assessed so I don’t know where I fall in the spectrum. But after having made aware of my tendencies, I try to adapt to the various settings I find myself in whether it be work or social related. I’m comfortable finally with who and how I am, but I’m aware that others may not be especially if they’re judging me from a perspective of a normal person. As my sister-in-law observed, I am definitely not normal or typical. Spend an hour or two with me and either you’ll like me a lot or you are very uncomfortable in my company. I seem to elicit the extreme reactions from people but that’s just me.

So, if you are introverted or aspy or both like me and you would like to engage in social settings with more ease, here are some of my tips cultivated from much experience, trial and error.

Tip #1: Be engaged or at least give the cues that indicate you are engaged.

Even when I don’t have something to contribute, a simple, “oh really”, “hmm”, “That’s very insightful” shows some engagement.

When the topic turns towards something you have no interest in, change the subject. But do it subtly.

However, don’t, simply don’t just zone out and mentally start reorganizing your closet or plan next week’s schedule in your head. People don’t have to be super astute to notice that you’re not paying attention. You might think that being a wallflower in a group is easy to pull off but you never know when you need to have their audience again. Better to set the best impression when any opportunity arises.

At the very minimum, before the conversation or discussion ends, make a comment. This applies to parties, conference calls, meetings, any gathering. Make your presence known at least once. A thoughtful comment is ideal but if you don’t have anything novel to add, rephrase or elaborate on what someone else has said, but have an opinion preferably one that can be backed up with some rationale. Otherwise, you may come across as a dilettante and that’s worse than being seen as disinterested.

Tip #2: Approach a cluster of people you don’t know.

This approach takes a bit of gumption but don’t talk yourself out of it. Almost everyone is nervous about talking to a group of strangers. Just go ahead and do it. The first time will be the hardest but it gets easier with practice.

Edge yourself into an existing circle of people, hopefully next to someone who you’ve made eye contact early on. Nod. Make eye contact with someone else you don’t know. Smile. Listen. Follow Tip #1.

Is there anything you can add? Ask a question, “May I ask what the debate is about?” Turn to your left. Ask a question inquiring about the other person, “So what brings you to So. Korea?” And do wait for a pause to interject. Don’t interrupt the conversation, to redirect an ongoing conversation. Otherwise, you’re just rude and an interloper.

Tip #3: Set boundaries.

When you first meet someone, set expectations and make it known to them. Rather than giving some fictitious story about an impending deadline, for an important project for example, be forth right and honest.

Start at the beginning of the conversation and somehow, drop hints that you’re an introvert such as you like spending time alone, you have limited mental breadth for socializing, etc.

“Oh, I kind of dread these things (parties) since I’m such an introvert.”

“I’ve loved working from home. It’s the introvert in me”.

C. Plan your departure

By now, you should be kind of aware of how much social interaction feels good to you and when you start feeling a little drained or when you’re aware of how hard you’re trying to keep an interaction going. That’s when it’s time to exit. But how? You really want to cut the conversation or whatever is left of it and jet out but that sometimes leaves a decidedly not a very good impression. Even if the other party is dull as white bread, you don’t have to be the person to burst their ego. Mastering your departure (yes, it does take some planning) takes some practice.

If you haven’t quite built up the courage to be plainspoken, you can mention that you have limited time to spend because you have an important deadline looming. It doesn’t have to be specific. Just enough details to give the impression that you think it was worthwhile coming despite your schedule. It gives both the impression to your audience that their time is wisely spent too and that your presence is appreciated.

Most importantly, leave when you intend to. Even when things are going well and you’re actually enjoying yourself, skedaddle. One, you don’t want to reveal that you stretched the truth earlier and 2) you want to leave on a high note. There’s also more reason for you to attend another outing or meeting or better yet plan one to host! Make your goodbyes short and sincere thanking the host for the invitation and their hospitality.

Doing the French leave. This approach is when you simply slip out without any formal goodbyes. This is the cleanest and most efficient departure method and most convenient in a large to medium party. Most people will think you’ve stepped out for a call or to use the powder room. This will avoid the lengthy and trailing goodbyes and niceties. This type of leave gives you an air of mystery without giving anyone cause for questioning why you’re leaving when you do. They’ll simply assume they missed you as you departed. And if you’re asked later why you left without saying goodbye, you can simply say that you were intending to but noticed they were already occupied.

But I have to confess, I haven’t yet artfully practiced the French leave. It’s the innate Miss Manners in me that still scolds me for even considering leaving a gathering without expressing my thanks and gratitude to the host. Having seen or rather learned about this method from other people, I secretly envy them. It shows a lot of confidence to execute. Actually, having said that emboldens me a bit. Don’t be surprised at the next party I go to and you wonder to where I suddenly disappeared, you’ll be in the know…

Laying Boundaries…again…and again

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It was one of the most honest and difficult conversations I’ve ever had and it was with my mother.

I guess it shouldn’t be surprising. My closest relationship for years has been with my mom. It was also, however, my first codependent relationship in a line of codependent relationships. I’ve been such a relationship neophyte for so many years. The words codependence, narcissism are relatively new to me, but the dynamics of those concepts are as ingrained as brushing my teeth, or riding a bike.

In the not so distant past, the longer I stayed in my mom’s company, the more I used to dissociate myself from the circumstances.

Now while I’m acutely aware of my feelings, I struggle with what I want to do, to take care of her, do the things I do best for her with what I’m afraid to lose if I do, first and foremost my sense of self. For years, I I knew I needed to be away to live my own life so I created reasons to be away from my mother like my job and my husband but now things have shifted. My job is remote and I’m no longer married with the prospect of a relationship being unappealing currently. What ties do I have still have that draws me away from southern California? Mostly it’s emotional. The distance allows me to have more leisure time for myself to do the things I enjoy without having to rationalize where I’m going and why I’m going: to practice yoga, do recreational eating, hiking, spending time with friends. I always felt like I had to explain myself to my mom as though I had to argue why I deserved to go. Maybe she did question me when I was younger. I never thought I had a choice to just say I was going. Wow. That’s a revelation.

Anyway, my mom needs help and just as importantly, my siblings need help in helping our mom. Justin was with my mother for almost 6 weeks after being discharged from the acute rehabilitation center in late July. Because of miscommunication and lack of trust which led to hurt feelings, it created a feedback loop that would not end. It was Justin and our mom against the remaining siblings, all 8 of us and it was vicious. Threats of lawsuits, restraining orders, calls for eviction were common threads during those summer months which finally culminated in mom leaving or “escaping” (her words not mine) her home.

Being in such close proximity, in the confines of a studio hotel room with her in the last week has given me more insight into my mom’s present physical and emotional needs. I love my mom but there is only so much I can tolerate before I get cabin fever. I need to practice yoga. I need to go walking. I need to be active and move my body. Sometimes, I just need to be in another room to be able to collect my thoughts. I don’t know how my brother Justin was able to endure in the last two months on his own.

I initiated the difficult discussion with her about her desire to have me live with her in the house. It’s a familiar desire; after all, I’ve heard her repeat it enough times during the last two decades after I moved up to the bay area. I said no, in the most gentle and honest way I could. I told her that to live with her, my natural inclination would be to give everything to her and I would not be able to leave anything for myself. I needed to live freely and to fly. I couldn’t do that if I lived with her. I loved her very much and would come to visit but I could not live with her. I told her that I had deeply loved someone and had formed such a strong attachment to him and that I was still feeling the pain of it. I didn’t want to form such an attachment again; it was too painful. I believed that if I was to live with her, it would be unavoidable to build that kind of attachment again and it would not be healthy for either of us. I saw the pain in her eyes but I had to be honest. And I think she respected me for it. She said that she was asking me to give her love. I wasn’t able to give it to her so she couldn’t do anything else but just accept my decision.

Yet the longer I am here with her, the more it seems to make sense for me to consider what was once impossible – to move down to SoCal. The pros are many: I love the proximity to the beaches, the weather that allows me to wear short shorts to satisfy my vanity, and most importantly of all – my siblings. The cons are equal in number: the proximity would make it so much harder to say no to her and the hikes in nature will be limited due to suburbia, the potential constrictions on my independence, my freedom.

What I would love to do is to split my time between many residences: Oakland, my sister’s house a few miles away, and my mom’s house. The solution would give everyone space to appreciate one another when we’re together and sense of independence when we’re apart. It’s a solution that would also create detachment. Strong attachment to things, people, and places are what clouds my judgement and creates obstacles for me to move forward in my life. Strong attachments are the constant challenges that I seem to face. But currently, my apartment in Oakland is the main drain on my finances. How do I maintain it and should I? How do I achieve this nomadic life? A question to ponder…

My 50th Birthday Part 2

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About a month or so ago, I happened to come upon a 50th birthday celebration on the lawns of the Huntington Beach Hyatt. I seemed like a fabulous and festive way to celebrate and it made me a little disappointed in myself that I had no plan for my own 50th. The last few months have been focused on mom and has been unceasingly turbulent. It seemed unseemly to want to celebrate anything. I had entertained a notion that I’d go to NYC and eat my way through it but that idea seemed so outdated and a little too indulgent that it never made it pass the conceptual phase.

To my surprise, TiTi offered to fly home to help me celebrate. The day started off favorably with a breakfast with my younger sisters. Aster was a mirror image of her mom in temperament and mien. It made me nostalgic just looking at her. It was also roasting hot with an unseasonable temperature and ended by breaking temperature records. But it was more than worth it to spend the morning with Darlene and Aster. That in itself was a wonderful gift. Afterwards, TiTi and I took a hike through Bolsa Chica state park, during which the whole time I felt melancholy. It was impossible to enjoy when I couldn’t stop worrying about mom.

To my delight and slight chagrin, on the way back to the car, I discovered that Darlene had generously gifted me money to be used for the Korean spa, Irvine spa. Delight because now I felt compelled to go despite my initial hesitation and chagrin, because I felt concern (as only an older sister would) that she should have saved the money for herself and her family. Brilliantly, she instinctively knew I had some hesitancy in treating myself, even if it was my birthday. My hesitancy may be another indication of how much I undervalue myself. I would not deny someone their need to take care and time to nurture themselves yet I can’t help but think that it’s indulgent for myself. If I’ve learned anything from the experience of my mother’s fall, it’s to remind myself that I should stop overthinking things and just live life with as much joy as I can muster and not postpone the joy for another day.

Seemingly on cue, just as TiTi and I were about to get dressed after our relaxing but short sojourn in the spa, we got a call to contact my older sisters urgently. Apparently, our mother had “escaped” from home and our brother, was en route to “rescue” her. In suspended disbelief, we gathered our belongings but with no particular urgency, made our way back home. My eldest sister seemed reluctant to go to dinner but somehow, the call to rush to our mom’s aid actually did the reverse for me. I suddenly felt liberated as though, I could finally enjoy my birthday. My mom would always somehow find a way to complicate her life, through her decisions she had made. But I realized now, that I also had a choice to whether be caught up in the tide of her drama or I could remain centered within myself and decide whether or not to react.

Unexpectedly, I had the loveliest dinner with TiTi and Chi Ha. The food was yummy, the atmosphere was festive, and the company was so pleasant. Even our server was a sweetheart, giving me a generous discount off our bill and comping us our drinks. Our table on the terrace of Rum Social was reminiscent of eating at the restaurant within the Pirates of the Caribbean at Disneyland, another place I considered spending my birthday. Having my birthday dinner at Rum Social was a fitting alternative. While my dinner(s) weren’t on the scale of a lavish birthday party with 50 of my friends, it was the best way I could spend it now, eating good food and being with the people I loved. And it certainly was memorable.

My 50th…

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It’s taken me the last couple of years to come to terms with my 50th birthday milestone. With the help of my last love, who pushed me and sometimes aggravated me to accept my age, not to mention thinking about how soon I can retire, I’ve decided to accept my age openly and even enthusiastically. But like other age milestones, I’ve not felt like I’ve accomplished what a person should have achieved by then. I didn’t have a grading rubric or anything but come to think of it, I probably should have one moving forward. I should plan now for what I want to do for the 2nd 50. I’ve never had a real plan before so maybe that’s why I feel like there is a void (I didn’t want to say failure).

So what have I done?

I’ve married and have divorced (sigh),

I have run 2 marathons, and one half marathon,

I’ve travelled a bit – gone to Morocco, New Zealand, Portugal, France, Italy, Spain, England, Peru, Viet Nam, Thailand, Japan, China, Canada, South Korea, Ireland, Iceland,

Backpacked by bushwhacking through Denali National park,

Kayaked among otters in Alaska and in Milford Sound, New Zealand,

Meditated on the rocks in Laguna Beach with dolphins in the background,

Been pickpocketed in Barcelona,

Graduated college and obtained a masters degree,

Started a blog (that no one reads ;-), and

Fallen in love.

What do I want to do next?

Write a book,

Buy a house with a view of the beach, an apartment in NYC,

Meet and get (and stay) married to the love of my life,

Make a positive difference in the life of others,

Build a loving relationship with Justin,

Travel to Bhutan, Australia, Singapore, Shanghai, Croatia, Sardinia, Greece, Budapest,

Get a doctorate in psychology and help repair families and help individuals find fulfillment and their place in the world.

Bringing us all together

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Proudly, my mom boasted to her nurse at Fountain valley Hospital that she had brought us together. It was true. All nine kids were called back, and all eventually even the estranged eldest daughter came to her bedside. But how long did that last? A short minute. The briefest moment in time.

Our mom fell down the stairs in her home on June 9. From that day forward, I’ve been spinning in place, and going nowhere. I haven’t moved forward in work and my romantic life is full of old ghosts.

Our mom is the strongest willed, most wily person I’ve known. All nine of us siblings have been trying to anticipate her next decision but to no avail. She’s so good at making up stories that have just enough of the hint of truth to make us believe. No one really knows for sure when she’s telling the truth. Being a child of two wars, she’s a survivor with an ironclad sense of self preservation. With our mom, it’s every man for himself and here I am, the easiest mark. It was only in the last few years of the pandemic, did I even consider setting boundaries with my mom. Boundaries was not even on my radar. In my distorted mind, it was what others did, others who played by the rules. I was unconventional, avant garde. I didn’t have rules.

How arrogant was I? I didn’t know I was arrogant, that’s how arrogant I was.

I think it started at the beginning of 2022 when I called for a family meeting among the siblings to address taking care of our mom. The financial and emotional burden of caring for her and the house was weighing on me and my older brother. Looking back on what I thought was a burden seems like a fond memory now. We talked to one another like we were strangers, navigating so many old conflicts, needing a moderator to corral us in case we were unruly. The first meeting never led to the series of meetings since I lost a bit of momentum as it came time to make decisions. But we reunited when our mom fell. Now, I don’t even know where to start. There are so many decisions to make but I can’t procrastinate like I’ve tended to do in the past. Too many people involved and the consequences are more dire.

I had always known our mom was a complicated human. I just didn’t know how complicated she could make everything around her. Now more than ever, I have to stay centered and not lose myself while taking care of her.

Standing firm …

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8.1.2022. It takes a lot of mental endurance to persevere against constant abuse. I need emotional support to remind me that no, it’s not acceptable and yes, I do deserve better.

Most of us think feelings arise beyond our control. We believe that emotions can sometimes get the better of us and we are led by emotions. But we are in control. We attach feelings to our experiences. What most of us don’t realize is that we can even decide which feelings to attach.

Victor Frankl theorized that, “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.”

A buddhist monk advised me that to bear the verbal abuse from my mother, I needed to remember that her words are like words from an insane person who know not what they speak. And perhaps one day, when my training is more advanced, I would hear her words but see the words for what they were, gossamer, without real substance. Until then, I would need to reframe the experience from being painful to simply being, neither good nor bad.

Today, though I couldn’t help myself. I was feeling quite sad. Earlier in the week, my mother had accused me of intentionally causing mischief and creating a climate at the rehab center in which the administration would want my mother to leave. It was quite the opposite of my intention. I have only wanted her to recover and to return to her fully mobile self. To hear her accusations to the contrary were extremely hurtful. I expected better more from my mother. I’m not sure more of what. Maybe more understanding and compassion that she willingly doles out to strangers and homeless people than to her own children.

I’ve tried to understand my mom’s motivations, why she behaves why does. But usually, I’m left frustrated and flummoxed and leave the rationalization behind. In the end, I’m left with seeing these experiences with my mother as a sort of trial like a wildfire rushing through the canyons. And just like during the summer season when the wildfires are relentlessly blowing cinders every which way, I’m going to stand my ground and watch the sparks fly by and live according to my highest ideals of integrity, honesty, patience, and Love. I’ll reframe the situation or I stay aware of my feelings while simultaneously detaching from them, thereby becoming intentional with everything that I do.

But given how things are going, I’m going to need some fireproof gear and get the h*ll out of dodge, before the fire comes down the hill. Better to avoid the problem than to think I can fight a firestorm like my mom with a fire extinguisher.