a crucible

A crucible is for refining and purifying matter, using heat, not so that it is burned up and consumed, but rather purified and unadulterated. I have been in this crucible twice now. The walls of this vessel are composed of anxiety, dread, and horror. The first time was when I was 17, and this second time I am 45. I fear the final crucible will be at the end of my life, and in fact, annihilate me. Until then, I am being refined, redefined, purified, and tried. The anxiety is the looming unknown. I don't know what will happen next. I cannot guess, I don't know. Then the fear, the dread, the horror of something bad, something even worse than what has already occurred. First it got bad, then better, then bad, then worse, then laughably horrible. Each day is a fresh horror. Each phone call a reason to panic. Food is ashes in my mouth, sleep escapes me. I wake, thinking I have had a bad dream, and the reality that hits me is actually worse than the nightmare. I pace, like a big cat in a small barred cage. I jump at every sound. When will this crucible stop refining?

The Bitch is Back

The Bitch is back, and I'm not actually referring to myself. No. See, its my mother. She has had a nervous breakdown and many of my illusions about her have been shattered. Now I have new fears. Let me explain: Growing up, I was not a fighter, I didn't "start stuff". I followed directions, did as expected, and as soon as I got to college, reveled in my freedom. Of course I made mistakes, but I paid my consequences and learned, stretched, grew. I didn't question my upbringing until then. My mother was a boss. She was supreme, ultimate boss. Never to be questioned or denied boss. I did as I was told but mostly because the consequences of rebelling were too horrific. Once I got to boss myself, I really liked the new boss (me), and really started to resent the old boss. She is not happy unless she is bossing someone else around, and for years, other people have flocked to her...the ones who like to be bossed about, told what to do, and intervened with. I don't want anyone messing with me. I loathe interventions. We are very different, personality - wise, in this respect. I expect other people to boss themselves appropriately, and I admit I am appalled when they do not. But really, who cares about them? I don't - I only respect people who can appropriately manage themselves. So, I listened patiently when my mom nattered on about her latest "project" and the interventions she created. I swear she enjoys making people cry. I didn't care, because at least it wasn't me this time! Then, in this past decade or so, we have been getting along better. I didn't really reflect on why, just was happy that 90% of the time, we could have a phone conversation without me getting into a huff. She never gets huffy. I guess I am too sensitive. But I didn't question the improvement, I just really thought she was mellowing out, backing off, letting go...acting more like me in these situations. Then the nervous breakdown, manifested as non-stop talking, chattering, and ultimately, back to bossing. She is proud of being "back" to her old self. She acts like she has renewed energy and commitment to intervening with all of us. She is so hellishly proud of being a nurse, a clinician, a matriarch. She is 'shoulding' all over me. I'm pretty pissed about it, thank you for asking. I don't need help living my life. I want NO MORE interventions, I am improving myself at my own pace and to my satisfaction. In fact, my self satisfaction is surprisingly high at this point. I want no part of this new/old mom. Plus I hate change. And confrontation. God help me, really! I need patience, and I need to grow a spine when it comes to standing up to her. Mostly, I need to have enough time/space to step back when I am feeling angry, and analyze why. Then I can calm down and give an appropriate response. Huffiness helped neither of us. But damn, I am going to miss mellow mom.