Planning my Ritualistic Morning…

I just drove over after supper to pick up my diet Cokes for the morning.  Mom heard me pull up in the driveway and was waiting at the backdoor for me with questions – lots of questions.

“How much do you make a month?” she asked obtrusively.

“About $650 dollars,” I replied.

She sighed with relief. “Well, at least you’re not over the limit.”

“What’s got you so obsessive about this Social Security?” I asked.

“Your father says you are going to lose it and you can’t work a full time job that will support you.  I just worry about you.  You haven’t worked in eight years.  That is a very long time.  I could never go back to work.”

I then sighed. “Mom, I am 38 years old. I will be fine.  I can work full time given some job experience and acclimation to working again.”

“Why do you want to work so badly?” she then asked.

“For my self esteem mainly,” I replied. “I want to be a self supporting man.  It’s a guy thing. Guy’s want to be independent and to be able to support themselves and their loved ones.”

“I just wish you would quit and stay on disability,” mom said. “You know your father will support you if you need anything.”

“That’s the problem,” I said frowning. “It is demeaning to me to be dependent on you all for everything.  I didn’t have a life.  I had nothing to do, but sit at home and feel sorry for myself – obsessing over my perceived mental illnesses.”

“You know I love you and only want what is best for you,” mom told me.

“I know,” I replied. “That’s the big difference between you and dad.  Dad just wants you and I to be quiet and complacent so he can go about his life unimpeded.  He’s not looking out for my best interests.  You genuinely are.”

I grabbed my cokes and told mom goodnight.  She stood at the door and watched as I drove off.  I love my  mother so much and hate dad has gotten her into worrying so much about me.   There seems to be this concerted effort within the family to get me to go back to the old ways.  I don’t want to go back to dying emotionally and mentally.  I want to live.  I want purpose to my life.  I just want to be me for a change after being someone else for years – someone’s sick and mentally ill son who needed to be taken care of.  Family roles are so hard to break I am learning from the opposition I have experienced. 

The Filling is Good…

Kim told me tonight she loves my house.

“It’s so small and cozy,” she told me. “Perfect for just you.”

Kim’s house is about twice the square feet as mine.  Her mother owns it and let’s her live in it rent free.  I was lamenting to Kim tonight after supper about my house being really nice looking on the inside, but the outside looks crappy.

“You could paint it,” she said.

“I would really like to put vinyl siding on it, but the cost is prohibitive,” I replied.

“Well, the shrubbery looks much better since you trimmed it,” she told me trying to make me feel better.

“Dad was going to have vinyl siding put on it, but it seems I have fallen out of favor,” I told her. “I would rather pay for it myself anyway.  I better start saving.  I’ve got to come up with a couple thousand dollars.”

Kim hugged me and told me to keep my eye on the prize.

“Who knows?” she said. “Maybe your yardcare business will take off and you will be rolling in money soon.”

I smiled.  It was a nice thought.  I would love nothing more than for that to happen.  I will keep plugging away at my daily efforts at that business hoping to be completely self supporting in a year.  Finally, I can put Social Security disability to rest.