Tag Archives: anger

WHAT I KNOW ABOUT NARCISSISTS

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It’s a cool but sunny Sunday morning. I’m showing up here to write my post for the Ultimate Blog Challenge. These days I’m so easy distracted. My mind feels fractured, like a cracked mirror. Images and ideas are splintered. I have to work hard to bring my brain back to attention. Today I want to talk about what I know about narcissists. I’ve spent this past month learning about them. It is important because I live next door to one. She is what I know is true – a malignant narcissist. How do I know that? Here are some of the ways.

  • She, like all narcissists, is controlling, have low levels of empathy and high levels of entitlement. It’s her way or no way.
  • She has been destructive. She has ripped up signs and fencing in my yard. She has kicked over my flower pot. She has sprayed pesticide in my yard.
  • She enjoys harming others. She likes to tell me that all the neighbours hate my yard. She has thrown my landscaping rocks at me on two occasions. She has stirred up trouble for the ladies across the street with their neighbour  whom she has befriended. She doesn’t like their yard either. She went up to a couple on the sidewalk and asked, Why are you looking at that ugly yard?
  • She’s cold, calculating and very good at lying. She tells me she studies all by city bylaws. She knows alot of people in city hall and also the police dept.  She calls us bullies when it is she who is doing the bullying. She tells me my fence is her fence. All these things she says to me, she doesn’t say to the police.
  • She has exhibited anger, rage, harshness – the attitude of NOBODY MESSES WITH ME.
  • She is authoritarian, forceful, insistent and dominant. She will not allow me to speak so it is laughable when people advise me to talk things over with her. Last fall the police said that she would not allow him to talk. She talks over him. This was before he had talked to us. We did not influence his perception. I have not been able to even yell over her. She is so good at her game.

I’m heeding Dr. Les Carter’s advice. I have developed a healthy fear of her. She can and has come at me. I have not ever or will ever win an argument. How can I when she won’t allow me to speak? She is very fixated on my yard and me. She is very vigilant and notices any little thing I do in the area next to her driveway. She retaliates even though it is on my own property. I would say she has an altered sense of reality. I don’t expect her to change, not for the better. She has gotten worse. I will avoid her altogether if possible but I will not let her bully me.

I do need to stand my ground and not let her push my boundaries. I do live on a busy street. The police liason officer has visited us a couple of times since last fall. Neighbours have a way of noticing. I will be diligent in holding onto my own morals and in practicing good mental health. That will be another post – maybe tomorrow.

IT’S NOT ABOUT ME

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I have fallen behind in this Ultimate Blog Challenge. I’m behind in my Daisy Yellow Index Card a Day Challenge. I have fallen behind in life. I feel as if I’m always playing catch up. I’m up burning the middle of the night oil. I’ve been up since 2 am and unable to get back to sleep. I awoke with all the anger and frustration that I took to bed with me. It’s a wonder that I got to sleep at all. I could feel the anger and frustration building across the tightness of my chest. I decided that it’s best to get out of bed. I feel just helpless in bed.

It’s amazingly cool for a July night. Life has certainly not been kind this year. First, Sheba’s ear hematoma in December. She had to have it drained 3 times. Poor baby! I won’t go into it again. There were sleepless nights like this, sitting up with her, taking her out in the middle of the night. She recovered from her ear thing and we had a few good months, going to the park. But we lost her middle of May.  Another difficult night and morning with her before our final goodbye.

It’s not quite 2 months since she’s left. I’ve not had peace in mourning the loss. Trouble resume fast enough with the woman next door. It’s at least 12 years of on and off harassment. It’s too much to go into. I’m still singing my old song. It is exhausting. The police liason officer finally came yesterday about the June 11 incident. I was overcome with emotions. I’m not sure how clear I came across. But I did show him the video of June 26th without explanation. Halfway through, he asked if she has a mental health issue.

I did express that I think she’s a psychopath/narcissist, that she’s more trouble now that she has enlisted ‘Al’ to help her. I am not hopeful at all that the police will have any effect. We all are sure that when she presents her side, it will be quite different. But how many ways can she explain her actions? Her outburst and intrusion into our yard was caught by my camera as is her ripping out our signs. It is not logical to plant a row of spruce trees in a 6 inch space beyond your driveway and right against our raised bed on our property. I would not call that cooperation but malice.  And why and how can she prevent us from mulching our cedar trees on our own yard? But somehow she has done that thru bullying and belligerence. She will not allow me to talk. She talks over me. And I have to yell and shout but I will not succeed. I will become angry by all this. I have.

It is not just one thing. It is about everything. She is very definite and sure I can not cross the what she consider is her line. If my bean crosses the fence, she will snip it off. But she says the bylaw gives her right to come 2 feet into my yard. She does not offer me this same courtesy. She has crossed my line many times – into my yard to spray and weed. She has added on top of my fence (it is a fence I paid for and 2 inches within my property)  without permission. All this sounds very petty. It is. When you examine it, it really is about nothing. And yet here I am, bothered and bewildered , tapping out my angst in the middle of the night about all this f’ing nothingness. It can and does drive me mad.  It is 6 in the morning by this time.

I am really disgusted that I’m spending so much energy and getting so emotional  about this malicious nothing of life. And yet, when I try to walk away, she won’t let me. She would say or whisper something to insinute, to malign to cause trouble. She is very good at this and I have fallen into her trap many times. She tells me that my neighbours hate my yard and that they leave their keys with her. That’s a suggestion that they are on side with her and against me. This, of course, is heresay, made up . But lying is not against the law. She whispers her pretend sympathy and support that I should not have to do the yard work. I’m retired and should be enjoying myself. She’s insinuating my partner is doing nothing, getting a free ride, taking advantage of me.

When I tried to disengage, she interferes with my work, removing my landscape rocks, tossing them at me. When I put down my hoe and try to walk away, she calls out that I can’t keep her out. She can tear down anything I put up. This was last fall. When I try to walk across the street to maybe get Al to talk to her, she calls out, ‘Al is not home’. That was the first time I called the police for help. Enough is enough.

Last fall, we each had our separate talks with the police liason officer. We were both not to trespass, stay on our side of our imaginery wall to the sky. Spring comes. Things haven’t changed. She hasn’t changed. We cannot do anything on our property next to her driveway without her noticing and interfering. And here I am, in my space, still tapping my angst. I like to think I have changed, made some progress. I like to think I have some insight. This is not about me. This is not just about property issues. This is about harassment. Before, she did not talk about ‘it’s her property’. She talked about doing ‘our work’ scraping the natural mulch and weeding around our cedars though we don’t want her to.

Way back when she first moved in, she was intent on shovelling all her snow onto my yard, even after I asked her not to. I have problems with moisture getting into the basement with the spring thaw. It fell on deaf ears. She even threw the snow over the back fence, had her handy man clear the snow off her roof and dump it onto my backyard.

Now my cedars have grown, with no or little gaps between them. We have placed a raised bed where they ended. They make a natural fence line. With that and her big driveway between us, there are clear boundaries. Given that there are 6 inches between the fence line and her driveway, is that enough room to plant spruce trees there, right beside our raised bed. And to ask the Weedman spray all along the edge is just nasty. We grow vegetables in the bed.

I’m unloading a lot of crap of 12 years onto the page. I have to. Otherwise all this shit will kill me. It is especially frustrating and lethal because it is all about nothing.  After talking with the police liason officer, I felt the frustration over the years all the more. I felt more helpless and powerless. In the end, I felt: ‘what the hell was all this?’ She will spin her tale. She knows and plays the game so well. She is quite skill in it.

I know that it is wise for me to let this crap go. It is NOT about me. I’m not the one who is trespassing on her property. I’m not the one weeding and spraying on her side. I’m not the one who is doing anything to her, except report her to the police. I am standing up for myself. I have to stay true to myself – to who I am. I have to look after myself. And if there is a time to swear, it is now. F*^#k!! The police did say it would be ok for me to douse her with water if she is trespassing on my property and causing trouble. But no punching. But if anyone had pulled out his signs like she did, he would punch them. (VBLOL)

** I’ve written quite a mouthful. It must be equivalent to 3 posts. I might sound crazed but  hope I make sense. I consider myself all caught up with the Ultimate Blog Challenge.

 

 

ANGER DOES NOT BECOME ME

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First things first this morning. I had to join in for the online YWCA morning exercise class on Zoom. I have to get back to a regular schedule more than ever now that there is no Sheba to take me out on our walks. Then I had to hang up the laundry, clean the toilet and wash the bathroom floor. The phone rang. I had missed an appointment. Sorry, sorry, sorry! Can I reschedule? Of course I could since it was my bank and really, they do work for me. They’ve left me waiting, dangling my heels a few times and not for a short time. But I mustn’t forget tomorrow though. Today the toilet was more important.

I have to admit that I am a bit of a train wreck. I must try a little harder not to steam up, cry about Sheba and blow my stack over the woman next door. I should put away Sheba’s leftover food and her bowls. Every time I walk by them, I forget and think I should fill her water bowl. Then the tears start. And really, that woman next door…I know that I should get her out of my system once and for all. The truth is I am only an ordinary human being. I can let it go for awhile. Because she is so good and smart at what she is, she will catch me unaware again and again. She has done so for over 10 years. But at least I have reported her to the police last year and again recently. There’s not much they can do about alot of her crap, but trespass is against the law.

Tomorrow is here and I mustn’t forget about my appointment this afternoon. My phone rang again. It is those scammers who said they’re from Service Canada again. So I pressed 1 as the recording says to know more details. I demanded to know their identity and where they are calling from. I demanded and shouted. I’ve done this a few times now. They’ve hung up on me. Sometimes I hang up on them. I am angry. I am just so angry. Tears come. My stomach goes into knots. There is no love in my heart. I know not everyone is evil but evil does exist. Some people are just bad.

I know Anne Lamott said that anger is a form of prayer. I believe it can be but I also know that it is not good for me. It is killing me now and I must feel it and release it. So I letting it out like a long foul fart. There you go,  just passing wind. I hope I can be sweeter tomorrow.

LOOKING FOR A MEANING IN ALL THE WRONG PLACES

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I go through periods of mad as hell, bad mood and attitude. I’m trying to release this anger and badness to cause as little harm to myself and others as possible. I’m not a perfect human being. I’m terribly flawed with a bad temper and disposition. The good news is my blood pressure is still under control. Once upon a time, if you look at me wrong or I sneeze, it could high rocket to the moon but not back. I admit it, I have anxiety. I had PTSD for 3 years after retirement. I diagnosed myself. It was a good ER doctor who got through to me how strong our thoughts are. That set me on the road to recovery. It wasn’t easy but I got over it. Well, not totally. It resurfaces now and again.

I’m working it out here. This space was created as an archeology of the self, my search for meaning. What is it all about, Lily? What matters to you? My purpose was not that clear to me in the beginning. It is now – Lily’s search for the meaning of her life. What matters to me? Up to this point, I had no recognition of it. I lived mostly for others, not that they asked it of me. It was freely given. I felt it was my duty. I saw it as a one way street. I saw no reflection in the mirror. For me, it is always just that sound of one hand clapping.

It’s no wonder that now I’m mad as hell, like the character in the movie, Network. I’m mad as hell and I won’t take it anymore. I’m the more mad because I did it to myself. I put up no boundaries. I’ve allowed everyone to heap their garbage on me. I felt it was my duty to listen and understand all their problems and offer help and be selfless about it. My world taught me that. Now I’m mad as hell. It is a bad time to feel this way in a pandemic when so much help is needed everywhere.

These days I seem unable to find solace anywhere. Maybe if I stop trying and just live, put one foot in front of the other. I do still get up and show up. It is really not necessary to dress up when we are in lockdown with nowhere to go. I’m lucky that way. I’ve never been a gadabout. I could be a happy hermit. I’m a homebody by nature. I’ve felt deficient being that way. But now I see it’s an asset. I need little material stuff and socializing to be content. I’m happy with a book, cup of tea, baking bread, fermenting. I don’t know if I’m cheap but I like the challenge of living a life with less stuff. I like making do and being mediocre. Being good enough is good enough for me.

I feel my anger and frustration ebbing as I tap. I am not as distraught and heartbroken over the ignorance and cruelty of people. I do remember the kindness of other people, how easy I have been able to navigate the health system through this difficult time for my mother. The doors seems to open to each set of problems right from the start. Even on the weekends and during and maybe because of the Covid-19 thing, the wheels seem smoother. I should not speak too early or loud. I might invite more trouble. We Chinese are very superstitious.

I guess I am still in the desert. Lent is not over till April 9th. That’s my mother’s next appointment at the Eye Centre at City Hospital. She is doing better, taking all her antivirals. She complains about them alot though and is cranky. Three more days, then she has to take one of them daily for a month. She’s got it marked on the calendar. I have to see her physically to tell that she’s ok. On the phones she sounds like she’s going to code any minute. She tells me I over-react and get too excited. How else am I suppose to be when she tells me how bad the side effects are? I still don’t want to be a daughter to any mother. I hope I don’t sound too bad. If I do, it’s just too bad. I will have to live with it.

THE GRACE OF ENDURANCE

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Difficult times can bring out the best in people but in cases like myself, it brings out the worse. I’m full of anger and resentment. I would like to be in a demolition derby. I would like to crash and destroy anything and everything that comes into my path. I thought it would be best it I release that energy here. My vehicle is the keyboard, my weapons only words.

According to my muse, Caroline Myss, words are powerful. I shall pay heed and not search and destroy. I shall try not to burn all the bridges behind me. This is my crossing the Rubicon moment. I breathe, raise my sword and tap, tap, tap on the keyboard. “Alea iacta est”! The die is cast. What is said cannot be unsaid. What is done cannot be undone. What has lived cannot be unlived. But regrets and disappointments I have many. My soul cries in agony over them.

But what is suffering without a voice? Whoever made that rule that we must do it in silence? And how do we know we will be rewarded in heaven for doing so? Who will know and give us comfort if we don’t show and tell? The world is amuck, wouldn’t you agree. We are all in lockdown. We did it to ourselves. We are behaving like the animals that we are – panicing and hoarding toilet paper over the coronavirus pandemic. Then we need politicians to warn us not to take advantage of vulnerable and senior citizens in these times. Then there’s the opposite side where people are not taking the coronavirus thing seriously. They are still gathering in large groups. I guess they haven’t heard of what happened in Wuhan, Italy or Spain. How do we really know it’s for real? Maybe it’s just a movie on TV. Maybe we’re all on Netflix in the movie Contagion.

I think I’m suffering what is called depression. I’m sounding like Alex Trebek on Jeopardy.  No,I’m not depressed. I’m really just stressed and mad as hell. I’m venting my anger in a place where it will cause the least damage. And I’m as sad as can be. The tears are dammed behind my throat. I’m letting things hang out now. I’m not trying to be positive. I’m not sugar coating myself. I am not myself. I cannot pretend to be Wonder Woman anymore with her golden lasso. I cannot fix anything.

Do not worry over the state of my mental health. I am venting, releasing steam. I do not want to blow a gasket. This is my safety valve. I know we are now all in this space together. This is just the beginning and not the end. I am not in fear or distress over the COVID -19 pandemic at this moment. Rather I am in my own private fear and anxiety over my mother’s ordeal with shingles – her pain, vision and enduring the side effects of her medications. It is as if we are still connected by the umbilical cord. I feel all her sufferings.

Things started innocent enough on Feb. 8th. You get the diagnosis. You get the treatment. But it is not that simple. One thing leads to another. Pain persists through out relieved somewhat by meds. Now it is March 26th and eye complication.  Another week of her antivirals 3times/day to endure before she can cut down to smaller dose once/day for another month. The good news is she has recovered most of her vision in her eye.

I’m calling out for prayers to help her endure and tolerate another week of her medications. I’m asking for prayers for myself to be strong and endure to help her through this. Maybe after this, I can afford to panic over the pandemic. Praying for all of us. May we be safe. May we be strong. May we have compassion and love for each other.

IT’S ALL ABOUT ME

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Sometimes All the time I feel self possessed. I’m consumed with me, I and myself. It’s all about me. I wonder if it is a bad thing. Is it a selfish thing? Am I a narcissist? By definition it is “a person who has an excessive interest in or admiration of themselves.” I think I’m disqualified because most of the time, I find myself lacking. I feel relieved. Yet I wonder why I’m not worthy of self admiration. Why do I feel ashamed or embarrassed to express the satisfaction with myself?

These are interesting times for me, entering the last stage of my life. You would think that after all this time, I would be more grown up, more confident, more knowing. But the only more I have lately are stuff, disappointment, anger and dissatisfaction with how I and life are. That’s not good at all, at all. I hate waking up in the morning with this sour taste in my mouth and my body heavy as lead. I plod through my days very efficiently nonetheless, almost with a smile on my face.

My saving grace is that I love a challenge. It is difficult for me to lie down for long and say uncle. I eventually rise, however slowly, like the Phoenix and is born again. I am tenacious, stubborn and obnoxious – but only to myself these days. I have learned a bit of wisdom through my addiction with self-help. DON’T TAKE ANYTHING PERSONALLY. What others think of me is none of my business. I got that now. I do take myself personally though. I have regard for my well being. I am learning to take care of myself first. I have to save myself first before I can help someone else. It’s just like they teach you on the airplane. Put the oxygen mask on yourself first. I MATTER. Darn tooting.

I’m feeling pretty fine today, having turned my thoughts around a bit. I woke up with an unusual spring to my step. I try not to let things get under my skin. I’m trying to grow a thicker layer. I’m trying not to be so serious all the time. But the thing is I like my serious side. I like to ponder on serious stuff. I stopped at the used book store on the way home from my aerobics class. It is my candy store. I bought Why People Don’t Heal and How They Can by Caroline Myss. I am a serious case and a self-help addict. But I am earnestly working on having fun. Really I am – even if it’s just on paper.

 

 

 

 

THE HEAT IS ON

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There are no easies especially on sizzling hot days. My AC doesn’t work. Turning it on only killed the furnace fan. And no AC. How does that make life better, eh? So here I am chilling on the deck, trying to tap wildly. Sheba is sleeping at my feet. I’m a little cramped, no room to stretch my legs. Oh well, I’ll have another little sushi roll. They’re mighty tasty. I only meant to have a couple. But I might eat the frigging tray.

It is midnight. I should go to bed. The day is always full. The heat makes it difficult to move fast. It’s not till now that I find time to sit and be with myself. So one more sushi and I will head off. I am getting sleepy. I will come back in the morning.

I didn’t quite make it back here this morning. Sheba decided to sleep outside on her hollowed hallowed ground last night. She wouldn’t budge. I left her there knowing she will want to come in once I’m sleeping. Sure enough, she barked me awake at 1:30 am. I had a difficult time getting back to sleep. I got up at 6 am. I’m a little sleep deprived today.

We’re hanging out on the deck again. It’s 9:30 pm. I did get my AC and the furnace fan working again. That is after a few hours and a couple of hundred dollars. It’s worth the cost keeping us two old broads cool and collected. It also gave me a sense of empowerment – fixing problems instead of not. I’ve learned by now that problems never go away on their own. A little pain in the beginning is better than a bunch more down the road. I would have felt better if I had more sleep. My energy was spent in the morning walking Sheba. Then tending the garden while it was still relatively cool.

So life is not exactly a piece of cake. It never has been for me. Probably not for you either. I’ve never been comfortable with these pains in the ass. I’ve never been able to sit still with them. If you don’t know me, I don’t suffer well in silence. I don’t holler. I voice and try to get to the bottom of things, rationalize and FIX. It hasn’t done me much good at all. I end up being angry, feeling victimized and guilty for everything all the same.

I think I’ve finally come to my senses. I’m finally hearing Dr. Phil, Oprah or whoever that said: Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome. I have HEARD. I’ve always claimed that I am comfortable in my own skin. I don’t think I really am. Why else would I try to get out of it all the time? Why do I feel victimized? Why do I feel guilty? Am I not worthy to be treated with consideration? Why am I so angry at myself all the time?

So dear hearts, it is time for me to step off this wheel of insanity. I’m stepping back into my own skin. I will learn to sit and stay in it like Sheba. I will try to keep quiet and not ask stupid questions that have no answers. Slap me if I ask another why. Tell me to shut up if I try to give you advice. Kick me if you have to. I’m going out of the advice and fixing business. The door is closed.

 

HOW TO LIVE IN EQUANIMITY

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I’ve come to accept that I am a striver, always trying, to do better, to be more. I am a restless soul. In this life, I will always be busy trying and trying. I will rest later – in my next life.

It’s not for lack of trying that I don’t get along with people. I’m feeling I’ve failed miserably in that department. It seems that I’m always thinking, thinking and thinking what else can I do, how else can I be, to get along, to please people. I feel I’m always lacking, that it’s all my fault. I should have. I ought to. Why didn’t I?

I am exhausted by it all now – this getting along with people, this pleasing them. There seems to be no pleasing. What about me? Don’t I deserve some consideration after all I HAVE done. I felt incensed. I felt like screaming. I did scream yesterday. I felt caught between a rock and a hard place. I was damned if I do and damned if I don’t. Trapped! So often in life, trying to live in equanimity, turning the other cheek.

I was harvesting my carrots in the raised bed yesterday. I kept seeing those little spruce trees wherever I stepped. In frustration and anger I stomped on them. The neighbour had planted them in our yard. She claims that it’s part of her yard. She weeds the strip along her driveway on our side and said she will probably until she dies. She hates weeds. She also has the Weed Man spray herbicide along the strip – right where we have our vegetable bed.

I have called the Weed Man office to complain that it is actually our property they are spraying and we have food growing there. They have put the information on the file but I will follow up in spring. Trying to deal with the neighbour directly in the past have not successful. It only made things worse. She comes back at you in a different direction. What is best is no interaction whatsoever. Sometimes I forget and then there’s hell to pay. It gets exhausting sometimes. I’m trying to look at it in a different way.

Those little spruce trees will grow taller. They’ll be a fence and barrier against the snow she likes to shovel into our yard. Take a breath. There’s a silver lining in every problem. Take another breath. She is teaching me a lesson. There is no pleasing other people. I have to take care of myself, living up to my own personal code of conduct. Take another breath. I’m over the frustration and anger.

 

YOU DROPPED SOMETHING

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Saturday morning. Halfway through September. It is grey and cool. Suddenly summer seems over. I can feel the change in energy. I miss the heat now that it’s gone. The autumn brings its own gifts. I feel the urge to nest but also to renew. I should do my morning stretches. The tomatoes await to be sauced. So many other things begging to be tended to. But I will sit here for awhile with my words. It’s good to tap them out. How else can I right myself again? How else can I claim my equanimity and breathe again?

It’s not that there is so much wrong with me. I’m just being human, feeling that I’m in a bit of negative grey space though not total darkness. I did what I told myself not to do while suffering sleep deprivation – brain surgery. Well, it’s not actual brain surgery. You know what I mean – serious decision making stuff. I made the wrong decision whilst a voice inside was screaming No! That’s a lesson. Things can still happen even when we know better.

No harm was done. I repaired my mistake but it’s difficult not to beat myself over it. That, too, is me being human. I’m accepting my flawed nature and going through the paces. I’m seeing how the world is and learning. I’m getting better with practice. I might suffer some but I’m not grinding myself up. I’m leaving the greyness and heading towards the sunshine.

Yesterday while on my walk with Sheba, a lady called out from across the street, “You dropped something!” I fished in my pockets, thinking doggy bags or kleenx might have fallen out. No, they were all there. I looked behind us. Nothing. I must have looked as puzzled as I felt. She said, “Your dog poop.” I replied that Sheba had peed and that I was sorry but I cannot pick it up. I received no apology for her mistake. I felt the beginning of rage and cortisol rising. But I breathed, dropped it and walked on.

 

 

Sheba and I have suffered many such incidents. I wonder if it’s our combination – black dog, Chinese woman. Another time a truck stopped right in the middle of a street intersection. The window rolled down and a woman poked her head out. “Do you have a bag?” She asked. I was really puzzled. How does she know I have bags and why? Again I must have looked very puzzled. I am also very naive. She pointed to the park where we came from. That time I was very out of control angry. I screamed: “SHE PEED!” I shook my bags at her. The truck squealed off in a hurry.

The anger did me absolutely no good. Anger only does harm. Even its memory is harmful. I feel it as I’m tapping it out. I am dropping it now. I have that lady from yesterday to thank. I have to drop the poop.

THE THINGS I CAN’T CHANGE

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I believe that when we are hit with an ‘aha’ moment we should give it due respect and pay attention.

The other day my mother phoned.  Could I make a doctor’s appointment for her.  My father had tried a couple of times but got a recording that says that you have to do it online.  I found it peculiar since not everyone, especially seniors have computers or have the know hows.  I phoned and the recording does say you have the option of making appointments online but if you press 0 or just hang on, you can speak to the receptionist.

bigstock-hand-making-a-stop-signal-sign-162901311I felt a bubble of irritation starting up at my father.  How could he not understand that since he got the online part?  In the same moment, I saw the flashing STOP sign in my head, telling me that this is how my father has been for many, many years.  Though he came to Canada as a young man in his early 20’s, he does not know the English language well at all.  He had made no provision for my mother to learn.

Sometimes I think he knows more than he lets on.  But he rather have somebody else do all these things so he doesn’t.  I have been the interpreter, making and taking them to appointments since I was about 9 years old. It has made me feel responsible for their health, happiness and total being.  No one can be responsible for somebody else’s all.  I have felt guilt and anger.

What are the chances that he would change now at 83?  None.  So why waste my energy getting angry and then feel like a very bad person/daughter?  I squashed that ugly bubble and made the appointment.  I told my mother how they can get through to the receptionist the next time.  I’m feeling grateful that he is still able to drive and be independent otherwise.  I am grateful that there are Chinese physicians here so that they can see their doctor on their own most of the time.  I am grateful that I can help my parents to be as independent as they are able to.

I am fortunate that I finally recognize that there are the things I can’t change.  I can now stop fretting, stressing, fuming, insisting that yes, things can change.  Some things cannot.  I can stop getting, being and staying in anger.  Having seen the light/stop sign, I can ease up, let go a bit and move on.  There will be, of course, days when I will fall back on old ways.  I will get righteous and indignant, insisting that other person change and behave the way I want.  I hope those occasions will come less and less.  Let there be patience and love.