So it's that time of year where all day, everyday until the ground freezes until spring, the sounds of leaf blowers can be heard just about everywhere in the neighborhood. I can't thank my one neighbor enough for blowing the leaves out of my front yards (and part of the back). I'm just over a month after surgery and I'm still not even allowed back to school. Stir crazy is an understatement. Especially when I look around and see hundreds of things that have to be done around here, most of which my mother can't do, but I can when I feel up to it. These include larger repairs and yard work. And it got the best of me today.
I decided on Friday that I would do a little bit at a time outside all week to clean up the messes around the yard, put away the spring and summer decorations, clean off the back deck to ready it for winter, and finish cleaning off the front porch. It's not where everything was disgustingly messy or overly cluttered, but enough that I knew it was there and my mother knew it was there. It bothered us both. Today's task was to just sweep off the back deck of all the leaves and cover the grill for the winter. (Cleaning THAT monster out in the spring is a task I'm just going to forget about until then... it's been over a year and the grease and sauce that's spilled all over the bottom cause it to literally catch on fire just lighting it.) Naturally, I didn't just stop there. Even knowing I had all week.
Everytime I'd turn around, I'd see "just one more quick thing to cross off the list." Almost 5 hours later, everything is cleaned and packed away, I started the firepit to burn the cardboard and paper, put up a few little Christmas decorations that were already out and would be easy to overlook (like the fake pointsettias in the flower boxes on the back deck, my Charlie Brown tree's ornament, and the little vases hanging next to the front door)... and I'm paying for it. And I already know I'm going to pay for it tomorrow too, as I have another homework marathon planned.
Even though it was physically challenging and exhausting, the mental and emotional side were just as tough. I discovered this past spring that fresh air, loud music through my iPod, and plenty of outside projects to do, including decorating, make for not just a pretty good workout, but a pretty good mental and emotional release. This time was a bit different. Yes, I did some decorating, with a lot more to come after Thanksgiving, but it just had an odd quality to it that I didn't expect. As I'm putting flower pots, beach toys, gardening and yard tools, and decorations into the shed until at least next year, it almost felt like I was packing more than just a few yard things away. It felt like I was getting rid of a very long chapter or a lifetime away. Even cleaning up the trash felt like I was picking up and throwing away everything I knew about life the last several years. I think it was while I put the last of the decorations away was when it hit me. My dad's not here anymore. No, he didn't die, but he just decided he's unhappy, life sucks, so he just left everything behind, save a few uniforms and his hunting gear. And there's no rhyme or reason behind it. My mother and I are struggling to keep things together and put things back together while he's out there with a brand new wardrobe, a fancy coffee maker, and absolutely no responsibility besides his job. Whereas he used to do the crap work around the house and yard (either my mother and I usually ended up doing repairs around the house, except the furnace and major electrical), that's my job now.
It still hasn't really sunk in yet. Days like today it hits home. No pun intended, but he left for whatever reason and I'm the one who has to step into his shoes to fill the void. Not that I haven't been doing a lot of his work long before he left, but I found myself relieved when we were thrown a crumb as he did something. It was one less thing I knew I had to figure out how to do. It's also times like today when I realize that I'm in my 30s, living with my sick mother to help her out with things she can't do like drive, heavy lifting, cleaning when she can't, cooking (although most of the time I just order out because I have no desire to do dishes, or I forgot to take something out earlier to cook), errands, stuff like that. I also haven't worked in almost 9 years because I'm too sick to keep a job, something too many people mistake for laziness. Getting a job is the easy part. I'm a qualified (but not certified) mechanic with plenty of experience, worked all through high school and into my early 20s as a florist, I'm good at computers, secretarial, and dispatch work, but employers usually want someone that can and will work everytime and every hour their employees are scheduled. Sadly, I can't do that. There's days when even the smallest of things hurt like hell. Things most of us take for granted (including me when I have even one good day). The water pressure from a shower becomes unbearably painful, the lightest of clothes feel too heavy and hurt. Hell, even my hair hurts on days like that. Those are days I try to do what I can, even if it's just a tiny little bit, but those are the days I spend reading more than anything else, but those would also be the days that making it to work is impossible. I can say that I'm trying everything to make sure that those bad days are further apart if I can, but right now, it's still not under control. Stress and certain foods are relatively easy things to control--stress, not so easy, but doable (if that's even a word) that I know cause pain, regular sleep and light exercise, especially yoga, help to an extent, but I can't do anything about the weather and other external factors. There are several medications on the market (excluding narcotic pain medications) that have claimed to help, but not a single one has helped.
I've also been trying to put myself back through college while I'm living here. After I moved out of my apartment a few years ago, my mom asked me to move back home. Not only can I try to save money, but I'd be a big help to her. I also figured out that it would take me at least 6 (now I'm looking at 7) years to finish from an Associates degree to a Master's degree and knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to help others with life changing illnesses or injuries learn how to cope and rebuild their lives. All doctors care about are taking care of symptoms, but there isn't much help out there to deal with the mental and emotional upheaval something like those cause. But that's another story. I never thought I'd be this old, back living at home, I never in a million years thought my mom would ever get as sick as she is, requiring so many surgeries (excluding needing an organ transplant, which means another surgery and more medication when one becomes available), and be unable to do half of what she used to do. For as long as I can remember, she always worked, was always there for my brother and I, always did all the cooking, cleaning, and shopping for the house, and just always had energy to do whatever she wanted or whatever we needed. She was our driver for sports, a referee when my brother and I got into fights, the family shrink and peacekeeper after my Babci passed away, she was a rock. My father always had his hobbies, his job, and the outside work was always done. And it all fell apart. And all the two of us can do is take things one day at a time for now because we have no idea what the future is going to bring. That's the scariest part of all.
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