Tag Archives: overwhelm

Setbacks

Once several personal items stack themselves upon each other, one little inconsequential thing will create in me a monumental setback.

Lightbulbs. This time it was lightbulbs.

Still not back in the swing of brick and mortar shopping, I place orders online and go to pick them up. Sometimes items are deemed unavailable for pickup and move to the shipping status.

Thus the lightbulbs arrived via delivery to the house. Plainly marked on the box – pictures of lightbulbs across the front and back – it was obvious what was being delivered.

My dad reported that he had arrived at the door to meet the delivery person, as he has the prime perch to see what happens out the front of our home. Just as he opened the door he witnessed that the driver stood 10′ from the porch and launched the box, delivering it by air mail to the porch.

What the absolute fuck?!?!

Why.

My genuine optimism, my faith in the combined struggles and overall goodness of people was blasted by this one asshole who made an intentional act of destruction at my front door.

Now, every inconvenience, insult and putdown that I’ve stuffed and dealt with has been pulled out for inspection, infusing me with smallness and weakness and… depression.

I’ll suck it up and get back to doing the most awesome best I can with the hand that’s been dealt…

First step should obviously be to contact the delivery service and complain, then return the box… but I’m paralyzed by the feelings, the reluctance to make confrontation when I feel this overwhelming underwhelm. So the unopened box sits at the receiving table near the front door to accuse me of my inabilities to deal with life.

Setback, the box of setback.

Coming Around

Here’s what happens when a logical type gets sideswiped by emotional drain – damage.  Angry words.  Stiff-necked positioning.  Self protection.

In order to protect from any further impact, I put up the overall force field.  I lashed out at the hospice assistant who had repeatedly cancelled days and firmly stated don’t come here if I can’t count on you — I’ll do it myself.  I backed off family who gave me the response of being overwhelmed too — stop coming in early, come in later and I’ll handle it til then.  I held off my boss who said cut your help and began taking back tasks, cutting help hours.  Overwhelm on top of overwhelm.

The preface to it all was the final straw – the addict brother who has lost nearly everything, making another imposition, expecting that he could treat our home as his own, not asking – just taking.  That drew the line in the sand and we posted no trespass signs on our properties.  Then I told him to his face.  Then he read it on the private family blog to keep closest family notified of the stages my father is going through.  I am now enemy number one on his list.  Does he remember the times I faced down guns he held?  Does he remember putting my son at risk?  Does he recall that I took his babies and sheltered them for a summer?  No, he only takes and takers forget to pay attention.

So, the drama had unfolded, and I played victim.  Overwrought, feeling the approach of a total meltdown.  You likely saw the last post.  I had reached the end of my endurance.

Then we went camping, hubby and I.  Left on Friday afternoon, and by sundown had set up the camp and moved into full relax mode.  I enjoyed my first Shabbat since my dad arrived at our home three months ago.  It was simply wonderful.  Cooling breeze, sounds of leaves rustling and birds and insects fluttering and futzing about.  The lake water off in the distance and wafting sounds of people frolicking in the waters.

I have some reserve now.  A store of patience, and some energy reserve to see us through the next steps.

We have emptied the rental house of my dad’s belongings and will now begin the last steps to prepare the house for sale.  We will have to continue our day jobs and care of my dad as well, but once that is done, one major task is lifted from the plate of overwhelm.

We’ll get there, right?

Resentment

From the first moment that I awake and step from my bedroom space to the kitchen space to start the morning coffee…

At the last moment of the day, as I move to the bedroom to make my rest…

Every movement in between.

Watching, waiting, needing.

It’s hard not to be resentful.

I say to those around me – I’m breaking.

They respond – me too.

I don’t know how not to be resentful, when I’ve always done what I can when others were breaking.

Roles were cast at the workplace to assist with the overwhelm – and then they were removed.

This too will break me.  I don’t know how not to resent that.

The shards will fall.

They will scatter.

I imagine that I will find the glue to reattach the pieces.  Perhaps I will be stronger then.

There is a reason that YHVH created Shabbat.  One day again I will find rest.  For now, and since May, not a single day of rest has been found.

I imagine myself with no resentment.  But until rest comes, I am breaking.  And I resent that.