Shake It Off

I am not a sports person. I don’t play any sports, nor do I watch any sports on television. The exception to that is the Olympics. In watching individual athletes compete, I see them falter at the starting block, fall off the balance beam, foul on a crucial play. Each time they are told to “shake it off”. Well that is what I am learning to do – shake it off.

It is not that I am faltering or falling down or missing any crucial plays. I just get frustrated at living with Mom. I have no time for me. My down time, is exercising at the YMCA. And I hate exercising. My body revs up, endorphins pump through me, heart rate rises, breathing becomes heavy and my throat is parched. Yet, this is my personal time to let my mind wind down. This is the only time I can slow down all my thoughts as they bump into one another. My time for brain renewal. It is a juxtaposition of my body and my mind that leaves me somewhere between physically tired and emotionally numb. Neither result is satisfactory.

Somehow I have to learn how to “shake it off:”. Shake it off when Mom accuses me of rearranging all the dishes in the cupboard. Shake it off when I tell her I have to pick up one more item for dinner and then find her cooking something entirely different and yucky when I return home. Shake it off when Mom vehemently denies throwing my clothes in the dryer, knowing that my favorite pants will now look like flood pants and my shirts are now mid-drifts. Shake it off when I discover that she has driven the car to the liquor store to buy two bottles of wine. Shake it off when I tell her that she can not drive or drink alcohol and she spits back at me that she is now a prisoner in her own house. Shake it off when I feel like the warden.

I am not good at shaking it off. I haven’t had years of working with a personal trainer advising how to do this. There is no learning curve for this one. I have to acquire this skill, this stress reducing tactic, this new strategy, overnight. I am a quick study on many things, but this is not one of them.

I am good at exposing my feelings through writing. You, the reader, will have to suffer through my cathartic moments. This is when you get to see me, warts and all. I am not the loving daughter who patiently, saintly, deals with all that life throws at me. Hell no. Instead you get glimpses of my vulnerable self, who has pity-parties from time to time. This is my way of shaking it off. That and tears. One good thing about being Irish is that the tears flow easily.

Tears and prayers cleanse my spirit. I am no stranger to asking the Holy Spirit to walk with me on this journey, for I can not do it alone. Despite prayers, there are times when it still feels like a lonely stroll.

Tomorrow is a doc appointment. I am dreading it because it will be one more confrontation when Mom will be told unequivocally that she can not drive and can not drink. It is a tearing off of the bandage, one more time. I hate it. So I have prayed for God to send a legion of angels to soften the blow that Mom will feel. Oh Lord, give me the patience and the right words to help her get through tomorrow.

Peace,

JaneEllen