Mathoms, etc.

I saw a woman cutting up an older woman's food (presumably her mother) and I told Lynn that while our father was in the hospital, my two other sisters did that for him. I didn't, my reason being that as a therapist, my instinct is to get people independent and mobile the quickest way possible. I asked the question whether I should have been a daughter first or a therapist. Her perfectly reasonable answer--which irked me no end nonetheless--was that I'm not his therapist. But doesn't being a good daughter include doing what's best for him? In this case, him doing things for himself and by himself. And so began the inevitable downward spiral into guilt, doubt and self-immolation.

The past few weeks have taken a psychological and physical toll on me. Being with my family just made me realize how I really can't live with people. I bark at them (sometimes with good reason, or so I like to kid myself), mostly because things aren't being done the way I want them done. And mostly at my father. Before his surgery, we all knew he was stressed out, taking it out on all of us by yelling and arguing. Since his surgery, he's been more chipper but I'm the one holding on to negative emotions. I resent many things, like how he called my aunts after we welcomed 2010. He has never done that to any of us. And how he sounds so happy talking to them. Which kinda makes sense to me because they humor him while I snap at him. I resent how it always falls on the singleton child to care for the parents. And how there seems to be no appreciation whatsoever. I resent how guilty I feel for having these thoughts and not finding an amiable way of speaking to them. Guilty that I can be nicer to my patients than to my own flesh and blood.

The truth is, people don't change. My father will remain hard-headed and strong-willed. I'm most likely stuck in my ways as well. Stalemate.

I got a phone call last night from a friend who visited us on Christmas Day. Liza said thank you for welcoming her and her family, and told me how nice it was to be with my parents again after all these years. She has lost both parents and frequently tells me she wished she had spent more time with them. The timing of her phone call couldn't have been more perfect. I only pray there's hope for me.