say the unsayable

Because my mother is physically and mentally unwell, 84, and in the hospital, I am feeling twisted up inside, as if I should DO something. There is nothing for me to do at this time. My efforts to heal and build trust or connection are either swatted away like a pesky gnat or they go unacknowledged.  I guess swats and dismissals are an improvement from being blasted with heavy artillery of character assasination and accusations of how I deserve abuse or am unworthy of kindness.  This is progress. (more…)