thought avoidance mechanism habit to stay pretty busy. Lately, with a stream of business trips, home improvement projects, summer holiday planning – oh, and a lot of drinkin’ and whorin’ entertainment – it’s been even worse than usual. i’ve been delinquent in a couple of updates regarding my trailer park people…
Hurricane T: My sister, T, and her partner, TK, have come through the meltdown. T has found stability, accepted the “new normal”, and is looking forward to finishing the renovation of their new home – despite the necessary move into a small condo until it’s completed.
Moving day was particularly stressful, and i was pricing tickets in case TK needed on-scene support – TK hadn’t asked directly, and i hadn’t offered. Just being prepared. i finally realized it’s not my game. If they are to have a long and happy life together, they need to learn how to do this. In the end? Their relationship is about as strong as any i’ve ever known. Made stronger by this experience, no doubt.
The turning point for my sister? T continued to rage about TK screwing her over, about TK caring more about the boat and the new house than anything else. Ranting that she’d been forced to sell her beloved home against her will, claiming “homeless” status. While laying all this on her therapist, the therapist simply asked “If your home was on fire, and TK was on fire, which would you put out first?”
Apparently this was answered with silence – the first silence T had managed for weeks. And it was pretty much over. Just like that.
The Trailer Park: While inhaling fine California wines during a business trip out west a couple of weeks ago, i got a text from my niece, DQ. “Next month marks the 2 year anniversary of Granny being in my living room. I wanted to let you know that today I moved DQ, III out of her bedroom, and I’m moving Granny into her own room. BJ is still making progress next door, but I just needed to make some changes until we’re ready to move”.
i about fell off my stool.
Since Mom moved in, i’ve been aggravated that the 3-year-old and 15-year-old each had their own bedrooms, while Mom stayed on display like a crotchety zoo animal in the middle of the living room.
Every time i’d ask Mom if she wanted me to bring it up? She’d say “I don’t want any trouble. Besides, the only motivation they have to finish the work on my house is that I’m in their living room. If they pack me off to a back bedroom, they can just forget about me and let me rot…”
My mother. Pure genius. She has been orchestrating a Trailer Park Mexican Standoff. Who am i to intervene?
The first time i talked to Mom after the move, i asked how she liked it. “It’s cold.” i suggested that perhaps blankets would help, and asked if she enjoyed having a little privacy. “Well, I can at least hear the TV…”
So it goes…