But the alternative is worse...
Every time I answer the phone and it's my dad, my heart falls into the pit of my stomach and just churns there. Because I'm terrified he's going to tell me Mom is in the hospital, yet again. Or... that he's going to tell me that she died.
So, every time I answer and he says, "Hello" my first reaction is to go stiff and say, "How's mom? Is she okay? How's she doing?" Which, I can imagine makes my dad wonder if he counts at all. I mean, I never say right of the bat, "How are you?" it's always, "How's Mom?"
I know that he knows why I do that, and I'm sure the adult inside of him knows why I do it, and doesn't care. But, I know if it were me in the same situation, the adult would be fine, but there would be this little voice in me, going, "Oh, so, no one cares about me. I've just become a non-entity, who's only function in life is to take care of someone. I'm a nobody, life sucks, I want chocolate." (Okay, the last one would still be said, even if everyone rushed around me and asked me all about myself all the time, but you get the point.)
Yet, I can't seem to break myself of the habit. Yes, once we've established Mom's condition (never good) then, I ask him how he's holding up, so on and so forth. But, I always feel it comes across like an afterthought. "Oh yes, that's right, Dad, you're a human being too! And you're no spring chicken, so uh, let's be polite. How the hell are ya?"
In other news, I'm having a love/hate affair with Jodi Picoult. She, of course, is unaware of this affair, as her role in this is to write books, which I listen to. Nevertheless, this doesn't mean this affair isn't taking it's toll on me.
( More about the affair hereCollapse )
So, every time I answer and he says, "Hello" my first reaction is to go stiff and say, "How's mom? Is she okay? How's she doing?" Which, I can imagine makes my dad wonder if he counts at all. I mean, I never say right of the bat, "How are you?" it's always, "How's Mom?"
I know that he knows why I do that, and I'm sure the adult inside of him knows why I do it, and doesn't care. But, I know if it were me in the same situation, the adult would be fine, but there would be this little voice in me, going, "Oh, so, no one cares about me. I've just become a non-entity, who's only function in life is to take care of someone. I'm a nobody, life sucks, I want chocolate." (Okay, the last one would still be said, even if everyone rushed around me and asked me all about myself all the time, but you get the point.)
Yet, I can't seem to break myself of the habit. Yes, once we've established Mom's condition (never good) then, I ask him how he's holding up, so on and so forth. But, I always feel it comes across like an afterthought. "Oh yes, that's right, Dad, you're a human being too! And you're no spring chicken, so uh, let's be polite. How the hell are ya?"
In other news, I'm having a love/hate affair with Jodi Picoult. She, of course, is unaware of this affair, as her role in this is to write books, which I listen to. Nevertheless, this doesn't mean this affair isn't taking it's toll on me.
( More about the affair hereCollapse )
