Vulnerability & Trust

Roughly, after my father passed. I got pissed off at my mother. She said something to me, that just didn't gel right with me in my grief. Another did as well, after my grandmother passed. Grief is a touchy thing. I knew I needed my space right from the start to process mine. It might have been selfish but it was a lot better then lashing out at someone because with grief comes anger. An I try to keep a tight lid on mine. I wasn't going to take mine out on someone, an didn't want to deal with another's either. To me it's just private. Especially when you have complex feelings about the one that passed.


I use to call my father an “asshole”.


Because at times he was: I got this from my grandmother. Not that she taught me to think of him as an asshole. It's just the word she would use for all of us if we where being “difficult”. It's the only swear word she would use. An to her, we where all “assholes” in some shape or form. Even I was. It's kinda a inside joke. You would have had to know her I guess. It's kinda like Betty White swearing. You just can't help it. It makes you laugh.


She got mad at me one day when her an her boyfriend where arguing in my house. Something that never happened with her. I intervened an told her, they couldn't argue in my kitchen. Right or wrong to me really wasn't important. My kids where home. No arguing. An she turned to me an said:


Why, you little asshole.


An stomped out. Something she never did with me, an that's when I knew something was wrong with her. Really wrong. He was still standing in the doorway, all befuddled and confused, an just looking at me like: Where the hell did that come from. Because she never acted like this, ever. An that's when I told him, somethings wrong. You need to take her to the doctor. If you don't, I'll call my uncle. Somethings wrong. This isn't her.


An it wasn't to long after that she was diagnosed with cancer.


She really wasn't herself. She was physically sick.


It was effecting her personality. She had a lot less patience then she normally had. It just wasn't her. He told me later after she passed, a decade maybe that at first someone: He wouldn't say who tried to say she was crazy. An at first, her whole mental state was being looked at instead of what could actually be wrong with her. He even got confronted by the doctor, asking about it an defended her. Because that wasn't the issue. My grandmother had always been clear headed. Sharp as a whistle. I agree. I talked to her regularly all through my life. An knew, the problem wasn't ever her marbles. She was a smart lady, always had been.


An until they found out what was physically wrong with her, she was a little more short tempered because she was tired. She was sick an she needed medical attention an care. Once, they found out what was wrong, an started to get some of that. She was herself again. There was a reason she was acting the way she was.


A physical reason.


She never was crazy. Not once.


A psychical health issue / problem can alter one's state or attitude. When your not feeling good, your just typically not going to be your most chipper self. When he told me she was put through this, it angered me. Immensely. To me, it's abusive. Someone, an I don't know who attacked her basic character, while she was sick. It didn't last because that's not who she was. An, they didn't know her that well either. You would have to be close to her to notice, something was off. It just wasn't how she would normally react. Wasn't her style.


Two to three years before my father passed, he was in an accident. His girlfriend had passed of cancer, he was grieving an his friends took him on bus trip to a casino. They where trying to be helpful. Cheer him up, or help him grieve. He never should have went. His grieving should have been done close to home, around those who would watch out for him. They talked him into it. He got shitfaced, an fell walking down the bus steps.


He hit the back of his head.


Hard enough to cause blood to pour from his ears. He was knocked unconscious, an someone at the scene gave him mouth to mouth. When I arrived at the hospital, he was conscious an scared to death. I held his hand, all though it. Talked to him calmly. Kept him calm. Calmed him down. An he held onto my hand as tight as he could: Because we both knew it was serious. It could be the end. He had a giant size hole in the back of his head. It was serious.


They put him in a coma induced state.


His brain was swelling. He might never wake up from it. Only time would tell. We wouldn't know the extent of the damage until he woke up. If he ever did. It was the only way to give it time to heal. He was in a coma for nine weeks.


He did wake.


When he did, they warned us: everyone reacts to it differently. He would at first be in the mental state of a child. Some come out of it sweet as pie, others difficult. It would be a long road back to himself. It would take time, an he might not ever make it back to being fully himself. It would depend on him.


He wasn't crazy either.


He had a physical condition that made him take a step back into his mind. He came out of it disoriented, an shock-lying peaceful. Happy. An it was actually a glimpse of the child he had been. He even joked around a bit. Not much because he was clearly exhausted. We wheren't even sure he was going to be able to walk. But the minute I knew he was going to be alright is when, me & my uncle had pushed him into another room: He looked out the window – pointed to a big school building across the street: An said, “I think I use to own that”.


We both kinda laughed.


Not at him, with him. He didn't ever own that building: but he was remembering he owned buildings. He was reconsigning the area. Somewhat. An I think, we turned him around in the wheel chair an showed him the building he did use to own. It helped. It was a good sign. Then, he told us not to put him in wherever they planned on taking him. He didn't want to go.


He recovered.
But during that period, they could have called him paranoid too. When your minds not functioning well, but you are remembering there are some people you don't trust with your life: It can come off that way. He agreed to go to physical therapy just long enough to make sure he could, walk, talk an do the things he needed to do: but he didn't want to be locked up in there any longer then he had to be.


He was afraid.


For couple of reasons, which to me was healthy sign actually. He was remembering the shit cost money. Money he didn't want to blow any longer then necessary. He could walk, talk an do the things he needed to do to take care of himself at home. He had a huge fear they would keep him there longer then he needed to be. An a huge fear, a few close to him would try to force him to stay as well. That he'd be locked up an couldn't get out. Back to himself.


It wasn't paranoia.


It was a legitimate fear. There where a few, trying to insist he stay. He didn't want to for several reasons. An I don't blame him. He was aware enough to know some where going against his will. They wanted what they thought was best for him. More time in recovery was recommended by the doctors. He wanted to finish his recovery at home. One that didn't come with a huge hospital bill. To me, he was getting back to himself. An his fear of getting locked up in there was real.


It's not paranoia if it's happening to you.


He made my uncle promise not let them lock him up in there. He'd stay another week but then you come get me if they don't let me out of here. Don't you let them do this to me. I witnessed the whole thing. No, he wasn't back fully to himself, but he was fully aware. He could finish recovering at home an there was no reason to keep someone against his will. His fear, was founded.


It wasn't paranoia.


He went home. An yea, he was still recovering: Watched the shopping network a little to much an ran up a credit card bill in the process. My grandmother called, frantic: Going I don't know what he's spending the money on. I might need you to go with me to take it away from him. Turns out, his mind was on us three kids during that time period. An he bought a lot of presents for us. Three of everything. One for each one of us. We took the card away from him.


He continued to heal.


It didn't make him crazy. It just takes time. He did recover.


It was a slow process, an if left alone to do it. He could. Without a bunch of pressure on him. Letting him go home, be himself in a place he could relax was the right choice.


I understand his fear.


It's legit. It's not paranoia because the first thing people he was worried about keeping him locked up did to me when I got sick: Was try to lock me up in a mental ward instead of get me the help I really needed. It's documented who tried to do that. Their names on are the papers, who tried to claim I was crazy when I wasn't. It's the same people he didn't trust to make decisions for him. Nor, my grandmother.


It's not paranoia.


It's a flat out I don't trust you to make decisions for me or my well being.
It's a: I actually could die before you make the right one.


So, last week I had a long talk with my kiddo: About what to do if I'm ever not in my “right head”. Her instructions where very clear. Make sure I have food. Get me to a real physician. See what the real physical problem could be. Bring me some art supplies if you want. An give me time to heal. Don't let these people be in charge of my healthcare.


I have a thyroid condition. Not a mental illness.


Any depression I went through was a direct result of how I was being treated while sick an vulnerable. I was susceptible to physical, emotional attack and harm. I was broke. in need of special care, support, and protection because it. I've always been at risk of abuse or neglect by certain people. It's just a fact of my life. I've always put someone else in charge of my healthcare during those periods. Each pregnancy. During my gallstone surgery.


I knew why my dad was acting that way. Why he had that fear.
It's not paranoia if it's a real threat to your well being.


Just because some is closely related to you does not mean they know what's best for you. When your sick, you want someone who will be a true advocate for your healthcare. Not someone with a personal grudge or bias in charge. Not someone with a personal agenda. You want some who will listen to you when you state your real needs. Who isn't playing games with your life.


I really don't care how: Out there I got.


It was from starvation, an my thyroid spinning out because of it. Would you want to leave anyone in charge of your life that would let you get to that point? Probably not. An all I see and want to say: When they go on about how great they are doing...


Is WTF didn't you do that while he was alive. When he really needed you to.


This is why, I really didn't want to get into conversations grieving. Anger is a part of grief. It doesn't bring them back. I didn't want to hurt anyone any further then they already where. My anger runs deep. I was privy to know exactly how my grandmother felt about some things. How dad felt about others. An I've sat over here, pretty much biting my tongue since they passed.


An every time I get treated a certain way, grieve all over again.


After he passed, I went over to the bar by myself. Took inventory. Processed goodbye. Alone. My children where really the only ones I was okay with being around in that process. They hadn't done anything for me to be angry about. We cleaned. It helped me say goodbye to something I knew I'd never have much of a part in again. Because I knew when my mother said that to me, it was going to be taken away from me one way or another. Art to me is just her way of just saying, sit down an shut up.


She was leaning over the bar, helping us list it for sale: All happy like saying “Now Dana, you can do anything you want to. You can do your art.” An I just couldn't help my reaction. A part of me just wanted to reach out an slap her. There was nothing happy about either of them dying. There was no silver lying to me in them passing. I could already do art. I didn't need either of them to pass to do so.


So, I just looked at her an as calmly as I could said:
“Could you bring them back? Cuz that's what I really want.”


She didn't mean to be offensive. She just was. She really had no business standing in my dad's business, or the one my grandmother invested in directing how things should go with it. He had divorced her well over 20 years ago, an it wasn't hers to direct. Everything was getting split up pretty fairly until that point. Most of my time spent over there after he passed was really thinking about what he would have wanted. What he wanted done. I was after all the Vice President of the damned thing. He put me in that position for a reason when he sat it up. He would have wanted it to make money. For the money to continue to grow.


That is what he would have wanted. Period.
Not for just one of us. All three of us.
Not two of us, or one of us. All three.


An anyone that acts or says differently is a liar. That was his will. It's always been his will. He didn't have to go writing it down. It was very straight forward. Anyone that's done any different then that, didn't follow his will. He wasn't paranoid. My grandmother's will was for the business not to get into anyone's pockets again. It's not paranoia when its been done before. So I tried to honor those two things. An those that haven't well, I just don't want much to do with. I pretty much know how they got done, an now how I have. I feel both got taken advantage of at times.


I feel I have when vulnerable.
It's not paranoia, it's just fact.


Vulnerability can be caused by poverty and hunger, poor health, a hazardous location, and lack of access to resources and services. Vulnerability is a liability of a partnership. It is a state of being exposed to the possibility of being attacked or harmed, either physically or emotionally. I have been. Threats to my own security have been very real. Vulnerability refers to the inability to withstand the effects of a hostile environment. You go on, an forgive someone for taking advantage of you when you where vulnerable for your own piece of mind. But you never quite forget you can't trust someone again like that for whatever reason.


I never have.


When you know you can't trust someone, you can't.
An trust is a very hard thing to win back.


You can't go around calling someone paranoid cause you haven't.
All it means is they have a good idea how far they can throw you.


An some people: It's just not that far.