One way I can tell when I’m nearly done with something is that everything gets on my last nerve. Normally, I’m good at deflecting and keeping my shit to myself. But if I’m not allowed or able to replenish my reservoir, that ability erodes until at some point it completely disappears. for example. Talking to my parents on the phone. Normally, I just ‘uh huh’ and ‘really?’ until the phone call ends and then shake off the slight depression before going about my business. By the way. My brother and I recently compared our conversations with our parents, and they’re exactly the same except I get more bitching from my mother. Way more bitching. Most of the time, my mentality is, “Just listen to them blather, nod in agreement, and get off the phone as quickly as you can.” With an added, “Tell them you’re fine, everything is fine, yes, Covid-19 sucks, yes, this current president sucks, have a good life, goodbye.”
It doesn’t help that my parents are deeply entwined in a codependent relationship that I’m afraid will leave my mother worse for the wear. I mean, hell, it already has as most of her life revolves around my father and catering to his needs. My mother was on a kick for fifteen years to get me pregnant and then switched to getting me married after that. She would say who would take care of me when I’m old and sick if I weren’t married? It took every ounce of will I had not to snap out that her being married hadn’t helped her. Indeed, recently, she fell and hit her head, and as she felt the blood (which was pink), my father insisted it wasn’t blood. He kept asking her if she had dyed her hair recently which, first of all, she hadn’t dyed her hair in a decade or so. Second, she’s never dyed her hair pink. She said this proved she couldn’t count on him and then did a little laugh. I hate that laugh, by the way. It’s a fairly new addition and she only does it when she knows that she’s saying something unreasonable. Like having to put up with your husband being worse than useless in an emergency situation.
By the way, my mother shared that my father’s latest dementia tests show that he hasn’t deteriorated in the year. She was relieved while I was baffled. If it’s not medical, then why is he getting worse and worse with his memory, his self-absorption, and everything else? This is an age-old question with him, though. Is it medical or just his innate narcissism? I try not to get sucked into the speculation, but it’s hard not to get drawn into it because my mother is incessant about talking about my father.
Anyway. When my mom calls, it goes like this. She asks the perfunctory ‘how are you?’ question then use it to springboard into whatever she wants to talk about. Usually her many physical problems, things my father has done to irritate her but she can’t admit it, Covid-19, the election, work issues, and then insist that I talk to my father. He’ll ask about Covid-19 and express amazement that it’s not going down. A bit about this president and the totally unfounded belief that Americans are logical and rational people and how could this happen? He says in complete seriousness that America is the best country in the world! Mind, he hasn’t actually lived here in nearly 30 years, but facts don’t matter. Then he pontificates how each individual person doesn’t matter (when it comes to the coronavirus) and we can’t do anything so we should just ignore it and move on.
Let me point out once again that they live in Taiwan, perhaps the leading country in dealing with the pandemic. It’s really hard to get across what living in the eye of the pandemic is like, especially for me with my shitty, shitty immune system.
The thing I hate most about talking with my father is that after he spouts his ignorant opinion, he pauses and says, “Right?” Then he actually waits for me to answer. If he just went off, I’d mostly be able to ignore it, but the fact that he wants me to agree with him is the cherry on the shitshow sundae. Like I said, mostly I can just say yes or uh-huh with a little difficulty and a grimace, but the last time I talked to him, I could feel the bile rising in the back of my throat. I feel like I’ve been held hostage to a narrative that I have no interest in. I had to grit my teeth hard in order not to scream, “You are so full of fucking shit!” That’s not to say that he wasn’t right in general. There’s nothing I can do personally about the situation and it WILL end at some time. But in the tenth month of being in this fucking pandemic, I just want to hear, “It fucking sucks”, even if it’s without the swearing.
It’s on me, though. I know better than to expect any empathy from them. And, as I said, most of the time, I deal with it by shining them on. But when I’m at my low point, I just can’t handle it. It takes all my energy not to scream at them to shut the fuck up and leave me alone. I just can’t. This pandemic has taught me some things about myself, including that I need that 5% of time with other people. That two or three taiji classes a week plus going to the grocery store a few times a week were necessary to my mental health. The fact that the choice has been taken away from me is the hard part and that’s the thing my parents can’t understand. Or at least my father can’t.
Anyway, hard switch to weapons. I still love them. I’m having a hard time coming up with a schedule to practice them all. My niece asked me what weapons I practiced and I listed them. Sword, saber, double sabers (escrima sticks), cane, spear/staff, karambit, and deer-horn knives. I’ve learned a few fan moves, too, and I would love to learn more. There is no way I can do each of them every day so I’m parceling it out and I’m experimenting with different formats. One thing set in stone is I do the Sword Form on Sunday and Monday (half and half) and the Saber Form on Tuesday. Everything else is flexible. Oh, and I do one row of the saber each day as well.
Honestly, it’s one of the few things keeping me sane during the pandemic. Even when I don’t feel like practicing, I do it every ‘morning’ (afternoon) when I wake up. I’ve come a long way from those days when I refused to even pick up a sword and I can’t wait for the continued journey.