It’s fortunate, in some ways, to be the sort of person who, when faced with a crisis, can deal with things completely head on, without bothering to see the forest for the damn trees. In spite of how I may appear on paper (blog), I rarely am overtaken with emotions, so I am not reduced to the puddle of excess emotional goo ruining your nice shag carpet (nice shag carpet sounds oxymoronic, doesn’t it?) until much, much later.

I’ve spent each and every day since Thursday taking care of the most bizarre things: my Christmas shopping is completed, I’ve written and addressed about half of my Christmas cards, the house DOES NOT look like a tornado ran through it. But each thing I do is a semblence of what I would normally do. I’m like a bundle of nervous energy flitting from thing to thing to thing, attention to details thrown by the wayside in favor of trying to do about 1,797 things at the very same moment.

It seems easier to focus on the superficial motions of TAKING CARE OF BUSINESS than on what has just happened to my father.

But, as all good things are wont to do, it has come to an end, and I can feel every single horrible emotion welling up from within. I am now paying back with 99.9% interest everything that I have repressed. My throat is lumpy, and against all odds, it feels as though my right eyeball has just come back from a wicked battle, so much so that it now hurts to blink (I am not even pretending to understand this).

I’m fine, I will BE fine, because I am as predictable as a tax bill: I am always fine, even when I’m not.

My father himself would like to express his gratitude for all of the well-wishes and prayers that the Internet has offered (he called all of you his “second daughters” which is a high form of praise for him). Although he doesn’t specifically know about my blog (It seems easier that way. It’s not as though he wouldn’t appreciate parts of it, but I think I would feel weird knowing that my father has heard me tell the world about my vagina.), he knows that there are people out there who care about his well being, and that is what matters.

I’d try and be funny right now, but it would seem more forced than I care to be, so I’m just going to leave this as it is and not pretend to suddenly feel jolly and witty and annoying. I’m fairly sure, as I’ve been down this road before, that by tomorrow morning, I should feel far better, and will return with more hilariously stupid crap that I do.

My father is fine, my family is fine, and suddenly, I am no longer fine. I guess this is why God invented Jack Daniels, eh?

Comments = full of the awesome. Like gravy. I can haz an RSS RSS feed .

10 Responses to Techno Distracto

  • gs says:

    1. you can’t help but be funny

    2. I am hugely relieved that your dad is okay.

    3. It sounds like your coping mechanism is to tend to All Shit Needing Tending. Please allow yourself to break down if you need to and let your huz take care of things.

  • Juli says:

    We are very alike. I am Great In A Crisis. The second the crisis passes (or a bonafide grownup appears and takes over) I am reduced to incoherent stammering and the complete inability to put my own socks on by myself.

    *hug*

    I am very glad all is under control now. If you need anything, I am still just up the road a piece.

  • Denise says:

    I’m another “fine” person. I’m always “fine”, but eventually break down. It’s okay to feel, at least that’s what I try to tell myself. Or rather, my husband tells me. ;)

    Wonderful to hear your dad is doing well.

  • calliope says:

    I think we all go into whatever coping system works when the shit is hitting the fan. I go into super cleaning mode. When my GM was in the hospital a few weeks ago and I felt so hopeless and down I just started cleaning. Part of it was because the house was a mess and part of it was that I could control the clean. All I had to do was wash one dish and then another and then another. One task at a time. I could focus on washing the dish instead of my GM ill.

    You are so resilliant and strong. & you clearly get this from your Dad. So glad he is doing better.

    xo

  • Kim says:

    Aunt Becky,

    must figure out just HOW we are related, first the commentary, then the whiskey, now the emotional train wreck following a period of seemingly complete control in a serious situation.

    I think that it’s an indication of being a strong woman.

    Being able to shoulder the world when you are called on and then almost feeling bad when we finally break down and have a minute to ourselves to reflect and perhaps even *gasp in horror* cry! Awww shit, I said it out loud! Now they will all know that I’m not made of “Super Strong Mommy/Wife Silly Putty” (that is what EYE call it, because they can go in 50 different directions when needed and still be soft and pliable when the occasion arises).

    I’m really glad to hear that your Pops is doing better and you are on the road back to sarcasm and wit, where would we be without cha?

    k

  • Kristine says:

    I am also similar. Good in crisis, breakdown when it seems everything is taken care of. As a 4th grader I actually had my Girl Scout leader say “I’m so glad you’re in my troop, if we had a medical emergency, I know you’d be calm enough to handle it, because I’d be a wreck.” And she was a veterinarian, you’d think with that much medical knowledge (even though it wasn’t human) that she’d be able to handle an emergency.

    Anyway, glad to hear your father is fine. It’s hard to see our parents so vulnerable, and you know, showing their mortality and stuff.

  • Karen says:

    I am very much like you. In a crisis, I power through without emotion. However, as soon as things are stable – I fall apart. Oh, that and my house ALWAYS looks like a tornado has blown through it.

  • becky says:

    It’s a terrible burden to watch those that you love grow older and less like their former self. Parents are supposed to be the strong healthy ones, while we kids fuck up.

    I knew this was an inevitability, and maybe that is why I was less freaked out by it.

    Today, I feel much better. He’s being discharged this morning (or whenever) and coming home. To say I am excited is an understatement. Both Dave and Ben are home and waiting to see him.

    Thanks again to everyone. I’m glad that I am not the only one who deals with stress that way.

  • Pauline says:

    I am very much like you, too. Always the one taking care of everything in a crisis, until there is nothing left to be taken care of. Now, it’s your turn. You’ve just been through hell. It’s ok to fall apart if you need to.

  • becky says:

    My house would look like a tornado blew through it 365 days a year if I wasn’t a bit OCD about it. My husband and son are like huge gusts of wind, blowing in and out and destroying everything in their paths.

    I’ve gotten pretty zen about it.

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