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Sep. 14th, 2005 06:45 pmGods, I'm exhausted. Dad arrives at Penn station tomorrow morning - I have to meet him there, as he's much less familiar with how to get around NYC than Mom (remember, Mom lived with us for 8 weeks when she broke her hip), and seems to be nervous about getting lost on his own. It's interesting, seeing points upon which he's vulnerable - he's usually such a stereotypical Norwegian I almost believe it myself.
Every time I look up I see or recall something that hasn't been done yet - my day is punctuated with soft, high pitched invective. It's almost gotten amusing...Actually it has gotten amusing. If we forget something (and we will, it's just inevitable) we'll handle it when we realize it. Anything that isn't done when I leave will wait for my return. It's ok. It's all ok.
It's actually even better than I make it sound, it's just that this upheaval has me unsettled, and when I get unsettled I can easily slip into hysterically compulsive cleaning. I want the place to be *clean*, and stay that way, godsdamnit. I look at my in-law's apartment and seethe, overcome by a sense of inadequacy, never mind the fact that they have a cleaning person, no cats, no one with long hair, and a very Spartan decorating style, whereas we prefer a much more ecletic decor that often verges on cluttered. (I'd say it's that Sir's a packrat, but my collections of scented candles, faery figures, and don'tgetmestartedontheyarn indict me too.:)) Still, I just never, ever feel like the house is clean enough, and feel like that says innumerable unflattering things about me.
It's totally a case of 'as within, so without', this idiotic compulsiveness. I get entirely too attached to habit, routine, 'the way things are'. My environment must be stable, or the bad old days lurk just around the corner - at least, that's what the dusty whispers in my mind say. So, when things get shaken up, as they always will, I turn my attention away from the situation itself - after all, what am I going to be able to do about Sir's job? - and focus on the direct environment, trying to create a stabilty and order because in some way I don't fully understand that order creates a sense of internal order, a calm exterior creating a calm interior.
It's not so easy, mostly because we had to move in before doing any work on the 50+year old apartment, and so have been playing an endless game of catch-up, even five years down the line. Getting a living space into shape is expensive, and home improvements are the first thing to get knocked back on the priority list when inevitable 'surprise' expenses occur.
I'm almost amused by how much of the strain this has put upon me is of my own creation - attachment, fear of the unknown, trying to create something to make the fear go away, etc., etc. It reminds me of seeing Dar Williams in concert, and her introduction to What Do You Hear in These Sounds?. She talked about studying Buddhism and sitting in meditation for a time one afternoon, and then realizing that she was reciting a mantra in her mind. Unfortunately, her mantra was "I'm such a bad Buddhist, I'm such a bad Buddhist...." Blinking, she sat up and said aloud; "I really need therapy!" (it was much funnier when she said it, trust me.) I'm trying not to fall into making "I'm such a bad Buddhist" my mantra (as that would rather miss the point of being Buddhist, I think), but self-indictment is such an easy habit to fall into.
Every time I look up I see or recall something that hasn't been done yet - my day is punctuated with soft, high pitched invective. It's almost gotten amusing...Actually it has gotten amusing. If we forget something (and we will, it's just inevitable) we'll handle it when we realize it. Anything that isn't done when I leave will wait for my return. It's ok. It's all ok.
It's actually even better than I make it sound, it's just that this upheaval has me unsettled, and when I get unsettled I can easily slip into hysterically compulsive cleaning. I want the place to be *clean*, and stay that way, godsdamnit. I look at my in-law's apartment and seethe, overcome by a sense of inadequacy, never mind the fact that they have a cleaning person, no cats, no one with long hair, and a very Spartan decorating style, whereas we prefer a much more ecletic decor that often verges on cluttered. (I'd say it's that Sir's a packrat, but my collections of scented candles, faery figures, and don'tgetmestartedontheyarn indict me too.:)) Still, I just never, ever feel like the house is clean enough, and feel like that says innumerable unflattering things about me.
It's totally a case of 'as within, so without', this idiotic compulsiveness. I get entirely too attached to habit, routine, 'the way things are'. My environment must be stable, or the bad old days lurk just around the corner - at least, that's what the dusty whispers in my mind say. So, when things get shaken up, as they always will, I turn my attention away from the situation itself - after all, what am I going to be able to do about Sir's job? - and focus on the direct environment, trying to create a stabilty and order because in some way I don't fully understand that order creates a sense of internal order, a calm exterior creating a calm interior.
It's not so easy, mostly because we had to move in before doing any work on the 50+year old apartment, and so have been playing an endless game of catch-up, even five years down the line. Getting a living space into shape is expensive, and home improvements are the first thing to get knocked back on the priority list when inevitable 'surprise' expenses occur.
I'm almost amused by how much of the strain this has put upon me is of my own creation - attachment, fear of the unknown, trying to create something to make the fear go away, etc., etc. It reminds me of seeing Dar Williams in concert, and her introduction to What Do You Hear in These Sounds?. She talked about studying Buddhism and sitting in meditation for a time one afternoon, and then realizing that she was reciting a mantra in her mind. Unfortunately, her mantra was "I'm such a bad Buddhist, I'm such a bad Buddhist...." Blinking, she sat up and said aloud; "I really need therapy!" (it was much funnier when she said it, trust me.) I'm trying not to fall into making "I'm such a bad Buddhist" my mantra (as that would rather miss the point of being Buddhist, I think), but self-indictment is such an easy habit to fall into.
