Jazmee27 
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I still can’t believe she said that, although it shouldn’t surprise me. Nothing should anymore, not after what I learned in Abnormal Psychology.
The topic was personality disorders. I remember listening with only half my attention, thinking that so much of what we studied matched different family members (as if personalit y disorders ran in our blood or something).
Then we came to obsessive-compulsive personality disorder, and AI could no longer contain my curiosity. When Deb Bybee, class instructor, acknowledged me, I described one of my relatives and asked what she thought (I described how she makes a detailed schedule of the day and rigidly sticks to that schedule, making sure her husband, and others, follow it as well. She needs to run things, and if anything happens outside of the schedule, she goes over the deep end. [Impression? Sounds like OCPD}])
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Reply #241. May 16 12, 10:20 PM
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Jazmee27
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When my great-aunt Jean passed away, her sister Janice didn’t come down to the hospital because, well, it just didn’t fit into her perfect schedule. In fact, she didn’t come down for days. (She’s also one of those people who needs all the details, but she doesn’t live close to the rest of the family, so is often the last to know everything. Yet, even though she’s the one who insisted on moving so far away, everyone else is supposed to stay in contact with her, scheduling an appointment more or less so as not to interrupt the schedule [times to call are between two and three in the afternoon or seven and eight at night {and let’s not mention that one day is dedicated to all the wash, etc., or that she has a set schedule for opening the windows and closing them again, set waking and sleeping cycles for herself and Bill… in short, a schedule that drives everyone—except apparently hin—nuts}]). But once she got here, she expected everyone else to just get out of the way and let her run the show.
At a meeting with the minister, Janice stood up and announced, “I just want everyone to know I gave Jean all her stationery and stamps,” and Bbill added that she wrote a letter to her sister every Sunday. Now, even if all that were true, which it wasn’t (Grandma gave her paper and stamps as well), who really cares? A funeral is about the deceased and family unity, or is supposed to be (unless I’m missing something).
Then, at the cemetery, Janice accused Grandma of “yelling around,” or “acting out,” or “having a fit.” The truth? My Grandma was very quiet, like she was still in shock over the events of the past week (Jean was only a few years closer than Grandma [and it should be noted that Grandma, not Janice or their brother Charles, was Jean’s POA {Power of Attorney}]).
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Reply #242. May 16 12, 10:21 PM
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Jazmee27
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Enough from the past years, why not look at this month? Rebecca, her niece, wanted to come to the Memorial Day picnic with Janice and Bill (she’s the daughter of my great-uncle Harry, who died of a heart attack when Rebecca was just eight weeks old [in July, it’ll be 18 years {that means I was ten years old when he passed}]) Now, ordinarily, Janice and Bill bring their camper for the Memorial Day weekend. But as of last week, she’d decided that they wouldn’t do that, as Rebecca would be coming with them, and also she was concerned the camper would ruin Grandma’s lawn due to all the rain we’d gotten. Plus, “If it’s raining that day we won’t come.” (Why not? Because “why wants to travel in the rain?” [Even though if it’s raining in upstate PA, it doesn’t mean it’s raining down here]).
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Reply #243. May 16 12, 10:22 PM
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Jazmee27
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The thing I was referring to in the introduction, what I still can’t get over, is when Janice interrupted my conversation with Rebecca to say, “I’m over here!” I looked across the picnic table at her and said, as coolly as I could, “I know you are.” “Well,” she replied maddeningly, “ever since you’ve been talking to Rebecca it’s as if you’ve forgotten I was here.” Hello? The young woman came down here to get to know the rest of her Dad’s family, and as you live so close you don’t dcount (I’d never have said that, but such thoughts were going through my mind a mile a minute [I can’t prove this, but I think Rebecca was equally annoyed {she kind of laughed at what Janice said, like I did, but…}])
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Reply #244. May 16 12, 10:23 PM
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Jazmee27
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The more I think about yesterday and my conversation with Rebecca being interrupted by Janice reminding us she was still at the table, the more I think I was right all along: she doesn’t have obsessive-compulsive personality disorder (in spite of all the schedules and rigid rules [when I studied this in Abnormal Psyc, I thought that, even though the personality disorders sounded similar, Janice fit Narcicistic Personality Disorder more than OCPD {although, the more I learned, the more uncertain I was—but after looking into it online, I’m going back to my original assessment}])
As I was reading the pages on Narcicistic Personality Disorder, I began laughing hysterically. “I’m still here!” And later, I thought, “she’s the ideal poster child!”
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Reply #245. May 16 12, 10:24 PM
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Jazmee27
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Not one of my better days:
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“I knew it,” I thought acidly as I hopped aboard my exercise bike. “I just knew it..” First had been Tiffany’s grandfather, cut down by lung cancer; then had been Eric’s grandmother, dying from an infection in her bloodstream; and now, Peg lay in the hospital in critical condition, dying from… who could tell? Doctors suspected stroke, but weren’t sure, and all the immediate family—my great- aunt, great- uncle and cousins—knew was that “it’s not looking good.”
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Reply #246. May 16 12, 10:27 PM
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Jazmee27
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My mind wandered back to Mother’s Day, two days after I spoke to Eric. Two days after his grandma had been buried beside her husband at Indian Town Gap. And I remember thinking, “First Tiffany, then Eric… Am I next?”
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Reply #247. May 16 12, 10:28 PM
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Jazmee27
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Sometimes, I think my family has suffered more than its fair share of loss: my grandmother (Minnie [Mom’s namesake]), great-grandmother (Esther [I still see her daughter, Carol, at times, though we don’t live close, great-uncle (Harry [died of a heart attack when his daughter, Rebecca, was quite young]), Larry (Carol’s son [drug overdose]), great-aunt (Jean [doctors aren’t positive as to what killed her]), Anita’s brother (that’s my great-uncle’s wife [who has lots of health problems of her own, including a weak heart])…
Most recently, Peg, whose real name is Viola, had fallen at home and broken her arm (and I seem to remember her being hospitalized at least once before, but I forget the details [but what I am sure of is that she was in the Hyman Caplan for a time and liked it there]).
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Reply #248. May 16 12, 10:29 PM
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Jazmee27
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| The following made it through to round two: howdyitsme, slytherinwitch and Eyanyo. Total points: 23 (15 from yesterday) |
Reply #249. May 17 12, 7:09 AM
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Jazmee27
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Be back when "A Turn in the Road" has been read (I'm almost finished)
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Reply #250. May 17 12, 7:10 AM
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Jazmee27
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Groceries are here
Apparently, they didn't have muffins
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Reply #251. May 17 12, 8:32 AM
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Jazmee27
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Destructive little critters, squirrels
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The squirrels out at Mom’s place are running wild, upsetting bird feeders, digging up flowers by the roots… And that is why, when Mom said she planned an egg hunt and buried them in the yard, I was a little surprised.
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Reply #252. May 17 12, 8:35 AM
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Jazmee27
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Let me back up the bus here and explain that Easter has always been a quiet event, not a big get-together like Christmas or Thanksgiving or New Year’s. But that all changed, possibly due to there never having been a New Year’s celebration this year, as Mom was sick; nor was there a Superbowl Party, as Michael wound up in the hospital. And, of course, there’s Anita’s failing health…
But, back to “Holy Sunday” as it’s known: This year, Grandma and I got together with Mom, Charlie, Anita, Peg (Anita’s mom, who’s real name is Viola), and Michael for a dinner that included smoked turkey, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, ambrosia, orange cream sickle cake… and I feel like I’m missing something, but I’m writing this a few weeks after the fact.
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Reply #253. May 17 12, 8:36 AM
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Jazmee27
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Let’s get back to those squirrels! They dug up every egg and cracked them open in order to get to the chocolate inside, where they disposed of candy *and foil, leaving a tiny piece of leftover foil from one of the three kisses. Some of those Hershey Kisses had coconut cream in, others almonds, but the animals weren’t exactly particular about what they wanted (and under the tree, they even opened the egg with a lottery ticket in). Luckily, everyone who wanted to could hunt for eggs: Peg didn’t, because of her arm; and I didn’t because of my balance difficulties; but Grandma and Anita and Charlie and Michael all lined up with their Easter baskets and collected the eggs. And everyone got a prize, even those who weren’t collecting, so I got a small bottle of Japanese Cherry Blossom Lotion. Outstanding!
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That was the last time Mom or I saw Peg (well, the last time *I* did; Mom may have visited her in hospital before she died.
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Reply #254. May 17 12, 8:39 AM
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Jazmee27
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Forgiveness is something we want to achieve - but is very often hard to accomplish.
That was, coincidentally, one of the themes in"A Turn in the Road"
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I often sit and ponder how different my life is now than it was years ago. And I wonder, am I skeptical, cynical, or bitter?
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Reply #255. May 17 12, 8:42 AM
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Jazmee27
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People used to tell me I was “too forgiving,” ready to give just anybody another chance? Really? I have to wonder if that’s a true statement, given some of the things I’ve been through in my short life.
Certainly, I was very forgiving when it came to Edward or Elysha. Many times, I’d be so mad at either one of them for their constant bickering and their rowdy behavior—and yet I still played with them, even when it looked like they were sneaking into my room and taking my things…
But my interactions with Elysha changed the April she decided to steal $40 in one-dollar bills, p.lus an untold amount in quarters and dimes—the money I used, incidentally, for the bus. I remember being so upset after that, not sure which kid took the cash, bu knowing that one did. And the worst thing was, I should have known right away—or at least suspected—because Elysha was coming home every day with new stuff, items she claimed were “gifts” from friends.
And I think that’s when I began distancing myself from her, wondering *why I was trying so hard to be a good friend to this child when she obviously didn’t respect me.
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Reply #256. May 17 12, 8:43 AM
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Jazmee27
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The difference now is, I was more torn up inside than I believe I would be now. Whereas then I would often shut the door to my room and wonder what I was doing wrong, now I don’t think I’d care. I tried, for years, to get close to those kids; if they don’t appreciate the time I spent with them or choose to disrespect me, it’s none of my concern. I *refuse* to go out of my way for someone who clearly doesn’t appreciate my efforts! Or, put another way, why bother? As a song by Three Days Grace says, “I swear I never meant to let it die/I just don’t care about care about you anymore/It’s not fair when you say that I didn’t try/I just don’t care about you anymore.”
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Reply #257. May 17 12, 8:44 AM
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Jazmee27
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Since writing this, said neighbor has moved to another building where she has a larger apartment with:
- More cabinet space
- Central heating and air
- Six windows
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One of my neighbors avoids people rather than exchange pleasantries with them (these are the ones whom she’d greet day after day, only to be ignored. Again, “Why bother?”)
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Reply #258. May 17 12, 8:46 AM
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Jazmee27
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This is my friend Tiffany:
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My friend told me that she gets her mother something nice for her birthday every year, and each year her thoughtfulness isn’t acknowledged—or, when it is, the words aren’t said sincerely. “Why do I even bother?” she asked.
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Reply #259. May 17 12, 8:48 AM
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Jazmee27
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It’s like my neighbor: Unless one chooses to be polite to me, I won’t even give him or her the time of day. And part of this is my visual impairment, but part is my personality. If someone wants to talk to me, I’m more than happy to talk. But I’m just one of those people who needs to be shown someone cares; put another way, someone needs to gain my trust before I open up to him or her (I’ve been hurt too much in the past to just trust anyone [I’d be lying if I claimed otherwise, and that wouldn’t be remaining true to myself {if I’m not true to myself, then what’s the point?}])
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What indeed?
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Reply #260. May 17 12, 8:48 AM
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