Control

She’s in the hospital. Aorta Aneurism. She’s behind schedule. Was on the ventilator for an extra day. We’re on day 4. She’s having conversations, complaining of back pain, eating solid diet. When others are in the room she’s not complaining about pain. When I’m in the room, she complains about pain, too hot, move my pillows, I need to sit up on and on. I finally said “You’re not at home.” Meaning, it’s not going to be comfortable. My brother stops for lunch. She’s happy for the surprise and gives him the updates (even though I’ve been updating him). She wants to be praised every time she accomplishes something “Look at me. I did it!” She wants everything that I didn’t get in childhood.

No one sat with me when I had my asytole and cardiac arrest. I live with chronic pain, but no one sympthizes. No one recognizes my mental health issues, especially the PTSD. “It’s Jodi, that’s the way she is.” She doesn’t take any responsibility for what happened in my childhood. My brother doesn’t want to talk about. So no validation from anyone. It breaks my heart for my inner child and it has for more than 50 years.

I’m tired of living like this. My mind needs peace. I don’t want my son to take care of me or live through what I am. I need to contact an attorney, get my affairs in order.