Thorns

  I want to know my truest self as a kind, considerate, compassionate individual.  If you read my drivel often enough, you know I spend a good deal of my free time helping shelter dogs find homes and contributing to my community in various ways.  Leave a place better than you found it –  I love that simple line.   It feels good to do so, it nourishes my soul… sounding as corny as I can get here today.

  But sometimes.. I get it all wrong. Thorns on the rose, you know.

  Again… if you read my drivel often enough here… you also know I speak my mind quite openly and without apology. I am opinionated and I am stubborn and I am stuffed full with emotion…… always have been, forever it shall be.   This is a good thing most often… for that fire helps me get  the good things done. And then there are times.. like yesterday.

  I started out with good intentions. I knew what I was walking into.. but as I drove to yesterdays destination I told myself I was not going to let emotion dictate my behavior.  A certain elder relative and I have had a difficult relationship through the years. We are oil and water.    The stubbornness we share.    Because of the thorny issues between us, it is hard for me in his waning years to find compassion and do what I know is right….that is…  Find compassion to do what he needs done and leave the emotion out of it.  Sometimes I succeed, and sometimes I fail miserably.  Like yesterday. 

  For many years this person has chosen to live haphazardly and has, for reasons still unknown to me, chosen to live a life with “Poor Me” underscores.  He lived according to his own set of rules and did what he wanted most often enough without much regard for others.  He followed his passions , was blessed with good health until he ruined it, but did not nourish friendships or family relationships. So in the end, there isn’t much if you can no longer chase your hobbies.  Where the -poor me- came from is beyond my understanding, and maybe even his.

   So now… I am (as is my husband, because without his support it wouldn’t be possible) the one and only lifeline, his key to still living independently.  I don’t know that he realizes it, but at his age and in his condition, it really doesn’t matter, does it.  I should have long ago realized that a leopard is a leopard is a leopard.  Throwing it through a washer is not going to wash away the spots.  Acceptance is what I usually think I have found.  Sometimes, though,  I lose it. Like yesterday. 

  I walked in, saw what I already knew would be there and thought I had long ago accepted, felt his attitude building as I asked questions, felt my own attitude roil and bubble and then.. burst.   I should have just…. shut ….up.

 Instead, I probably shamed an old man.   And now I feel horribly about it.