Curing a “Busted” “Don’t Give a D__n”. ‘bout Time!

           Night before last, Maxine and I went a few serious rounds.  Of course, and well and naturally, I behaved the “pure in heart” and didn’t see my part in it till several sleepless hours down the road.  I think well, I think, she (now I resort to third person pretending to get objective, — snort!) speaks mildly, having told already of the “thinking disorder” proclaimed well nigh twenty-five years.


           So, back to insight coming as to how I might have deserved all that, it did appear some light dawned with the thought, “we’re too much alike”.  Well, I’d thought that before. 


          Alike, in what ways, and especially in reference to this?  AND, why is that such a pain?

                    need to feel important?  Yeah.  Sure.

                    need to be in charge.  Indeed.  Indeed.

                    need to be dominant.  Certainly.

                    ah, need to have it our way.  Bingo.  Bingo.  Bingo.

And, no.  I don’t get to do her laundry the way I do laundry.  I, d—n straight better do it the way she does it.


          Truth be told, I have to admit.  She’s really not all that bad about it.  I know she’s not as bad about it as she wishes she felt she could be.  I can see looking back how it grieves her that not just one, but two other women putz around in her kitchen and her yard and sundry and other parts of her life and as she looks around it’s “not the way I do things”.


         I’m not sure what kind of a person it makes me that I stand on my viewpoint and see her as a complainer and an ingrate.  I guess I’m beginning to see her nurse’s point that she (and dad gum, count me in) are likely going to feel and to be the same.


          Perhaps you might guess I was ready, red dee, to hear what Joel Osteen had to say about creating a climate of honor, this morning.  I have a ready example in Maxine’s nurse, too, so I guess everything’s in place.


          I was trained up (and I speak not here of my parents for their behavior in this regard was exemplary.  I’m sure they have not been proud to observe me in my present state from the far beyond) to disregard, no, even to mock and laugh at the inane remarks and high flying, quickly forgotten notions my former mother-in-law had in earlier days.  She simply was not taken seriously in her family.


          I’ve been way too serious (no kidding!) most of my life and in my marriage that generally interpreted to me feeling disgust in seeing my husband and his father and siblings yukking it up when gathered together.  How could they treat Maxine that way, I thought.


         Fast forward (ah, yes, time does fly) to my coming to be with Maxine and I found living with her, it was all too simple to fall into the same way of thinking about her, which led to the inevitable treating her the same way.



          My challenge now, is to change my thinking, and to do what I should do with everyone I come in contact with, and find ways to honor her, give her credit (trust me, that will knock her over with a feather), swallow my pride when that is what it takes and treat her with genuine respect – no matter, no matter.


          I’ve asked it of you before, pray for me.  I genuinely need your help.  I am a most imperfect being.  Maxine needs to cross over, when the time comes, sans the bitterness and resentment and hatred I felt from her and heard from her that night.  I am certain of that.  She deserves to feel love and support and valuing from both sides of that veil.    


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