February 6, 2009
JD at Get Rick Slowly’s post on luck and the associated article from Newsweek “What it takes to survive” really struck a chord with me.
In the last several years, there’ve been challenges in droves: health, family, bankruptcies, debts, tragedy. You name it, we had it. We managed, sometimes by the skin of my teeth, but the toughest recurring theme throughout was the devolving relationship with my mom.
Once my biggest inspiration and help, she changed dramatically as the difficulties ate away at her self esteem and faith. When faced with a new obstacle, she began insisting that “bad luck” was to blame for all our problems. At one point, she began to blame the house and its “bad karma” for the bad luck. I wanted to scream/cry: this is the person from whom I learned to pick up and solve the problems, no whining. (Or rather, no whining unless you’re multi-tasking. That was ok.) What was this madness?
In the article, Professor Wiseman states:
“Luck is not a magical ability or a gift from the gods,” Wiseman writes. “Instead, it is a state of mind—a way of thinking and behaving.” Above all, he insists that we have far more control over our lives—and our luck—than we realize. Going back to the Italian Renaissance philosopher Niccolò Machiavelli, great thinkers and writers have argued that 50 percent or more of what happens in life is determined entirely by chance (or Fortuna, the Roman goddess of fortune). Wiseman says no way. He believes that only 10 percent of life is purely random. The remaining 90 percent is “actually defined by the way you think.” In other words, your attitude and behavior determine nine tenths of what happens in your life.
I absolutely believe that life can be mostly determined by your choices. It drove me nuts that my role model was trying to convince me, the last person standing, that there was nothing effective I could do to turn around our situation.
Her mindset meant that she was handing off all responsibility for their/her decisions. With it went the ability and willingness to learn from the mistakes and effect change.
She chose to resign herself to my brother’s irrational and selfish behavior, to allow him to run roughshod over them, instead of standing up to him. He was only nice to her when he wanted money or help.
She would choose to forgo medical treatments to give him money, and he actually took it! (*banging head against wall* This. Is. NOT. OK!)
She railed against the whatever-you-want-to-call-it for my dad’s stupid decisions instead of refusing to bail him out. If she wanted to shelter her money from his failing attempts to make money, all she had to do was give it to me.
She had some nominal control but gave it all up because she couldn’t control other people and the outcomes of her decisions. Instead, everything went wrong because of “bad luck.” I finally realized that the sense of helplessness had overcome her ability to see solutions. I totally understand, sometimes I feel helpless, lost, whatever, you all see it here. But there is always something that can be done. Always.
~ work to build my professional reputation,
~ reduce expenses,
~ protect & preserve my emotional sanity,
~ take care of my family to the best of my ability,
~ establish firm boundaries with each family member,
~ scan the horizon for more opportunities to learn, build and flourish.
I’m sure that luck has its place – getting the prime parking spot when you least expected it, coming into a windfall, etc., but it should not be granted the power to dictate your life, not if you have any aspirations at all. That’d be the greatest tragedy.
I found this paragraph particularly interesting:
Third, lucky people persevere in the face of failure and have an uncanny knack for making their wishes come true. They’re convinced that life’s most unpredictable events will “consistently work out for them.” Their world is “bright and rosy,” Wiseman writes, while unlucky people expect that things will always go wrong. Their world is “bleak and black.” When Wiseman gives lucky and unlucky people a puzzle that is actually impossible to solve, the reactions are very telling. “More than 60 percent of unlucky people said that they thought the puzzle was impossible, compared to just 30 percent of lucky people. As in so many areas of their lives, the unlucky people gave up before they even started.”
While I do tend to expect things can and will go wrong, and spend plenty of time figuring out how, when and why, I think of it as disaster planning. Even if I think something’s impossible, I’m still too obstinate to give up before I start, unlucky or no.
January 28, 2009
Hm, let’s see … ordered three prescription refills, sent off four more applications, had a wildly hormonal friend yell at me for not depending on her, this week. Uh, said friend is a self-admitted flake, by the way, so it sort of makes sense not to depend on her for y’know, dependability. I love her to death, would take a bullet for her, but dude. I’m not an idiot.
Except I am. When it comes to my family, I’m a complete moron.
We had what was possibly the world’s worst Chinese New Year’s Eve dinner on Sunday. Within 15 minutes, my brother had left the table under harassing verbal abuse fired by my mom, my dad was more than peeved that my mom wouldn’t stop, and I finished my dinner standing by the sink because I was a millisecond away from losing it completely.
It’s NYE! You’re supposed to at least pretend to be nice! Yes, she’s sick, and mentally unbalanced a lot of the time, but … I just expected it to be no more than normal gripery. I hoped. Instead, it was ratcheted up about four notches, and I ended up sobbing, on my knees, in my room 20 minutes after sitting down to dinner, mourning my broken family.
Tonight, I figured out that I’m no better at this than they.
Apparently my rat of a brother told my mom that I think she doesn’t love me. Oh, for heaven’s sake. It’s way more complicated than that. Of course she loves me, it’s just that she’s so infrequently herself anymore that it’s like I don’t have a mom anymore. That, and we’ve had incidents where she made nasty comments about how she can do whatever she wants because I don’t have feelings. I know she’s not in her right mind when she does and says things like that. Or I know after the fact, but it still hurts to see my mom’s face, hear my mom’s voice, and believe that those are her thoughts. Instead, I try to understand that this isn’t my mom anymore, there’s got to be some way to hold on to my rationality. Sometimes she is, but so rarely that it hurts less to think of her as someone else during those episodes.
Hearing that I thought she didn’t love me, she approached me and tried to tell me she did love me. And what did I do? I freaked out and said I couldn’t talk about it.
It’s complicated. I don’t know why I couldn’t just say, “I know,” hug her, and let it be. It might be because she started in on all the reasons things should be fine now and I shouldn’t think “like that.” She tried to tell me that she’s fine, that she knows they couldn’t have survived this long without me, that she tried for as long as she could to work – even sick – to help me support the family.
Firstly, we’re not “fine,” and having her so sick she can’t hold a job anymore does not equal “getting what I wanted!” I wanted her to stop working, get well, start working. Not work to near-death! Not to mention the screwy dynamics in which either parent will bend the truth as necessary so force me to be happy. Never mind the fact that forthrightness and good health are all I’m asking for. And a little cooperation.
But the kicker was that last comment, that got me right in the gut. That is exactly why I’ve been so upset with her for so long. I’d begged, pleaded, and argued with her to take care of her health for years; I knew that the pittance she could earn meant nothing to me if her health failed. Her marriage was changing, too, she was angry with my dad for all his mistakes and all his bad decisions, and insisted on expounding on all the negative things she felt he did to her, literally every chance she got. It was the Worst.
Again, I begged, pleaded, that she concentrate on her health, exercising, eating better, resting. And she refused. She refused my help with her diet, she refused my concern about her diabetes, she refused to listen. She insisted that she was right, dammit, and that she needed to worry, fuss and tizzy. And refused to take care of herself, determined to sacrifice herself to the last for the family. Except it never works that way, does it? She didn’t go down in a final, noble flame, she didn’t come back on her shield, she simply … broke. She went from a strong, smart, clever role model, to a hand-wringing, anxious, physically sick, out-of-her-mind dependent, seething with anger and resentment.
Somewhere between her eventual breakdown and now, my dad finally stepped up and started to take care of her and her medical needs. But before that happened, I lost my mother to his multitude of mistakes, and her self-inflicted maelstrom of negativity. To survive day to day, I had to divorce myself emotionally from them, and from her. And of course, that hurt her even more.
And I keep hurting her, the more distance I put between us, but I can’t close the gap yet. I should. I need to. But I …. can’t.
December 22, 2008
I’m still horribly embarrassed about the whole car situation. But I’m dealing with it, and this is what I did:
1. Called my dad and had him authorize me to call the financing company. Very very important: they were refusing to deal with me at all, even with his authorization, until it became clear that they would only get money from me.
2. Took down their phone number, account number, SSN, balance to bring the account current, charges for the towing company.
3. Spoke to the company asking them for the procedure to bring the account current or to pay it off entirely.
A) to bring the account current, the owner must:
i) fax verification of employment/income
ii) fax proof of residence
iii) fax three references, one of which must be a family member not living in the household, listed with names, phone numbers and relationship to owner.
iv) fax proof of insurance
v) send payment of the late balance including a $125 repossession fee via money order or wire from the bank: $1932
vi) pay the towing company ($140 for four business days, Fri-Mon)
B) to pay it off entirely, the owner must:
i) wire the payoff balance (good until 12/29): $5611
ii) wait for the paperwork to be processed and sent to the towing company, then make arrangements for pickup for the company. Also ($140 for four business days, Fri-Mon)
4) Apparently our local police department gets in on the deal and has to issue a release costing another $15 before the towing company in another city will release the car. (Of course, why not?)
Thoughts and other obstacles: the timing of this on a Friday works to the towing company’s advantage because they charge $35 for every day that the vehicle is in their lot.
Just because the financing company says that you have 20 days before the car is moved to the auction lot, doesn’t mean it’s true. If the company has a pickup of other vehicles scheduled before your 20 days are up – and that’s calendar days, folks, not business days – then they’ll take your vehicle as well. The financing company rep warned me of this when I asked her, “is there anything else, at all, you think I should know? I’ve never dealt with this before and want to make sure I cover my bases.”
The towing company only has specific hours for releasing towed vehicles, so if your paperwork and payments don’t hit the financing company, and their paperwork isn’t released and received by the towing company, during the specific window, you wait another day, and pay another $35. This company closes at 4 pm sharp, which is another great way for them to make money. Who gets out of work before 4 pm?
Finis: I’m going with Route A because I’m not ready to dig out over 5k worth of cash. I am dismayed at the prospect of not only NOT taking the truck off my balance sheet, but adding the responsibility of another vehicle, but right this moment, I don’t have a choice.
One quarter of the cost will clean out my auto maintenance fund, the rest of the money will come out of my expense fund. It’ll wreck my cushion, for the most part, but psychologically, I’d rather raid the cushion before the emergency fund. I might have to hit that with moving costs soon.
And lastly, I had a serious discussion with my dad. On Friday, upset, I told him that if this happened again, I was leaving and never looking back. I realized that wasn’t good enough, and told him on Saturday that I’m not waiting for it to happen again. He had to promise he would never lie to me or hide important things from me to “protect” me, when he’s really just protecting his wounded pride, or I was outta here, permanently. I can only pray that taking a hard stance will shake him enough to take me seriously, but I’m also serious. I’m not strong enough to continue living my life, looking over my shoulder, waiting for people to lie to me because my own family can’t do better than that. All or nothing, folks.
December 19, 2008
After another patted shoulder “don’t worry,” I literally bite my tongue. It’s the only way not to completely lose my good traditional training of not talking back to my elders. Or in this case, “raving at elder.”
Why, on the eve of a very important, very early, phone interview was I up, running outside barefoot over an hour before scheduled alarm? Hi, it’s still me here, still the girl who gets up only ten minutes before departure. That’d be because I woke to the sound of an unscheduled alarm. The car alarm.
I would have ignored it; I usually do as sleep is precious beyond words. Something stirred me to go see this time, though, to possibly do our neighbors the courtesy of silencing an errant alarm. What I saw, peeking out the blinds, however, was no errancy except that of a flurry of indistinguishable human activity. Startled, I raced outside barefoot to watch the family sedan driving away backwards. Towed.
Are there even words for the sheer fury that swamped me? I woke my dad hoping it was a mistake. Suspecting that it was not.
It wasn’t.
He hasn’t been able to keep up with the payments lately. What an innocent sounding statement until combined with the towed car.
I am positively furious and humiliated. Above all, betrayed. It wasn’t more than a month ago that I’d told him our communication was poor. I couldn’t trust their judgement and sensibility. He seemed surprised, he protested my characterization.
Well, surprise! I can’t.
This wasn’t a sudden, unexpected thing. (At least not for him.) This is what happens when you don’t pay, pay in time, and keep paying on time.
So what now? We’re down to my car. That’s it. It’s Friday morning, if I don’t throw cash at the situation, who knows how much, we’ll have to share my car for the weekend and I have a very full weekend. Heck, who knows, if I’ll have enough? Tow truck fees, plus whatever else. I don’t know. All I know is I’m losing more precious sleep because he can’t take care of business, can’t learn to tell me before something is about to become an exponentially larger pain in my ass so we can alleviate the situation. No, because “I can’t keep running to you.” No? But you think it’s right to wait until it’s a disaster before telling me that there are dark clouds in the sky?
Edit: Above written at 4 am.
Update: It turns out he’s over a thousand dollars behind. Deep breath.
It’s not that I can’t shake the money loose from somewhere. It’s that I have to because he won’t learn. That I have to tell my own dad that this is why I have trust issues, why I don’t think we have good communication, why I have to be anxious. That I told him months ago that my work situation was B.A.D. and last night that we’re all going to be laid off. That, in this lousy situation, he thinks it’s better to hide this situation and let it go into arrears!
“Why Mom is slowly losing her mind,” a part of my mind whispers disloyally, quietly, “this is why she’s losing her grip on reality. Living with him and letting him ‘handle it’ is, for her, to expect failure and disappointment. If it weren’t for me, would they be on the street in a matter of months? Weeks? How long would it be?”
It’s going to cost at least $1300 just to catch up on the payments. They’re waiting for a manager to review the file on Monday before they release information on how to get the car, according to him. That’s unacceptable but I’m stuck at work now and can’t follow up on my own.
I’m so mad I could spit.
And after this bailout, then what? Do I scrape up the cash to pay off *yet another* car since he obviously can’t afford this monthly payment? Call in my personal loans to free up cash and pay off all possible debts that I’m aware of? Create a blank slate for him while I try to support two households? If I don’t, he’s going to keep on trying to make two ends that are too short meet without telling me when he’s run into a rough patch, until we incur extra stupid fees. If I do, will he learn? Or will this just happen again?
Job hunting wasn’t challenging enough?
October 7, 2008
I was away all weekend, all exhausting weekend, and came back late Sunday night. It was fun, ish, but physically draining and I was looking forward to clearing up my mail, unpacking, and getting right to bed. Oh yes, and dinner, having something, anything, to eat.
Somewhere in there, my mom decided it would be a good idea to corner me with her idea of what “our problem really is.” Hm?
“The house. This house has brought us nothing but bad luck. We should, as soon as I get a little money together, move to another house that is luckier.”
*frazzle*
1. When you get money together? You can’t work! No one in the family can begin to cover the current household expenses without me, what makes you think you can come up with the money to move without a better plan than just moving? Dad still hasn’t gotten his act together, and only through constant, consistent, reinforcement from me does my brother continue to walk the line.
2. Do you remember how much it costs to move?
3. Are you kidding me?
4. The house is not possessed. It can’t bring us bad luck, and it didn’t have anything to do with the choices we’ve made!
I didn’t say any of that, except for number 4; I normally don’t outwardly react to her ramblings as she’s been very ill, and more than a little mentally unbalanced. I definitely don’t lash out when she’s trying my patience with her latest rants of negativity and blaming everything and everyone for the current situation. She’s ill, in many ways, and needs understanding and care.
But … in just as many ways, she’s caused and created so much home-based stress, stubbornly squandering her energies, time and money on what she thinks is right to reinforce her independence. I know she’s trying to do it because she imagines her decisions will bear fruit, the harvest of which will relieve me of the burden of supporting them. But, for example, insisting on driving herself to work when her physical and mental capacities were in doubt was not helpful, it was downright scary! It took six flat tires, one severely damaged wheel and a minor accident – all in my car – before she would consent to considering restricting her activities outside the house. What if she got into a major accident? What if she was hurt, or killed? What if she hurt or killed someone else?
Anyhow. Many of the choices she made were made with good intent, and there’s nothing we can do to change them now. The thing that does get to me, though, is her insistence on trying to “make things better” while refusing to consider her health. I don’t understand how she still doesn’t understand that no amount of money in the world can buy her health back, as she continues to fight us and our trying to take care of her. So many problems stem from her refusal to take care of herself, back when she was mentally capable, despite my begging her to stop making her health worse by stressing, worrying and fretting, and so many continue because of that stubbornness. I would give it all up if she could be healthy again, but she continually sabotages any progress.
So, on top of the many challenges I’m navigating, she wants me to plan to find a new house, based on the “unluckiness” of this one. Is there a luck-o-meter out there? Seriously, without that, we may be house hopping for the rest of my natural life. Our household is in these difficulties because of the decisions we’ve made, decisions that we’ve all made, and the house we live in has so very little to do with it.
I won’t make another rash mistake by acceding to her wishes because I think it’ll make her happy; someone has to keep the big picture in mind. It’s just that some days, I feel like their admonishment from my childhood: “Just wait until you have kids of your own” has come true. What a nightmare.
Takeaway: Please take care of your health.
July 17, 2008
We have got to think before we buy. My parents and I share grocery shopping duties: they buy the Asian groceries and I shop the American sales for staples like bread, milk, juice, eggs, lunch meats, salad, and some fruits. Sometimes veggies. Because I live right across the street from Trader Joe’s, I always stop by there to pick up my eggs for half the price (or less!) of eggs from the other grocery stores. The point is, I’m the egg girl. I always buy the eggs. I thought we had that settled.
You can imagine my surprise, then, when I came home laden with groceries on Sunday including two dozen eggs (I splurged because we run out of one dozen too quickly) to find two 18-count cartons of eggs squatting in the fridge. Yep. Three dozen.
Apparently they’d been to Costco and got three dozen for $4.50, which works out to the same price of my eggs. So we had five dozen eggs in the fridge and I don’t know of any recipe that could possibly induce me to use that many eggs. Maybe a good old fashioned pound cake, but that’d probably call for two pounds of butter.
Boiled eggs for breakfast? Egg salad? Deviled eggs? Cholesterol problems via eggs, anyone?
It just seemed like such a waste of time, energy and gas to go back to the store and return them, if I could, for $3. And a silly story, at that. At the same time, I could not stand the idea of not returning them because three people cannot that many eggs consume. Back to the store, then, where I foolishly explained the dilemma and the store manager looked at me strangely, but refunded my three dollars.
It would have been nice to save two trips to TJs had my parents simply picked up their handy dandy cell phones and asked me before buying. Lesson learned? Tune in next week!
May 10, 2008
*shock*
I’ve been needing to call the insurance company to deal with the removal of my mom from the insurance. I knew it’d be a bit more complicated than taking my brother off because MaDucky’s actually the policyholder, so I’d been dragging my heels a bit. Also because I wanted to compare rates with other companies while I was at it.
Instead of the usual, “So, you know how we agreed to take your mom off the insurance? Have you done it yet?” conversation, PaDucky actually told me that he’d spoken to the insurance agent and had gotten a couple quotes for the new insurance, and made some inquiries about how much we’d save when the truck comes off the insurance.
Holy … cow …
He’s NEVER handled any of our paperwork. Never. He ferries the tax documents every year, but that’s because he’s had a working relationship with the accountant for more than ten years, and it’s best for him to go chat with the guy. But bills? Rent? Medical records? Banking? Nope. Nope. No and no. He won’t even go to the bank! I’m glad, but still mostly in shock.
Something’s finally pushed him to take the initiative to do something more around here, and I’m sorry it had to be MaDucky’s complete deterioration of health.