Life in a Box - Part 2

Morning conversation -

Gary:  How did you sleep?

Me:  Well, ok.  But I was up and awake for about two hours.

Gary:  Why?

Me:  Because I had thoughts running through my head and they wouldn't leave so I thought if I wrote about them, I would get them out of my system.  So I turned on the computer and typed in my blog.

Gary:  Did it help?

Me:  I guess so.  I went back to bed at 6:30 and slept until 9:30!

Later we talked about my focus of the blog post and Gary added these insights.

Mom did not want to appear stupid or ill-informed, or heaven forbid - wrong!  So she read and watched and tried to keep up to date on current event type of topics.  When she talked to others, she could throw out information that she had heard or read and if they were not aware of the topic, then she could feel superior to them.  However, she was 'behind' in other things, such as technology. She had no idea how to use a cell phone.  She couldn't  use a computer.  She couldn't even put gas into her car because Dad always did that for her and she was clueless on the process.  She never attended high school activities, nor did she spend any time outside to chat with the neighbors, so she mocked those who did.

We recalled the time that Dad wanted Mom to have a cell phone after he became ill.  He was concerned that she would be on her way to Buehlers or Walmart and experience car problems and have no way to get help.  He asked me to help him with selecting a phone for her birthday ( I think).  Hilary spent so much time trying to set it up and explaining it to her.  However she never used it.  She would take it with her while Dad was living, but after he died, she refused.  We had paid the monthly bill for both his phone and hers and had just written a check for the next month's service after his death, but she refused to use the phone.  In retrospect her refusal was not just being stubborn and thinking that she was above having any type of trouble when out driving to and from the "North End."  Her refusal was based on her lack of knowledge on how to use the phone.  She was confused (as we could tell by looking at her face during the explanations) but she couldn't admit that (which would mean there was something she DIDN'T know) so she decided she was above using a phone and never had accidents so it was pointless to carry one with her.

The same thing happened with the computer.  While Dad was eager to learn and communicated with me via email, she was disinterested.  She had no time to use the computer since she was busy with her chores and reading and cooking meals for Dad.  She didn't want to listen to our talk about online courses or communicating with relatives on Facebook or emails or text messages or sending information through cyberspace---not because she was just too busy to be bothered with it but because....she couldn't understand it.  Asking for help or instructions was not something she could do, especially from us. After all she knew more than we did about everything.  In a way it was a blessing that she didn't know how to use the computer because if she had understood Amazon or ordering books from Barnes and Noble or had watched the home shopping network, we might have had much more to clear out of the house in unopened boxes.  

I remember that Dad was annoyed because Mom needed a new sewing machine. She had to have a certain model so he gave it to her for Christmas one year.  When I brought it home with me last month, the instructions were still attached to it and it had never been used.  My guess now is that she didn't understand how to use it, refused to ask for help because that would mean there was something she didn't know how to do, so it sat.  The same thing may have happened with the boxes of quilt pieces that were cut and never sewn.  Maybe the next steps eluded her and she wouldn't ask for help.

How many times did I need help with Excel spreadsheets and make my way to Barb's office for instructions?  Why do I sign up for classes at Betty's Quilting?  So that I can learn new techniques and easier methods.  I always have questions. She has the answers.  I remember Dad telling me (and I listened to him tell Blaine this also) that we can watch someone do something and stand and assist and remain an assistant.  Or we can watch and learn the steps, the whys, and the reasons behind it.  Then we can learn much more and soon we will be the ones who assign the jobs to those we formerly assisted.  Did you follow that?  For instance, I could have remained an adjunct instructor, teaching the curriculum of someone else, or I could delve into the course, learn the objectives, create new techniques, apply for full time position, then move through re-classification and be the one who creates the curriculum for the courses.  Which is exactly what I did.  Along the way I asked for help.  Because I had questions.  I needed answers.  I had to ask those who already knew.  And I built from that.  Mom didn't understand that process.  So she kept herself in a box--and the sewing machine and all of the fabric pieces stayed there with her.

In case you are wondering, Life in a Box is not a phrase I created.  No, it isn't.  It is one my dad used when referring to Mom's choices when we first moved to Mt. Vernon.  She chose to stay at home, not go out and meet people, not to be involved in any activities.   While my perception of this is that she was rebelling against being there by NOT being happy, NOT trying, NOT cooperating, I think more so now that this was the beginning of an illness for her.  Something snapped in her to cause her to sequester herself in the house, to isolate herself from others, and to then become the martyr when she discussed her loneliness. That type of manipulation and the responses to it may have triggered the lying and story-telling that seemed to permeate her life.  

I am not a psychologist, nor do I really need answers.   But I do need to sleep at night, and expressing my feelings in the written word does help.

Sweet dreams!