My Dad died of a heart attack very unexpectedly, six years ago. He was 61. He had a form of Muscular Dystrophy called McArdle’s Disease.
My father worked a labor intensive job as a cable equipment installer for the phone company for 40 years. He chose to retire early to take care of my mom who has Multiple Sclerosis. ( Yes, marrying into a good gene pool was a must for me!)
Growing up, I recall him being in constant pain. He worked long, hard hours to provide for our family. He was a very loving and thoughtful man. But, patient he was not. As a child I couldn’t understand how sometimes he could be so silly and carefree. Yet, other days he was sleeping a lot, angry and impatient. When he was at the end of his rope he would give you a look that we now refer to as- the hairy eyeball.
Nowadays, I have a deeper understanding of his struggle. It’s so challenging to be patient, tolerant and calm when you are suffering with chronic pain. There are some days when you are too spent to deal with anything more than just getting through your day.
“Ahh shit, I just gave my kid the hairy eyeball!“
Just the other day I had hit my threshold with my son. He recently turned 4 and is having a difficult transition with the move from Preschool into Pre-K . So, there has been a lot of regression and acting out behavior at home that I am not used to. As I clenched my teeth to insure I didn’t say something I would regret; my face tightened up and my son said- “Mom! Don’t look at me like that!”. “Ahh shit, I just gave my kid the hairy eyeball!“
I have read many parenting books over the last few years out of sheer fear that I will somehow screw my kid up. When everyone in your family has been in therapy at one point in time, I like to think this fear seems pretty valid.
I read in one of these books ( I honestly cannot remember which one) that comparing your patience to the size of different fruits can help your child understand what your patience level is, at that moment.
These days I feel my patience is the size of a pea. These days I loose my cool and immediately experience guilt, shame and hopelessness. I imagine this is how my Dad often felt.
Being in constant pain, losing your cool, feeling guilty for losing your cool, and ashamed for not handling your pain better, is such an emotional roller coaster ride.
I want off this ride.
The other night, my son asked me when he, my husband and I were going to die.
The other night, my son asked me when he, my husband and I were going to die. I told him that I intend for Team Caruso to be together for a very long time. He then asked me why my Daddy died so young. I went with the easy for a 4 year old to comprehend answer- “Oh honey he had a disease that affected his heart. Papa Leavey worked really hard all his life. His heart couldn’t take it any longer. He is closer to God now; and his soul is at peace.” While this answer is the truth- it’s not the whole truth.
He also carried a heavy weight of guilt, shame, anger, sadness and loss. He was a very proud, loyal, selfless and private man who didn’t complain about anything. Out of an overwhelming amount of respect and love for him- I have chosen to not share specifics in this post. But, his time on this earth was certainly challenging right until the end.
I am so grateful to be Walter’s daughter. Everyone loved Walter.
I am a firm believer that we make soul contracts. I believe we chose our family and that certain pain gets passed on through the generations. Not necessarily physical pain. But, definitely some form of suffering. I have two younger brothers, both of whom do not have children. Since I am the only one with a child, I feel it’s my duty to heal this generational suffering and let it end with me.
Lyme disease has given me the opportunity to look inward. To be kinder to myself; to forgive myself when my patience is the size of a pea; and to heal my physical, spiritual and emotional wounds.
This isn’t just about me. It’s much bigger than that. This is about my family and generations to come.
This isn’t just about me. It’s much bigger than that. This is about my family and generations to come.
So, I ask for help….
Dear God/Universe/Source,
This generational suffering ends with me. Please help my patience grow. I promise to water it every day with love, appreciation, forgiveness and presence. Let this pea-sized patience grow into a big juicy watermelon.
I thank you in advance for your cooperation and handling of this matter.
One Love,
Jess
Love, Joy, Truth, Gratitude-
so beautiful and touching thank you for sharing its just beautiful