My "whine moment today." What's yours?

MsMadge, do they carry Palmolive dish soap? Funny how products disappear, especially the things we like to use and work well.
Is there a Caregiver Day? I can only imagine how people who don't care for anyone would run from acknowledging this day!

Seems there's more than one national caregiver day
Third Friday of February and November 1

Enjoy them both MsMadge especially if they are handing out free donuts.

I read something interesting the other day. It was about de-cluttering and the minimalist lifestyle and how much better it can make your life. One of the steps they mentioned was to "forget nostalgia" and let go of nostalgic items from your childhood, your parents and family members, because as the author put it, "you have memories of your lifetime and these family members in your brain - they're not attached to the things you're keeping - let them go".

Ummm...this person has OBVIOUSLY never been a caregiver and must be in their 20s, with no memory loss to deal with.

Those mementos from our childhood, our parents' lives, etc are important to us because they trigger memories of better times in our lives, pre-caregiving - special holidays, family vacations, things bequeathed to us by grandparents, etc. And when WE are the elders, being cared for by someone else and having to leave our homes and live in an AL or NH, having those small bits and pieces of our former lives may be the only thing that keeps us tethered to reality and the life we had to leave behind - and that we can no longer remember much about.

I say keep what you want - obviously not to the point of hoarding - but keep what matters to you.

On that topic, I'm cleaning out my storage unit, finally. Nearly 5 years after moving in with Mom to care for her, when all of my excess "stuff" went into the storage unit because I was moving from a 3-bedroom house to a single bedroom in Mom's house that I had to share with the washer/dryer (where the closet used to be). So on top of all Mom & Dad's stuff that I have to continue going through a little at a time, now I'm bringing all my stuff back in here too! I'll get through it eventually, just will take time. DD and kids came over yesterday and went through a large tote of childrens' books - mine from my childhood and ones I bought for DD and my sons when they were little. Lots of fond memories in those books. I let them take most of them, though I know how her kids treat books - that's one of those things I had to "let go" and just let them have them. I have no space for them here and the kids aren't here often enough to read them here. They might as well have them. I only kept the books that had very special meaning to me - ones that were given to me as gifts or are no longer in print. So they took a large tote of books home and I kept about 10-15. Think I did pretty well, considering my love of books.

I'll be glad to get that storage unit emptied - $55 a month I can snowball towards other bills. It's encouraging and makes me start looking for other things I can cut back. :-) The house should be paid off by next month - even though that was only about $100 a month, if I add that to the storage bill payment I'm no longer making, that's $155 a month I can put towards paying off another bill. :-)

Edited to add:  $55 per month for 5 years - often paid late due to financial stress while caring for Mom (her meds and such had to come first), so at times, it was $70 per month instead of $55 due to late fees being added  on....so if you average it to $65 per month, that's dang near $4,000 I've paid just for, as George Carlin called it, "a place for my stuff" for 5 years.  What a freaking waste.  

Susan, I get what you are saying but since Mom died I think my ties to sentimental items have been numbed to protect myself. Kind of like when they say the names have been changed to protect the innocent. I can't even look at pictures of my Mom cause when I do I end up staring at the photo like I've been put into some kind of trance lost in my memories.

The three year anniversary of Mom's death is on Wednesday so I'll have a real memory binge then.

I definitely understand, Gershun. I guess what I was getting at is that the author of that article seemed to think we needed to keep *nothing* sentimental at all - that the memories we have should be enough and we don't need to keep the physical items at all. I think they didn't take into account the fact that those memories are *not* permanent by any means, and the physical item may be helpful with that some day.

I feel the same way about the photos as you do, but for a different reason, I'm sure - Dad's been gone over 5 years now, which I almost can't believe - and Mom will be gone 2 years in July. I've started considering taking down the photos of Mom and Dad because even though they're not in areas of the house I'm in regularly, I do still see them every day - and I just can't deal with seeing the photos every day. My relationship to my parents was always complicated by Dad's abuse of us kids, and Mom's insistence that we stay together as a family and pretend nothing ever happened - and I find myself getting more and more resentful and annoyed by that as time goes on. I can still honestly say I love both parents, but it's a distant, hands-off kind of love now, and it's best for me if I don't have their photos right in front of me all the time. These days, I have a hard time remembering the good times unless family members bring them up. It feels very strange.

I have trouble with photos. Instead of thinking of happy times or good memories I home in on everything that was wrong at the time the photo was taken or mistakes I’ve made. So I keep photos in box on top shelf of the closet. PJ is the exact opposite he keeps photos out. He says they remind him of happy times. Everyone’s experience is different. 

Gershun, Relish and treasure all of the good memories you have of your Mom.

My DH and I are minimalist. We aren't very nostalgic. My Mom however would keep everything, forever.
Every so often she tries to get rid of some things. This week is a week I am going through things with her, to get rid of some things yet again. I do not force her, its her choice, but I sure am so happy when she lets go of things. I love her so much, just don't like stuff.

I agree that sentimental items can be touchstones that connect us to our memories. Most of us get busy with our daily life and no matter how full or empty it is people and events of the past have no place, but when I see the quilt my grandmother and aunt helped me make of the pictures my great aunt painted or even use my father's tools it brings them to mind. I recently was reading through some old diaries from my teens and twenties (I should have burned them when I had the chance) and I have absolutely no memory of some of those events, for some of us memories are not forever.

Speaking of memory, I think that mine is shot! I don't remember anything from my childhood or teenage years and what I do remember, I don't want to. If I see photos of places that my dad and I traveled to, I sort of remember those. My memory basically starts in college and goes from there. It does bother me though that I can spend 2 hours reading a book like I did this morning, but I don't remember a thing that I read. I just know that I enjoyed the book.

My memory is a fickle thing. Because of the abuse I survived as a child, I have blocked out much of my childhood. I remember some good things, but there were many, many times that Mom or my siblings would say, "Oh, we went here once a long time ago, when you were young, remember?" - and I don't - and it was at an age I should be able to remember. So with the bad memories, it also took many of the good. I'm finding that's happening more and more now as I get older.

I am finding it's kind of a way to segue into a conversation about my childhood with family members and friends who have wondered why I was the person I was in my teen years - and now that Mom and Dad are both gone, I have no qualms about speaking out about my abuse, even to their close friends.  We'll talk about memories and what we remember from childhood, and this just kind of comes up - that I have holes in my memory. What I'm finding interesting is that many of them already knew - Mom told them - and they, just like Mom, treat it like it's "just one of those things". They'd much prefer to hang onto their good memories of my parents than to believe that Dad was a serial sexual abuser and Mom made us stay with him. One of those people recently told me that she knew what had happened - that Mom had told her - and her reaction to it was, "Well, your mom had a heart of gold, and she just loved your dad so much - so whatever he MAY have done, she forgave him."

OMG. "May have done" ? Seriously? I wanted to scream. "...may have done..." Lady, I was there - there was no "may" about it. He did it.

This is the 2nd time one of mom's close friends has reacted this way to me asking them if they knew about our childhood - they knew. They didn't do anything about it because Mom was accepting of it. So I guess if she was ok with it and making us stay together as a family, then it was no one else's business.....

Life in the 70s and 80s - when you just minded your own business, even if you knew children were being abused - as long as the parents didn't do anything about it, then it must be ok....right?

Susan,
^^^^^HUGS!^^^^^
My sister and I remember different aspects of the same events growing up. So much so that it doesn't sound like we were in the same place at the same time. I do not remember so much of my childhood. But when an aunt recently said, "You were good kids, I think your Mom was very hard on you", that was the only confirmation ever that anyone knew a bit of what it was like.
It is never ok to not do something for a child being abused. Someone should have protected you. imo.
In a self-help book I read years ago, the advice was given to destroy anything that brings up a bad memory ( talking really bad memories).  Not give it away, not store it or put it away, not keep it long enough to sell it in some imagined garage sale that never happens.  Destroy it.
Imagine mother's china being crashed and broken, each piece, into a trash can.  Sound harsh?

Big hugs Susan Big Big Hug.

Becky,
Be sure to take many happy memories of you and hubs now.
If there is a smile at the table, snap!
A walk on the beach, snap.
Family arriving at the front door, snap.

Everyone else, take your vitamins, and a happy picture too!

I am going to try to get a picture of my squirrel, Ratatouille, visiting.

Susan, {{hugs}} from me too. It is a good feeling to get rid of things and organize those things we want to keep. I started this but have been too busy lately. Have to start going through things again.

Gershun, I feel the same. I recently found a photo of my Mom and I at Christmas 12 years ago. I just stared and stared at it...She was actually standing up next to me...odd to see as she had been bedridden at the end for so long....then I broke down crying hard for awhile. I miss my Mom so much during the time she was well and we were able to talk. I get lonely sometimes...there is only so much husbands want to talk about...I had to pull it together because she wanted me to be strong. I keep photos sealed in boxes for when I am in the mood to look at them.

Interesting conversation you guys. I agree with most of your guy's statements.

It was interesting when we all met as a family after my Mom's little service at the bench we dedicated to her in lieu of a grave etc. We were all sitting down discussing family life and the topic got to my schizophrenic brother. His Doctor strongly advised us to remove him from the household cause he was physically attacking us and had become dangerous. We had tried admitting him to the mental health facility but the security there was lax and he would just appear at our door. I would lay awake most nights fearing him getting in and killing my Mom. He had expressed hatred for her on more than one occasion so it was a valid concern. One night I was sitting on the stairwell listening. He was screaming at my Mom cause she had made him a sandwich and told him he had to leave. Next thing I know he has my Mom by the scruff of her neck and is hitting her on the head with a chin-up bar. I flew down the stairs and grabbed my Mom, pushed her towards the stairs and stood up in my brother's face and said hit me! Finally the rest of the household woke up and I screamed call the police.

Anyway, to make a long story short my narc sister remembers the whole thing differently. Of course she has inserted herself as the hero in that story. If it hadn't been Mom's wake, if you want to call it that, I would have tore into her. Funny how narcs always make themselves the star or the victim in their memories. I never felt like I was a hero that night. Just a daughter trying to save her dear Mom from being possibly maimed or killed.

I too have wiped out most of my childhood. I remember a few things but they are not happy memories. hanging onto the porch sitting on my bike screaming because I did not want to go to school. Waiting for the first grade teacher to come out so I could stroke her fur coat. The abuse of one uncle which these days would be considered sexual. he used to tickle me every chance he got even though he knew I hated it while Mom looked on. Finding a snake on the path on the way outside to the privy. The big greengage tree in the back yard and picking them up and getting stung by yellow jackets. Christmas dinner at Gma's every year and having to give the coins from the Christmas pudding to the blind. Going on a steam train to visit the other Gma and being terrified by the steam engine. Going to a school that had a huge coal stove in every room for heating. The school principal who had had a mastectomy and always carried her little Pekinese under the arm on that side to cover what she was lacking. getting letters from Dad when he was in the army in the desert in WW11
Listening to the 1'clock new every lunch time. Hearing the King's speech at Christmas. Going on bike rides on a Sunday evening with both parents to various local pubs, could not go in but they brought name out huge glasses of lemonade. Learning to sew and knit clothes for my dolls. Staying with an aunt and uncle and watching to bombers go up the Thames till we ran to sthe shelter whhere i was terrified. My Dad telling my Mum ishe could "keep the kid" as he left with his girl friend. Dad trying to teach me to ride a boy and giving up on the second lesson when he made me jump a log and i went over the pony's head and he told me I was hopeless. Going to watch the meet at the "big house" and seeing all the horses and hounds and the masters in their red jackets and the butler handing out glasses of sherry "stirrup cups" before the bugle called them to the off, just like on Masterpiece theatre.
My childhood ended at 16 when I had to leave school to go to work because Mum said she could not support me any longer.
I did not suffer as much as some of you other guys but i couldn't say i have fond memories or display family photos

I do have one vivid memory. I was 4 and had to have my tonsils out. I went to St. Francis Hospital - old school Catholic hospital ran by nuns. At the time parents could only visit during visiting hours. My dad was on a business trip to DC. My maternal grandfather came to visit. When the bell rang I didn’t want him to leave. I got out of bed and into a crowd of people leaving. I got out the front door and was running down the side walk with two nuns in long habit, etc chasing me down Court Street. They caught me and put me back to bed.

Katie brought up a good point - there's only so much our significant others want to talk about these things (memories, nostalgia, etc). I don't have an SO or spouse, but at one time I did, and he knew of the abuse in my childhood, because I told him about it. I purchased a plastic cow creamer identical to the one my grandparents had on their table, and brought it home to keep. He saw it and asked about it - and when I told him the story about it, he cautioned me against "buying old ghosts".

He totally didn't get it. I bought the cow creamer because it was linked to a GOOD memory. During our trips north to visit my grandparents, I would always get up before sunrise to join my favorite uncle and my grandpa in the big kitchen of their house to have coffee and toast before the two of them went to the gas station they owned to work for the day. My "coffee" was mostly milk and sugar with a little dollop of coffee to turn it barely tan colored, but I felt oh-so-grown-up and important drinking it. Grandpa would take that cow creamer and walk it across the table to me, saying, "Moooo....moooo-oo-ooo-ooo" - it's one of my fondest memories.

Why *wouldn't* I want to have a small, nostalgic item connected to such a wonderful memory?
I looked for that creamer when we cleaned out my grandparents' house last summer. It wasn't there. :-(

Becky, your post brought back a sudden memory of something Mom told me - she had her tonsils out when she was little, and the thing she remembers most is that her mother left her at the hospital alone, in the care of the nuns.  She was 5 years old and terrified.  

I have certain flashes of memories. I never knew my Dad cause he died when I was very young but I have a flash of a memory of an old yellow leather recliner we had and my Dad coming home and lifting me up from the recliner and holding me high over his head.

I also remember sitting on the floor watching t.v. when I was around 3 or 4 watching Godzilla while my Mom vacuumed. I remember I cried when Godzilla got burned at the end.

I remember coming home from my first day of kindergarten and my brother saying "you are a big girl now"

I also remember an uncle tickling me and feeling uncomfortable like Veronica said.

Just little flashes here and there. Nothing substantial though.

One thing though, kind of off-topic. When my Dad died I remember asking my Mom where did Daddy go? She said he is gone to Heaven. At that age, Heaven meant nothing to me and I just thought he left cause I'd done something wrong. My younger brother and myself were not allowed to go to the funeral and so in my young mind, Dad just disappeared one day. I have no recollection of him having cancer or dying at home like I was told. I just thought he was there one day and gone the next. I think I've always had issues because of that. I'm not blaming anyone but I think children deserve to be told the truth about things. I think their young minds can probably handle the truth more than being told some story about Heaven that they can't grasp.

I only have flashes of childhood memories, mostly jogged by old photos. Like my Dad making an ice rink in the back yard, or me making snow horses instead of snow men, and me making a snow fort.

Back when I was 4 or 5 years old, I turned off the TV.... Dad was wondering why and I said I had to go to the bathroom and didn't want to miss anything. In my mind, by turning back on the TV, the show would pick up where it left off.

Don't recall much from junior high school or even high school. But I do remember leaning on the Home Ed office door while waiting for the end of school lunch... and falling backwards into that room. Embarrassed beyond belief. Then to find out my new boyfriend's mother was that Home Ed teacher :0

Ah, I do remember sitting down with the a bag of Cheeto's to watch "American Bandstand" which came on at 4pm.

FF, love your TV story! At age 4 or 5, that’s perfect logic. 😁

OMG all these freaking old men in this town who think they own the road!!!!!  They p*** me off soooo much!

Today one of them decided he owns the underground parkade here at mom's as well.

We're not supposed to let ANYONE in when we leave or come back.  Rather, we're supposed to wait for the automatic garage door to close behind us before we pull away and leave/go park. A sensible course of action, given the number of vehicle break-ins lately. There are big yellow and red signs posted everywhere as reminders.

I already got a warning letter from the management a couple of weeks ago.  My respite worker was an hour late that day, and in my rush, I forgot to wait.  Someone reported me.  And I learned it's a hundred dollar fine if I do it again!

So this afternoon as I was coming back from my respite break, this idiot pulled up behind me in a big red pickup and started shaking his keys out his window, like I'm totally blind and obtuse as well. Like I can tell what kind of keys you are holding up in my rearview mirror! Then he started honking and yelling at me. Like, excuse me, dude, but YOU ARE RETIRED, SURELY YOU CAN WAIT FIVE EXTRA MINUTES TO PARK YOUR GIGANTIC RED PENIS EXTENSION!  No, I didn't let him in, but we had to wait longer because (I think) he was repeatedly clicking the door fob before the door had a chance to even come down an inch.  I was waiting for proof he lived there.  Finally the door came down four whole inches before he clicked it back up, so I drove away to park.

I actually waited for him and confronted him in the elevator. I reminded him about the policy, and told him about the letter and the fine. He said I was overreacting and he wasn't going to argue with me. I got mad and snapped that if he stopped behaving like a bully, he wouldn't have to argue with anyone. There was more to it than that, but it's the summation of the confrontation. He actually shut up for the rest of the ride.

OMG THERE IS VERY LITTLE THAT P***ES ME OFF MORE THAN A MAN TELLING ME I'M OVERREACTING!

Excuse me, sir, do you have a hundred dollars to spare for your five minutes of inconvenience? Because I sure don't!

My younger sisters and I have not much childhood memories. We absolutely have no desire to remember it. I would like to keep the current memories I have of mom and dad 'as is.' I liked the new mom - when her old personality disappeared as she progressed in her dementia. Uhm...vegetative state with no anger, hatred, no enjoyment knowing that she was hurting me. I have dad's smiling photo for the obituary in the livingroom. Oldest bro wanted to change his smiling photo to his normal unsmiling mean face for the obit. I'm glad it was too late to make the changes. Maybe if my family visited dad more often, they would have seen this new side of him... maybe...

My aunties/uncles knew my dad was abusing us kids. Aunty finally admitted it to me when my mom passed away 5 years ago. Aunty said that they were too afraid of my dad... I was abused at home. I was bullied in school starting from Pre-kindergarten all the way to high school, 12th grade. I have no memories of most of the bullying. Fave sis recalled several incidents which I have absolutely no recall of so-and-so pushing me, roughing me up, etc... Fave sis, 2 years younger than me, and older brother 3years older than me - did their best to protect me throughout the school years. I would just take the abuse and not fight back.

I remember in kindergarten, a boy kept punching me after knocking me off my feet. He would keep punching my back as I cried and cried. He bullied me all the time. One day, he was behind me in the classroom. I couldn't take it anymore. He didn't do anything to trigger my anger. I just remembered tired of him behind me and hurting me. As I turned to confront him, I put all my strength into slapping his face... I got into trouble.... In middle school, I got tired of this female classmate and bully. Every time she saw me, she would punch me. I avoided her as much as possible. One day, I got tired of being her punching bag. So, when she did her usual punch, I turned and punched her back. She was shocked. And then she punched me much harder than ever....

Memories... When mom died, our uncle (mom's brother) invited us grown up kids and our spouses to lunch at his home. As we sat around the table, we started reminiscing about all the things we did as kids and got whipped for. One child got into trouble, we all got whipped. So we learned to cover each other so that we all don't get punished. I think all these years, my mom's siblings all thought that it was just Dad who abused us. Uncle's face was blank as we all told what mom did to us, the chopping knife, etc... Like I said, I like my mom's latest photo - when the dementia erased her old personality. That one brings up no terrible childhood memories.

(((hugs to you Book)))

Dorianne, regarding men telling us we are overreacting.... years ago when I was I went to a doctor who was highly recommended. Of course, I am always nervous meeting with a new doctor.... but when he put my hand in his hand and patting my hand with his other hand, and said "everything will be ok" that is when I found another doctor. I felt like I was being talked down to.

My Mom had the same doctor and she really liked him, but her generation was use to being talked down to with the "little lady" comments, etc. My generation, too, to a degree, but I was ahead of my time :)

I had a friend who I carpooled with back in the 1980's, and it was time for her to purchase a new car. She and her husband went to the car dealer. The salesman talked directly to the husband rarely giving her eye contact. Then the salesman said "and what color would the little lady choose?". That did it. She said she was the one buying the car with her own money, and she will be buying that car elsewhere !! Out they walked.

Childhood memories and lack of.

I seem to remember every single thing. The good, bad and ugly.

I am the oldest. Middle sister passed away in 2001. Youngest sister and I had discussions about our childhood during the last few years of Moms life.

Sis is 4.5 years younger than me but she has very few memories of our childhood until she was around 8-9.

My first memory was when I was about 4.

I woke up in our car. The car was lifted up on one of those lifts in a mechanic shop, car dealership, etc. I was scared when I looked out the window. I could see my Mom with middle Sis on her hip in the distance. I was scared if I moved the car would topple off the lift. So I moved to the middle of the backseat and sat there motionless and terrified.

I have wondered if this is a true memory or a dream. It feels like a true memory.

I've spent the day struggling to change one of mom's long sleeved polo shirts into an open back wheelchair style. !@#$%&!!
It's not that mom can't afford to buy adaptive tops, it's that what is available is hideous, most of them look like clown clothes, and if you do find something wearable it is inevitably either sold out or only available in size XXX. And to pay $50 and more for a hideous clown like blouse is just insulting 😬

Minor whine here; went to my doctor for a checkup (like I'm always telling everyone else to do). Blood work came back with high lymphocytes. Advised (by lab) to retest in 2-3 months. Advised by doc to retest in 4-6 weeks. Last blood test (in ER, in September) was all within normal limits. So, doc says, this is either an infection or the very beginnings of CLL. Oy.

The odd thing is that, while I'd like to know right now, if I were given a choice between having CLL and dementia, I'd chose CLL any day of the week. My dad died of kidney failure after multiple infections, his immune system becoming compromised, etc. But it was not the long lingering devastating end game that played out with my mom.

I am fortunate enough through my work to have a direct contact line to Sloan Kettering; I sent them my blood work for the past three years; mentioned that my dad was also treated there. The nurse line should call me back in the next few days and let me know if I should be doing something other than wait.

It changes daily if not more frequently. :)