I want to take my toys and go home

Don't you wish you could rewind time for just a moment? Go back to the age where a temper tantrum would get you  banished from a group or to your room for a moment of peace? Well you still can, but technically as an adult that is called being an asshole, and generally you lose more than some time. You lose respect, dignity and if you are lucky, not all of your friends. 

I have to admit lately, not that anyone has said or done anything to deserve it, but I really feel like being an asshole and driving everyone away. I feel a rage building inside that I am not sure I can explain.

Nah, that's not true, I can explain it. It just sounds like I have been an asshole my whole life, at least the version in my head versus who I am today based on the circumstances of my life such as they are now. And taking that into consideration and explaining it makes me sound like a selfish whiny shit. 

If you have read even one thing I have written about the 'Rent, then you know that at the most I hold her gently within my circle of my life, and regard her as my ward and sometimes my adversary. Most recently I have had the inner epiphany that she is my 'RENT. 

After every emotional blow my family has had to withstand since May 5th 1994 I have changed and evolved and learned to let anger and pain go and treasure every moment with someone. I hoard the memories past and the new ones I make, like a dragon under the mountain. The only struggle I still had was with this 'Rent and our interactions. For almost 8 years now we have been living under one roof. My roof. And her health has declined and she has become dependent upon my husband and I. In addition to this she has evolved and I think I refused to look in the mirror and see that I was evolving too. 

This woman who made my childhood so difficult and painful, that damaged me emotionally so bad at one time that I walked away and was willing never to look back, she has become the parent I always wanted. I don't feel like the words "I love you" are said because she just uses them. That was what it felt like as a child, but now it is because she feels them. This forced confinement due to decisions made, and circumstances beyond our control have conspired to give me back my mother. And for whatever time there is left to us, I am going to absorb it all, good and bad so I have her with me always .

I am not sure how to explain it but it is obvious that we have to be preparing ourselves for the end that is coming. Her COPD has her lung capacity down to 17%. Whatever time we have now is borrowed and I am ever so grateful. I am so thankful that this time was given and my eyes were opened to see that it WAS a gift even when it didn't feel like it, because we somehow made our way back to a place where the most important thing each day is saying I love you, and I will see you tonight.... And that is what makes me want to rage and storm about and chase everyone away from the precious time we have. I want to save every second on my soul.

I keep thinking of this poem and it says what I want to scream out to the universe, it isn't my 'Rent's sight she is losing but it is still the same rage I feel on her behalf.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night   - Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieve it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.


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