Friday, August 5, 2016

The Destruction Of The Temple

it is 630 p.m. in the holy city of zefat.  my holy temple is being destroyed.  my son came up a little while ago to tell me that they were planning on moving out.  apparently, he read my blogs and doesn't like what I have been writing about him, his wife and her family.  what started out as an outlet for my stress has turned into wrecking my home.

my son feels that I talked about him so negatively, that I destroyed his reputation and respect from I guess, my readers and my neighbors.  I tried to explain that I take poetic license and of course, I do exaggerate.  it was never my intention to denigrate his manhood.  I never meant to cause a riff between him and his wife.  the last thing that I would want, is to cause a split between them.  I feel ripped apart, myself.

I do not do well with changes.  I have been giving out mixed messages for a long time.  my son does not want to go to a mediator with me.  he seems traumatized by me and doesn't want to work anything out together.  I can't see our working this out, either.  time can heal they say.  I just don't know what I want.  I've never really had a life.  I left home at thirty three and came to Israel.  I had a baby at thirty five and became an observant woman.  I had a core group of friends and did some  comedic theatre.

I married at forty and it only lasted a year.  I raised my son alone and gave up on remarrying.  at 50 I was asked by my mom to move back to the states to take care of my dad.  my parents moved to Israel and we all moved into this huge house.  I spent a lot of time helping my parents make Aliya.  I went to a lot of doctors appointments and assumed the chores of the household.  my mother was quite controlling and thought herself to be the good mom of my son.  I was the bad mom.  yes, he had two moms.

at 58 I married off my only child and lost my mom.  I took care of my grandson for about two years and finally went to work at a yeshiva as a vegan cook.  it was the first time that I was not a caregiver.  at 60 I had cancer and no job and no life once again.  I have allowed myself to get fat and inactive.  I gave up a chance of getting married again.  I became a care giver once again for the grandchildren.  I gave up on ever knowing who zelda is.  I hid behind my babysitting chores.  I made Shabbat  and holiday meals and thought that I was contributing to the welfare of my family.  but I don't feel like I have a family, in the end.

selling my house and travelling the world is not my cup of tea.  finding something to keep me satisfied creatively and physically, is not in my vocabulary yet.  I can't hide behind my son and family anymore.  I need to survive on my own.  why am I so scared?  I'm only 65 and I feel like I'm 85.  the jig is up.  the temple is destroyed.  the drama queen doesn't want anymore drama.

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