“The Tissue Issue”

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The ElderHub

as posted by AngeMari.

I don’t know why I let it bother me so much. I have plenty of opportunities to feel frustrated, for instance the honey jar being left sticky. It may not seem like a big deal, but left unwashed, in march the ants. Several weeks ago a family friend confided to me that my mom was complaining about the ants, and whispered to her “Ange brought them in.”
I’ll take the blame, I’m used to it, and don’t take it personally most of the time.
I don’t complain about orange peels in the recycle bin, or wet towels in a heap on the floor when the hamper is close by. I endure constant criticism and personal affronts. Whatever.
But the tissue thing really bugs me.
When I bring my mother a tray in bed, where she spends most of her time, I provide her with a cloth napkin. She has paper strewn all over her bed like a little nest. She also has a trash bin right next to her bed, which she uses except when it comes to returning the food tray. She insists on adding a used tissue for me to dispose of. One tissue, maybe two if she is feeling extra generous. One day I grabbed her trash bin and ordered her to remove the tissue from the tray and put it in the bin.
That didn’t go over well. Maybe if I had asked nicely she might have considered it. Sometimes I don’t realize how frustrated I am until some seemingly meaningless event throws me into a tizzy. Then I know I need a break. She isn’t likely to change, so I must. I can count on that tissue being there every time so how do I learn to accept or even enjoy it?
It’s only the meaning I assign to it that troubles me, that I think it means anything at all. And even if it is premeditated on her part, I don’t have to let it bother me. I have a choice. She, sadly, often doesn’t.

June 27, 2012 at 12:22 am #766
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