For a little over a year, I spent my days at my elderly Dad's condo, helping him care for for my step-mother, helping him care for himself. As a result, when ever I warm up a cup of coffee or drink it cold, I cannot help but recall how my step mother would abuse my good nature, my desire to help, with a false smile and her false charm. "Warm up this coffee for me..." "My coffee is too cold, warm it up..." "Warm up my coffee...make sure it is really hot this time..." She would insinuate that I had purposefully under warmed it. That she could not consume it without the temperature of the liquid caffienne being piping-hot-farenheit, as it was beneath her, as the idea of her drinking it at a lesser teperature was an appalling affront to her senses. Some of the reasons were because nothing suited her back then, I believe. Part of the reason was her life long practice of manipulation, and my own life long practice of trying to please all of the people all of the time (a decidedly, useless endeavour that I am fighting to conquer to this very day). Some of the reason was her senility-she would forget to drink it while it was hot & some one must rectify that situation for her, as she was helpless, wheelchair bound and in constant aching pain. And she liked being waited on. She enjoyed the attention and knew that when it came to pushing me around, she could go very far, as I would not snap at her for fear of hurting my father by yelling at his beloved. Indeed, sometimes he would surprise me by snapping at her himself, in my defense. I was always doing six things at once, giving pills, enemas, mixing laxatives, making breakfast, getting them dressed, serving what they wanted how they wanted, when they wanted it, and a dozen other interruptions and all of the important seemingly unimportant orders she was giving. The bacon was never crisp enough, the eggs were never the way that she wanted them, and while you are doing that, would you warm up this cup of coffee for me? Sometimes a please or a thank you, but not always. She was definitely digging it in her own way. Making the daughter of her fomer rival, my mother, play step 'n fetch it. It was an intoxicating power that she wielded over me through my love for my father. And it was so very much akin to the way I tried to please my ex when we were married, and no matter what I did, how I did it or when, I could not please him. It was a doomed concept from it's conception. As was pleasing Rene, who often told us that she had never known a man to love his children as much as he loved the 5 of us. We must have enraged her by our very being. We were the only things besides his music that he loved in addition to her. Our father's enduring love for us must have pissed her off mightily. I would marry Bubba in a New York minute. Anybody who knows me, knows that. I was raised in a Christian home, and in my very own way, a way that no church condones, I am still a Christian (I just think translators of the Bible wrote whatever they wrote over those thousands of years ago to stress their points, to capture and enrapture congregations and to make a buck). If Bubba wants to continue being happy together just as we are now, I will let it be. I will never set an ultamaitum. I will never endeavour to manipulate this gift of love we now share, and I will not ever knowingly endanger this happiness that we have found, just so we can have some holy man utter some holy words over us, and pay the state some bucks to legally entangle our lives in red tape. Bubba's parent's marriage was a disaster, as was my own folks. My Mom re-married and was not really happy that she did, though when & if she recalls my step father, she does so fondly. My Dad remarried, as he had been sleeping with my mom's best friend for years and he continued to allow her to continue her manipulations, and had what passed for happiness when she dictated it so, in in her sociopathic little world...My marriage was a horrible mistake, as was Bubba's. Over 50% of folks that marry, divorce, and an untold number live together in misery. Some, of course, do remain in love and retain the happiness that they were fortunate enough to have found, but every couple has a different story and a different level of happiness or a reasonable facsimile, thereof. There is no one answer for the many different situations. Cecile asked me to ask Bubba a couple of questions that she, herself wanted answered. She wanted to see our lives through Bubba's eyes, even though she knows well that being complete opposites as we are, that Bubba is a man of few words...So, in her stead I asked him if (1) am I as good to him as he is to me, and (2), does he trust me? Bubba answered, "Well, yes" to each question, and then, asked me to tell her not to ask him any more questions. It is hard enough for him to open up and share his feelings with me, he has no desire to share his feelings with my therapist. It is I who am trying to evolve into a better me, not him, and I get his point, as I am sure Cecile will. Bubba does not think that I need therapy, and he defintely does not want it for himself. "There is nothing the matter with you that a piece of dark chocolate won't fix..." says he, but I don't agree, and he does not try to manipulate me into following his lead. He lets me be me, and I am on a journey, I am trying to learn, how to improve who I am almost all of the time. Unless, of course, I am caught up in a King (or a Koontz, or any well-spun tale by any prolific author) novel. I am presently mesmerized by King's "Lisey's Story." I simply can not put it down & when I do all I want to do is go back to it. I love to read. Bubba canot grasp recreational reading, let alone blogging, and cannot understand why any one would do either-but, he never stops me. He always lets me be me, even if he just doesn't get it...like that time I took him to see The Dead up in Indy. Hah! He most definitely did not get it, but he has never tries to control my life to suit him. I love him so! So, I have to get back to my book, and even though I tread headed 6 miles yesterday, I coincidently gained a good 6 lbs the last 2 weeks of my father's life to date. I woulda, coulda, shoulda hit the treadmill again today, if not tommorrow, at the latest. I've got to get off of the Stream & back to my life. I was just checking in, trying to figure a few things out. PS...now why won't this post accept my paragraphs and spacing? I have worked at it far to long & methinks hitting "Review Post" was the culprit & even though I re-spaced & corrected the soacing of the paragraphs...it does what it darn well pleases...what a pisser! ppss...maybe I just fixed it. maybe not. guess I am trying to figure this out, as well...& I have fugured out that I will never again hit "Review Post" as this totally messed up my post!!!!!!!!!!!