Today I'm a little better but just barely. I'm still sleep deprived and exhausted, but there are no obligations on my plate for at least a couple of weeks, and neither my grandfather nor my mother are in grave danger. I'm even getting to bed before 2AM.
All that craziness put aside for the moment, I can update you on what you've missed because I've been too weary to even log on to blogger.com:
Who, Me? Do I Renounce Satan?
At first I was a bit apprehensive about going to a church and making sacred promises that I knew I wasn't going to keep. But then I figured, if going through the motions of a Baptism will keep Irene's husband's family from driving her insane, then it was my duty as her friend to be there. I've lied in church before; I'm already on a first class flight to hell; what was one more act of defiance against Christianity?
During the mass, I tried to get into it, tried to see if I could return to the church and stop being so angry, jaded, bitter, etc. However, as soon as the clergy-dude began with his, "without baptism this child will go to hell" schpiel, I knew that it was impossible.
Then there was the boring ass music, so melancholy and joyless... is this how they praise god? How I used to do it? BLECH! THEN there was the mechanized movements and ritual (now kneel, now rise, now shake hands, now get a lobotomy...) and the "hierarchy" of who gets the "body and blood" of Christ first (excuse me- aren't we all the same in the eyes of god??). I was convinced that this whole life was not for me.
And yes, I absolutely felt like a hypocrite standing there at the alter, and I do loathe hypocrisy, but I also know that this was really out of Irene's hands and she needed someone there to be on her side. Friendship trumps morals and principles. Besides now I can be called, The Godmother *she says in her best Marlon Brando impersonation*
This Jaded NYer does believe that there is a god out there, that this world is not a crazy accident that somehow fell into place. However, that god is NOT the judeo-christian, jealous dictator that organized religion will have us believe he is...I mean, what kind of god would send a baby to hell because some FLAWED man didn't throw water on her head??
If Fear Was Your Reason, Then OK
I had assumed that my mom was upset with me somehow and that was why she had not informed me of her upcoming surgery. Turns out, she wasn't mad...just freaked out by the whole process...I guess now I know where my phobia comes from...
Still, I have to add that I'm a sucky nurse. I'm used to my elders caring for me; this whole role-reversal crap is for the birds! I actually had to bathe my mom the other day, and not that it was gross because she's my mom and all and I've seen her naked a gazillion times (I grew up in a "naked" house), but it really did mess with my head. I'm not ready to be in charge. I'm not ready for my mom to be dependent on me...responsibility gives me hives...just ask my kids!
When Papi Goes, I May Just Go Insane
It's no secret that I do not do well with death. My grandmother's passing all but killed me. That empty void in my core that I try to fill with food and sex and impulse purchases? My missing grandma.
So needless to say when I heard that my Papi was sent to the E/R YET AGAIN, I had a tiny heart-attack/nervous breakdown in my bathroom. If I lose him, too...actually, let me not even write about that right now...
What Marriage is Supposed To Be
I didn't think I was going to be able to make it to Celia and Doug's wedding- the dress wasn't fitting (but then it did- thanks Natasha for the waist cincher!), my family was ill, I wasn't very travel friendly. But I made it, and although I'm so happy she wanted me to be a part of her special day, and I love her and Doug to death, I have to say that I felt like an alien observing life on a strange planet.
A planet where people love the person they marry. And stay married for over 50 years. And have family heirlooms to pass down from generation to generation. And have traditions and anniversaries and dad's that give you away on your special day.
I hardly ever let envy enter my heart, and I absolutely love my family, but watching the Keisers and the Careys and the McKenzies fill a room with their complete and utter togetherness, well, I mourned my own situation: my multiple last name and single parent infused family tree, where hardly anyone is related by both mother AND father and marriages barely last if they ever take place at all.
But I am happy I went nonetheless. Their ceremony was touching and beautiful, and moved me in a way I had hoped Olivia's baptism would. I've absolutely given up on Christianity, but love, true love, the kind that makes a man shed tears of joy at the sight of his bride as they exchange vows, well, dammit- that's something I can have faith in.
It may not be too late for me after all.
*smooches...a little less Jaded that before I started writing this post*
And you, you want to be heard
But none of us understand a word
And you, you want to be free
Then don't speak like a slave to me