This song, in particular, used to trigger a really sad memory for me from when I was my mom's caregiver. It was the summer of 2008 and the last one i would spend with my mom. Things were bad because of my siblings. That summer I did everything I could to maintain my sanity. I meditated religiously, walked a lot and saw a therapist on a sliding scale at Jewish Family Services. I love the people at that place. I really owe them my sanity.
That summer was when my mom really started deteriorating. I had been caring for her for a year already and my siblings had done NOTHING. Actually, they did something: created more work for me to do. They loved to just stop in and leave a mess for me to clean up. I told my mom that I didn't want my siblings around unless they were going to contribute---either take her to the hospital or one of her many doctors appointments or stay with her for a few days so I could escape (I had friends in Florida that kept telling me I was looking mighty stressed during that time)...
I really hated my brother during that time (actually, I kinda hate him now too). He'd stop by and then ask my mom to cook. My mom was legally blind so I told him that it wasn't a good idea. When I said I was cooking, he'd interrupt with, "I want my mama's cooking, not my sister's". Once I made vegan shephard's pie for my mom, brother and his partner. My mom and brother's partner said it was delicious. My brother (who's a vegetarian) said it was "eh" and then did this little rocking motion with his head. I so had to fight the urge to punch him in the face ....
So, mom would cook to keep her son happy and my brother would eat everything while watching TV and leave his dishes on the coffee table for me to clean up. He would also eat at least two cups of yogurt and leave the yogurt container(s) on the coffee table with his other crap.
I slept on a futon that doubled as our "couch" in the living room. Whenever my brother would come over, he'd jump on the futon like there was some sort of spring in the mattress. I repeatedly told him that the futon was going to break if he kept doing it and he would say, "uh. sorry" but wouldn't you know... the next time he came by, he'd do it again.
I was not surprised the day both my brother and his partner were sitting on it and it collapsed. My brother went on about how cheap the frame was. The frame cost about $500, was less than a year old and was most certainly not cheap. The manufacturer rejected the claim because of where the fracture was. They derived from the location of the break that it had been a result of "excessive force".
After that, I really hated my brother. He'd come by and I'd go into the other room so I didn't have to deal with him.
My mom knew I was right but she didn't want to lose her son. My brother had disappeared for two years before I moved to Florida to take care of her. Then suddenly after I moved, he's back! Of course, he's back... because he no longer feels forced to care for our sick mother since I've now given up my life in California to take care of her in her dying days. So he just dropped by whenever he felt like it and did NOTHING but make a mess. Bitterness invaded every cell of my body and to this day, I fucking hate my brother for that period. My sister was no picnic but she wasn't as bad as he was.
My mom and I fought so much because of this. Man, I felt so low at that point in my life. I would dream of leaving Florida and moving back to California... not LA.. I was over LA... San Francisco! I always loved San Francisco... Yes. That's what I would do... after mom died. I'd go to San Francisco... until that time, though, I was stuck giving my mom injections, changing her diapers, taking her to the doctors, hospital, cooking with no help from anybody.... I really wanted to kill myself.
On one occasion, I took my mom to one of her many doctors. We got into an argument about my brother in the waiting room. I told her I wasn't in the mood to listen to her defend that prick and I went out to my car.
It was an insanely hot Florida summer day. I sat in my Prius with the A/C on listening to a CD mix on my stereo. That song Unemployed in Summertime came on and I laughed... I remember thinking I may be "Unemployed in Summertime" but I'm working harder than I ever did when I was employed. Laughter turned to tears. At that moment, I wished my mother would die so I would be free. Then I felt horribly guilty.
After my mom died, whenever I would hear that song, it'd remind me of that day and I'd feel deeply saddened. It sucks when you love a song and it's tainted by a sad memory. I'd listen to this song while doing happier things in the hope that I would wipe the negative emotional attachments to the song and create more positive ones.
I know this can be done because I did it in 2004. My BFF (the one I'm pissed at now) came to visit me in LA. We decided on a whim to drive up the PCH to San Francisco. We'd make it a 2 day trips so we could really appreciate the California coast. As we were driving, my friend raided my CD collection and attempted to play ABBA. I told him ABBA was off limits. He wanted to know why.
ABBA reminded me of my ex. She was Norwegian and the last time I had listened to ABBA was when I was visiting Norway and we took a road trip to the Fjords. It was a fun trip and it was a fond memory in spite of the fact that the relationship did not end well and I harbored feelings of resentment towards her at that time.
My BFF said, "Fuck that." and put ABBA in the CD player anyway. He insisted that ABBA was way too precious to waste. ABBA reminded him of Muriel's Wedding so he insisted we create new memories with this in mind. He decided we'd role play during that trip and make ABBA our theme music. And so it was. He was Muriel, I was Rhonda and I will never forget that road trip and listening to ABBA as we drove through the rolling hills of Cambria while wine tasting.
"Goodbye, street!" he screamed. "Goodbye, mall!" I yelled back.
"Goodbye, Porpoise Spit!" we yelled together, laughing all the while. That was one of the best memories of my life. From that day forward, ABBA never brought back memories of my failed relationship with the Norwegian.
Fortunately, Unemployed in Summertime by Emiliana Torrini no longer drums up emotions of that horrible summer before my mom died. Lately, it is my song of choice when I walk to my hill. This is my summer. I am free.
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