Redo, Please!

Guarding His Territory

Don't we all wish for a redo, sometimes? Redos are elusive at best, dear reader! My younger daughter put it this way, speaking of verbal diatribes: "Once the  toad comes out of your mouth, it's out. No amount of effort will get it back down your throat." 

Part of aging is we've learned more lessons than we recall. Nothing is lost of who we are and what we've learned, but we may have tucked it away. I've forgotten what I long ago learned about myself and money. Tired of working with a debit card and cash, I opened a bank account, and applied for an ATM card. It was a kind of benchmark revisited, a sort of a rite of passage. (I"not likely to buy an new house or car, before reaching my end game, so I'll settle for small victories.)

     -Just one problem. I forgot those things we call fees and how a tiny problem can grow into a Medusa in no time flat. Soon, my inattention, it appeared, was going to cost me a bundle, or compel me to pay my dues, and head for the door post haste. I e-mailed a daughter, telling the story of my peccadillo, now looming over my head, larger than life. 

       Don't do this. I don't recommend it. I received a chilly reply, alluding to my not liking people "up in my business." One daughter had reminded the other, who was now reminding me, of the content of my character, not to say my personal demons. 

Everything he had ever done that had been better left undone. Every lie he had told — told to himself, or told to others. Every little hurt, and all the great hurts. Each one was pulled out of him, detail by detail, inch by inch. The demon stripped away the cover of forgetfulness, stripped everything down to truth, and it hurt more than anything. ― Neil Gaiman, "Fragile Things"

   
     My guess is your parent or grandparent wants to wear big people underwear. The trouble is, we don't always use big people words, to negotiate with adult family members. We end up looking childish, while demanding to be honored and sage. 

    I absolutely do not know how to keep the balance in relationships, the one between helping and counseling too much and not enough. Or, not asking at all, and asking too much. (My own parents modeled the latter; they were orphans with no-one to ask. They grew up feisty and tenacious, each of them an example of self-made success. I grew up not having to ask for anything, a child with every material thing.) 

      I also find I do not any longer know how to muster the energy to consistently lead from strength. My negotiation skills are intact, so the issue with my bank has been resolved ... I know a good redo, when I get it. I also know I will not easily come by a means to make amends for being Our Lady of Perpetual Defiance.  

     My best advice, which none of you will heed, is never use a Howitzer, when a pea shooter will do.