Yesterday I packed up my kitchen and put it away.
No, that is not exactly true, but it felt like I was putting my kitchen, and by extension a part of myself on hold, like I had made some kind of bargain with the devil without reading the fine print. I brought my sweetie home. I was able to start carving out a niche for myself again, only to find that the things that are important to me are slowly being chipped away.
Here's how it happened.
On Monday evening I went to use a particular pot, a beloved pot, and as I pulled it out of the cabinet I noticed that the color had changed from the soft gray of stainless steel to a deep burnished orange-brown on the inside with orange and black spots all over the outside. This did not scrub off, even with Barkeeper's friend. It had melded with the metal. I was, at that point, far too upset to cook.
I did ask E what happened to the pan, and he said it wasn't his fault, he made popcorn using oil from the "waste oil" can, the jar where I store used oil waiting to be discarded.
Now, one shouldn't use the old oil, but the more I think about it, there had to be more than that because the pan had to be very hot, hotter than is necessary for popcorn, for the oil to scorch into the metal like that. I've made popcorn in that pan. I've fried chicken in that pan. I suppose I should be grateful he did not start a fire, and I am, but I am also still sad about my pan.
But overheating is an ongoing problem.. Countless silicone spatulas, the kind that are supposed to withstand 600 degree heat, have been melted, including my favorite, the one I use for eggs in the morning, even though it was in the jar labeled "gluten free do not use." I suppose I shall have to change that to "Mardel only do not use." He always cooks on high heat. He leaves the pans on the heat with nothing in them. I smell the hot metal and the burning oil from across the house long before I see the smoke. Although they are only things, I can't help but feel like my babies are being slowly tortured in front of me.
I've purchased new utensils to separate gluten from gluten-free. One of my favorite nonstick skillets is scratched and warped. I need a new slow cooker. Now I need to replace my 18 year old 5.5 quart Demeyere casserole as well. It is not the price. I am just as upset about my green silicone egg turner and by favorite blue colander as I am about that pan, although the thought of constantly replacing things is daunting.
Nor is the problem exclusively with this aide, it has been ongoing. It is a question of care, and the people that come to help G just don't take care, not with things. They are good with G, and ultimately G is more important than things. I know this. And yet with each thing that is lost I feel little bits of myself being lost as well. I can say that G is more important, but I can't say that the things are not important because each thing is purchased with care and thought: for years I have been eliminating the chaff, saving only the essential, the things that matter to me, and now those things are being slowly taken away.
I can teach someone not to take a hot pan off high heat and immediately run cold water over it. I can teach someone not to plunge the electric base of a slow cooker into a sink full of water. But then someone else comes, and I can't think of everything I need to teach them because so much of this is second nature to me. I can't come running and screaming into the kitchen every time a pan has been left on high heat empty for 10 minutes "so it will get hot" when I smell it burning from 20 or 30 feet away. I can't teach someone to take care of things that they don't care about. I care. They are my things. I feel ripped apart with each gash in the finish of my favorite skillet. And yet we need them, the aides. I can't abandon G just for a spatula or a pan or any other thing that may exist in the house.
I have to adapt. My only alternative is to put the things I care about away until this phase of our lives passes. I took great pleasure in my heavy "good" pans, I took care of them, I loved using them. As I cleaned them one last time, polishing the copper on the heavy copper skillet, I felt like I was saying goodbye to old dear friends. I felt like I had lost "my" kitchen, like there was no point in cooking anymore, like I had lost a part of myself.
I put up new pans. Not bad pans, a relatively inexpensive set from Macy's. It is better to just have pans I don't care about. I don't care about these pans. I don't care about using them. I don't care about loosing them. But I also realize it is not about pans at all. Things melt, things burn, it is a normal part of life, and in normal life, at home with family, I would laugh these things off.
But this is not about normal life, or not about normal life as I am prepared to embrace it. Even though I made the decision to make these changes, I hadn't really considered all the implications. I suppose decisions would never be made if we actually considered all the implications involved. It is about change, and control, and being dragged kicking and screaming to accept changes I was not really ready to make. It is about opening up the walls to the cozy little sanctuary that is/was my home and accepting change rather than building walls with things. One moment I am embracing the future, and another I am retreating into the past, holding my pan up like a shield.
Sometimes I feel like a stranger in my own house, like it is slipping away from me and I am powerless to stop it. Here I am trying to reclaim my life but I gain a little something only to lose something else. Life seems to be a lot like a teeter-totter, first I'm up, then I'm down, and I can't quite find the balance point. I know we will get there, but sometimes it seems that I hit the ground rather hard.
Comments
36 responses to “Burnt”
You are a good and wise woman. I wish you strength as you navigate these waters of home and soul. Dawn
Thank you Dawn!
For me, it’s also about becoming lost and invisible in a sea of looking after others. I get overwhelmed. I begin to wonder where do I fit? How do I matter? Although we weigh it out and know that people are more important than things, it’s the things help us to express ourselves. When we can’t, it’s suffocating.
Oh Mardel, I’m so sorry you had to do this. It’s a difficult situation. It’s really not about the things, it’s about not being able to live life in your own way. Your last paragraph touched me so much in its truth.
Take care.
Gees. I would be going up the wall! I just mentally dreamed up your own little kitchen
When I read your thoughtful, honest, generous, and moving posts on various aspects of adapting to your changed life, I am filled with genuine admiration and respect for what you are doing, but at the same time, I get caught up in self-examination. Could I do what you’re doing? I suppose we do what we have to, but not all of us would manage such grace. And that you achieve this grace not by pushing away and denying your own feelings but by acknowledging them, parsing them so wisely, and then so consciously deciding to work toward the noblest standards. . . As I say, respect. Sympathy, big virtual hugs, and respect.
So sorry that you have to deal with this as well as everything elder, I would also be cautious about the safety of your home, this cooking issue causes concern of fire, what is wrong with using common sense when cooking, sorry for being so to the point, but I worry about you & G……….talk soon……C
I think that you can be honest about your feelings and work through them says a lot about your goodness of heart. I hope you can find the pieces of yourself somewhere. Soon.
I am so sorry you have had this one more insult in such a long list of losses recently. I am also touched that you can put the journey into such touching words, that we all feel the heartwrench with you. I hope you soon settle into more of a stable, if different, pattern so that life becomes, if not normal, then at least more predictable. Hugs as well. K
You’ve expressed this so beautifully; it’s not about the things themselves, but of loss of control. Even though we try not to get overly attached to our things, they are part of who we are. We’ve had the same nanny for my son for over 12 years, and she and her family (who are now an extension of our family) don’t take the same care with the environment that we do. It’s not deliberate or disrespectful in any way, just a different perspective and paradigm.
Oh, Mardel, I wish I could come and hug you. And I worry about your safety, too. You are wise to put away your good pans and other things for now. It’s too bad you can’t put some sort of regulator on the stove. (I’ve never heard of such a thing, but I was thinking of the devices used by trucking companies to regulate speed of their drivers.) Sending you good thoughts today….
Linda
This, too, will pass. I remember crying over a shite teeshirt my son’s aide washed with a red blanket. It was just a tee shirt, and she was doing well taking care of Kevin. But it was just one more thing I’d lost. In a sea of loss it just becomes overwhelming. And on the list of things we lost in that accident a tee shirt really wasn’t anything. But it was. It was a reminder of better days, of hope lost. I’m sorry with you and for the pain. I will say that time does help – this is still very new and raw to you. But even 7 years later the wounds still bleed at times – and those times sneak up on you when you aren’t looking. But I can even wear that shirt again. Sometimes.
As one who loves to cook using my beloved good pans, I really sympathize with you. I would be heart broken too. The teeter totter analogy is a good one. It is heartwarming, your love and kindness for G. Thank you for sharing what you are going through.
Yes Myrna! Its the things that help me express me. But there has to be a way to accommodate both.
Thank you Nancy. Your words mean a lot.
Oh Mary Beth! Thanks for the big smile.
Hugs accepted, Mater. Thank you for the encouragement. I always wonder if Ive just been gazing at my own navel a little too long.
Thank you LPC. I dont think they fly far during my little spells, the pieces that is. I hope I put them back together in the best possible order.
Thank you K. Predictability would be welcome. Even with these setbacks though, things are generally on the up
Pseu, Oh, I dont think it is at all disrespectful, just a different way of doing things combined with the general lack of attention toward domestic things shared by many (but by no means all) men. We really like E and both hope he will work out for a long long time. Your comment is encouraging.
Mardel whatever the trials you are enduring. And don’t feel bad for venting, You are giving such a gift to your husband to be home and in familiar surroundings. Hang in there and enjoy this phase of life as much as you can too. Retreat and take mardel time too….
Sewing Library, hugs accepted. Thank you for the concern. We have talked about the heat thing and he is being more cautious. He is attentive in his own way, I dont think he would walk away from a pan, just his methods arent mine. Oh well. I can adapt.
Your introspection and honesty are inspirational. It’s the toughest times that often bring out the most adnirable traits in people and you are certainly one of them.
One of the hardest parts of getting older is rolling with the punches and accepting the reality of the situation. Emotionally coming to terms with loss however small is never easy. Giving a voice to your thoughts helps to come to terms with what is happening. There are times when you get tired of letting go. Deep breath and standing still helps to keep the mind and heart steadfast. Faith in believing that things will get better is the glue that helps to hold me together.
Mardel, thanks for sharing with us your struggles. I’ve been mulling this and fully understand the feelings of loss and frustration and admire how you have chosen to live through these trials. Each burnt pan, each misused item reiterates the fact that life is not as it was and picks at the wound. Your solutions are good and proactive and admirable. Stay safe, Mardel!
It’s one thing to wear things out from natural wear and tear over years, and another to damage them through abuse. For the former you’d feel, I imagine, a twinge of loss, but for the latter, deep irritation and sadness at the lack of care. I’d do just as you have, buy a set for them, and continue to give tutorials b/c not just a matter of wrecking pots, it sounds like they could start a fire.
I think you did right, getting some pans from Macy’s that you don’t have to care about. I had some unhappy experiences with my mother-in-law’s wardrobe which pretty much fell apart after a couple of rounds of institutional laundry. She never stepped inside of a K-Mart or Kohl’s in her cognizant life, but they clothed her nicely in her later years.
It is a little worrisome whatever is going on in the kitchen, you don’t want to have your house burn down nor do you want your lovely home to smell like frying oil.
I wonder whether you might steer your employees cooking away from high heat frying. Perhaps microwave popcorn?
My earlier comment seems to have been lost, but- I’ve said what so many have. Wise to get other set, at same time an occasional tutorial may be in fact a gift to caregivers adapting to other cultures as part of their work. I’m all for respecting “other paradigms” but when significant goods are damaged, it’s OK to request different behaviour. At least that’s how I see it.
Thank you BeeBee, you put it so well, the reminder of better days, of hope lost. It is better now, and I am moving forward again. I can see that memories will resurface, but become more distant, not that distance cures them. I think sometimes the small things hit home the most because the big things are too overwhelming to contemplate.
Ahh, Susan, how I miss cooking in the beloved pans. They do make a difference. The new ones arent bad. Sometimes I think there are too many changes, others I am happy that they arent worse. I suppose this is just life.
Thank you Mary. I am taking me time as well, although I am back to feeling pressured to do it all. Ill get over that.
Thank you Shannon. Your comment really made my day, a day when I was feeling small and selfish.
Thank you Towanda. I try to remember to take deep breaths. Sometimes it is hard, but it helps
What a great analogy, remnant, the picking at the wound. That is it exactly. I am still all bolluxed up in coping, and wanting and dreaming and planning, sometimes looking forward, sometimes looking backward, sometimes just treading water.
Yes, Duchesse, I was deeply irritated about the pot, and sad, and happy they did not start a fire. We have had lessons, and things seem to be somewhat better. Ive already come home with the fire trucks once, and that was a minor electrical short. Thank goodness for 911 and for the fact that my smoke detectors are wired into a monitoring station that calls the fire department first and asks questions later.
Rose, I did something similar with G, when he was in the nursing home/rehab facility. I bought him a wardrobe of washable pants and shirts at JC Penney, which I didnt care about getting lost or destroyed. He is still wearing those items, and they serve him well as the aides just throw everything into one big load. He used to be a meticulous dresser, but it seems a shame to see those fine things destroyed. He is still meticulous, the materials are just not as fine.