abaya

I appreciate all of your very thoughtful replies to this rather vague and rambling question. It is something that has been on my mind all this week, so I have a lot of thoughts tumbling around about it...I agree with you--and yet why is it that some people can never adjust to unacceptable things, even after decades? And some do adjust, and while they never forget how radically different their lives were as a result of that event, they maintain their momentum and go on to live a successful life. Is it a matter of genetics, personality, learned coping skills... or some combination thereof?
Well, now this is interesting--would you say that "The Greatest Generation" is a term that only applies to the US? Because in Iceland, I don't necessarily see my grandmother as part of that generation--WWII did affect Iceland, but mostly only to boost their country economically, seeing as it was on the fringes of Europe. Also, both of my parents were 1st generation immigrants to the US, so by your definition she should not be like the American Boomer generation. And yet, my mother possesses very few coping skills, particularly with confrontation or "accepting the unacceptable" in her life--I don't think she was ever taught to handle stress in a productive manner, if such a thing can be taught to one's children. Maybe that is a "Boomer" characteristic? This is how I would imagine myself getting through some kind of unacceptable situation--to analyze it to death, think it through, find some kind of logical/rational path to explain it or get through it, and then continue walking on. I would like to think that I would not dwell and dwell and dwell on negativity and how things aren't measuring up to how I would like them to be--but sometimes I feel an irresistible urge to think this way, and it's quite difficult to stop that process. We are all a little bit afraid of becoming like the worst part of our parents, I suppose.
I thought of you when I was writing the OP--your constant reminders to accept that which you find unacceptable. It is a zen-type state, I suppose... to just put one's head down and march onward, one step at a time, not allowing oneself to be overwhelmed by all the temptations and stressors around.

Hiking the Laugavegurinn trail in Iceland 2 weeks ago was a small exercise in this: by the 3rd day, facing the last 10 miles of a 35 mile trail with 30 pounds on my back, and 10 blisters covering my feet, some of them already popped and re-blistering, I could not think about stopping. There was nothing for it--even if I stopped, who would pick me up? Everyone in my group was in the same condition, and they were continuing. No airlift would come for me, no bus to trundle us away... there was no escape. We simply had to keep walking, through the pain in our feet and backs, and see this damn thing through to the end. I don't think I ever could have done something like that by myself, without that group of people. But there was no other solution than to keep walking--even if I were by myself. That was our reality. Eventually, it ended, and we got on the bus home, and our feet healed.

I keep thinking about my grandparents, on both sides... and how it must have broken their hearts to watch their children leave to live on the other side of the ocean, and to raise their own children there, so far away. And how my grandparents had to accept this--themselves never having imagined living so far away from their social network, never having imagined having so many grandchildren so far away. And yet here they were, in that very situation. They coped. They had other children and grandchildren to distract them.

But my mother, and ktsp's parents... there are no other grandchildren. For my mother, there are not even other children--just me. What will distract them, when they are too old to work or do anything for themselves, and their children and grandchildren are thousands of miles away? Will they be able to cope? This is something that ktsp and I thought about before we got married, and we know that we will have to face it and deal with it. I think about it often, even though everyone is mostly in good health. It bothers me.

I suppose I have a hard time letting other people down, forcing them to cope with an unacceptable situation that I am responsible for creating. It is a great source of guilt for me--that I should have to force people to accept the unacceptable, even if I know that it won't kill them. I like for people around me to be happy--I am a pleaser. And yet I go forward and do all the things I want to do, but people's reactions stay with me--their displeasure, their sadness, their regrets--and I suppose that tempers my enjoyment of what I'm doing.

And now I'm really rambling, I suppose--but I appreciate, again, any further thoughts on this kind of thing.

__________________
And think not you can direct the course of Love;
for Love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.
--Khalil Gibran