So finally the whole Christmas thing is done and over for me. My ex sister in law came up with the kids for a bit yesterday so we could exchange gifts and my nephew is staying over until I think sometime tomorrow, I'm not entirely sure. In keeping with a tradition my aunt started, I bought him a chemistry set this year. He also received a bunch of Legos, a Wii game, and a foam-disc shooting frog gun. After dinner he couldn't wait to try out his new chem set. The sets they sell today aren't nearly as cool as they were over 20 years ago (something about hazardous materials and safety issues, I have no idea. Other than a small fire, I never had a problem). Science in general has always been a subject that's come easily to me, especially chemistry. I had to take a lab science a few years ago when I returned to college and no surprise, I took chem and easily passed with an A. The labs were challenging, but I feel like a total idiot trying to understand this set's instruction manual. Most experiments are written in a way that are easy to understand: the hypothesis, what materials you need, a brief diagram of what the set up looks like, and basic instructions how to carry out the experiment, followed by the actual lesson you should have learned. This set more or less mashes all the components (minus any diagrams) into a few pages in such a nonsensical way, you have to read it 3 or 4 times just to figure out everything you need for any experiment. So we set up a litmus solution that will be ready by tonight, created a substance called Prussia Blue (google it if you don't have a clue), and created invisible ink. The ink experiment was kinda cool. Start with the mixture, write out a message, dab with another mixture to see the message clearly, and use a third to make it disappear again. Then repeat until it's boring. I was pretty impressed just how quickly he picked up the general concepts and how meticulous he was about carrying out the experiments. At this rate, it looks like I'll be putting money away for a few months to buy him the larger, more challenging (and cooler) set. Today's lessons will be with the litmus solution, acids, bases, basic electrical concepts, and maybe a few others. He has a bit of a short attention span with all the new stuff he received.
I must also say I'm pretty proud and impressed with him. I've been preparing boxes and such for donation and asked him if he wanted to go through his toys here and donate anything he didn't want. He set aside almost half of his toys for donation. Now I have to find either 2 boxes, or a bigger box to put them all in. I can't wait for the charity to come by on Saturday to get rid of all that stuff. My office has been taken over by close to 2 dozen boxes marked for donation. It'll feel like I'll be starting the new year with a much cleaner slate and it's something that I need. But for now, it's time to get a few things done while he eats lunch.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Monday, December 26, 2011
Surviving the Holidays
So Christmas has come and gone and there's less than a week before the end of this year. Finally. In general, the holidays are stressful even under the best of circumstances. There's always that one gift you forgot to buy, climbing up and down the stairs to either the basement or attic to pull out the decorations, try to get the decorations up as quickly and nicely as possible so that there's time to sit and actually enjoy them, random strands of lights that only half work for seemingly no reason, and at least in this house, keeping the dog from stealing ornaments off of the tree. Then there's the cooking, the baking, the cleaning, the wrapping, the last minute planning. It's a lot to do in a pretty short time. And, of course, who can forget the extended family and all that driving. By dinnertime yesterday, I was ready for bed. Hell, I was ready to curl up in a pair of sweats, curl up and read all day. My mother wasn't much better.
Christmas has been one of those bittersweet holidays for years. Growing up, we used to celebrate Christmas on Christmas Eve with the entire family--no exceptions. My Babci would single-handedly prepare a huge traditional Polish feast, with a few extra meals as the family grew. From homemade pierogies to white fish baked in a tomato topping, eventually ziti, meatballs, and a few other non-traditional dishes for the pickier eaters in the family. She'd spend the entire morning preparing and making all of it. When it was time for her to move into an apartment, the tradition was carried out at my grandparents house, complete with the breaking of the bread and Santa Claus driving around the neighborhood on top of a firetruck. Christmas day was spent with the immediate family and was very much laid back. Since her passing, we now celebrate the holiday on Christmas. Both meals have been combined and overall it's still pretty laid back and comfortable. At least until this year.
A few days before Christmas, my mother found out second-hand that her son wasn't going to be with our family. He and his wife were asked specifically on Thanksgiving whether or not they would be there for Christmas and if my nephew would be with them, so she knew how much to buy for the feast. (Our family tends to make enough food to feed half the state at any given meal, but are slowly getting better at scaling back). He never even called my aunt to let her know that he had changed his mind. According to what he told my father, he was going to spend a quiet Christmas at home with the kids--no driving, no stress, just a laid back, relaxed holiday at home. That and he didn't want to deal with the possibility of the fall out from a serious, childish argument that most of the family saw played out online. He even went as far as to say he was glad they saw it because my family would see me as being/acting as an asshole. And in no uncertain terms, both he and his wife made it very clear that I was to no longer have any part in their lives. In many ways, I'm perfectly fine with that. I no longer have to bite my tongue at backhanded compliments, petty insults, and always the inevitable explosion over nothing. I've dealt with it for at least the past 3 years and regardless of who was at fault, extended an olive branch just to keep up some form of family unity.
I did get to see my dad on Christmas, though. He came over in the morning to exchange gifts and stay for breakfast. If it wasn't for the fact that he went back to his apartment, it almost felt like a normal Christmas morning. My aunt decided to serve dinner earlier this year, so that we'd be home relatively early. Eventually, my mother and I got motivated to get up and get ready, packed up the gifts we needed, and headed down there. That's when we learned that my grandmother (again) was pretty sick that morning and they would be late, if they made it at all. She wasn't contagiously sick, but had problems with her balance and getting her blood pressure under control. They made it just after appetizers were served. My aunt had asked mom if she had heard from her son and found out that he wasn't coming down. He didn't even have the courtesy to take one minute out of his staycation to call. I'd say pissed is a pretty good word, but she held herself together, refusing to allow such rudeness and selfishness to ruin the day. It was seeing my grandmother's reaction to the news that stung. She couldn't wait to see her great grandkids (especially since all of them were together this year) and made a few remarks about the argument that had happened and the lack of decency to even make a call.
Getting through a holiday with the family pretending everything is fine and under control is difficult enough. Neither my mother nor I were really feeling that great, my family is worried sick about how both of us are dealing with the recent changes (namely, my father moving out), and did their best to try not to say or do something to upset us any further since they knew our moods and demeanors were nothing more than paper thin masks. Everything was aching and throbbing by the time we were ready to leave. Since my nephew is supposed to come up this week and may not be here for next Christmas (as his parents switch every year who has him for Christmas), I was handed his gifts. Then I was handed my nieces' gifts. I asked my aunt to hold on to them and have my brother come down with the girls since he said he'd be there, but she would hear none of it. "Keep them, throw them out, donate them, I don't care... just get them out of my house" was among a few of the comments made regarding his absence. So into my car they went, and into the closet they went when we got home.
After we got home, we discovered the lie of "spending a quiet, relaxed Christmas at home." Like with everything else, they spent the day at his mother in law's house celebrating the holiday. And once again, my family was nothing more than an inconvenience, an obligation, and an unwanted accommodation. Part of me felt that even though I came across as anything but the asshole he assumed I'd look like to the family, I was also livid and hurt. I could care less if I don't ever see or hear from them again (including their multiple online personas), but seeing the stress and especially the pain it's causing my family and knowing how hurt my nieces are going to be growing up knowing only half their family because for whatever reason my family, HIS family, just aren't good enough. It sickens me to see the pain on my mother's face since she can't even watch them grow up on Facebook, since she was deleted because other family members use her page for the same reason. I'm sure the kids will hear a myriad of lies, fairy tales, and excuses, but taking away the chance to get to know where their father came from is just inexcusable. Especially since there is a chance one of my family members may not have many Christmases left to celebrate. My family is just like most families. We've had our share of problems, highs, lows, and difficulties, but like any true family, we've always come together when it matters the most. To see them treated the way they were, one would think that my family contains multiple drug addicts and alcoholics, live out of run down shacks or trailers, have absolutely no tact, class, or manners, and seem like we all were raised in the wild.
I can't help but reflect on everything I've done to help. How many detentions and suspensions I was given growing up defending him, how I was always there when he needed help because the car broke down, forgot to pay a ticket, car accidents, needed someone to watch his son because he was working full time and attending school full time, all of it. Everytime I was needed, I dropped everything to be there. That's what families do. That's what a family is. And I wasn't the only one in the family there. All of us were. And just like every other human being, we've made our mistakes. Yet this is how we are treated. It's more than sad, it's despicable.
But overall, I would say that both my mother and I have handled the stress this year far better than anyone thought we could. It's days like today that the full weight of the stresses begins to manifest physically. The pain, the exhaustion, just the sheer weight of it all begins to hit. So we just took a day to rest and prepare to begin again in the morning.
Christmas has been one of those bittersweet holidays for years. Growing up, we used to celebrate Christmas on Christmas Eve with the entire family--no exceptions. My Babci would single-handedly prepare a huge traditional Polish feast, with a few extra meals as the family grew. From homemade pierogies to white fish baked in a tomato topping, eventually ziti, meatballs, and a few other non-traditional dishes for the pickier eaters in the family. She'd spend the entire morning preparing and making all of it. When it was time for her to move into an apartment, the tradition was carried out at my grandparents house, complete with the breaking of the bread and Santa Claus driving around the neighborhood on top of a firetruck. Christmas day was spent with the immediate family and was very much laid back. Since her passing, we now celebrate the holiday on Christmas. Both meals have been combined and overall it's still pretty laid back and comfortable. At least until this year.
A few days before Christmas, my mother found out second-hand that her son wasn't going to be with our family. He and his wife were asked specifically on Thanksgiving whether or not they would be there for Christmas and if my nephew would be with them, so she knew how much to buy for the feast. (Our family tends to make enough food to feed half the state at any given meal, but are slowly getting better at scaling back). He never even called my aunt to let her know that he had changed his mind. According to what he told my father, he was going to spend a quiet Christmas at home with the kids--no driving, no stress, just a laid back, relaxed holiday at home. That and he didn't want to deal with the possibility of the fall out from a serious, childish argument that most of the family saw played out online. He even went as far as to say he was glad they saw it because my family would see me as being/acting as an asshole. And in no uncertain terms, both he and his wife made it very clear that I was to no longer have any part in their lives. In many ways, I'm perfectly fine with that. I no longer have to bite my tongue at backhanded compliments, petty insults, and always the inevitable explosion over nothing. I've dealt with it for at least the past 3 years and regardless of who was at fault, extended an olive branch just to keep up some form of family unity.
I did get to see my dad on Christmas, though. He came over in the morning to exchange gifts and stay for breakfast. If it wasn't for the fact that he went back to his apartment, it almost felt like a normal Christmas morning. My aunt decided to serve dinner earlier this year, so that we'd be home relatively early. Eventually, my mother and I got motivated to get up and get ready, packed up the gifts we needed, and headed down there. That's when we learned that my grandmother (again) was pretty sick that morning and they would be late, if they made it at all. She wasn't contagiously sick, but had problems with her balance and getting her blood pressure under control. They made it just after appetizers were served. My aunt had asked mom if she had heard from her son and found out that he wasn't coming down. He didn't even have the courtesy to take one minute out of his staycation to call. I'd say pissed is a pretty good word, but she held herself together, refusing to allow such rudeness and selfishness to ruin the day. It was seeing my grandmother's reaction to the news that stung. She couldn't wait to see her great grandkids (especially since all of them were together this year) and made a few remarks about the argument that had happened and the lack of decency to even make a call.
Getting through a holiday with the family pretending everything is fine and under control is difficult enough. Neither my mother nor I were really feeling that great, my family is worried sick about how both of us are dealing with the recent changes (namely, my father moving out), and did their best to try not to say or do something to upset us any further since they knew our moods and demeanors were nothing more than paper thin masks. Everything was aching and throbbing by the time we were ready to leave. Since my nephew is supposed to come up this week and may not be here for next Christmas (as his parents switch every year who has him for Christmas), I was handed his gifts. Then I was handed my nieces' gifts. I asked my aunt to hold on to them and have my brother come down with the girls since he said he'd be there, but she would hear none of it. "Keep them, throw them out, donate them, I don't care... just get them out of my house" was among a few of the comments made regarding his absence. So into my car they went, and into the closet they went when we got home.
After we got home, we discovered the lie of "spending a quiet, relaxed Christmas at home." Like with everything else, they spent the day at his mother in law's house celebrating the holiday. And once again, my family was nothing more than an inconvenience, an obligation, and an unwanted accommodation. Part of me felt that even though I came across as anything but the asshole he assumed I'd look like to the family, I was also livid and hurt. I could care less if I don't ever see or hear from them again (including their multiple online personas), but seeing the stress and especially the pain it's causing my family and knowing how hurt my nieces are going to be growing up knowing only half their family because for whatever reason my family, HIS family, just aren't good enough. It sickens me to see the pain on my mother's face since she can't even watch them grow up on Facebook, since she was deleted because other family members use her page for the same reason. I'm sure the kids will hear a myriad of lies, fairy tales, and excuses, but taking away the chance to get to know where their father came from is just inexcusable. Especially since there is a chance one of my family members may not have many Christmases left to celebrate. My family is just like most families. We've had our share of problems, highs, lows, and difficulties, but like any true family, we've always come together when it matters the most. To see them treated the way they were, one would think that my family contains multiple drug addicts and alcoholics, live out of run down shacks or trailers, have absolutely no tact, class, or manners, and seem like we all were raised in the wild.
I can't help but reflect on everything I've done to help. How many detentions and suspensions I was given growing up defending him, how I was always there when he needed help because the car broke down, forgot to pay a ticket, car accidents, needed someone to watch his son because he was working full time and attending school full time, all of it. Everytime I was needed, I dropped everything to be there. That's what families do. That's what a family is. And I wasn't the only one in the family there. All of us were. And just like every other human being, we've made our mistakes. Yet this is how we are treated. It's more than sad, it's despicable.
But overall, I would say that both my mother and I have handled the stress this year far better than anyone thought we could. It's days like today that the full weight of the stresses begins to manifest physically. The pain, the exhaustion, just the sheer weight of it all begins to hit. So we just took a day to rest and prepare to begin again in the morning.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Wishing for a White Christmas
So here it is, almost 2 days before Christmas. My shopping and wrapping has been done for weeks now, decorations up (still trying to find ways to get the mutt to stay out of the tree), and retain what little sanity I feel I have left. I'm still cleaning stuff out of the house, a project that didn't seem that huge when I started, but 15 boxes for donation and counting, countless trash bags filled and thrown out, and it barely looks like I did anything in the room I started in. But I will admit this... pain aside from overdoing it, it feels almost therapeutic. Out with the old, the neglected, memories that mean nothing anymore, and a chance at a fresh start once it's done. It's not without its difficulties, though. The physical part of cleaning out an entire storage room full of 20 years of crap isn't easy, even in the best of health. It's some of the memories that are uncovered that make you stop for a moment, reflect, and wonder what the hell happened? I won't even open a photo album, envelope of pictures, or anything containing photos. Those are just being put on a shelf unorganized. I just don't have the heart to look.
There was talk by meteorologists a few days ago that we may have gotten hammered by a Nor'Easter Christmas Eve/Christmas day. Now, the chances are less than 2%. I was hoping for a storm, a white Christmas, a way to just pretend Sunday is just another day. It's just not Christmas this year. I was angry as hell when my father left a few months ago, leaving me to pick up all of the slack around the house while he "figured things out." I was the one who saw the pain it caused my mother as we learned one thing after another. If it wasn't for some beyond amazing friends and a trusted loved one, I don't know where I'd be right now. At first, it was hard to separate their marriage from my life. I was just as angry at his leaving as I was at everything that happened prior to and just after his leaving. In time, I came to realize that no matter what, he is still my father. Always has been, always will be. Like every other human, he has flaws. None of us are perfect. None. It hurt like hell on Thanksgiving to not have him there, standing around with my uncle and cousins, frying a turkey and throwing back a few beers. It was the hardest thing to pretend that everything was normal, like he was just home with a cold or something. I just wanted to run out the door, get in my car, and just keep driving. Then my brother shows up late and actually asked my mother where my dad was, like nothing at all had been going on. To this day, he still has no clue. I decided on Black Friday that I wanted to see my dad on Christmas. The problem is, my mother can't drive and there is no one close to us to bring her to my aunts house. Except my brother. I spoke to a close family member to ask for advice, and she suggested calling my uncle who lives at least 2 hours from here to see if he could pick my mom up. That would mean he would spend over 7 hours driving on Christmas day and I just couldn't do that. Then I realized that my brother spends time on Christmas at his mother-in-law's house, which is about 20 minutes away. So I broke down and called him. I mean, after all, last I knew, my mother has 2 children who are adults with valid drivers' licenses and vehicles. I was told "maybe, I have to find out what's going on with her (his wife) mother..." and a poor me story about how poor they are, how they barely ever have even gas in the car come payday. Which I found rather sad, considering how much time my sister in law spends going out to breakfast, lunch, dinners, shopping, etc. etc. etc. I can believe they don't have the money when it's being spent on crap. In my household? We have about $30 a week to pay for groceries by the time the bills are paid.. electric, insurance, phone, fuel, medical... expenses that just can't be ignored. But we did put money aside over time to buy gifts for the kids. After all, it's the kids and family that matter, right? Well, apparently I was wrong.
In typical style, my brother (after the whole blow out and finding out that the entire family had seen everything going on on Facebook and well, I didn't quite look like the "asshole" he claimed I was, decided that he wasn't even going to tell my mom he wasn't coming to Christmas dinner. It seems that with his fancy 18 month education, managerial job, 4 kids, wife, living rent free in his father in law's house, he's just too good for our family now. We're nothing but disposable trash. I can't describe the look on my mother's face when she found out he wasn't going and once again, she wasn't going to see the kids. She saw the insults about our housekeeping, the theory of why my dad went back to drinking (which the person who said it obviously didn't take into consideration that she can't work, drive, many days, can barely have a "normal" day, and won't until she gets a transplant--at LEAST 10 years away), so it comes down to what always happens. Hide. Play the righteous victim in all of it, but pretend nothing is going on because someone else will clean up the mess or forget about it. Some things are easy to blow off, forget, forgive, move on. But not this time. It's easy to be brave when you're sitting on the other side of a computer screen or phone receiver, but words still hurt. I can handle being hurt, I've been through enough to know that no matter what is thrown at me, one way or another, I'll come through the other side stronger for it. But what I can't handle is seeing the pain on my mother's face as she literally watches everything fall apart in front of her face. It is not our place as humans to judge others. There is no excuse for ignorance, cruelty, and after a certain age, immaturity. And there sure as hell no excuse to use kids as pawns to hurt someone even more than they already hurt. Sometimes, it's easy to just label someone, to hide from the truth, but sometimes if you actually talk to a person, do a little research into what they're saying, everyone is the better for it. Yeah. Merry Fucking Christmas. Some things just aren't worth trying for anymore.
There was talk by meteorologists a few days ago that we may have gotten hammered by a Nor'Easter Christmas Eve/Christmas day. Now, the chances are less than 2%. I was hoping for a storm, a white Christmas, a way to just pretend Sunday is just another day. It's just not Christmas this year. I was angry as hell when my father left a few months ago, leaving me to pick up all of the slack around the house while he "figured things out." I was the one who saw the pain it caused my mother as we learned one thing after another. If it wasn't for some beyond amazing friends and a trusted loved one, I don't know where I'd be right now. At first, it was hard to separate their marriage from my life. I was just as angry at his leaving as I was at everything that happened prior to and just after his leaving. In time, I came to realize that no matter what, he is still my father. Always has been, always will be. Like every other human, he has flaws. None of us are perfect. None. It hurt like hell on Thanksgiving to not have him there, standing around with my uncle and cousins, frying a turkey and throwing back a few beers. It was the hardest thing to pretend that everything was normal, like he was just home with a cold or something. I just wanted to run out the door, get in my car, and just keep driving. Then my brother shows up late and actually asked my mother where my dad was, like nothing at all had been going on. To this day, he still has no clue. I decided on Black Friday that I wanted to see my dad on Christmas. The problem is, my mother can't drive and there is no one close to us to bring her to my aunts house. Except my brother. I spoke to a close family member to ask for advice, and she suggested calling my uncle who lives at least 2 hours from here to see if he could pick my mom up. That would mean he would spend over 7 hours driving on Christmas day and I just couldn't do that. Then I realized that my brother spends time on Christmas at his mother-in-law's house, which is about 20 minutes away. So I broke down and called him. I mean, after all, last I knew, my mother has 2 children who are adults with valid drivers' licenses and vehicles. I was told "maybe, I have to find out what's going on with her (his wife) mother..." and a poor me story about how poor they are, how they barely ever have even gas in the car come payday. Which I found rather sad, considering how much time my sister in law spends going out to breakfast, lunch, dinners, shopping, etc. etc. etc. I can believe they don't have the money when it's being spent on crap. In my household? We have about $30 a week to pay for groceries by the time the bills are paid.. electric, insurance, phone, fuel, medical... expenses that just can't be ignored. But we did put money aside over time to buy gifts for the kids. After all, it's the kids and family that matter, right? Well, apparently I was wrong.
In typical style, my brother (after the whole blow out and finding out that the entire family had seen everything going on on Facebook and well, I didn't quite look like the "asshole" he claimed I was, decided that he wasn't even going to tell my mom he wasn't coming to Christmas dinner. It seems that with his fancy 18 month education, managerial job, 4 kids, wife, living rent free in his father in law's house, he's just too good for our family now. We're nothing but disposable trash. I can't describe the look on my mother's face when she found out he wasn't going and once again, she wasn't going to see the kids. She saw the insults about our housekeeping, the theory of why my dad went back to drinking (which the person who said it obviously didn't take into consideration that she can't work, drive, many days, can barely have a "normal" day, and won't until she gets a transplant--at LEAST 10 years away), so it comes down to what always happens. Hide. Play the righteous victim in all of it, but pretend nothing is going on because someone else will clean up the mess or forget about it. Some things are easy to blow off, forget, forgive, move on. But not this time. It's easy to be brave when you're sitting on the other side of a computer screen or phone receiver, but words still hurt. I can handle being hurt, I've been through enough to know that no matter what is thrown at me, one way or another, I'll come through the other side stronger for it. But what I can't handle is seeing the pain on my mother's face as she literally watches everything fall apart in front of her face. It is not our place as humans to judge others. There is no excuse for ignorance, cruelty, and after a certain age, immaturity. And there sure as hell no excuse to use kids as pawns to hurt someone even more than they already hurt. Sometimes, it's easy to just label someone, to hide from the truth, but sometimes if you actually talk to a person, do a little research into what they're saying, everyone is the better for it. Yeah. Merry Fucking Christmas. Some things just aren't worth trying for anymore.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Digging Deep
So here it is, a week before Christmas, and I'm both dreading and looking forward to it at the same time. Truth is, I just can't wait for this year to be over. I've been doing a lot of major cleaning lately with most going into the trash, but quite a pile of stuffed boxes ready for donation with much more to go through. Among the things I found in my cleaning spree the other day was a receipt for my wedding dress--dated almost 10 years ago. I didn't even know that the receipt still even existed. But it got me thinking.
Ten years ago, I was working in a shop on a fast track to management, should I choose a desk over working under a hood all day. Ever since I was little, I always wanted to be a mechanic like my father, uncle, and grandfather. The older I got in school, the more cemented the goal became. What wasn't to love about it? I was great at problem solving, never minded getting dirty, no two days would ever be the same. And I loved it. Not only did I love it, but I was excellent at it. Yes, I was in may ways considered a freak in high school because I wasn't into the whole fashion scene, I kissed no ones arse for any reason, and had my own set of opinions and morals that no one could take from me. I never backed down and never had a problem standing up for myself. But I digress. lol
For as long as I can remember, I've always had aches and pains, never felt fully rested, regardless of how much sleep I got, and always just felt like something was "off." Nurses and doctors used to say it was nothing more than growing pains, pms (later pmdd), or just plain hypochondria. I was always an athlete through school and continued after graduation. I found running to be an excellent way to control my stress. There was nothing like putting on a pair of headphones, zoning out into the music while just running the stress of the day away. It was like instant dissociation. I averaged about 20 miles total a week, even when I was working 3 jobs and going to school full time.
By the time I was 21, I was pretty much settled in my ways. I had a vague "life plan" like most of us have at one point or another and in some respects still do. I was going to be at the top of my field (which I wasn't too far from the top at the time, even given the gender obstacles the occupation brought), buy a house, and maybe one day find a nice guy, settle down, and start a family. I expected all of this by the time I was 30. I was dating a nice guy who later proposed to me and I said yes. I admit now that it wasn't that I didn't love him or anything, because I did, but I said yes because hell, I'd never been engaged before, so why not? Not to mention the romantic way he proposed. I went along with the whole planning thing, found and bought a dress, set a date, etc. etc. etc. Then his mother told him he had to break it off, so he did. At the time, it hurt, but I was kind of relieved as well.
It wasn't too long after that while I was in another management seminar training session that I really started to feel worse. I had no idea what was wrong. All I knew was that I hurt. And it was getting worse until one evening, while I was trying to change out of my uniform at my then-boyfriends house I collapsed onto the floor. I couldn't even change my own clothes it hurt that bad. I had no other choice but to go to the ER. Then, as now, my blood tests showed abnormalities, but no clear answers.
That ER trip was the beginning of a very long, hard road. Fibromyalgia seemed to be the only diagnosis because doctors couldn't find anything else that fit the rest of the symptoms I was having as well as my test results. I was told that I'd never be a mechanic again. I was given medication after medication to try to treat the symptoms, each with a worse reaction than the last. Not surprisingly, the depression I'd been battling my entire life worsened. I tried to have a normal social life, had several relationships, one lasting over 3 years which included another engagement, but nothing felt right. I felt lost. I knew what I couldn't do, but not what I could do. He stood by me through all of it, learned about what fibromyalgia and later chronic Lyme Disease was, did his best to understand what it was like to live with it, and tried every way he knew to help me. The problem then was, no matter what he tried, or what his intentions, he couldn't fix me. I knew he wanted me to be happy, wanted to find a way to fix what was wrong, but in the end, I knew it had to be me. He's the one man I can honestly say that had I met a few years later, things would have worked out between us, but in the end, my depression was too big of a hurdle to overcome for both of us.
Slowly, as if waking up from a dream, I began to see what I had become, how much I hated it, and began to change things in my life. I went back to playing softball (not the fast pitch, mens games I used to, but it was still softball), I began doing yoga not just as a form of exercise, but as a way to meditate and relax, and began different things to improve my emotional well being. Within a year, I had lost almost 150lbs, in many ways, I felt better than I had in years, and had a new plan: I was going to go back to school. I wanted, and still want, to become a psychologist to help those who are living with, or living with others who have chronic illnesses. I've never claimed to have all of the answers and know that even when I finish with all my schooling, there's a chance I may never be well enough to see the inside of an office, but if I can help just one person, all the years, the money, the hard work will be worth it. Then things began to change again.
Just in the past 2 years, I've had 2 knee injuries serious enough to require surgery, a third injury requiring over 2 dozen stitches and weeks in an uncomfortable immoblilizer, and months dealing with Epstein-Barr Virus, given to me by my cheating ex boyfriend. I've also had a very tenuous, if not outright volatile relationship with my brother's wife and my brother, a father who walked out with seemingly no explanation, leaving me to pick up the slack around the house for my mother, and just one stressor after another.
That receipt reminded me of what life was like and what it's like now. It also reminded me of how far I've come since then and how hard I've fought to try to live and have as normal a life as is possible, and it made me realize that even though I'm still in school, I'm still making it through each day, in many ways, I'm back to where I was a little over 6 years ago: in such a deep, all-encompassing, seemingly hopeless depression and I have no idea where to go from here. But at least I see it and know it now. I've gotten out of it before and I'll do it again. Maybe I was supposed to find that receipt and a few other small reminders of what seemed like someone elses life to remind me where I was, where I went, and where I came from. It won't be easy, but anything worth it is never easy.
Ten years ago, I was working in a shop on a fast track to management, should I choose a desk over working under a hood all day. Ever since I was little, I always wanted to be a mechanic like my father, uncle, and grandfather. The older I got in school, the more cemented the goal became. What wasn't to love about it? I was great at problem solving, never minded getting dirty, no two days would ever be the same. And I loved it. Not only did I love it, but I was excellent at it. Yes, I was in may ways considered a freak in high school because I wasn't into the whole fashion scene, I kissed no ones arse for any reason, and had my own set of opinions and morals that no one could take from me. I never backed down and never had a problem standing up for myself. But I digress. lol
For as long as I can remember, I've always had aches and pains, never felt fully rested, regardless of how much sleep I got, and always just felt like something was "off." Nurses and doctors used to say it was nothing more than growing pains, pms (later pmdd), or just plain hypochondria. I was always an athlete through school and continued after graduation. I found running to be an excellent way to control my stress. There was nothing like putting on a pair of headphones, zoning out into the music while just running the stress of the day away. It was like instant dissociation. I averaged about 20 miles total a week, even when I was working 3 jobs and going to school full time.
By the time I was 21, I was pretty much settled in my ways. I had a vague "life plan" like most of us have at one point or another and in some respects still do. I was going to be at the top of my field (which I wasn't too far from the top at the time, even given the gender obstacles the occupation brought), buy a house, and maybe one day find a nice guy, settle down, and start a family. I expected all of this by the time I was 30. I was dating a nice guy who later proposed to me and I said yes. I admit now that it wasn't that I didn't love him or anything, because I did, but I said yes because hell, I'd never been engaged before, so why not? Not to mention the romantic way he proposed. I went along with the whole planning thing, found and bought a dress, set a date, etc. etc. etc. Then his mother told him he had to break it off, so he did. At the time, it hurt, but I was kind of relieved as well.
It wasn't too long after that while I was in another management seminar training session that I really started to feel worse. I had no idea what was wrong. All I knew was that I hurt. And it was getting worse until one evening, while I was trying to change out of my uniform at my then-boyfriends house I collapsed onto the floor. I couldn't even change my own clothes it hurt that bad. I had no other choice but to go to the ER. Then, as now, my blood tests showed abnormalities, but no clear answers.
That ER trip was the beginning of a very long, hard road. Fibromyalgia seemed to be the only diagnosis because doctors couldn't find anything else that fit the rest of the symptoms I was having as well as my test results. I was told that I'd never be a mechanic again. I was given medication after medication to try to treat the symptoms, each with a worse reaction than the last. Not surprisingly, the depression I'd been battling my entire life worsened. I tried to have a normal social life, had several relationships, one lasting over 3 years which included another engagement, but nothing felt right. I felt lost. I knew what I couldn't do, but not what I could do. He stood by me through all of it, learned about what fibromyalgia and later chronic Lyme Disease was, did his best to understand what it was like to live with it, and tried every way he knew to help me. The problem then was, no matter what he tried, or what his intentions, he couldn't fix me. I knew he wanted me to be happy, wanted to find a way to fix what was wrong, but in the end, I knew it had to be me. He's the one man I can honestly say that had I met a few years later, things would have worked out between us, but in the end, my depression was too big of a hurdle to overcome for both of us.
Slowly, as if waking up from a dream, I began to see what I had become, how much I hated it, and began to change things in my life. I went back to playing softball (not the fast pitch, mens games I used to, but it was still softball), I began doing yoga not just as a form of exercise, but as a way to meditate and relax, and began different things to improve my emotional well being. Within a year, I had lost almost 150lbs, in many ways, I felt better than I had in years, and had a new plan: I was going to go back to school. I wanted, and still want, to become a psychologist to help those who are living with, or living with others who have chronic illnesses. I've never claimed to have all of the answers and know that even when I finish with all my schooling, there's a chance I may never be well enough to see the inside of an office, but if I can help just one person, all the years, the money, the hard work will be worth it. Then things began to change again.
Just in the past 2 years, I've had 2 knee injuries serious enough to require surgery, a third injury requiring over 2 dozen stitches and weeks in an uncomfortable immoblilizer, and months dealing with Epstein-Barr Virus, given to me by my cheating ex boyfriend. I've also had a very tenuous, if not outright volatile relationship with my brother's wife and my brother, a father who walked out with seemingly no explanation, leaving me to pick up the slack around the house for my mother, and just one stressor after another.
That receipt reminded me of what life was like and what it's like now. It also reminded me of how far I've come since then and how hard I've fought to try to live and have as normal a life as is possible, and it made me realize that even though I'm still in school, I'm still making it through each day, in many ways, I'm back to where I was a little over 6 years ago: in such a deep, all-encompassing, seemingly hopeless depression and I have no idea where to go from here. But at least I see it and know it now. I've gotten out of it before and I'll do it again. Maybe I was supposed to find that receipt and a few other small reminders of what seemed like someone elses life to remind me where I was, where I went, and where I came from. It won't be easy, but anything worth it is never easy.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
An Explanation
This isn't my first blog site, but from what little research I have done, this seems to be a site that attracts the most readers, so I switched several months ago. People blog for many reasons--to vent about bad jobs, bosses, companies, to complain about how unfair life is, to gossip about the latest in celebrity trash, inform others of interesting events that are going on or soon to go on, and just to babble about their mundane, boring lives, just to list a few reasons. Then there's others like myself who started blogging in hopes to reach even one person to help.
I've made it no secret since I started that I have several chronic illnesses and "something else" that the doctors can't figure out. I have symptoms that overlap many diseases, lab tests that come back abnormal, but no specific positive test results for many things, and one specialist passing me off to another in an attempt to get a full picture. I also live with my mother who has end-stage renal failure. Between living with my own chronic illnesses and living with a loved one who also has a life changing chronic illness, my aim was and is to maybe get the chance to help someone else living with chronic illness, or to help a loved one of someone who has learn a little bit more about what people like us go through and develop a better understanding of what we go through.
"You look fine or normal," "You're just too lazy to do anything with yourself," "It's nothing, you just have to tell yourself that you're not really sick and it'll go away on it's own. "Mind over matter." are just a few of the most common lines ignorant people use. Having diseases like chronic Lyme, Fibromyalgia, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, and Lupus (just to give a few examples) are real. And with them come real symptoms, real lifestyle changes, but unfortunately, no universal treatments. We all look normal from the outside. As a whole, we don't have missing or disfigured limbs, obvious signs of illness other than looking completely exhausted (thank you Olay Products for hiding dark under eye circles!) and as difficult for a person with any of these illnesses or others that fall into the "invisible illness" category, it is more difficult for friends, families, and loved ones to understand.
Think of it this way: if someone says they have cancer, it is easier to believe because cancer is such a prevalent and devastating disease, but there are treatments that work. It's also easy to understand on some level a person with MS, MD, or RA. There are physical symptoms that others can see. FMS, CFS, Lupus, Chronic Migraines, et al are called "invisible" for a reason. It's easy enough to judge and insult someone with an invisible illness than it is to do any kind of research about what they are, what the symptoms are, and what it does to a person who has one.
Getting sick and being diagnosed with any invisible, chronic illness is without a doubt life changing. By the time a diagnosis comes, a person has already suffered the alienation from friends and family, many have had to quit their jobs because they are just too sick. Then comes the aftermath. Life is completely changed for that person and their family. Doctors in general are more concerned with treating the physical symptoms to make a patient comfortable than they are treating the mental and emotional side of what a chronic illness causes. The basic logic from most medical professionals is "treat the physical, the mental will improve." This is rarely the case. People with whom you considered friends are in the wind because you can't go out and do whatever, whenever because you just don't feel well enough to go. Eventually, they stop calling to ask.
In essence, while some of my blogs are about nothing in particular except maybe a recent news report, an interesting event, or just a random bit of rambling, others are about what it's life to not only be a person with a chronic illness(es), but different treatments, ideas, changes, ups and downs, stress and stressors, and life in general, including the awesomeness of those friends who have stuck around through all of it, those who fail to understand it and left, and peoples' reactions in general. It is also about what it's like to live with someone who is dealing with a chronic illness and the changes to their life as well. So, even if my writing reaches just one person who is living with a chronic illness, or a person living with someone with a chronic illness and takes away something positive from it and uses it to make life even just a tiny bit better, it's worth it to me. As with anything posted in public, there is always someone out there who will insult, put down, and criticize instead of attempting to understand what life is like for people like me, my mother, and the millions of other sufferers out there. Anyone with a chronic or invisible chronic illness already knows that people like that exist and there isn't anything that can be done about it, but these illnesses are one thing we would never wish on anyone. Well, maybe for a week so they know what it's like, but not to have to live every day the way we do. But regardless of what the disease is, or how bad it is, there are millions of other people going through the same thing. And no matter how much life changes with such illnesses and there is much we can no longer do, it's all about learning to accept the situation and learn what we not only can still do, but it becomes an opportunity to learn to do things or become interested in things that before we got sick, we never would have known.
I've made it no secret since I started that I have several chronic illnesses and "something else" that the doctors can't figure out. I have symptoms that overlap many diseases, lab tests that come back abnormal, but no specific positive test results for many things, and one specialist passing me off to another in an attempt to get a full picture. I also live with my mother who has end-stage renal failure. Between living with my own chronic illnesses and living with a loved one who also has a life changing chronic illness, my aim was and is to maybe get the chance to help someone else living with chronic illness, or to help a loved one of someone who has learn a little bit more about what people like us go through and develop a better understanding of what we go through.
"You look fine or normal," "You're just too lazy to do anything with yourself," "It's nothing, you just have to tell yourself that you're not really sick and it'll go away on it's own. "Mind over matter." are just a few of the most common lines ignorant people use. Having diseases like chronic Lyme, Fibromyalgia, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, and Lupus (just to give a few examples) are real. And with them come real symptoms, real lifestyle changes, but unfortunately, no universal treatments. We all look normal from the outside. As a whole, we don't have missing or disfigured limbs, obvious signs of illness other than looking completely exhausted (thank you Olay Products for hiding dark under eye circles!) and as difficult for a person with any of these illnesses or others that fall into the "invisible illness" category, it is more difficult for friends, families, and loved ones to understand.
Think of it this way: if someone says they have cancer, it is easier to believe because cancer is such a prevalent and devastating disease, but there are treatments that work. It's also easy to understand on some level a person with MS, MD, or RA. There are physical symptoms that others can see. FMS, CFS, Lupus, Chronic Migraines, et al are called "invisible" for a reason. It's easy enough to judge and insult someone with an invisible illness than it is to do any kind of research about what they are, what the symptoms are, and what it does to a person who has one.
Getting sick and being diagnosed with any invisible, chronic illness is without a doubt life changing. By the time a diagnosis comes, a person has already suffered the alienation from friends and family, many have had to quit their jobs because they are just too sick. Then comes the aftermath. Life is completely changed for that person and their family. Doctors in general are more concerned with treating the physical symptoms to make a patient comfortable than they are treating the mental and emotional side of what a chronic illness causes. The basic logic from most medical professionals is "treat the physical, the mental will improve." This is rarely the case. People with whom you considered friends are in the wind because you can't go out and do whatever, whenever because you just don't feel well enough to go. Eventually, they stop calling to ask.
In essence, while some of my blogs are about nothing in particular except maybe a recent news report, an interesting event, or just a random bit of rambling, others are about what it's life to not only be a person with a chronic illness(es), but different treatments, ideas, changes, ups and downs, stress and stressors, and life in general, including the awesomeness of those friends who have stuck around through all of it, those who fail to understand it and left, and peoples' reactions in general. It is also about what it's like to live with someone who is dealing with a chronic illness and the changes to their life as well. So, even if my writing reaches just one person who is living with a chronic illness, or a person living with someone with a chronic illness and takes away something positive from it and uses it to make life even just a tiny bit better, it's worth it to me. As with anything posted in public, there is always someone out there who will insult, put down, and criticize instead of attempting to understand what life is like for people like me, my mother, and the millions of other sufferers out there. Anyone with a chronic or invisible chronic illness already knows that people like that exist and there isn't anything that can be done about it, but these illnesses are one thing we would never wish on anyone. Well, maybe for a week so they know what it's like, but not to have to live every day the way we do. But regardless of what the disease is, or how bad it is, there are millions of other people going through the same thing. And no matter how much life changes with such illnesses and there is much we can no longer do, it's all about learning to accept the situation and learn what we not only can still do, but it becomes an opportunity to learn to do things or become interested in things that before we got sick, we never would have known.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Frozen
So my Christmas shopping is complete, the decorations are finished, semester is done (with what looks to be another 4.0) and yet I'm restless. I'm not sure if restless would be such a good word. Granted, I've thrown out 5, 55 gallon trash bags, packed up so far 5 boxes of toys, blankets, clothing, and linens to be donated to those who need it. I can see some progress, but it seems for every one mess I clean up and organize, I find half a dozen other things to be taken care of. Cleaning and organizing seem to be my way of dealing with very stressful times. Yes, it hurts like hell, but it's better than being confined with nothing but a runaway mind and absurd reruns on the idiot box. And lately, stress is an understatement.
It is two months after my knee surgery and while it is improving slowly, it's not healing as quickly as I'd like it to. The surgeon admitted to finding extensive damage and a difficult recovery considering a CNS and autoimmune problem. But I make the most of what I have. For the rest of the week it looks like I'll be moving almost a cord of wood to prepare for winter before any of it is taken out of our driveway. I filled the porch with the wood for the fireplace upstairs on Saturday while my brother brought some down back to be stacked for the stove. But after what I was told by him today, I'll be finishing the job.
While it was kept quiet for as long as possible, it is no secret that my father walked out a few months ago. My mother has been sick for years now and the medications she's been on have literally left her bedridden for days. Simple things like getting up to go to the bathroom, pouring a cup of coffee, or even getting out of bed becomes a challenge because now that the dialysis is working, her blood pressure has been dropping too low. But she did receive some hope this past week. A gentlemen at the dialysis center she goes to 3 days a week to keep her alive finally received a transplant after waiting for 12 years. I got tested to see if I was a match and was told match or not, because of my illnesses, I was ineligible as a donor. Nine rounds of Lyme Disease, a round of Fifths Disease and having Epstein Barr prevents me from even giving blood, let alone a life saving organ.
It's harder than one can imagine watching someone you love so much, have looked up to because of her strength and independence spend days either in bed or on the couch because she's too dizzy and drained to do much of anything. Luckily, we do have some amazing neighbors and a handful of the best kind of friends anyone could ever ask for there for us. Each day we wake up, unsure of what the day will bring, and deal with everything as it comes. And some days are certainly worse than others.
I have watched my father fall deeper and deeper into a bottle because he doesn't know any other way to cope. I've been there for the tears, the anger, the frustration of having to go from one way of life to having to start some scratch again. Some people don't understand, but it never stops them from trying to understand and do what they can to help. Others just refuse to face the reality of the situation: my mother spends 3 days a week hooked up to machines just to survive. Most days, I'm not sure I could even call it living, but simply being alive, waiting for a donor and knowing that wait could be longer than a decade.
Through all of this, I admit finding ways to improve my own health has fallen by the wayside as well as my social life, but being there for her is more important than going out on a weekend. I haven't even had a single drink in over three months. Some is because of the surgery, but there's something about the smell, the sight, the thought of having even one drink just turns my stomach. So I find other outlets to keep it together. Lately, it's been reading and cleaning.
Then I have days like today. While social networking sites have many benefits, including keeping in touch on a more regular basis with old friends, classmates, and family. Then there are times I wonder if it's even worth it. I deal with stress in many ways. I clean, I draw, I crack dark, sarcastic jokes, I listen to different music genres. Anything to keep from thinking. I posted an extremely absurd article from a California doctor claiming that smoking cigarettes can cause a woman's nipples to fall off should she require a breast augmentation. Having had multiple surgeries (never a breast augmentation,) I've had to come off certain vitamins because of their possible blood thinning effects, avoid any form of NSAID medication (advil, motrin, aspirin, aleve, etc) for the same reason, but never have I been told that I wasn't allowed to smoke. Like any good doctor, I was told that I should quit for overall health reasons, but never because of a surgery. There seems to be an almost fanatical group of people doing anything and everything they can to get smokers to quit, restrict when and where they can smoke, and even trying to go as far as putting graphic labels on cigarette packs in an attempt to scare the smoker.
When someone does start the habit, they are very aware of the myriad of possible health risks involved. I'll be the first to admit it's a habit I never started, but I did. At the time, it was the only way to get a break when I was working in the shop. Yes, there are labor laws that an employee is entitled to a certain number of breaks, ranging from 15 minutes to 30 minutes. It didn't much matter then. The only ones who actually got their breaks were smokers. So, I stupidly picked up the habit. Right about now, smoking is just the least of my problems. It's not that I don't want to quit, it's just an extremely difficult thing to do.
If we listened to everything these researchers and doctors have to say, we'd never leave the house. Alcohol is good for you in moderation... alcohol can cause cancer and have other serious health related illness, even at moderate levels. Imitation sweetners cause cancer in one study, but is disproven in another. Apples, apple sauce, apple juice, as well as any other apple product can kill you via arsenic poison--a metal naturally found in an apple's core. Thousands of years later, I've yet to read a story about someone dying from apple consumption unless you count choking on a piece of apple. Coffee has some health benefits in one study, but can be a contributing factor to certain forms of cancer in another study.
So after reading the article about smoking, I had to say something about the absurdity of it. While several of my friends found it amusing, if not outright absurd, I had one person--my sister in law (who is as bad as my brother when it comes to anti smoking) agree with the doctor and explain how cigarettes affect blood flow and how it is not only possible, but can hinder recovery. It was something none of my doctors told me. And they all know that I smoke. Avoid some of my vitamins, yes. Limit my caffeine intake, yes. But other than the typical "you know smoking is bad for your health" lecture, not a word pertaining to any of my surgeries. A few years back when I was in my 2nd year as a psychology student, I was told by her that just because I'm studying the subject, I am not a shrink. So, after ignoring weeks of jabs, barbs, snide remarks, insults, and my input on anything purposefully being ignored and just letting it go, I used her own words against her. Her response? "Go fuck yourself you miserable b*tch." Classy and mature. But once again, I left the response up there and ignored it.
I did, however, send my brother a message that something needs to be done because the behavior is not only immature, but unacceptable. My mother is left to watch her grandchildren grow up on Facebook. Her son's wife and their children spend a lot of time with her family only about 20 minutes from my house, but never once stop by so my mother can see the beautiful children. I was told that it was my fault my mother doesn't see them. I'm supposed to ask to see them. They had a new phone number for over a year and never thought to give it to my mother. I was simply an on-call babysitter as a last resort when no one else was around until I said I wouldn't anymore. It's painful to be used. Even more painful is seeing how such childish nonsense is hurting my mother, who has read how our family is simply another obligation and in essence is not only not good enough, but simply one of those things that on holidays and birthdays is really the only time she sees them. She hasn't held her youngest niece in ages. Anytime I'd take her shopping for things for the house or for her hobby, she would always find something for the kids in the hopes that they wouldn't be too old by the time she actually got to see them. But it seems it's my fault. I'm a selfish, self loathing b*tch and the reason my mother doesn't see her kids. I am nothing, I will never amount to anything, and all I do is sit on my arse, crying why me, too lazy to get a job or keep a job, having never taken responsibility for my actions, irresponsible, lazy, and can't take care of anything bigger than a hamster. And then to top things off (as if blaming me and degrading me wasn't enough) he went on to say that if he was in my father's shoes, having to live with such a lazy piece of crap like me who'll never be or do anything with my life, he'd drink himself to death as well. And my mother saw it. The same woman who's active, independent life was taken away from her and until a transplant becomes available, won't be able to do much or go anywhere herself. And there are no words to describe the pain on her face as her husband began drinking as a way to cope with her illness, the same man who continued to distance himself because I was there to pick up the slack, pick up the pieces, and take care of what needed and needs to be done. Until he left to go take care of himself. No, I didn't "trashtalk" my own father, but I was angry for a lot of reasons. And I had every right to be angry.
There is no pain greater than hearing from a member of your own family, one who is supposed to be there for you, turn a blind eye to the damage the woman he married caused, and instead of finding a solution to the problem (like normal adults would do), tear you apart, in no uncertain terms blame you for everything after calling you nothing but wasted space, and top it all off with blaming you for the fact that your own father is drinking himself to death because you're nothing more than a worthless, useless, pathetic excuse for a person. I would never wish the pain I feel at the hands of another on even my worst enemy. I guess for some, it's easier to turn a blind eye instead of actually seeing the truth in things, easier to rip apart the one person who was always there, tearing them down to absolutely nothing, than learn the full reality of a situation. And it's people like that I feel sorry for. I feel even sorrier for the children who will never learn the truth of any of it. My brother and I never did when half of our family was torn apart and all we know of them are names and bits and pieces of news of how their lives are as if they're just a group of people who moved out of the neighborhood. And I'm beginning to agree with my father in not even wanting to acknowledge Christmas this year. It's not a holiday to celebrate and be thankful for what you have when you've lost so much and that loss weighs more heavily on your mind than anything else. There are no words to describe the pain caused by my own flesh and blood. The only thing to do from this point is to just keep busy and distracted and find a way to accept the fact that I'll never have the chance to get to know my own nieces. No pictures, no hugs, no stories, nothing. The worst part aside from my own pain and seeing the pain it put my mother through is that eventually we'll learn to live with this reality is that the ones who will suffer worse are the children. Again. And another generation of our family lives to repeat the mistakes of the past.
It is two months after my knee surgery and while it is improving slowly, it's not healing as quickly as I'd like it to. The surgeon admitted to finding extensive damage and a difficult recovery considering a CNS and autoimmune problem. But I make the most of what I have. For the rest of the week it looks like I'll be moving almost a cord of wood to prepare for winter before any of it is taken out of our driveway. I filled the porch with the wood for the fireplace upstairs on Saturday while my brother brought some down back to be stacked for the stove. But after what I was told by him today, I'll be finishing the job.
While it was kept quiet for as long as possible, it is no secret that my father walked out a few months ago. My mother has been sick for years now and the medications she's been on have literally left her bedridden for days. Simple things like getting up to go to the bathroom, pouring a cup of coffee, or even getting out of bed becomes a challenge because now that the dialysis is working, her blood pressure has been dropping too low. But she did receive some hope this past week. A gentlemen at the dialysis center she goes to 3 days a week to keep her alive finally received a transplant after waiting for 12 years. I got tested to see if I was a match and was told match or not, because of my illnesses, I was ineligible as a donor. Nine rounds of Lyme Disease, a round of Fifths Disease and having Epstein Barr prevents me from even giving blood, let alone a life saving organ.
It's harder than one can imagine watching someone you love so much, have looked up to because of her strength and independence spend days either in bed or on the couch because she's too dizzy and drained to do much of anything. Luckily, we do have some amazing neighbors and a handful of the best kind of friends anyone could ever ask for there for us. Each day we wake up, unsure of what the day will bring, and deal with everything as it comes. And some days are certainly worse than others.
I have watched my father fall deeper and deeper into a bottle because he doesn't know any other way to cope. I've been there for the tears, the anger, the frustration of having to go from one way of life to having to start some scratch again. Some people don't understand, but it never stops them from trying to understand and do what they can to help. Others just refuse to face the reality of the situation: my mother spends 3 days a week hooked up to machines just to survive. Most days, I'm not sure I could even call it living, but simply being alive, waiting for a donor and knowing that wait could be longer than a decade.
Through all of this, I admit finding ways to improve my own health has fallen by the wayside as well as my social life, but being there for her is more important than going out on a weekend. I haven't even had a single drink in over three months. Some is because of the surgery, but there's something about the smell, the sight, the thought of having even one drink just turns my stomach. So I find other outlets to keep it together. Lately, it's been reading and cleaning.
Then I have days like today. While social networking sites have many benefits, including keeping in touch on a more regular basis with old friends, classmates, and family. Then there are times I wonder if it's even worth it. I deal with stress in many ways. I clean, I draw, I crack dark, sarcastic jokes, I listen to different music genres. Anything to keep from thinking. I posted an extremely absurd article from a California doctor claiming that smoking cigarettes can cause a woman's nipples to fall off should she require a breast augmentation. Having had multiple surgeries (never a breast augmentation,) I've had to come off certain vitamins because of their possible blood thinning effects, avoid any form of NSAID medication (advil, motrin, aspirin, aleve, etc) for the same reason, but never have I been told that I wasn't allowed to smoke. Like any good doctor, I was told that I should quit for overall health reasons, but never because of a surgery. There seems to be an almost fanatical group of people doing anything and everything they can to get smokers to quit, restrict when and where they can smoke, and even trying to go as far as putting graphic labels on cigarette packs in an attempt to scare the smoker.
When someone does start the habit, they are very aware of the myriad of possible health risks involved. I'll be the first to admit it's a habit I never started, but I did. At the time, it was the only way to get a break when I was working in the shop. Yes, there are labor laws that an employee is entitled to a certain number of breaks, ranging from 15 minutes to 30 minutes. It didn't much matter then. The only ones who actually got their breaks were smokers. So, I stupidly picked up the habit. Right about now, smoking is just the least of my problems. It's not that I don't want to quit, it's just an extremely difficult thing to do.
If we listened to everything these researchers and doctors have to say, we'd never leave the house. Alcohol is good for you in moderation... alcohol can cause cancer and have other serious health related illness, even at moderate levels. Imitation sweetners cause cancer in one study, but is disproven in another. Apples, apple sauce, apple juice, as well as any other apple product can kill you via arsenic poison--a metal naturally found in an apple's core. Thousands of years later, I've yet to read a story about someone dying from apple consumption unless you count choking on a piece of apple. Coffee has some health benefits in one study, but can be a contributing factor to certain forms of cancer in another study.
So after reading the article about smoking, I had to say something about the absurdity of it. While several of my friends found it amusing, if not outright absurd, I had one person--my sister in law (who is as bad as my brother when it comes to anti smoking) agree with the doctor and explain how cigarettes affect blood flow and how it is not only possible, but can hinder recovery. It was something none of my doctors told me. And they all know that I smoke. Avoid some of my vitamins, yes. Limit my caffeine intake, yes. But other than the typical "you know smoking is bad for your health" lecture, not a word pertaining to any of my surgeries. A few years back when I was in my 2nd year as a psychology student, I was told by her that just because I'm studying the subject, I am not a shrink. So, after ignoring weeks of jabs, barbs, snide remarks, insults, and my input on anything purposefully being ignored and just letting it go, I used her own words against her. Her response? "Go fuck yourself you miserable b*tch." Classy and mature. But once again, I left the response up there and ignored it.
I did, however, send my brother a message that something needs to be done because the behavior is not only immature, but unacceptable. My mother is left to watch her grandchildren grow up on Facebook. Her son's wife and their children spend a lot of time with her family only about 20 minutes from my house, but never once stop by so my mother can see the beautiful children. I was told that it was my fault my mother doesn't see them. I'm supposed to ask to see them. They had a new phone number for over a year and never thought to give it to my mother. I was simply an on-call babysitter as a last resort when no one else was around until I said I wouldn't anymore. It's painful to be used. Even more painful is seeing how such childish nonsense is hurting my mother, who has read how our family is simply another obligation and in essence is not only not good enough, but simply one of those things that on holidays and birthdays is really the only time she sees them. She hasn't held her youngest niece in ages. Anytime I'd take her shopping for things for the house or for her hobby, she would always find something for the kids in the hopes that they wouldn't be too old by the time she actually got to see them. But it seems it's my fault. I'm a selfish, self loathing b*tch and the reason my mother doesn't see her kids. I am nothing, I will never amount to anything, and all I do is sit on my arse, crying why me, too lazy to get a job or keep a job, having never taken responsibility for my actions, irresponsible, lazy, and can't take care of anything bigger than a hamster. And then to top things off (as if blaming me and degrading me wasn't enough) he went on to say that if he was in my father's shoes, having to live with such a lazy piece of crap like me who'll never be or do anything with my life, he'd drink himself to death as well. And my mother saw it. The same woman who's active, independent life was taken away from her and until a transplant becomes available, won't be able to do much or go anywhere herself. And there are no words to describe the pain on her face as her husband began drinking as a way to cope with her illness, the same man who continued to distance himself because I was there to pick up the slack, pick up the pieces, and take care of what needed and needs to be done. Until he left to go take care of himself. No, I didn't "trashtalk" my own father, but I was angry for a lot of reasons. And I had every right to be angry.
There is no pain greater than hearing from a member of your own family, one who is supposed to be there for you, turn a blind eye to the damage the woman he married caused, and instead of finding a solution to the problem (like normal adults would do), tear you apart, in no uncertain terms blame you for everything after calling you nothing but wasted space, and top it all off with blaming you for the fact that your own father is drinking himself to death because you're nothing more than a worthless, useless, pathetic excuse for a person. I would never wish the pain I feel at the hands of another on even my worst enemy. I guess for some, it's easier to turn a blind eye instead of actually seeing the truth in things, easier to rip apart the one person who was always there, tearing them down to absolutely nothing, than learn the full reality of a situation. And it's people like that I feel sorry for. I feel even sorrier for the children who will never learn the truth of any of it. My brother and I never did when half of our family was torn apart and all we know of them are names and bits and pieces of news of how their lives are as if they're just a group of people who moved out of the neighborhood. And I'm beginning to agree with my father in not even wanting to acknowledge Christmas this year. It's not a holiday to celebrate and be thankful for what you have when you've lost so much and that loss weighs more heavily on your mind than anything else. There are no words to describe the pain caused by my own flesh and blood. The only thing to do from this point is to just keep busy and distracted and find a way to accept the fact that I'll never have the chance to get to know my own nieces. No pictures, no hugs, no stories, nothing. The worst part aside from my own pain and seeing the pain it put my mother through is that eventually we'll learn to live with this reality is that the ones who will suffer worse are the children. Again. And another generation of our family lives to repeat the mistakes of the past.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Fall Flowers Are Gone, Winter Flowers Coming
Technically, it's still autumn for a little less than a month, but as Thanksgiving passed, the winter season has started. The autumn candles have been stored away, while in their place are the evergreen and frosted cranberry candles. The grass is almost dead outside while the leaves are all off the trees, giving everything a dreary, empty, dead look. It starts to get dark around 4pm, with sunset about a half hour later and it's hard to imagine that soon enough everything will be blanketed in garland, lights, and snow.
This Thanksgiving was a tough one. I haven't seen my family in almost a year since they live about an hour away and my car door of all things broke just as we were leaving for Easter. It's funny how time seems to escape us. I can't believe how big my nieces are getting (though I do see them about 6 times a year if I'm lucky), how small and frail my grandmother looks, yet how much still hasn't changed over the years. Yes, my family has grown as my cousins and brother are married and having children, but sometimes it feels like we are all worlds apart. My dad spent his Thanksgiving with his roommate having their own turkey dinner. Earlier that morning I received a text from him wishing me a Happy Thanksgiving and telling me he loves me. The day just felt empty somehow without him. I can count on one hand how many times he's told me he loved me and it just didn't feel right without him there. I'm just thankful my mother and I made it through the day.
I did learn a few things, though, and am making choices so that I can at least try to find some kind of peace in my life. Family or not, "friends" or not, I am no longer going to expend energy to those in my life who are only into themselves and cannot even bother to try to consider how their actions affect people other than themselves. I simply can't do it anymore. We all make our choices in life and our actions have consequences. In this case, I just stopped caring about those who can't be bothered to give me or my feelings a second thought.
People in general have saddened and disappointed me lately. Thanksgiving was traditionally a holiday to celebrate family and give thanks for what you have in your life. (I'll leave out my thoughts about the history of the holiday here...) Now it's about meeting up, gobbling down too much food, catching up on life between mouthfuls of turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, and pie before rushing out the door to line up outside Walmart, other big name chain stores, or the local mall to save a few dollars on more crap we really don't need. Have a 40" television? Not good enough if Walmart is selling a 50" or 60" for a few dollars left. Xbox? Why not have the latest version, even if the one sitting on your shelf is only a year old? I've read reports of people being bitten over sheets, shot over parking spaces, and pepper sprayed over electronics. And this was just in the last 24 hours. Nothing is that important. At least materialistic crap isn't. Especially when you take into consideration that 3/4 of Walmart's workforce is on public assistance because they're not paid enough to live without it.
So I spent the day decorating. My nephew was here last weekend and wanted to start putting up some decorations we had and I finished up his projects as per his instructions and finished most of the decorating outside. It's too nice of a weekend to be shoved around in a crowded mall or big name store. Sadly, most of the light strands were ruined in one way or another, so I have to go out later and buy a few to finish up the lights. So for now, the Pointsettias are out, the garland is hung, and my Charlie Brown tree is ready for the season. I did most of my shopping last week online with exception of my parents. So it's a matter of waiting for them to show up in my mailbox. Simple, effective, and all I have to do is wrap them as they come in. No driving all over the place going in and out of stores hoping to find what I'm looking for without coming home covered in bruises by rude people, no stress, and it gives me time to focus on what's really important--taking care of everything else. So now I just wait for it to start snowing...
This Thanksgiving was a tough one. I haven't seen my family in almost a year since they live about an hour away and my car door of all things broke just as we were leaving for Easter. It's funny how time seems to escape us. I can't believe how big my nieces are getting (though I do see them about 6 times a year if I'm lucky), how small and frail my grandmother looks, yet how much still hasn't changed over the years. Yes, my family has grown as my cousins and brother are married and having children, but sometimes it feels like we are all worlds apart. My dad spent his Thanksgiving with his roommate having their own turkey dinner. Earlier that morning I received a text from him wishing me a Happy Thanksgiving and telling me he loves me. The day just felt empty somehow without him. I can count on one hand how many times he's told me he loved me and it just didn't feel right without him there. I'm just thankful my mother and I made it through the day.
I did learn a few things, though, and am making choices so that I can at least try to find some kind of peace in my life. Family or not, "friends" or not, I am no longer going to expend energy to those in my life who are only into themselves and cannot even bother to try to consider how their actions affect people other than themselves. I simply can't do it anymore. We all make our choices in life and our actions have consequences. In this case, I just stopped caring about those who can't be bothered to give me or my feelings a second thought.
People in general have saddened and disappointed me lately. Thanksgiving was traditionally a holiday to celebrate family and give thanks for what you have in your life. (I'll leave out my thoughts about the history of the holiday here...) Now it's about meeting up, gobbling down too much food, catching up on life between mouthfuls of turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, and pie before rushing out the door to line up outside Walmart, other big name chain stores, or the local mall to save a few dollars on more crap we really don't need. Have a 40" television? Not good enough if Walmart is selling a 50" or 60" for a few dollars left. Xbox? Why not have the latest version, even if the one sitting on your shelf is only a year old? I've read reports of people being bitten over sheets, shot over parking spaces, and pepper sprayed over electronics. And this was just in the last 24 hours. Nothing is that important. At least materialistic crap isn't. Especially when you take into consideration that 3/4 of Walmart's workforce is on public assistance because they're not paid enough to live without it.
So I spent the day decorating. My nephew was here last weekend and wanted to start putting up some decorations we had and I finished up his projects as per his instructions and finished most of the decorating outside. It's too nice of a weekend to be shoved around in a crowded mall or big name store. Sadly, most of the light strands were ruined in one way or another, so I have to go out later and buy a few to finish up the lights. So for now, the Pointsettias are out, the garland is hung, and my Charlie Brown tree is ready for the season. I did most of my shopping last week online with exception of my parents. So it's a matter of waiting for them to show up in my mailbox. Simple, effective, and all I have to do is wrap them as they come in. No driving all over the place going in and out of stores hoping to find what I'm looking for without coming home covered in bruises by rude people, no stress, and it gives me time to focus on what's really important--taking care of everything else. So now I just wait for it to start snowing...
Monday, November 14, 2011
Seasonal Clean-up
So it's that time of year where all day, everyday until the ground freezes until spring, the sounds of leaf blowers can be heard just about everywhere in the neighborhood. I can't thank my one neighbor enough for blowing the leaves out of my front yards (and part of the back). I'm just over a month after surgery and I'm still not even allowed back to school. Stir crazy is an understatement. Especially when I look around and see hundreds of things that have to be done around here, most of which my mother can't do, but I can when I feel up to it. These include larger repairs and yard work. And it got the best of me today.
I decided on Friday that I would do a little bit at a time outside all week to clean up the messes around the yard, put away the spring and summer decorations, clean off the back deck to ready it for winter, and finish cleaning off the front porch. It's not where everything was disgustingly messy or overly cluttered, but enough that I knew it was there and my mother knew it was there. It bothered us both. Today's task was to just sweep off the back deck of all the leaves and cover the grill for the winter. (Cleaning THAT monster out in the spring is a task I'm just going to forget about until then... it's been over a year and the grease and sauce that's spilled all over the bottom cause it to literally catch on fire just lighting it.) Naturally, I didn't just stop there. Even knowing I had all week.
Everytime I'd turn around, I'd see "just one more quick thing to cross off the list." Almost 5 hours later, everything is cleaned and packed away, I started the firepit to burn the cardboard and paper, put up a few little Christmas decorations that were already out and would be easy to overlook (like the fake pointsettias in the flower boxes on the back deck, my Charlie Brown tree's ornament, and the little vases hanging next to the front door)... and I'm paying for it. And I already know I'm going to pay for it tomorrow too, as I have another homework marathon planned.
Even though it was physically challenging and exhausting, the mental and emotional side were just as tough. I discovered this past spring that fresh air, loud music through my iPod, and plenty of outside projects to do, including decorating, make for not just a pretty good workout, but a pretty good mental and emotional release. This time was a bit different. Yes, I did some decorating, with a lot more to come after Thanksgiving, but it just had an odd quality to it that I didn't expect. As I'm putting flower pots, beach toys, gardening and yard tools, and decorations into the shed until at least next year, it almost felt like I was packing more than just a few yard things away. It felt like I was getting rid of a very long chapter or a lifetime away. Even cleaning up the trash felt like I was picking up and throwing away everything I knew about life the last several years. I think it was while I put the last of the decorations away was when it hit me. My dad's not here anymore. No, he didn't die, but he just decided he's unhappy, life sucks, so he just left everything behind, save a few uniforms and his hunting gear. And there's no rhyme or reason behind it. My mother and I are struggling to keep things together and put things back together while he's out there with a brand new wardrobe, a fancy coffee maker, and absolutely no responsibility besides his job. Whereas he used to do the crap work around the house and yard (either my mother and I usually ended up doing repairs around the house, except the furnace and major electrical), that's my job now.
It still hasn't really sunk in yet. Days like today it hits home. No pun intended, but he left for whatever reason and I'm the one who has to step into his shoes to fill the void. Not that I haven't been doing a lot of his work long before he left, but I found myself relieved when we were thrown a crumb as he did something. It was one less thing I knew I had to figure out how to do. It's also times like today when I realize that I'm in my 30s, living with my sick mother to help her out with things she can't do like drive, heavy lifting, cleaning when she can't, cooking (although most of the time I just order out because I have no desire to do dishes, or I forgot to take something out earlier to cook), errands, stuff like that. I also haven't worked in almost 9 years because I'm too sick to keep a job, something too many people mistake for laziness. Getting a job is the easy part. I'm a qualified (but not certified) mechanic with plenty of experience, worked all through high school and into my early 20s as a florist, I'm good at computers, secretarial, and dispatch work, but employers usually want someone that can and will work everytime and every hour their employees are scheduled. Sadly, I can't do that. There's days when even the smallest of things hurt like hell. Things most of us take for granted (including me when I have even one good day). The water pressure from a shower becomes unbearably painful, the lightest of clothes feel too heavy and hurt. Hell, even my hair hurts on days like that. Those are days I try to do what I can, even if it's just a tiny little bit, but those are the days I spend reading more than anything else, but those would also be the days that making it to work is impossible. I can say that I'm trying everything to make sure that those bad days are further apart if I can, but right now, it's still not under control. Stress and certain foods are relatively easy things to control--stress, not so easy, but doable (if that's even a word) that I know cause pain, regular sleep and light exercise, especially yoga, help to an extent, but I can't do anything about the weather and other external factors. There are several medications on the market (excluding narcotic pain medications) that have claimed to help, but not a single one has helped.
I've also been trying to put myself back through college while I'm living here. After I moved out of my apartment a few years ago, my mom asked me to move back home. Not only can I try to save money, but I'd be a big help to her. I also figured out that it would take me at least 6 (now I'm looking at 7) years to finish from an Associates degree to a Master's degree and knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to help others with life changing illnesses or injuries learn how to cope and rebuild their lives. All doctors care about are taking care of symptoms, but there isn't much help out there to deal with the mental and emotional upheaval something like those cause. But that's another story. I never thought I'd be this old, back living at home, I never in a million years thought my mom would ever get as sick as she is, requiring so many surgeries (excluding needing an organ transplant, which means another surgery and more medication when one becomes available), and be unable to do half of what she used to do. For as long as I can remember, she always worked, was always there for my brother and I, always did all the cooking, cleaning, and shopping for the house, and just always had energy to do whatever she wanted or whatever we needed. She was our driver for sports, a referee when my brother and I got into fights, the family shrink and peacekeeper after my Babci passed away, she was a rock. My father always had his hobbies, his job, and the outside work was always done. And it all fell apart. And all the two of us can do is take things one day at a time for now because we have no idea what the future is going to bring. That's the scariest part of all.
I decided on Friday that I would do a little bit at a time outside all week to clean up the messes around the yard, put away the spring and summer decorations, clean off the back deck to ready it for winter, and finish cleaning off the front porch. It's not where everything was disgustingly messy or overly cluttered, but enough that I knew it was there and my mother knew it was there. It bothered us both. Today's task was to just sweep off the back deck of all the leaves and cover the grill for the winter. (Cleaning THAT monster out in the spring is a task I'm just going to forget about until then... it's been over a year and the grease and sauce that's spilled all over the bottom cause it to literally catch on fire just lighting it.) Naturally, I didn't just stop there. Even knowing I had all week.
Everytime I'd turn around, I'd see "just one more quick thing to cross off the list." Almost 5 hours later, everything is cleaned and packed away, I started the firepit to burn the cardboard and paper, put up a few little Christmas decorations that were already out and would be easy to overlook (like the fake pointsettias in the flower boxes on the back deck, my Charlie Brown tree's ornament, and the little vases hanging next to the front door)... and I'm paying for it. And I already know I'm going to pay for it tomorrow too, as I have another homework marathon planned.
Even though it was physically challenging and exhausting, the mental and emotional side were just as tough. I discovered this past spring that fresh air, loud music through my iPod, and plenty of outside projects to do, including decorating, make for not just a pretty good workout, but a pretty good mental and emotional release. This time was a bit different. Yes, I did some decorating, with a lot more to come after Thanksgiving, but it just had an odd quality to it that I didn't expect. As I'm putting flower pots, beach toys, gardening and yard tools, and decorations into the shed until at least next year, it almost felt like I was packing more than just a few yard things away. It felt like I was getting rid of a very long chapter or a lifetime away. Even cleaning up the trash felt like I was picking up and throwing away everything I knew about life the last several years. I think it was while I put the last of the decorations away was when it hit me. My dad's not here anymore. No, he didn't die, but he just decided he's unhappy, life sucks, so he just left everything behind, save a few uniforms and his hunting gear. And there's no rhyme or reason behind it. My mother and I are struggling to keep things together and put things back together while he's out there with a brand new wardrobe, a fancy coffee maker, and absolutely no responsibility besides his job. Whereas he used to do the crap work around the house and yard (either my mother and I usually ended up doing repairs around the house, except the furnace and major electrical), that's my job now.
It still hasn't really sunk in yet. Days like today it hits home. No pun intended, but he left for whatever reason and I'm the one who has to step into his shoes to fill the void. Not that I haven't been doing a lot of his work long before he left, but I found myself relieved when we were thrown a crumb as he did something. It was one less thing I knew I had to figure out how to do. It's also times like today when I realize that I'm in my 30s, living with my sick mother to help her out with things she can't do like drive, heavy lifting, cleaning when she can't, cooking (although most of the time I just order out because I have no desire to do dishes, or I forgot to take something out earlier to cook), errands, stuff like that. I also haven't worked in almost 9 years because I'm too sick to keep a job, something too many people mistake for laziness. Getting a job is the easy part. I'm a qualified (but not certified) mechanic with plenty of experience, worked all through high school and into my early 20s as a florist, I'm good at computers, secretarial, and dispatch work, but employers usually want someone that can and will work everytime and every hour their employees are scheduled. Sadly, I can't do that. There's days when even the smallest of things hurt like hell. Things most of us take for granted (including me when I have even one good day). The water pressure from a shower becomes unbearably painful, the lightest of clothes feel too heavy and hurt. Hell, even my hair hurts on days like that. Those are days I try to do what I can, even if it's just a tiny little bit, but those are the days I spend reading more than anything else, but those would also be the days that making it to work is impossible. I can say that I'm trying everything to make sure that those bad days are further apart if I can, but right now, it's still not under control. Stress and certain foods are relatively easy things to control--stress, not so easy, but doable (if that's even a word) that I know cause pain, regular sleep and light exercise, especially yoga, help to an extent, but I can't do anything about the weather and other external factors. There are several medications on the market (excluding narcotic pain medications) that have claimed to help, but not a single one has helped.
I've also been trying to put myself back through college while I'm living here. After I moved out of my apartment a few years ago, my mom asked me to move back home. Not only can I try to save money, but I'd be a big help to her. I also figured out that it would take me at least 6 (now I'm looking at 7) years to finish from an Associates degree to a Master's degree and knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to help others with life changing illnesses or injuries learn how to cope and rebuild their lives. All doctors care about are taking care of symptoms, but there isn't much help out there to deal with the mental and emotional upheaval something like those cause. But that's another story. I never thought I'd be this old, back living at home, I never in a million years thought my mom would ever get as sick as she is, requiring so many surgeries (excluding needing an organ transplant, which means another surgery and more medication when one becomes available), and be unable to do half of what she used to do. For as long as I can remember, she always worked, was always there for my brother and I, always did all the cooking, cleaning, and shopping for the house, and just always had energy to do whatever she wanted or whatever we needed. She was our driver for sports, a referee when my brother and I got into fights, the family shrink and peacekeeper after my Babci passed away, she was a rock. My father always had his hobbies, his job, and the outside work was always done. And it all fell apart. And all the two of us can do is take things one day at a time for now because we have no idea what the future is going to bring. That's the scariest part of all.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Frozen in Fall
So yes, it's been awhile. (It shows a post on 18 October, but I don't remember posting anything last month.) I shouldn't be surprised at the memory lapse, though. The entire month of October seemed to be one giant blur, with days blending into days, blending into weeks until it came time to take my sis to the airport. While I miss her already and am glad she made it home safe, I do admit that a small part of me is thankful to have my room and privacy back. There's nothing like spending a month on the couch in the living room, with your mother in the next room at night, your sis down in your room, and nothing but the hamster to keep you company at night. Not that she's much company, I've literally listened to her running in her wheel for 5-8 hours on end, with only a handful of few second stops to either grab a drink, piece of food, or when she lost her ribbon. I am sorry that it's too cold to bring her outside now, since she does love it when I take the bottom of her cage off and let her run around on the front lawn. I wanted to bring her out a few weeks ago after my brother mowed the lawn (which I am incredibly grateful for), but it was still too chilly and damp.
I'm surprised any of us survived the month. I'm almost completely off crutches by now, but have to use a cane. (at least this one isn't as hideous as the last, but still.. I'm in my 30s having to walk around with a cane) Between being stuck on the couch for a month with what was literally a front row seat to everything that went on and percocet, I'd say "bitchy" was a bit of an understatement at times. I'd spend days arguing over the television (both my mom and my sis are Food Network junkies and hate isn't a strong enough word for how I feel about that channel and 99.9% of it's shows. Halloween Wars was kinda cool, but that was about it), listening to my parakeets fighting almost incessantly all day, every day, and what seemed like just constant noise. I did however accidentally train the furry little demon to bark first to warn the 'keets, then pounce on their cage if they didn't stop fighting. I even cursed out a neighbor one Saturday morning. I thought it was a different neighbor who likes to do obnoxious things at odd hours of the day and night (in this case, setting off firecrackers at 10am on a Saturday morning). Turns out it was another neighbor training his dogs for hunting season. Every year, he starts out by letting them get used to the sound of gunshot by firing off a starter's pistol. It sounded the same to me, but the exchange got ugly. In the end, everything turned out fine.
Even with a month that went by entirely too fast, I'm still trying to deal with all that's happened. Hopefully I'll be back on campus either next week or the following week. I've been trying to keep up with the work when I can (in other words, when I'm not on pain medication) and my professors are fine with that. I'm registered for the spring semester already and found out that unless something should happen, I will finish my degree in the spring of 2013. A year later than expected, but it will be done. Then it's on to graduate school. I'm trying to make as many payments as possible now on my school loans to pay them down and pay the interest as I go along, but I wish I could pay more each month.
This past month brought a lot of serious changes and being stuck on the couch, a lot of internal reflection. Two family members died within a week of each other--one was another uncle, the other a great aunt. I'm still learning more about how sick my grandmother is, making sure that my mother has the help and support she needs as she needs yet another surgery, with another sometime in the future to fix nerve damage from her shoulder catheter. To say I feel overwhelmed would be an understatement. Even when I do not need pain medication, even motrin, I'm finding myself unable to do much because I just don't know where or how to start. The good thing about being busy is you don't have time to process all that is happening. The downside is when things start to calm down, it's not like when things happen, they happen at different times, sometimes even weeks apart, but it hits you all at once.
It's easy to say to just take things a day at a time, even when it's the only thing you CAN do, but another thing to try to do so. With so much happening and so much to do, it's easy to shut down. I'll be the first to admit that my longtime friend depression is not only still around, but it seems to be choking me with it's black cloud lately. Everything seems to either make me cry, or I swing to the opposite end to keep from crying and lash out at anything and anyone. But for now, I'm looking for and clinging to even the tiniest bit of goodness that I find. Whether it's slowly mending fences with those with whom I've had falling outs with (even if I have no idea why), to earning As on all of my schoolwork, to the small things people around me are doing to help. Sometimes, that's all you can do. I don't have all the answers, don't pretend to, and I sure as hell have no idea what is really going on most of the time with people who say one thing, but act in a completely different way. Lately, I guess the best way to put it is I just feel frozen in some kind of vortex with no real way out. I believe everyone, no matter how hurtful and destructive they are, deserve at least a little bit of happiness and peace. I also believe in atoning for your own mistakes, starting with admitting you made them. I've made my fair share of mistakes and I'm slowly working on making up for them. I just want peace. It doesn't seem like a lot to ask for. 11 years ago, while on her death bed, my great grandmother made me promise that no matter what I chose to do in life to be happy. And I'm trying. Everything takes time.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Watching the Leaves Fall
So as of right now, I am out of class/work for at least another two and a half weeks. Except for my online courses that begin next week, that is. My knee is definitely healing much better this time post surgery than it did over two years ago. The odd thing is this time the damage was much more extensive. I survived (barely) my first physical therapy session yesterday morning and the only thing that didn't hurt was my knee--that began to hurt much later in the day. It may have been from the PT itself, or a series of cold fronts coming through the area, if not both.
Last time, I had 4 weeks notice before my surgery and not only made sure all of my work was completed, but was 2 weeks ahead in the work so that I may focus on recovery. Other than sitting here bored on the couch for the first 2 weeks, I used the time to catch up on my reading. That is, until my mother ended up hospitalized and an already complicated recovery became moreso. This time, she's feeling much healthier than she has in ages, one of my best friends came in for the month to help out, and I have a ton of schoolwork to not just catch up on, remain current on, and a paper to rewrite since MS Word's latest update seems to have wiped out the last 2 papers I wrote. So what am I doing? Reading books completely unrelated to my schoolwork, playing games on Facebook, and just about everything BUT my homework. Even on pretty strong pain medications, the reading isn't too difficult. It's the note-taking and powerpoint reviews that require a bit more focus. But my text book, syllabus, notebook, highlighters, and pen still sit on my makeshift desk next to the couch, relatively untouched. Go figure.
I shouldn't say I've been stuck on the couch the WHOLE time. My mother and I did go out Thursday night to a book signing for meteorologist Bill Evan's latest novel Dry Ice, listened to him lecture, joke, and shamelessly promote his latest novel as well as three others he's had published. I've been watching him give weather reports every morning for years, so it was definitely a positive experience to meet the man who invades my television set every morning as I keep an eye on weather and traffic (most of the time, the news itself sucks--op ed, strange but amusing, and if something is happening, ceaseless, repetitive coverage seems to be the norm on all stations lately. In this case, it's the Wall Street Protests and the trial of Michael Jackson's doctor.
What I was surprised was just how rude some people can be. I'm far from a tiny person and I'm on crutches. The part of the building the signing was held in wasn't the largest area by far, but if people just showed a little bit of courtesy, it would have been nice. My mother and I were lucky enough to get seats on one of two antique couches, so that I can stretch my leg out for comfort. A young student decided to join us on the couch with no regard to personal space or anyone else around him. I literally had to maneuver my crutches over his legs and bag to keep from falling to the floor because a series of "excuse me's" had no effect on this young man. Even when returning to our seats after meeting Mr. Evans, he wasn't moving. He started to give my mother a dirty look when she picked up his bag to move it out of my way until one of my crutches "accidentally" ended up on his toes. Maybe he'll learn some manners next time, but it's doubtful. He sat through he brief lecture with his laptop on, earbuds in, surfing videos on YouTube while periodically checking his Facebook. Then came time for the signing itself. I understand for those who watch Mr. Evans on a daily basis to be excited to meet him and there's always that small group of people who try to rush to the front of the line, but I was being jostled around as they jockeyed for position. I admit to being a bit irritated at the sheer rudeness of that small group, but did begin to lose my temper when an overweight, middle aged man literally shoved me into a wall to get a closer view of the meteorologist. (He had no intentions of being at the front of the line, but instead wanted a great view of the signing while he waited to go last, as to hopefully have a full conversation with Mr. Evans about another anchor on the station). I shouldn't be surprised at the selfishness and rudeness of others, but the older I get, the more I try to see the good in people in general.
I'm hoping to attend a lecture tomorrow on campus about the history of race and human relations in America being presented by a well-known sociologist, but again, it depends how my knee is feeling. I have no desire to overextend myself too quickly and end up doing more harm than good, even if it does appear to be doing a bit better every day.
I just can't wait when I no longer need crutches and hopefully can run again. But for now, it's physical therapy, stretching, upper body workouts, and then begin by walking the dog as I build up to be able to run--even if it is just once more. It's probably the one thing I miss the most (other than working on cars) since I got sick. There is nothing more stress relieving than putting the headphones on, turning up the music, and just disappearing into what seems like nothingness while working off energy and stress.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Stuck Inside on a Beautiful Day.
So it's still technically Sunday, four days after my knee surgery, and I'm still here. Kind of. For months I've been hoping for a day off or two to just lay around and do nothing. Be careful what you ask for. Four days on the couch and I feel like I'm going out of my mind. I realized why I've been keeping myself so busy, even if it's just arranging and re-arranging my desk--I don't want to think. I've been given more than enough to think about and deal with lately and I've done a pretty damn good job of avoiding dealing with any of it. Unless, of course, you count plenty of anti-anxiety medication, fits of tears, and temper tantrums.
Naturally, just when I think things might reach a plateau, or at the very least, remain in the state restless, unknown chaos, I'm proved wrong. I found out this week that not only my uncle, but one of my great aunts died. With all the illness and injury in my family, my mother brought up the thought--death always comes in threes. I'm trying not to think about that.
And I'm still angry and hurt. Two years ago when I first needed knee surgery, it was a chaotic rush to find someone to be able to take me to and from the hospital (it's a same day type deal). My mother can't drive and my father claimed he couldn't get the day off of work (but he could for a hangover, a day to go ride on his motorcycle, go hunting... the list goes on). He even tried to pawn me off on a neighbor's unreliable teenage kid. This kid can't even be relied on to show up for PAID work and I was supposed to rely on him to be there for me as a chauffeur? Not to mention I wasn't going to be anywhere near my best--drugged out of my mind, wearing sweats, and God only knows what kind of mood I was going to be in after. Thankfully, my surgery was scheduled early enough that my sister-in-law was able to help me. That was until the OR started running 2 hours behind and she had to leave to pick her children up from school. Enter my father--at least he showed up to pick my mother and I up. This time, I was scheduled early enough in the morning that I had a few options if one of my best friends was unable to make it in for the month to help, but it meant that because of my mother's appointment that morning, she would be unable to be at the hospital. At least my dad took care of that and was supposed to go to the pharmacy for me to fill my pain medication. But once again, he wasn't there. He was too tired, so decided to go do some work. Nothing that was an emergency, nothing that required any real thought, but gone just the same. Yeah, thanks.
I guess what hurts the most and makes me so angry is he is a parent. It's easy to make a child, but it shouldn't be an option whether or not you are a part of your child's life regardless of how old they are. I grew up idolizing this man--his attitude towards things, how easily he could look at a set of written directions and build whatever it was. How good he was at math (not quite my strongest suit. I can do calculus, but give me a word problem and you may as well be asking me to learn a new language in 5 minutes). How I wanted to be just like him, including being a mechanic. I did become a mechanic until I got too sick, but the only thing he said when I made my choice "public" was how he knew I could not only do the job, but do it very well, if not the best. He knew I could handle the bullshit that came with being a female mechanic, but didn't want me to wake up at 40 years old and in pain from beating the crap out of myself for decades. I could be the best in the field with nothing to show for it but serious arthritis. Other than my mother, he was the only other person who stood behind my decision.
That was the man I knew. I don't know who he is now. Except someone who technically holds the biological title of "father," but I can't remember the last time he was there when I needed him. Instead, I'm left with everything to do that he's supposed to in addition to putting my life together again. God, I need to be able to get off this couch...
Monday, October 3, 2011
And the Leaves are Falling
It's no secret that I've been stressed out and pushed to my limits lately. One of my best friends will be here tomorrow for about a month to help me after another knee surgery in just under 2 days from now. My days start early, they end late, and I feel like I'm in constant motion taking care of one thing or another. A lot has happened in the past month that would probably drive anyone past their breaking point, but I'm still here and I'm still standing. (sort of, considering my knee) I have also learned some very valuable lessons when it comes to who is in my life and who no longer is.
I'm glad to have begun the process of mending fences with some family members with whom a series of simple misunderstandings have led to arguing, more stress, pain, and alienation. It's no secret in life that you learn very quickly when things go very wrong who your true friends are. I always seemed to have a knack of choosing the wrong people overall to be in my life. The kind of people that as long as you're doing what they want, like, act, etc. they act like they're your closest friends. The moment you step outside their lines, you become an outcast at best, an enemy at worst. Over the past few years I like to think that I have gotten better at it and I have. Now the past month or so, I have made my circle of friends even smaller. No one is perfect and everyone makes mistakes. I am certainly no exception. Given what's been going on (most of which is not my tale to tell), I made an incorrect assumption about a situation and got angry at someone. I said some things that I shouldn't have said (who hasn't?) and when I realized my mistake, I admitted it and apologized. I was greeted with silence. Technically, I don't exist to this person anymore. It's not the first time this has happened, but the difference now is I just don't care. I screwed up, owned up to it, apologized, tried to make up for it, and was met with a "fuck her." I have some amazing friends in my life, so finding out that one I thought was isn't just makes my life that much simpler. I won't pretend it doesn't hurt. Anytime you trust someone and discover that you're that disposable in their life hurts.
Another so-called "friend" seems to see fit to gossip about things he/she not only knows almost nothing about, but is absolutely none of his/her business in the first place. Small towns tend to breed small minds and big mouths. Again, even though it hurts, I'm relieved to know who is worth my time and energy in life. As painful as these lessons can be, the bright side is you learn who is worth your trust and time and who isn't. I would be happier having 3 people who are true friends than 300 that I can't trust, or the kind of person who does nothing but try to keep you down in order to make yourself feel better. I am who I am, will always be, will never pretend to be something I'm not in order to "fit in." If you don't like that, that's fine by me. I can devote my energy and heart to those who really deserve it, so when you think about it that way--they're actually doing me a favor.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Growing Pains
I can't think of a single person that I've met who has had a perfect childhood and life. Everyone faces their own set of challenges, hurdles, and expectations. What I don't understand is that small percent of people who act like irresponsible, cowardly scumbags and use the excuse of their past. "My mommy was mean and daddy loved me too much" So then that person goes around manipulating people, throwing hair pulling tantrums, acts like a self entitled loser and blames everything that happens, including his/her own screw ups on that. "My mommy died when I was 18, daddy is an drunk, and I never really got the chance to live like they do on 90210 (because apparently, that's how kids really live in high school)." So they go out, do what they want, when they want, doesn't matter who gets hurt, what kind of attention is received as long as it's attention, and something that happened eons ago is to blame for it. "My brother was a drug addict and trouble maker when I was growing up, so my parents spent all their time and energy on him." So that entitles this person to lie, cheat, steal, cry, and blame everything on everyone else, since having such a rough childhood entitles them to zero accountability. "Mommy was mean and daddy didn't care." My personal favorite. Do what you want, when you want, how you want, and when things get tough--just run away and hide in the nearest bottle of whiskey. People will understand when they finally pull their head out of their ass and act like a grown up.
I swear, Freud would have a field day if he peeked into the childhoods of some of these losers. Yet what I don't understand is this--how many people have survived their own versions of hell growing up, their own trials in life and still have the capacity to act like decent human beings? What is it about that small group of people who feel so self-entitled, blameless, and just overall scum seem to think that because a few bad things happened, they aren't accountable for what they do? It's called life. Not everyone is dealt a winning hand, some worse than others, but at some point, people need to learn how to grow up, take responsibility for their own actions, face reality, and actually try being decent human beings who don't hide behind a few bad things that happened to them. I almost feel sorry for those people. Just not sorry enough to want them anywhere near me. I may not have been dealt a stellar hand, but I do what I can to improve my life. And I will never purposely crush, hurt, humiliate, or otherwise use another person to get where I want. A little hard work and humility can go a very long way.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Zen Garden
So my life has been anything but a Zen Garden as of late, but just those two words bring to mind peace, tranquility, stability, and calm. It hasn't been without irony and humour, though. It seems ever since my ortho informed me that I have no other option but to have another knee surgery, little to no exercise for 2 weeks, followed by very light exercise, stretching, and just take it easy overall considering my first chance to fix the stupid thing is in December I have been doing just about anything but. I'm still working on cleaning out and re-organizing the house, doing my typical obsessive perfectionism when it comes to my school work, and running in every direction seemingly at the same time.
Somehow (and I'm not even going to question it, but simply go with it), my brother, sister-in-law, and I are speaking to each other again, I've gotten rid of more people in my life who bring nothing but negativity to it, and somehow managed to keep what little sanity I have left in tact.
On a humorous note, my previous ex seems to find that his "mental state" and life of hell are all my fault. Keep in mind that this was the same guy who swooped in a week after my ex of 3 and a half years ended our relationship in an EMAIL on facebook, promised me everything under the sun, but neglected to tell me that while he was sending me gifts, telling me how much he loves me and is there for me, he was trying to patch things up with his legally separated, soon-to-be ex wife AND had a serious girlfriend back home. He also ended our relationship in an email, telling me how sorry he was, how horrible and wretched hurting me made him feel, and even alluded that suicide was his only option to end the pain. Naturally, I was worried sick about him since no one knew where he was and he wasn't answering his cell phone. So, I made a few phone calls afraid he made good on his threat of suicide, got in touch with his commanding officer, and sent a copy of the email as requested to make sure he was okay. Then he got mad at ME because he got in trouble. It gets funnier from there... his girlfriend emailed me her phone number and proceeded to explain that they had been together for almost a year, how serious they were, and that he told her I was just a "crazy friend" who only thought there was something between us. Then his wife found out just before he went home on leave. Naturally, I talked to his wife after a friend of mine saw fit to tell her about what he was up to and he got the door slammed in the face treatment. About 2 weeks ago, he emails me out of the blue, telling me how much he loves me, how sorry he is, how beautiful I am, how much I do and always will mean to him, how his girlfriend was a very abusive bitch, but he'll never be able to trust me again. I'm still confused about that last part considering I lied about nothing and the only thing I did wrong was put my trust (again) in the wrong guy. A few days ago, he emails my friend to let me know that it's my fault his life has gone to hell. Maybe it's a guy thing, since my ex is still blaming me for things that go wrong. Maybe my logic is just illogical. They lie, cheat, steal, break up in an email (which is about as cowardly as it gets), then I'm to blame when the big K catches up to them and they're miserable. Really? With logic like theirs, the only thing to do is laugh. But, I will do one thing I was accused of--so Kevin? Yes, part of this blog is about you since I've already been accused of spreading your personal business, I may as well. And I know I can and deserve MUCH better than the cowardly nutcase you are. And so can your ex-wife. And I hope she finds it after the hell you put her through.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Thunder Rolls
As much as I try not to figure out why people do what they do, it has always been my curious obsession with the human race. Why do some people face problems in life head on, while others choose to bury their heads like ostriches? Why do some go out of their way to help others, regardless of the personal cost, while others seem to go out of their way to hurt those around them? Is it a problem with ignorance, fear, or is there literally something wrong in their brains that make them who and what they are and why they do what they do?
The past is not something to be ignored like it never happened nor is it something to dwell in, live in, and spend years trying to change it or relive it. I suppose it's easier for some to go back to what they know rather than face the unknown. Life doesn't come with a set of rules, regulations, and it certainly doesn't come with a future-telling crystal ball with an instruction manual. Some things blindside us, leaving us with that just kicked in the gut feeling, while other things leave us speechless because they're so amazingly wonderful.
It takes a special kind of cowardice to pull some of the stunts I've seen people pull in the recent past. It also takes a special kind of strength to stand up and face it. No one has all the answers, but sometimes it's pretty easy to tell who to avoid when looking for solutions. And sometimes there are no answers but to stand back and take the punches as they come. Plans are always a good thing, but because life is so unpredictable, the best course is to take things as they come.
I'm tired of feeling like I've been kicked in the gut at every turn. But I am grateful for those few in my life with whom I probably wouldn't be standing here today if it wasn't for them. Disappointment has got to be the worst feeling in the world. Just as with every other storm, this too shall pass.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Frustration
So I fell about 3 weeks ago going to give the dog a treat. I stepped the wrong way and my knee gave out. Again. So it was swollen and bruised for almost a week and I knew it was time to call the Ortho. Again. The past few days I can barely climb the steps in my front yard to get to my car. It has felt like there is no cushioning at all throughout the entire joint. I JUST had surgery for torn menisuces (sp?) just under 2 years ago. Even with the complications following, physical therapy, etc etc etc, it's never been the same. I expected the usual drill this morning/afternoon--careful what you do, it's just arthritis aggravated by twisting it, blah blah blah. After a 10 minute examination of the knee I was far from prepared for what I heard. I need surgery--again. Even without an MRI (which my wonderful insurance company refuses to cover because the knee was "fixed" 2 years ago and I've had 3 MRIs before and after surgery, deeming it "unnecessary" it became very clear that once again, I tore the meniscus at the very least. One day into the semester and already there's a problem. I'm going to work closely with my surgeon to try to put off the now required surgery until May. After the school year is over. This means a very strict diet, very restricted exercise, cortisone injections, anti-inflammatory patches, and for the next two weeks I am to remain in an immobilizer using crutches during waking hours. The next 24-48 hours to stay off my feet as much as possible. It's only been 5 hours and I'm climbing the walls. Getting in and out of my car with that stupid contraption on my leg is almost impossible and trying to go to the bathroom is in itself a comedic series of just plain insanity.
Contrary to popular belief, even with the chronic illnesses I have, I do NOT "lay on my ass in bed all day, every day popping pain killers like candy crying 'why me' and collecting government money that others have paid into." No, I can't work right now, but I do a helluva lot during the course of a day and week. Very little time is spent in my bed as it's spent not only trying one thing after another to feel better, but taking care of others and their problems. Besides that, I EARNED my checks. I have paid into the system since I was 12 years old. And I am doing everything in my power and then some to return to the workforce as soon as I can. Got a problem with who I am, what I do, and what I say, you can take your perfect prozac life, your inaccurate, idle gossip and shove it so far up your arses you choke on it.
So yes, I'm frustrated. And angry. I've been busting my butt trying to start over in a new career and every damned semester there's been one (or more) huge thing after another that's tried to keep me from continuing. First semester: cluster headaches; Second semester: Lyme Disease--again. Third semester was a medical screw up and Lyme Disease (yes, again). Third semester was dealing with an abusive scumbag while my bigger scumbag of a boyfriend was deployed, a screwed up knee requiring surgery months earlier than scheduled, complications that kept me off campus for 8 weeks instead of 1/2, my mother ended up in the hospital again because her kidneys had finally shut down, and my fourth and final semester was spent still dealing with a knee (as I was given another cortisone injection a week before graduation. Not one "easy" semester. Hell, the easy part was the work. My first year at a 4 year school wasn't without problems. My scumbag ex gave me Epstein-Barr which caused not only extreme fatigue and pain, but kept my liver from functioning even close to what it should. So 4 beers, 1 shot and 9 hours later, I'm freaking out in an emergency room in bumblefuck nowhere with butchers trying to close a gaping wound in what was my good knee. Combined with EBV, I was forced to withdraw. A wicked winter causing near crippling arthritis in combination with an as yet diagnosed EBV forced a withdrawal from 3 out of 6 courses in the spring. This semester? A blown out knee and surgery looming over the horizon.
I try to find the positive side regardless of what's going on, but seriously, there's only so much a person can take at a time. And I will never be one of those Prozac people--smile, laugh, refuse to acknowledge anything is wrong while sweeping the bad under the rug. I've found the best way to deal is to admit yes, there's a problem, find an upside to it, decide what, if anything can be done to fix it, and go from there. I've survived this long and made it this far and there isn't a chance in hell another obstacle is going to stand in my way, regardless of how frustratingly huge it is.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Almost Fall
Yep, it's that time of year again--leaves are starting to change, cooler (if not outright cold) temperatures at night, scents of cinnamon, pumpkin, apples, and mums. And, of course, return to school. This semester isn't looking too stressful overall. My online class doesn't start until the middle of next month, I've never had a problem handling any of my psychology courses and this one doesn't look to be any different, and then there's my final English course--Prose. Not just reading and analyzing it, but actual creative writing workshops. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit nervous. First of all, I am one of only two non-English majors in the course. Secondly, I haven't written anything in over 15 years that wasn't a research or analytical paper. I do have a few things going for me, though. I couldn't have asked for better English teachers in high school (at least two of them were great) who not only helped me express my creativity, but taught me the essentials of composition and grammar. I also consider myself a pretty creative person. More often than not my stumbling block has been finding a way to express that creativity in a way that the meaning/thoughts/images in my mind are conveyed as I see them. This should be interesting to say the least.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
After Irene
So it's now technically 3 days since Irene has wreaked havoc in the area and I have to get up in a few short hours. Luckily, our house was relatively unscathed. My car even survived the storm, considering how many branches and trees in the area came down. That's not to say that it's not full of scratches from fallen branches, but nothing a good buffer can't take care of. We did lose power for about 13 hours and I realized just how much losing electricity isn't as wonderful as it used to be. Granted, not having running water always sucks, but I used to love the absolute silence a power outage brought. No phones, computers, blaring televisions....just complete and utter silence. Now within minutes of an outage (our area loses power pretty frequently considering we're up in the mountains) all that is heard is a myriad of generators running. I can understand wanting to use one if the power has been out for over an hour during the summer months, but do we really rely on electricity that much now that in a span of minutes diesel and gas-powered generators have to be started? Whatever happened to lighting a few candles, picking up a book, board game, or even just relaxing in such an amazing, total silence?
The news is still talking about the aftermath and cleanup, massive flooding, road closures, and how NYC came through relatively unscathed. News about North Carolina has all but disappeared on local channels, and one of the hardest hit areas--NW New Jersey has barely been covered at all. There's some major flooding south of here forcing evacuations, road collapses, and traffic jams, but that's pretty normal considering the areas affected are over-developed, flood prone areas. Here? Hardly a word. Even from the "New Jersey News" channel. It seems this area is some remote part that doesn't exist in the state unless something weird or unusual happens in a wealthy town. Based on some of the pictures I have seen, it's still pretty bad. To add insult to injury, my parents and I have yet to hear a word from my brother to see if he's even okay. I saw on the news that his town is the latest in a long list of evacuation zones, but not a word from him. We'd contact him if we had a way, but we have no phone numbers for him--still. So much for family, huh? Hell, even my neurotic neighbor stopped by Monday morning to make sure my mother was okay. (There's 3 of us in the house, all adults, the news says to check on the elderly and the sick and she still comes over to make sure everything is all right). I'm not going to stress myself about it. To each their own, I suppose. For me? I'm going to pick up a book I started just before the storm and hopefully get some sleep.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Family Trees
The title pretty much says it all. I began reading Stacy Schiff's novel "Cleopatra" on Sunday and just reading about her family made mine seem pretty normal in retrospect. I mean, every family has their own quirks, but at least I can say that my family tree not only has plenty of branches, twigs, and offshoots; it's not full of plotting, murdering, bloodthirsty and powerhungry inbreds. As my cousin put it the other day: our own dysfunction is what makes our family our family. I mean, there's relatives we haven't spoken to in decades, some we try to avoid on purpose, others we see at the obligatory holiday gatherings and carry on polite conversations, and the usual fighting of course. What family wouldn't be a true family without plenty of fights, right? I've pretty much decided that blood or marriage relations or not, I'm just staying out of it all. I have enough stress on my plate than to act like a high school drama queen or king.
I've come to realize over the past few years that I've more or less turned into my mother: peacekeeper, referee, the one who does the right thing regardless of the situation, babysitter, therapist.... you name it, you can pretty much add it to my title. Except more often than not, I have no problem actually speaking my opinion out loud about certain things. Growing up in the generation that I did, I've learned first hand what adults who act like children can do to the children. I'd probably not only know more about, but be closer to quite a few family members if the adults could put their differences aside for the sake of the kids. And I'm seeing the process repeated. Unfortunately, there really isn't a damn thing I can do about any of it, so I'm just going to continue to put my life together and live the way I need to. Which is something I'm still figuring out how to do one day at a time. What I do know is I don't have time for drama.
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