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.
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