Dawn's best friend's husband is stationed at Hood. It has of course, been a terrible day for their community. Please push your most loving vibes to them and their friends.
Love, love, love. We do it for love, love, love.
Love, love, love . . .
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Monday, November 2, 2009
Me, Me, Me
I have some terrible news. I have some fabulous news. Cry with me, OK? Sing and Dance with me, will you?
Today, I walked away from mother. I sighed, looked up at the ceiling, took a deep breath, looked at Dawn, put my shoes on and walked away. I rode the elevator down to the ground floor, walked across a parking lot, leaned on my van and smoked a forbidden cigarette. The last 20 years swam in my tears and I made a decision.
Me. Me. Me. I'm going to live for me now. I am all done with her cyclone of misery. I choose to live. I choose to spend my energy and love with Dawn, Storm, Faith, William, Ray, Mimi, our close friends - the family that we have built and nurtured despite never being taught how.
I decided to stop being her daughter - subject to her whims, abuse and even the dictations of her DNA that multiplies in my cells. I decided to be my children's mother, and mommy, and protector. I decided that enough is enough.
Laughter - I've missed it. I'm funny - I had almost forgotten. I am happy - who knew?
Even at this moment, when cobwebs rank with her decaying funk are still clinging to me, I have much love and great hope. I can see Dawn's halo again, and I can feel it's glow on my dried skin. My children are singing, not whining. Dancing with me, not tripping me. I adore them.
Please forgive my nauseating cliches. Please forgive my worn out metaphors. Please forgive my decidedly uncreative stabs at prose tonight. You'll give me a break - I know you will. I know you will because you have stuck with me through this game of family Chinese checkers. You have hugged me and dried my tears. You have been my friends.
I'm sure my writing will pick up. Give me a second, will you?
.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Gray? Grey? I don't care.
Do you ever have a day when it would just be better if you didn't talk? When everything that
comes o
ut of your mouth is just catty? Or hateful? Or just generally unhelpful? That's me today.
There's a children's book called "My Many Colored Days." It's about moods. It's fabulous. "Gray. Gray Day. I watch, but nothing moves today." That's me today.
William parachuted from the top step, relying on a Target bag for his very life. He had a bandana tied around his head - it was pushing his little ears down. I managed a weak smile.
Ray calls pumpkins "Ump Umps." He has a little bitty one that he's been carrying around. Everywhere. I think it's floating in the tub water right now. I noticed this adorableness, but have no exuberance or soul-warmth from it.
Faith had a level 10 breakdown tonight. These come once in a blue moon but when they do, they are something truly fierce, barometric pressure altering and earth-shaking. She worked herself into such a fit that she was baring her teeth, flailing about and assaulting whoever was closest. I took this as just what I deserved. She was acting just like I feel. I was down enough to mistake her discomfort (putting it lightly) for my karma.
Storm is perfect. Thank God, the wildcard is stable.
I don't wear misery well. It's like my mother's suit - itchy and ill-fitting and boxy and hot.
I can't remember to Ham Sa. I can't remember to eat. I can't remember anything, to tell the truth. My days are foggy. You know how when you have a sinus infection, it feels like you have cotton balls stuffed between your ears? I have that confusion without the pain.
Save me, Halloween! Shake me out of this funk. Please.
.
comes o
ut of your mouth is just catty? Or hateful? Or just generally unhelpful? That's me today.There's a children's book called "My Many Colored Days." It's about moods. It's fabulous. "Gray. Gray Day. I watch, but nothing moves today." That's me today.
William parachuted from the top step, relying on a Target bag for his very life. He had a bandana tied around his head - it was pushing his little ears down. I managed a weak smile.
Ray calls pumpkins "Ump Umps." He has a little bitty one that he's been carrying around. Everywhere. I think it's floating in the tub water right now. I noticed this adorableness, but have no exuberance or soul-warmth from it.
Faith had a level 10 breakdown tonight. These come once in a blue moon but when they do, they are something truly fierce, barometric pressure altering and earth-shaking. She worked herself into such a fit that she was baring her teeth, flailing about and assaulting whoever was closest. I took this as just what I deserved. She was acting just like I feel. I was down enough to mistake her discomfort (putting it lightly) for my karma.
Storm is perfect. Thank God, the wildcard is stable.
I don't wear misery well. It's like my mother's suit - itchy and ill-fitting and boxy and hot.
I can't remember to Ham Sa. I can't remember to eat. I can't remember anything, to tell the truth. My days are foggy. You know how when you have a sinus infection, it feels like you have cotton balls stuffed between your ears? I have that confusion without the pain.
Save me, Halloween! Shake me out of this funk. Please.
.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Floodgates, finally
Remember how I said I haven't cried yet? Now I have. McDonald's is what sent me over the edge. Pathetic, I know.
I realized at about 10:30 that I forgot to make Storm a lunch. The little boys and I were out running errands so I zipped into the McDonald's drive-thru. I ordered $12.98 worth of heart-attack-in-a-bag. I pulled around to the first window and gave the lady my credit card. Declined. "Could you try it again, please?" Declined. Fuck.
You see, I never use my credit card. The only reason we have it is to pay off the solar panels. For the last several days, I've had to run it a few times for odds and ends for my mother's move. And I had to do one big purchase on it because her Target card was declined when she sent me there yesterday.
So I hung my head, apologized and got out of line. Then I remembered that I had her other credit card because I had to leave one on file at the "Senior Community." I got back in line, ordered the same $12.98 worth of artery clogging, and pulled around yet again to the first window. The lady looked at me funny and I said, "Different credit card." She smiled and then said, "Declined." I said, "What?" She said, "Declined." That is when I lost it. Hyperventilating sobbing. In the McDonald's drive-thru. With my two baby boys in the back seat. I let go one blood-curdling scream and made my way out of the line. Again.
Total and Complete Humiliation. I have known thee.
.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Horrible
She's 57. She's only 57.
"I'm 57, Rebecca! I still have a life to lead. I'm only 57!"
This is horrible. She is so angry with me. She has resorted to lying and begging and yelling. What am I to do but protect her body from her mind in the best way I know how to? This is horrible.
Forgive me for not returning phone calls. Forgive me for not blogging. Please. I have my thick soul shell up. I can't cry yet, so I can't talk to you Sweet People who love me so, yet. Know that I love you and am grateful for your attention. Don't give up on me.
"I'm 57, Rebecca! I still have a life to lead. I'm only 57!"
This is horrible. She is so angry with me. She has resorted to lying and begging and yelling. What am I to do but protect her body from her mind in the best way I know how to? This is horrible.
Forgive me for not returning phone calls. Forgive me for not blogging. Please. I have my thick soul shell up. I can't cry yet, so I can't talk to you Sweet People who love me so, yet. Know that I love you and am grateful for your attention. Don't give up on me.
Monday, October 19, 2009
A Place for Mom
"Senior Community" shopping. For a 57 year-old snob. I'm 31. Here's the rub.
On Tuesday the 13th, I called her at her house. I couldn't understand much of what she was saying. She wasn't completing sentences. She was talking about people that I don't know. She was abrasive and impatient when I questioned her about her state of mind. Then the fire alarm started. She was totally confused, babbling about the burglar alarm and someone named Greg. She hung up on me. Pensacola 911 connected me with her local Police Department. While I was on the phone with them, her fire monitoring system called and requested that units be sent to her house immediately.
She was taken by ambulance to the ER for "general disorientation." She was admitted as procedure dictates for observation following smoke inhalation. She is still there because she's nuts.
My mother has been a headcase for as long as I've been alive. No, I wasn't a trying baby. I'm sure her troubles started long ago; I can only bear witness though, for the last couple of decades. When I say "headcase" I mean that she has psychological and neurological issues with medical records so vast that they could only be transported by a fleet of 18-wheelers, an aircraft carrier or all the pack animals in the world.
She has hydrocephalus (too much fluid on her brain), clinical depression with an extensive history of suicide attempts, intense and unresolved migraine headaches, a degenerative bone condition, morbid obesity, the symptoms of early onset Alzheimer's including memory and balance problems. (For the record, she couldn't remember a series of 3 words for more than 3 minutes but she did know the names of The Real Housewives of New Jersey.) She doesn't eat properly, sleep properly, exercise at all, or treat people with anything resembling respect, kindness or compassion. Did I mention that she herself is a Doctor? As if all of the above isn't enough, she's fucking brilliant.
So tell me, if you can, how in the hell am I going to get her into an assisted living facility that usually only takes people 62 years and older in near perfect health? And if I manage that charade, how am I going to afford to keep her in there when she (wonder of all wonders) lives for another 30 years? And how is she not going to get herself kicked out for being a total bitch (Just this week she asked a poor tech trying to start an IV if he was having an attitude with her because she's a doctor.)
And what sin or as is more probable, sins have I committed to deserve this? I know, I know - This isn't about me. It's about finding a safe place for a smart, savvy and somewhat capable person to thrive.
I feel like my life once again is at the mercy of her every whim. As an only child, what else am I to do but come running most every time she calls? There's NO ONE ELSE - so please, please don't suggest that I call her bluff for attention, or ostracize her for bad behavior. I've tried everything - remember this has been going on my entire life. She is truly ill and truly needs serious help. But that has been true for a very long time.
.
On Tuesday the 13th, I called her at her house. I couldn't understand much of what she was saying. She wasn't completing sentences. She was talking about people that I don't know. She was abrasive and impatient when I questioned her about her state of mind. Then the fire alarm started. She was totally confused, babbling about the burglar alarm and someone named Greg. She hung up on me. Pensacola 911 connected me with her local Police Department. While I was on the phone with them, her fire monitoring system called and requested that units be sent to her house immediately.
She was taken by ambulance to the ER for "general disorientation." She was admitted as procedure dictates for observation following smoke inhalation. She is still there because she's nuts.
My mother has been a headcase for as long as I've been alive. No, I wasn't a trying baby. I'm sure her troubles started long ago; I can only bear witness though, for the last couple of decades. When I say "headcase" I mean that she has psychological and neurological issues with medical records so vast that they could only be transported by a fleet of 18-wheelers, an aircraft carrier or all the pack animals in the world.
She has hydrocephalus (too much fluid on her brain), clinical depression with an extensive history of suicide attempts, intense and unresolved migraine headaches, a degenerative bone condition, morbid obesity, the symptoms of early onset Alzheimer's including memory and balance problems. (For the record, she couldn't remember a series of 3 words for more than 3 minutes but she did know the names of The Real Housewives of New Jersey.) She doesn't eat properly, sleep properly, exercise at all, or treat people with anything resembling respect, kindness or compassion. Did I mention that she herself is a Doctor? As if all of the above isn't enough, she's fucking brilliant.
So tell me, if you can, how in the hell am I going to get her into an assisted living facility that usually only takes people 62 years and older in near perfect health? And if I manage that charade, how am I going to afford to keep her in there when she (wonder of all wonders) lives for another 30 years? And how is she not going to get herself kicked out for being a total bitch (Just this week she asked a poor tech trying to start an IV if he was having an attitude with her because she's a doctor.)
And what sin or as is more probable, sins have I committed to deserve this? I know, I know - This isn't about me. It's about finding a safe place for a smart, savvy and somewhat capable person to thrive.
I feel like my life once again is at the mercy of her every whim. As an only child, what else am I to do but come running most every time she calls? There's NO ONE ELSE - so please, please don't suggest that I call her bluff for attention, or ostracize her for bad behavior. I've tried everything - remember this has been going on my entire life. She is truly ill and truly needs serious help. But that has been true for a very long time.
.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
My Friends, My Everyday Heroes
I've been absent from Blogland for weeks now. I've missed you, Family. Yes, I've been busy - sick kids, a fabulous vacation, a school carnival and more sick kids. I've also been a little depressed. Silly stuff mostly, old stuff, stuff that gets in my way and should have been handled and properly grieved about forever ago. Whatever.
Boy did I choose a big day to come home to Blogland! I'm sure that I've missed tons of stuff, and it will take me a year of Sundays to catch up. But I did want to take a moment to highlight a few beautiful women doing beautiful things with their beautiful souls and energies.
And I guess it's time to reveal the source of my quirky wisdom. The Persistence of Yellow by Monique Duval. You've seen me and Dawn and Amy quote it. It's fabulous. Everyone of you, Sweet Friends, needs this book. I wish I could send one to all of you.
Camlin - Once upon a time, a girl prayed for true love. Her prayer was answered. She learned to love herself.
Rocket - As she was singing her own special rendition of 'I Did It My Way,' an angel appeared to her and threw finely chopped colored paper about her head in celebration.
Amy - Once upon a time, she decided to follow her heart. She flung off her pinstriped suit and gave birth to herself. A new self. Her true self.
I love you guys! You're inspiring.
Boy did I choose a big day to come home to Blogland! I'm sure that I've missed tons of stuff, and it will take me a year of Sundays to catch up. But I did want to take a moment to highlight a few beautiful women doing beautiful things with their beautiful souls and energies.
And I guess it's time to reveal the source of my quirky wisdom. The Persistence of Yellow by Monique Duval. You've seen me and Dawn and Amy quote it. It's fabulous. Everyone of you, Sweet Friends, needs this book. I wish I could send one to all of you.
Camlin - Once upon a time, a girl prayed for true love. Her prayer was answered. She learned to love herself.
Rocket - As she was singing her own special rendition of 'I Did It My Way,' an angel appeared to her and threw finely chopped colored paper about her head in celebration.
Amy - Once upon a time, she decided to follow her heart. She flung off her pinstriped suit and gave birth to herself. A new self. Her true self.
I love you guys! You're inspiring.
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