The road to acceptance

So, some may say I failed my perception roll.  Yeah, that's right D and D references coming up at you right now.

The holidays are basically over, house is covered in wrapping paper and children watching the latest Dr. Seuss movie, attempting to sleep.  7 year old was sick all day and unable to keep down food, and the relentless march of time sped on.  Yesterday my husband had 2 seizures in the wee hours of the morning.  Merry Friggin Christmas.

Previous to that, I received noticed that my job MAY be undergoing a slight case of immediate and permanent downsizing, and that my boss may be able to find jobs for us, but then again maybe not, and may be not in areas we would prefer to hold employment.

But I'm not here to bitch.  I've done my fair amount of bitching and now it's time to come to terms with all that I've absorbed in the past month.
First, I lost my best friend.  My anchor, the woman who kept me pseudo-sane without running to family every time my life went slightly askew in regards to the direction it heads in.  Yes, I realize I could eventually get her back and apologize for what I said... but I don't know if I am willing to do that anymore.  I mean, she got REALLY mad at me for saying I would do something that I would expect her to do if our roles were ever reversed.  I've allowed her anger in my presence for no reason more times than I can count, and needful reasons only a handful of times, and it occurred to me finally that we just aren't comparable.  Or that her being here, as much as I love her, (and I do still love her like a sister) was not compatible with my sanity.

Then there was my lionizing of a new friend, trying to make him into someone he isn't.  I halfway expected him to rescue me from this unhappiness that has been stewing for the better part of 5 years now.  I haven't fixed it, and he's not going to be able to fix it either.  The friendship didn't head in the direction I wanted it to, so instead of just dealing with that, I tried just rolling with the emotions of the moment, which was in turn bad for both of us.
I took that a bit harder than I perhaps should have.

At some point in the past 24 hours, the logic mind has taken over... that cold calculating bitch.  She says "These are the things that need doing, and you are doing them NOW.  You will not rest until all is done.  You will delegate  your life is a well oiled machine; automated, just add Robots."  Which is just the proverbial ass kicking that I need right now.  My house is in shambles, my kids all need me more than ever for various reasons, and I have great need to be Wonder Woman.  Friendship and emotion are my kryptonite.  (yes comic geeks, I do understand that Superman was the one affected by kryptonite, but let's just roll with this familiar analogy.)

So, I am moving into a singular mode now.  Paul and I had a partnership, but now he can't manage to be an equal partner due to his health,  In truth, he hasn't been an equal partner for a good long while, but he was doing so much better. I have a "stop the bleeding" mode I enter at these times.  It took far too long to take over, but has.  I'm just going to see if I can keep myself writing this time at minimum.  I need to let this creative part of me out or I find I become a blob of mass who can accomplish nothing.

It's like this: my shrink taught me something a while back, which has literally changed the way I live.
hAg
Ok... so this is what it is.  As you can see, the A is large, it's because it's the most important.  The h is for Humility.  To be humble with all that has come to you.  Being an egotistical bitch won't help anyone, especially not me.  The g is for Gratitude, be grateful for what it is that you do have.  The A... That's for acceptance.

We know a few logical things.  1. I can do very little to change my surroundings or circumstances right now. Knowing that, we know what doesn't work, complaining about it.  Ergo, we must accept it until we are in a position to change it.  2.  Letting my ego come in and bitch and moan that we should be doing better isn't going to cause me to do better.  What will help me do better in life is to acknowledge my sadness, but not let it overcome me.  This means know what the problems are, know what's upsetting me and know why.
3. Instability as far as my emotions is not excusable in any way to any one in my life currently.  With my anchor, she would not judge me.   She would take over when I was tired and weary. She could hear the signs and didn't mind doing grunt work. I don't have that now.  I have my family, that's it.  And there are times where they won't be able to help me.  At those times, I will have to help myself somehow.  This means attempting to sleep as close to a solid 8 hours a night as I can currently manage.  This will cause me to be less frantic and disjointed.  But knowing when it is acceptable for me to stay up later.

Acceptance is basically accepting my life isn't what I expected and that my life is not perfect.  It doesn't have to be, my best is generally good enough, and when it isn't I should be able to see that coming.

This rule in practice:  Knowing Paul is sick, knowing Paul has had a tendency in the previous nights to show more and more myoclonic activity when doing a particular activity online, then leaving the apartment to smoke when he is doing said activity without asking him to medicate himself.  This was foolish.  My failure also caused the second seizure.  But at the same time, he's an autonomous individual, in theory.  In practice... I wonder sometimes.

Instead of babysitting him and forcing the pills down his throat, I trusted him when he had told me he had taken his night dose.  After his second seizure, I saw the night dose still sitting in the dose cup on his nightstand.  He hadn't taken care of it.  After a seizure, for about 6 months, Paul can't truly be trusted to not lie, because his brain is lying to him and giving him bad information about reality.

So knowing that my despair is my own doing is a strange sense of comfort.  This means although I'm currently controlling things badly, I AM currently in control of all things within my universe of discourse; this may not sound like revelation, but do consider that to a woman who was formerly battered has very little feeling of empowerment.  My relative despair is empowering, in a strange sick way.  This is not the type of empowerment I wish to feel.  But amazingly enough, I control that too.

I accept today free of judgement my trespasses.  Now I am taking positive steps to insure that I am not caught unaware again.  Schedules will be drafted, tea and energy drinks prepared and drank, lists created, I will miss things.  That's ok.  So long as I am able to figure out how to fix the mistakes I make.

I'm going to go to the clubhouse later and hit the elliptical because my knees are fucking killing me.  I'm I making some odd reference to prayer?  I'll let you decide.

...second coming of BS

So... Yesterday I thought someone I've become close to was separating himself from my life... I was wrong, just read something into the letter that wasn't there, but, still I was a wreck.
A week ago I lost my best friend because she decided to go through my phone messages without asking and get angry at me for something she did to herself.
I was informed today that in the next month and a half I may be downsized from my job.
I haven't bought gifts for my youngest child, oldest child or in laws yet.  Not to mention my Mom or Stepdad, or my Dad even...

I went outside for a smoke break because I was expecting a text from someone saying they'd gotten to their destination safely and while I was out Paul had a seizure.

He got himself wedged between his desk and the printer stand, he spilled tea all over his computer and desk,  He fucked up his back and could hardly walk back to the bedroom.

My dog has been coughing for 3 days straight now because she ate tissue or something, and now she is standing guard over Paul, which is of course keeping him awake, and he needs sleep.  But after he's had a seizure, she won't leave him, that's her way.

My oldest son has been having behavioral issues in class, and so I had to spend the better part of Thursday and Friday getting paperwork in order to get him put into special ed.  Into that, my middle son caught strep, and I had to take him to the Doctor's office, (you know, the Doctor's office I had just left for Evan's paperwork?) They swabbed his throat and that caused him to throw up all over Paul... Who complained for a day and a half about the fact he couldn't find any clean jeans.

He did get the tree up, though.  My mom came over to help us get the house cleaned up but we didn't get the tree up and didn't get much done because...
I had to respond to an interview request, I gave her the information she wanted but I never heard back so...
See the beginning of this entry, and that's where we end up.

I'd be mad, or upset or sad, but I just have to laugh... I mean, seriously life, is this the best you've got?  Go ahead bitch, bring it.

Sticking it to myself

The following is a conversation I am having with myself, I'm allowing you to overhear this because I feel it's therapeutic.

Left: You stupid bitch, you did it again?  What the hell are you thinking?  You feel people, you know how they feel and even though you got very intentional signs that things were wrong, you kept on with your melodramatic whining about everything under the sun.  How does it feel to be alone again?  To not be able to express yourself to ANYONE?  Happy now?

Right: Somehow I thought it was ok, I was told it was ok.  How was I supposed to know better?

Left: Because you ignorant half wit, you know the way these things are.  You won't have that kind of relationship again, stop trying to make everyone into Eugene.  That was, get this, at minimum TEN FUCKING YEARS AGO, yet you think people give a shit about you?  What is wrong with you, seriously?  He didn't even care.

Right: Yes he did.  We were close.  We were friends.  How dare you even call him by name?  Don't you know we're online?

Left: You aren't close now.  I don't care if we're online, if I want to mention a heartache that YOU caused, I will.  And it's your fault you cunt.  You thought you had everything worked out and you ruin it again and again... What about that nice gal we used to sit and smoke with?  What'd you do, push her away?

Right: I HAD to, she pushed first, she doesn't want me around.  Then she started going through my stuff looking for another violation of her trust, and she found one, big fucking surprise.

Left: Oh, and I suppose that's my fault?

Right: Damn right it is!  Freckin rumor loving hussy.  You are always opening your stupid mouth and trying to get ahead.  Or better yet, maybe you could have stopped for a moment and realized that you needed to erase those text messages.  It isn't my job to sit here and think about that.   Politician. You need to stop taking all of this so seriously. 

Left: I can't help it, everyone else is taking it all so seriously.  What am I to do?  And why would I expend effort that I don't need to?

Right: Well you needed to obviously.  Perhaps you should start THINKING FOR YOUR GODDAMNED SELF?

Left: Well, lets go over this most recent one, seems we've had 2 in 2 weeks... Why are you so neurotic?

Right: Because... I am.  I've accepted that and moved on.  I give opportunity for people to come and go as they please.  I will eat up all of everyone's resources, it's true.  I'm a big drama loving whore I guess.  Must be the center of someone's attention.

Left: Well I'm not ok with it!  Start acting like a normal brain would you?  Fuck you.  You've cost me enough.  I'm succeeding.

Right: You can't you moron, we're connected.

Left: I don't care if we're connected, I'm leaving you!

Right: but... you can't... I'd be alone then... completely alone.

Left: Yes, you would be that'd be the whole fucking point, I'd be alone, maybe finally I could think clearly.

Right: But, we did that before... and I was drown out... and wasn't allowed to speak.  I sat here in my tie dyed haze and had to stay silent.  I could not tell anyone about the beauty I saw.  I had to stay quiet, it's like we told that guy... Cave, bottling plant, we told him that was BAD, remember?

Left:  Well, maybe so, but you've ruined everything?  You have to stay quiet now.  There is no more beauty, you are not allowed to speak!

Right: ...

The October Project

I always thought there was something wrong with me as a kid.
When I was young, I fancied myself an adventuress.
I watched She-Ra, I thought I was invincible and bulletproof.  In my imagination, I was this warrior princess, I was Link.
But it was important to me that Link be female.
And I'd play Zelda 2, and watch Link walk away, and it always looked to me like he had a pony tail in the back...
And thus the legend of Linka was born.

I played this extravagant game of imagination and role play.  I played it until I was 12... much too old for such a thing.  It involved all my child hood heroes, Ninja Turtles, Link, Zelda, Mario...  And Lizzy and Kristine and I would run around their backyards slaying imaginary evils.  If our parents came out, we decided to keep the game secret, we didn't want our families to know how old we were, still living in our imaginations.
It was a sad day when my girlfriends didn't want to play these games anymore.  They'd moved on to hair and makeup... but here I was stuck in this imaginary land, with a cast of characters.
This was the work of my childhood, and the thing that made me the writer I am now.

Always the echo of Mr. Rogers in my head.  How he said if you are having a hard time dealing with something, you can imagine it all better...  The freedom and someone just saying "YES YOU CAN." was liberating, in all my attempts to appear normal to my family and friends.
I sat at the family computer, loaded up Q&A, (this was before Microsoft Office) and wrote pages of text.  I have since lost the files, but the stories all live within me, and I can pull them down at a moments notice.

My childhood was not turbulent in the traditional sense, I had a few close friends, I was made fun of a lot, but it was never what I would call terrible.  I had a lot on my plate.  Still, there were things I did not understand, that I couldn't wrap my brain around.  I felt through them as I wrote, allowing myself to feel emotions I'd never felt before.  This was the summer before 7th grade.

This is important because, before that point, I hated to write.  The schools would send home this packet on the last day of school, encouraging us to use our writing skills during the summer on vacations and at times when we had nothing else to do.  I would immediately shed the book into the trashcan, dusting my hands off as I walked away to demonstrate my disdain for being told to write.
Then there was Mrs. Fischer, who was my 6th grade teacher.

At the beginning of the year, she handed us a green folder and said "this is your journal, once a week I will ask you to write in it, I will read what you say, and I may respond in some way.  If I respond, address my question in your next journal entry."

Now is the point I should mention that I have a disorder called Dyspraxia, which means basically not only do I have a hard time managing socially, but my handwriting is awful.  Back then, even more so.  There is way more to the disorder, but for now, we'll just leave it at this: I still have an old journal of mine from this time, and I'm telling you, the first 10 entries cannot be read, even by ME.
So, you can imagine the first couple of entries went just swimmingly.
I would write something, Ms. Fischer would have a question or two, next week, I would find I would have to respond to her question.
THIS PISSED ME OFF SO BADLY.

I'm thinking, "Ok lady, you gave us all of this time to write about what we want to, and now I've monopolized twenty of the thirty minutes you gave us to answer your stupid fucking question."
Yet every week, in her immaculate red handwriting, there she was challenging me.
"You went to a Marching Band competition, why were you there?"
"Why were you so upset with your mother?"
Finally, I was so tired of answering her questions, I wrote this journal entry.
I took the full amount of time to do it, too.
I wrote, and I made sure I answered every possible question the woman could ask me.
I thought "HAHAHA I'll show you lady!"
And I received a plain "you look nice today" on my journal entry. YES!  Score one for the students, woo hoo!
and I did that every week... then, it sunk in about halfway through the year.  "I like this.  I feel challenged for the first time in my life." and even though after writing my hands would ache for an hour or two afterward, (dyspraxia basically causes you to choke up on a pencil or pen really hard, to the point of white knuckles, it's not on purpose, as a dyspraxic, you really can't feel the pencil.  This in turn causes your hand to ache after a marathon writing session).  I understood the purpose of the entries.  I was playing into her hand but you know what?  I was ok with it.
I tried SO HARD.  I applied myself.  It was the first time I really had to try at school.

And so, that's how I discovered that I'm meant to be a writer.

Just another Friday

I could have so done without yesterday.  Seriously. 

So, the first step in this happy horse grenade, (yes, grenade.) is that my daughter was being picked up from my ex-husband at 8pm from my Mom.  Which, if you think about it, is kind of a win/win.  Mom gets out of the house, (as she is of an advanced age and therefore doesn't get out too often, but still likes to.) and Lily gets some much needed spoiling from Grandma.  But as with everything there is a catch.

Flashback to 2008.  My daughter accuses my husband of touching her in a sexual manner.  Queue Child Protective Services.  Queue 2 years of hell where my husband was not allowed into my home.  Then queue the part, two years later,  where they said “oops!” and as quickly as they appeared, disappeared.

It was finally investigated by the police a few months ago.  Back in 2008, I found a soaked Carhart suit in my daughters laundry bag then and kinda shrugged and washed it.  Then it occurred to me I didn't know the origin of said suit, then it occurred to me that it didn’t fit my husband, best friend, ex-husband or anyone else who had been in my house.  Then I asked anyway, same response.  “Not mine, but good luck with that doncha know!”

I did tell the original CPS caseworker this part, and she just poo poo’d it away.  She wanted to nail my husband for all he was worth, (and I mean that in the proverbial hammer VS nail, not the sexual connotation.  She was OLD, and I’m pretty sure after all she’s seen and heard, she’s an asexual being, and anyone who wasn't was subjected to her constant cry of “liar!”)

So, although it was quite a relief for things to be considered “solved”, (the police decided someone had broken into my home at a point when my daughter’s window didn't lock.)  It did create an undue amount of tension in my wee child raising village.  (or is it razing in this case?  I’m not too sure.)  One of the casualties was the ability to leave my husband home with my daughter alone.  Which means, when Lily is around I have to have all of the kids at either my inlaws house or my mom’s, or just leave Lily alone somewhere.  Since we are fairly certain that someone did break into our home, we obviously aren't too keen to allow that to happen again.  Adding to this, my brother in law who is the primary Nanny of my children, (he’s very agoraphobic and it actually gets him outside and doing things,) doesn't feel comfortable watching Lily without another female adult there.  My mother in law works overnights… are you picking up what I am throwing down?

Lemme spell it out.

1.       Lily is picked up in Lansing, I live in Ann Arbor.  It’s a 1 and ½ hour drive.  Add a bathroom break or a meal break, you've got yourself a cool 2 hour drive.  She is picked up at 8, getting her to Ann Arbor at about 10.

2.       My mother in law splits her sleep, a nap right after work, then bed between 8 and 9.

3.       Bro in law won’t watch Lily when there is no female around.

4.       My family is a sausage fest aside from my sister and my sister in law.  My sister lives in Northern Ireland in Holywood (not Hollywood), and my sister in law lives in Carol Spring, IL.  And of course, the Mom’s…

So basically, to fit all of these criteria, either Lily had to stay at my Mom’s, or Lily had to go home by herself.  Well, you know THAT ain't happening.

But, when all of this was decided, it was 10 pm, which meant the kids were already at my Mother in laws, and they normally would have been dropped off at home with their father around 8pm.  This meant hauling 3 sleepy children from my Mother in Laws, leaving Lily at her Grandma’s house.

Ok, so now we've set the scene.  I am coming home at 1am with two of my 3 little boys, and my husband, who’s looking ashen and grey.

I say “are you ok?” he says “I’m fine.”

I say “how are you feeling?”  He says “with my fingers” (which is how we know he is fine… He has amongst the worst senses of humor I have ever known.)

My brother texts, remember my brother?  This is the super awesome guy that I’m very close with even though he’s several years older than me.  He’s in Ann Arbor, which never happens, he’s done with a gig, which again never happens, he asks what I’m up to.  I give my hubby the puppy dog “please please puulllease can I go see my big brudder?  The boys are asleep and they won’t be any sort of trouble for you at all.  I promise I won’t be out late, puulleeaase???”

He says “Ok.”

I say “YAY!!!” in a very Kermit the frog sort of way, complete with the arm wiggle.

I dropped the kids and Paul off at home and went out with my brother for some serious giggle time at Denny’s.  (would have been Ram’s horn, but they don’t have any of those near my house.)

About an hour and a half later, I come back and Paul informs me that he’s thrown up 4 times in an hour.  He also has the Chronic Hiccups he’s had for the past week… now, I’m a little slow sometimes, but sometimes, just sometimes in a rare blink of the eye of the blue moon, I’m fucking brilliant.

So, brilliance struck.

Something said to me, “Kidney failure, he’s got signs of kidney failure, and all three of his meds can contribute to kidney failure.”

So, I googled the symptoms, and sure enough, first selection on “the google” says “Kidney failure.”  And my wee brain, (forgetting my eldest son had the stomach flu a week ago,) says OMGWTFBBQWEGONAO!

I call my brother who is now most the way back to Dearborn, where he lives.  I need someone to keep an eye on the two little boys so that I can rush their Dad to the ER.

And my brother turns around and comes back, it takes him a long time too; the roads were better going eastbound than they were westbound.  (yeah, I don’t get it either, but it’s true on that patch of road.)

So 3am, and here I am at U of M’s ER.

And they check us in, and I make clear that they NEED TO CHECK FOR KIDNEY FAILURE,  Cus kidney death=bad.  (I figured I needed to explain this to the interns who have had several years more medical training than I because… Yeah.  I've got nothing.)

And they test him, attach him to every machine imaginable that goes BING and BOOP and BUZZ BUZZ, and then they escort him to his room.  And he pukes a few more times, because you know, it just wasn't eventful enough to puke 8 times before going to the ER.

Oh, and those epilepsy meds, he had taken them sometime between puke 3 and 4, so they were of course, flushed down the toilet in a quite literal fashion.

So… Here we are, in the ER, me expecting Paul to go Clonic Tonic and fuck shit up.  He doesn't.  I’m amazed, but not so amazed that I feel comfortable.

I should also take the time to mention here I have an awful fear of needles and blood draws.  The lore goes that my Dad used to chase me around the house with a needle when I was 3, threatening to give me a “shot” if I didn’t eat my meat.  I am an avid meat eater to this day, but the minute you start talking injections or IVs, I turn as white as a sheet, throw up, pass out, and shake uncontrollably.  I don’t know if this is a story, or truth, but I will say it scares the willies out of me.

To put it another, MUCH EASIER way to understand, when given the choice between delivering my children in a hospital or at my house, without the help of medication or modern medical conveniences,  AFTER HAVING HAD THE HOSPITAL BIRTH AND UNDERSTANDING IT WASN'T THAT BAD, I not only chose to have 1 of my kids at home, but all 3 of my little boys; all because I DIDN'T WANT THE STUPID IV.

So you can just imagine how fucking thrilled I am to spend time in a hospital. 

And my husband keeps saying things like “I deserve this for not having taken care of you as well as I should have when you were sick.”

And I’m like… “Really?  Then why do I get to go through the absolute joy and pleasure of not only seeing you in pain and discomfort, but smelling your vomit and dirty sock feet, while seeing you in a hospital gown, in a place with a lot of noisy VERY SCARY looking equipment?  If all you did was disregard my needs, like you ALWAYS do, WHAT IN FUCK DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?”  I mean, this is, quite literally, my version of hell.  Some people think fire and brimstone, I think the hospital and people I love suffering.  That’s how you can tell I am a Mom.

Ok, so they get ready to do the IV.  I go out for a cigarette, I stay away 15 minutes.  No big.  Come back, Paul’s attempting to sleep.

I’m like, “cool” and I sit there for a while.

Another doc comes in and says something super important like “Give him 50cc’s of Anaprovaline STAT”  *drug name may or may not be stolen from Star Trek ;) yeah, I’m a geek, you totally know it is.

Which means, of course, they start fucking with his IV AGAIN. So I leave the room for another cigarette, I stay away a half an hour this time, making use of the computers to “OMGWTFBBQ” to all of my family and friends on facebook, who of course say the same 2 lame things, “OMG how awful, you are in my thoughts/prayers/good juju.” Or “*hugs*” which… everyone knows you can’t hug with atomic arms… or… facebook arms, because on facebook we are just a bunch of walking pokey fingers that go about and poke one another at inappropriate times.  Not that those things aren't appreciated or appropriate, they don't offer as much comfort as a real honest to goodness hug from someone dear to you.

I come back again, the doctor is seeing him, its 515.  The doctor starts asking my half asleep and still hiccupping-every-two-second-husband all kinds of medical questions, which, being as when he is in the hospital he is usually unconscious, I am asked to answer.

And I start to answer her and she shushes me and tells me she needs to hear it from the patient.

If you ever wanna piss someone off REALLY fast, especially a caregiver, that’s the way to do it.  So, my hair set on fire right there and I smoldered in the ash of my anger for about 15 minutes.  Then I leave really fast, run outside, have another cigarette, using my still smoldering head as a lighter.

Anyway, so I go back to his room, it’s 6am.  They are like “so we are giving him two bags of fluids in his IV, then we will send him home a much fuller and happier looking human being.”  And I’m like… KIDNEY FAILURE… and they’re all like “It’s not a toommmerr” Arnie style.  And I say “what’s your proof.” Because something in my head says you should just be THAT MUCH MORE ANNOYING.  And they said “Labs.”  Which, every scientist knows, even BAD scientists, that labs cannot be disproven easily, at least, if they are the correct tests.  And they were… so…

And I look at the bag. It has a #2 on it, he had already had one bag, I’m watching the bag, drip, drip drip…  one hour,  I listen to some tunes, I meditate, I meditate while listening to some tunes, I email my shift lead to give him a progress report, (because I have the illusion that all of the people I love and respect want to hear my life’s story, and the guy legitimately needs to know what’s going on in case I can’t make it to work.)  I see this damned thing, still dripping, only half gone.  It’s 7am, I have a red bull in my purse, I walk back out, smoke another cigarette, and sit on the wet fence.  I come in and chat with my Dad on one of the hospital run computers, telling him what’s going on.  My Dad, being a nurse, and a damned good one too,  gives me some suggestions.  Also asks if I’m taking care of myself and eating right.  Ask how the new job is going.  I decided to mention that 3 of my co-workers are on protein shakes to try to buff up.  He says they are Kidney stones waiting to happen to which I said “how did you know that’s what they call em?”

So I finally rip myself away from the computer at about 730, I get back, Paul is still asleep, curtain still drawn.  I’m listening through the curtain while some guy gives a nurse his dissertation on global warming and how exactly it effects Southeastern Lower Michigan’s climate.  After 20 minutes of that, I was super interested and listening, then he ran off to help a patient.

And finally at 830, the bag was empty, it took 3 times longer than the first bag.  And 9am, 9 fucking AM… I leave.

And my daughter texts, “are you coming for me?” and the Mama heartstrings go “awww sobsobsob my baby”

And I sigh, and I text back “yes my little girl, of course.”

So, I tell Paul he’s going home to sleep, the boys are going to his Mom’s, (who is, by the way already at my apartment to pick them up.)

Paul insists he MUST COME WITH ME TO MY MOTHERS.

He sleeps all the way there, he wakes up, goes to her house, lays on her floor and falls back asleep.

I drive him to his Mom’s, he sleeps there in the guest room, my daughter has an unusually spry and non teenagey moment and says “Mommy, the other boys are at Meijer with Uncle , can we go please???” to which, I reluctantly say “yes.” Even though I haven’t yet slept.

So, 1pm comes along, and I finally lay down for the night… setting the alarm for 2.  All of the sudden ALL of the kids decide that it’s time to make the most noise EVER.

All told, I sleep for a half an hour, only to be woken up by Captain Autistic himself, my oldest Son, having a fit that he can’t play video games.  Howling as though someone has mortally wounded him.  I turn off my alarm and arise, without one word, head to the computer to email my shift lead telling him that he needn't worry about coming in tonight, and I walk out the door.

Some days… Some days just that act alone is the greatest accomplishment.

Erection season

It's erection season here in the US.  Yeah, I said it.  I'm not making fun of Asians with a fake Asian accent, I'm not misspelling it, maybe you think I mean election, but I don't.

We are in all 50 states, posting and going on and on about our huge electoral boners.  Everyone is so proud of what they believe that they just have to show it.

In that, we are all saying "My political dick is bigger than yours." and it's every day.  And we are collectively sick of what the other side has to say about their dick, yet we can't stop talking about our own.

Now, I'm a liberal, I'm a proud ass liberal.  If I had a strap-on, it'd be bright fucking blue.  I have reasons for what I believe and what I don't.  This doesn't mean that I don't want to hear what you have to say but, I don't want to hear what you have to say if it doesn't match with my universe of discourse.  This is how I feel about it, outwardly.  I feel like it's my once in a 4 year lifetime, that I can speak my mind and have it be read and listened to.  I feel IMPORTANT.  And also, just as though it were a dick and I were a man, I don't want people insulting "the penis".  It's mine.  I grew it from scratch.

But inwardly, there's another story going on.  One that I have a hard time remembering.  One that everyone has a hard time remembering and I think deserves to be talked about, and needs to be shared.

Even if you have a dick right now, you shouldn't BE a dick about it.

Here's what I mean: It's easy to forget that the other side of the fence, it's easy to dismiss them and say they are stupid and say they don't know what they are saying, and x, y, and z reasons for what they believe and why it is wrong.  It's deceptively easy to dismiss others and their beliefs, no matter how fundamental they are to their personality, it's easy to dismiss others.  It's easy to make others into monsters that they aren't, it in fact, is incredibly easy to make enemies out of friends and relatives you've had for years, but let's come to reality a second.

Everyone take a deep breath.  DO it.  I'll wait.  Seriously, now.  Repeat after me.  Make these words your mantra for the next few weeks:

Even if someone doesn't believe what I do, they are not a demon.  They are not the Anti-Christ.  They are human beings, they make mistakes, they have good days, they have bad days.  They have certain life circumstances that have lead them to their beliefs.

No matter who is elected, what bills pass and fail, your life will not really fundamentally change.  There is no change.  There never will be any change that results from a political convention.  The body politic is merely a fancy popularity contest.

Once the election season is over, we will all go back to ignoring what happens in Washington DC, in Lansing, and around the nation.  This is merely the way of things.  You'll promise yourself that you'll care, but you won't, unless someone makes a statement to which you do not agree.

Let us remove from our vocabulary, "Wake up, ", they aren't sleeping.  They just do not agree with you.  This doesn't make them fundamentally wrong.  People in America come from all walks of life, and that is part of what makes America great.  We are all allowed and encouraged to state our opinions.



There are those who are brain washed to believe certain things from birth.  It's not that they don't know any better, but the unknown is frightening.  Opening one's mind can be a very scary experience, listening to the other side can also be frightening, especially if you are not secure in your beliefs, or if something they stand for would cause you and yours discomfort.  It's like, if you are secure in your sexuality, you can make jokes with your friends, pretending you are gay or straight or whatever.  It usually is a good laugh for everyone.  But everyone has an opinion and it is important to hear what they have to say.

Having said that, having an opinion does not give you the right to go onto someone's facebook and piss on their parade.  You can not agree with them, and that's ok, but going and conducting a comment war is wrong.  Let's think back to Kindergarten here.  What's the first rule you learn?  If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.  Even when you do something wrong in Kindergarten you don't hear the teacher yelling "You're stupid and your argument doesn't make sense."  They just ask you politely, "now are you really sure you mean it that way?"  And if you REALLY cannot stand someone's political affiliation?  Block their political posts, but don't sit and argue with them, remember you can change your clothes, but you can't change your penis unless you want to.  That's your own business!

Let's put it another, VERY easy to understand way, especially if you are a real life penis bearer.

Man A gets a scrotum piercing.

Man B does not.

Man A talks to Man B at length, (forgive the pun) about said scrotum ring, Man B does not want one because he is afraid of getting piercings.  No amount of talking or convincing is going to make Man B agree with Man A.  Man B is always going to think that Man A is either very stupid or very brave to do such a thing to himself.

See what I mean?

And even saying that, Man A understands, (hopefully) that scrotum piercings are not for everybody.  He can't force Man B to agree with him, hopefully if he's any sort of good friend, he'll let the subject drop..  Moreover, scrotum piercings do NOT look good on everyone.  But you wouldn't walk up to the guy at the urinal and say "Hey, your piercing looks like shit!" or if you did, you'd be very rude and most likely, you'd also be beaten furiously and within an inch of your life.

Your political views are just like a penis, not everybody wants to hear about them, in fact, there are only a few people in your life that actually give a shit about your political beliefs, or if and how your penis works.  If you must share how you feel, do so in such a way that it is easy for others to block, post to your own facebook walls, or to the wall of someone you know for a fact will agree.  If you see something on someone else's wall, just IGNORE it if you do not agree.  Their opinion isn't going to change!!!!  Then, for goodness sake VOTE IN NOVEMBER!  Doesn't matter who you are voting for, we will all still be in the same shitty leaking boat, and the guy you pissed off in October, may be the one bailing out the boat in January.  Most likely, however, they'll just be throwing more water into the sinking ship.

May we all live by Wil Wheaton's now famous words, "life is hard, don't be a dick."

The marble and the mirror

So, why would I think that things would be quiet forever?
I'm back in the same wee conundrum I was in 2 years ago... which would be fine except that I was kind of hoping we wouldn't have to go through it again.  I'm wondering if a move out of state may be the only way to quell these constant barrages into my quiet little home.
I feel... a bit more positive than I did about this last time, but it doesn't change the fact the whole fucking situation is annoying.

My daughter is in trouble, I can't help her and I feel like I'm running a big ol obstacle course every time I attempt to help.  At least someone is paying attention now.

I can't go into much detail, but if you consult me offline I can go into detail with you, if I trust you.

but first, a few truths.
In spite of amassing a shit ton of money, it seems we are again broke and broken.
in spite of every possible effort, Paul cannot land a job.
He has applied for SSI, but who knows if they'll accept it this time.
I'm overwhelming exhausted but can't sleep.
A few friends had intended on staying over here tonight, I didn't feel entirely comfortable with one of them, so didn't get a hold of him, the other is out somewhere and hasn't said if they are staying or not.
I need to stay up and wait for the dishwasher so that I can set bowls out for the kids tomorrow.
I need to get so much done in the coming weeks before nice weather hits and I no longer want to be locked up inside.
Trash needs to be taken out, dog needs to be fed and the crock pot needs a good ol scrubb-a-roo.
I will never be enough, no matter the sum of my parts, but I think I'm ok with that.
I'm frustrated with my recent lack of writing.  I need to write more, and drink more tea, and perhaps learn how to play Bridge.... but that's later.
I want to sing and play music, but I feel completely uninspired to do so.
I want someone to take care of me because right now I am all worked up and I can't focus the way I know I need to in order to take care of the needs of my family.
My family is utterly awesome, all of them, we may not always agree but as my friend put it the other day, "We'll sure as hell drink together."

Intricacy

The Celts believed that all things were intertwined; that life was based on pattern.

I believe this to be true.  Some can see the pattern as simple as this text on your screen; others have a hard time finding the path.

I’ve lost my path somewhere between the children, and schooling, and finally my transition to the work force, however… Every now and again, I am lead back to it.  Usually in the form of people I help. 

Not the people on the phone so much as the people I interact with on a daily basis, my co-workers and friends.

In the past 2 weeks, we’ve been dealt a devastating blow at our quiet little call center.  We’ve not had a death in several years, and then suddenly we’ve had 2 in two weeks.  One took their life, another was taken from us.  I didn’t know Ronny that well; he sat quietly near us, but didn’t really say much.  He was a kindly gentleman and no one realized he was suffering until it was too late. 

Stanley, however… I have known Stan for years.  He was very much a part of the fabric of our little corporate world.  A loud smart ass, with a wealth of knowledge and a big grin plastered on his face, we saw him on Monday.  Same old Stan, big grin, poking fun at co-workers, and emailing out helpful tips about how to do our jobs better.  On his way home, he was killed in a horrible crash… The ol bloke never saw it coming.  He didn’t even hit the brakes, we don’t know what happened but my best guess is that he had started a super early shift after working a late shift; I suspect he just fell asleep.  It makes me feel better that he probably didn’t suffer.

But… it’s been sad to come to work.  I’ve just found myself from time to time staring in the direction of the two empty desks, listening for voices that I’ll never hear again. 

That’s not the only change, of course…

I think I described it to my old confidant best: “but it seems like the world is more fluid around me than it has been previously.  And change is good, of course... but too much of it at once sends me to my old security blankets; even though I don't sleep with them every night or anything like that, I still have to make sure they are on the shelf in which I carefully folded them and put them away...”

Been seeing a lot more old friends the past few weeks, ones that have come to the forefront for me, the piano player, the movie maker, the banker, the murder mystery guys, people from Ren fest I didn’t think I’d see again for a while… it’s been odd to be so social.

It seems like everyone is suffering or undergoing some major life change.

Hear me out here; I don’t think the Mayans were entirely off… I think the world as we know it is ending.  That doesn’t mean we are all going to die or anything, but it does mean that perhaps the way we have always looked at things may be changing.

I’m just trying to find my way through the madness, back to my beautiful and curvy path.  The pattern is still there.

Life is pattern

Pattern is life.

Ahimsa

The winds of change and the wicked waltz

I had almost forgotten what a seizure meant to my family.
I started to take for granted that I didn't have to do everything.
Today wasn't a bad day, really... For me, anyway, not until I got home.
I heard from a dear friend whom I had not heard anything from in ages, and the day didn't really drag on.  I couldn't find my groove as far as the telephone, but you know, some days are like that.
Some days are better than others.
It was when my half exhausted husband pulls up in our SUV I know I've got problems.

First, he really shouldn't be driving, we all get that.  I feel guilty that he does.  Never with the children in the car, always through town,  but still, it does not escape me that he should not be driving.  He slept well past noon today and never managed to do any of the tasks that which he was assigned, and for which the car was left home today.

I honestly feel like I'm drowning, back in the same spot.  Things were really improving, he was doing well, the children were thriving, and now, back to square one.
I'll be doing this for the rest of my days.
I'm going to have to learn to survive on less sleep, I'm going to have to meditate more so that I can manage on less sleep to not chew someone's head off.  I'm going to have to admit to myself that I am working 3 very full time jobs, one of which I am paid for monetarily, and the rest in Karma; knowing I'm doing the right thing.

The money is again super tight.  We get a lot of help from relatives.  He doesn't have the energy to cook much of the time anymore, so a lot of fast food is ordered, and that of course is more money...

It was so nice to get out the other night and see people who care about me.  I don't know when I'm going to get a chance to go out again.  I want to go out and see people that care about me and knew me before this shit started.  But I want to have my cake and eat it too; I want all my stuff to get done at home.
I feel like my energy level is incredibly low, I feel weak and more sickly than a person of my age should feel.

I have extra help right now, which is awesome.  I'd be lost without my friend who's been staying with me.  It's just nice to have another sane-ish voice around.

Anyway, I'm pretty exhausted, the baby is awake, I think I'm going to take him to my bed and turn in.

You should have been there

As I walked into the dive bar in the city that I used to haunt, I saw old familiar faces.
Friends from then,
Friends from now...
You should have been among them.

Every empty spot, every empty chair I looked at, I saw you for a brief glimpse.  I saw you laughing, and smiling, and happy.
I saw you sitting with your blond hair and blue eyes shining.
And I realized, you should have been there.

Every cigarette break, I saw you there, looking with disdain, wondering why perfectly good people would throw their lives away due to the tobacco.

You should have been there.

I saw you frown slightly as we drank to remember, and forget simultaneously.  I saw your concerned frown as every friend you had in life left the bar.  I saw you thinking, wondering if they would get home safely.

I saw you check the cell phone you never likely had, as you got texts from them; saying they had gotten home safely.  I saw your worried frown change to that beautiful smile, so innocent; pure joy.

You should have made that text when you got to your destination.
You should have been there.

You should have been mingling with your old friends, sharing a drink, a laugh, a smile...

I saw you hug every single one of us goodbye.  I saw you wish us well.
or I should have.
but you weren't there.

I wonder why it was you, why did it HAVE to be you, of anyone I ever knew in life...
Because, Anna... You were an angel.  You stepped down for a little while to grace us with your smile and remind us how very good life is, how every breath can be joyous, how every meal can be a chance to remind yourself how you live.

I saw you meet the spouses of your friends and loved ones, I saw you greet each of them with the same raw enthusiasm that you greeted every day with.

I saw you hold the hands of those who struggled, and continue to struggle.

You should have been there.

And I was reminded tonight of my mortality, what I almost lost, what my friends almost lost.  We could have been you.  As I sat witness to the pain a girl I used to call my very best friend.  The pain I did not know about.  How every word she uttered was a silent cry for help, how in her solitude she wanted others; others who could help her, and tell her what to do.  How, in her drunken loop she explored again and again pain that was still fresh in her mind.

She knows what to do.  You're guiding her but, you should have been there.  In the flesh, to comfort and tell it's going to be ok.  Go buy that house, stand on your own two feet and be PROUD of who you are and all that you've accomplished.

We are all older now, but in our minds, you are still the same.
You are the beautiful Anna Bonde, the girl every gal secretly wanted to be.  The talented artist, the friend, the voice of reason when we were all slowly going crazy in our teen angst.
And you weren't there.  Because someone had a few too many, then decided to try to drive somewhere.

I hate what he did.  But I will forgive him, for that's what I somehow know that you'd want.
It doesn't mask the pain which is very real to us all.
You are still the glue that holds us together.
The people who haven't seen each other in 15 years, and those who spoke yesterday.

I turned white as a sheet when a man I had a crush on 17 years ago spoke of a surgery he went through.  I nearly fainted, then laughed at myself.  I thought back so a class where we had to watch surgery on a larynx, and I had to leave the room.  I laid on the floor in F hall, trying not to pass out.

You weren't there for that one, but I think you would have been the one to come check on me when I didn't return after a few minutes.

Tomorrow, I will return to my job, answering calls of those in misery, (whether it be a misery of their own creation, or a very real misery playing out like a drama on the screen of their lives,) and I may get angry, I may feel like their complaints are annoying, or overly dramatic, or just plain stupid... but you know what?  I'll  throw on that face of optimism that you always had ready for anyone who needed it, and I will take a deep breath, and then I will do my best impression of the happy girl I knew in high school.

The one that should have been there.
And I'll look up and smile at you, and hope that you are smiling down on me.

JR high

So, today was pretty awful.  First, I'm sure I've already mentioned the seizure Paul had, and how when I got home my worst nightmare had come real; EMS were dragging my husband from the home, children all wondered what was going on.  They at least waited for me before they left the home.

Before that, one of my daughters friends said she was going to kill herself, my daughter texts me in a panic, asking what to do. So then I get a hold of the kids parents, come to find out it's something she threatens every now and again.  The point I'm making, I've had far too much drama today.

While I waited in the ER, I sat playing words with friends on my phone, where I reconnected a bit with an old friend.  There's unfinished business, and things I haven't said to him that I had meant to... and as I start to realize I wanted to say these things; bam!  the phone runs out of frakkin batteries.

I went to school with Doug for many years.  Through middle and high school, he followed me, (or did I follow him?) to CAPA, where he went on to be a huge success in the program.  After that, I'm a little fuzzy on what happened to him, but he ended up working on cruise ships as a performer.  Yeah, laugh it up all you want, but I don't see you making a living by dancing!

I always was fond of saying in school that Doug had saved my life.  I still to this day say it's true.
maybe not in the most literal sense, but certainly as far as that time in my life, I needed someone who had confidence in me, who believed in me, who saw me as a beautiful young lady, because damnit, I didn't see it myself.

He had a rough home life, but I'm not going to go into that.  Let's just say he ended up staying at my place a lot in the earlier days.

Over time, we grew apart as people do.  Some argument which was blown out of proportion by others who heard about it.
I just know I was heartbroken, then suddenly one night, I cried all the tears I could muster, then a dark cloud lifted, and I just felt really bad for him and his life, everything that had happened.
He wrote to me on a bank deposit slips while he was down in Florida and mailed them in an ATM envelope.
I kept that letter until I moved from my Mother's home. It always made me giggle.

I was just... so sad and devastated when he left my life, but now... I understand it.

It was a few months after we started high school when Doug spoke to me again after not speaking to me that whole summer.
We were at homecoming, I was there with my boyfriend of the time.
Doug walked by and he said "I didn't want to say anything, but I had to: you just look beautiful."
and then, everything was ok.

You see, something developed from that, though, an understanding, a tolerance, a willingness to forgive and forget.
My usual MO in a friendship or relationship is that I'm in a person's life for a while, something happens, and I  allow myself to fade into the background, knowing full well that I'll be like a reoccurring habit and that somehow, I'll reappear into their lives when I am needed, that I only need wait in the background, that they'll get to me eventually.

It may sounds like it sucks, but really it's the only thing that's kept me sane these long years.  My Dad did some pretty unforgivable things, things the rest of my family hasn't really fully forgiven him for.  I have.  Because, what ultimately matters is the here and the now.  And only by living with reverence to the past, but living IN the here and now can we really be fully alive.
Through all my struggles, I think of my old friends, those who I've grown so very fond and attached to.  I think of their kind words, and then I pick myself up by my bootstraps and keep going.
There's Doug and his laugh and smile, Kristine, Liz and Kitty and our inside jokes, Eugene always knowing how to make me laugh when I feel really badly, Meg always being slightly more crazy than I am, and for loving me regardless of how I feel, Jenni with her awesome advice, Jake for the weird advice and even weirder poems, Garon with movies, tag, dreams and diet coke at midnight...
These people who were and are the family I choose...
And of course, the family I HAVE now.  My husband, kids, inlaws... The family I inherited.
and I mean nothing against my family, I love them without limit, but this isn't about them,

This is about these folks that are the ones that made things tolerable when my family wasn't available for consultation...
and if you weren't mentioned, that doesn't mean I don't think of you and thank my stars every day for your being here.  Because I do.  Everyone I encounter on a day to day basis.
I love you all so much more than you'll ever know, and I know everyone is always going through shit, the only thing I can say is, keep going.

I've been battered and beaten, emotionally and physically dragged well past my limits, and I keep doing it every day, but its your kind words and smiles that keep me going.
and, if I haven't reached out and touched your life in some way, some way that has made your life better, keep waiting.  I'm getting to it.  I'm just busy... ya know, with everyone and everything else.

I love you all, each and every one of you, without judgement, fear or prejudice.
I hope you all find happiness, and I hope most of all, you all find peace. <3

Flicker then fade

So, the month started out well, a short story a day, then time got away with me.  So far I have 5 short stories, 2 of which are long enough to enter into the contest I was thinking on entering.  Going to slow it down so that I don't flicker and fade away.

New project

I'm doing a short story a day for March.  So far, 4 completed.  Will post when I'm able!

Day zero

“I don't wish to be everything to everyone, but I would like to be something to someone.” - Javan
"I've got everything I want, but still I want more." Ani Difranco

2/22/11 was one day for the record books.  Although I cannot say exactly what happened for the sanctity of others, I was pretty bad ass that day.

I saved someone's life.  Not kidding.  I assure you the circumstances were interesting, the kind of stuff that good suspense is made of; sudden logging out of phones at work, driving 90 on the highway with no seat belt, hitting a patch of ice, nearly skidding out, going to a seemingly empty house, police being called...

It was exciting; the kind of excitement I hope to never repeat.

Today was day zero.  Today, was the year anniversary of those events which made a friendship more concrete, created challenges and the day that everything wasn't quite the same, a really sad time that ended up much happier than it could of.

Although I felt helpless, I also did enough.  It all started out with an email of a concerned coworker.
"I don't know what's up, our friend just isn't acting right." he said
He sent me the letter.  He was right.  It was textbook.
I didn't even think.  I immediately logged out of my phone, I told my boss "I'll be back later, I have to take care of this now." and I didn't look back.  I didn't even tell my co-worker that I was leaving.  I just asked where he thought our friend might be.  Then I drove 90 on M14...  but luckily I didn't completely spin out, it could have been so bad; I could feel the top half of the car swaying.
I prayed.
"God, if you exist, please." I said "Spare my friend.  It's a simple request, my friend has so much to do with their life.  I don't ask for much, but please, just spare my friend.  I will not doubt your existence again, and will forever be your faithful servant.  Now, we'll discuss later which one of you buggers is up there pulling the strings, but for now, please leave logistics out of this and save my friend."

I drove to their house, they had not parked the car where they normally did.  I thought they were not home.
So I went to a couple of the places my co worker mentioned...  No car.  No car=no friend.
I arrived home about a half an hour after leaving work.
I called the police, they asked why I was looking.
I simply quoted the message given to me by my coworker.
They went looking.
I went looking again, then called the police after the second time through the gardens.
They found my friend.  They would only tell me that they were in the ER, and they were safe.
That was at my friend's request.  I went looking around the ER.  I did not see my friend, I walked back out.

They WERE at home.
Had I gone in, I would have found my friend.
I don't handle the sight of blood very well.
My friend had nearly bled out.
I did the right thing.

Today was Day Zero.

I bought my friend flowers and taco bell.  We sat in my living room talking about the day's events.
Every day I thank the universe for giving them another shot at living.  I'd be lost without them.


Think you can't handle it?  Think you might remove yourself from the equation?  Know someone who's thinking about it, talking about being "brave"?  Be a REAL hero, PREVENT ANOTHER DAY ZERO.  Living life with scars it still living.  Remove the stigma.  Speak out and save the day.

http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/
 1-800-273-TALK

The talk and the walk

Something happened a few weeks ago, something I haven't really felt I should discuss... but I think I need to just to wrap my brain around it.

It starts with a brand old cell phone.
I had upgraded my cell phone in December with the intention of giving my daughter the old one I was upgrading from.  It isn't much, but it does have android and bunches of geek toys for my budding geek.  She's 12, so with appropriate supervision I don't feel this phone will be any trouble for her.
I may have been wrong, in hindsight.
She told me as we were switching phones that she needed to make sure to delete her text messages from the old phone.  Now, the few times I have upgraded to a new phone, I remembered my old phone forgetting all of my info, whether my memory was wrong or what, I'll never know.
The old phone's message history did not erase, and after about the 20th time of her telling me she really needed to erase her texts, even after I had assured her it wasn't a problem... I decided I better find out what was in there that she was so intent on deleting.

Now Lily, she is my oldest, she's also my only daughter.  I feel sometimes I live a bit to vicariously through her, she's like my clone, looks just like me, and worst yet, acts just like me.
So, I was expecting the kind of messages I used to write with a pen and paper to my friends in school.. and there were some of those.
there were also racy pictures, not too bad, but enough to raise my eyebrow.
there was also cyber sex type texting, not at ALL something I felt she should have been even thinking about.

So, she texted with the boy... she said that she loved him and wanted to spend more time with him.  His number came in from Florida.
He talked of getting his licence.
He texted pictures of the car he wants to get.
and he texted how he wanted to do it to my little girl...
This little boy is lucky I do not have his junk in hand to feed it to him.
Also, in a crazy effort to try to get rid of this boy, Lily started texting him pictures where she made herself up to look like she had a black eye.  (I had wondered why she wanted black eyeliner and black eyeshadow, but meh...) and texts that she had been chained to a pole all night one night.  This boy child was appropriately concerned.
So, I blocked him using google voice, which is something you can bind to a cell phone's telephone number.
But I somehow suspect it didn't end there.  That was almost 3 weeks ago.
I get this email from my ex this week, Lily has requested to go to a theme park in Florida, and he graciously accepted her request.  They are going on one of her school breaks...
Why does this seem to be like a REALLY bad idea?
My ex says she'll never be alone... but did he ever consider that she doesn't want to be kept?
I tried to explain this to him, but he says I am too worried, that he'll be able to keep her safe...  I have no reason to believe otherwise... but seriously...  The cell phone's area code comes from the same area as the theme park they are going to...
I wish I could just turn my brain off.

Press "#1" for progress

The Living Room is almost clean, kids room is as clean as a kid's room gets; when you let the kids do the cleaning.

Even the husband chipped in.  I ran over to grab my friend and my carpet cleaner, my friend had a few errands so we ran them, and I got this frantic call from my husband, who had obviously been crying...
"Are you coming home or are you just leaving us here?" he said when he called.

"I'm in the driveway." I say

"Google said you're in Dearborn..."

"I can assure you," I said almost laughing "that I haven't been, nor will I be in Dearborn today, I'm in the drive now.  I'll be in within a few minutes."

And I came in, Paul was in the bathroom, the kids were playing games in the living room.

And he gave me a big hug and said that he missed me.

I was gone an hour.

Better today

I just wanted to let concerned parties know that everything is improving, for now.  I remain cautiously optimistic.

Rearing it's ugly head

So, a few weeks ago, my kids got a hold of my computer, and I have literally no fucking clue what they did to it.
All I know is one minute, it was working fine, screen on, no rainbow streaks, next, rainbow streaks and making like the video card was about to die.  So, I pounded on the top of the machine, and voila, magic, working computer again.  Having said that, occasionally the video card of doom and destruction comes back to misbehave and otherwise cause trouble.
My loyal readers all know that I am contemplating a divorce, and rather you are pro or con, I just need to write this out and allow myself time to process what I'm thinking about.  This will be awkward, because my husband is one of the 2 folks who subscribe to my blog.
Now does he actually read it, no, but he does subscribe... and I guess that's where the problems begin.

Paul and I have a relationship based on friendship.  That friendship is based on a couple of college pals who decided to hook up sometime after my separation from my ex, basically on a dare.  I say dare because people started spreading rumors well before Paul and I started sleeping together that we WERE sleeping together.  Now... if you figure everyone is already talking about it, you don't very well have and excuse to not follow through with it.  In my mind, I was going to lose custody of my child due to this rumor any how, I figured, meh.

In the time that Paul and I started living together, we got quite fond of one another.  We bought rats, settled down and occasionally took road trips to visit other friends in far off cities.
And he watched me go crazy for a bit after my ex and I finally divorced, after the abuse and didn't really bat an eyelash about any of it.

Every night, we'd sit down at about 9, I'd write my novel, and he'd sit and read as I wrote it.
and we'd have tea.  About midnight we'd roll off to bed in our separate rooms, or we would go over to White castle and grab some sliders before playing some video games.  We'd roll out of bed about 230p and head to our job at the student newspaper.  Sometimes we'd have to be up earlier to conduct interviews, or other things you do to prepare articles, but it wasn't terribly common.

I had decided to attempt to transfer to Northwestern.  But I just chickened out.

Then things got serious, but things were still good.  I have happy memories of waking up each day and having a new adventure with my best pal.
When he proposed to me, I wasn't shocked.  I was happy, I said yes.
We started to plan our wedding, then lo and behold I ended up pregnant.  Now, we had been trying to conceive, but figured we had a poor shot at it due to the meds Paul was on.
we kind of had a a shot gun wedding of sorts a few weeks before Ev was born, just to insure he could be covered by the insurance.

And things were still good, for a while.
Round about 07 is when things started to turn south.
I hit a bout of depression head on while pregnant with Dan.  Not getting out of bed for days at a time, having a homeless person shacked up in one of our rooms...  Sciatica so bad that I could not walk, not coping with anything.  Everyone kept saying "that baby is coming early." but just like Dan, not wanting to break the rules or upset anyone, he was right on time.  I was devastated Dan missed Christmas in 06, I remember crying a lot about it.  Meanwhile Paul was working overtime and stressed, and simply could not be made available.  He started getting migraines which we later found out were toothaches, we spent much time in the ER.  But, no seizures.
We managed to get the homeless lady to move, we hoped it was a nice place for her, but still... you know, family always comes first in these matters.
I had to beg Paul to come home the day of labor.  One of his co-workers, (and a friend of our family) said he practically had to drag him out of the store.
He got home, and he and I waited... and finally at about 3 in the morning on 1/6/07, there was Dan.  The midwife had a migraine that night, and Dan was a very modest boy, so for the first several minutes of his life, he was Kathleen.  Poor guy...

Paul stayed home from work the entire week to take care of the new member of the family; and promptly spend 90% of his time on hockey forums, even during midwife visits.  The midwives tried to engage him in conversation, but to no avail, he only wanted to type and retype the stats which were so familiar from his childhood.  At first, I was somewhat patient, I didn't like it, but I dealt with it.
Then, more and more of his time was spent there. He and I had a tradition then of sitting and playing world of warcraft together.  That was the only thing I could get him to quit the forums for.  And it was fun, and things were still somewhat ok, although I was admittedly annoyed.

Then, we moved from one place to another.  This was mid 07.  Paul at the same time moved to a new position at a different store.  I begged and pleaded with him not to take the position, but as his friends at work told me, he was forced into the position.
Then came the seizures.  2 in 2 weeks, unheard of for the past several years of Paul's life.  We took him to the ER, they put him on a drug, Keppra which caused him to be moodier than a 12 year old in puberty.
One minute, fine, next, psychotic rage.  Also, it was making his seizures worse.

And I begged his doc to take him off of the drug, she insisted this was the right tool for the job.  I thought she was the wrong tool for the job, but, the apathy began to kick in, and Paul showed no real interest in getting a new doctor.
Once he was off Keppra, the mood swings continued and got less and less severe, but still exist to this day.  He did not have these kind of severe mood swings to my knowledge before this drug was introduced, but his parents tell me at one point he was in psych ER, but for another much worse issue where he was hitting people.  He never hit anyone here... his brother, sure, but no one here, and my wall... yes, the wall...

So over this time he's become more and more apathetic in regard to his condition and his life.  The CPS case didn't really change that, but it did give me time away, and time for absence to make my heart grow fonder... or fungus... who knows.
At first, our days apart were spent on Yahoo talking to one another, then as time went on, he was on less and less... and I'd check the hockey forums and his activity on those forums became higher and higher.  To Paul's credit, he was severely fucked up at this point, and could hardly remember his name half of the time.  But he stopped logging into yahoo altogether, and there were entire weeks where I did not hear anything out of him because of our opposing schedules.

Then came the OMGWTF Surprise pregnancy....
Yeah.
We had sex maybe 2 or 3 times during this period, and somehow my stupid ass body decides, woo, this is a great time to get my dumb ass pregnant.  Fuck you, uterus, fuck you hard.
Paul and I are always very careful about sex, this is why up until that point we only had 2 kids, if we weren't we'd probably be in double digits by now.

Paul was able to be present for the birth, but he had to call his manager, who nearly had an aneurysm when Paul called off.  I was about ready to walk my crowning ass on over there and kick someone.  HARD, in the nuts, with a dull chainsaw.  This was right after my midwives had managed to calm me down enough to start concentrating on labor, they were mad this guy had nearly set us back another half an hour...
They were tired, had been here all night...

The first few weeks of caring for a newborn without a Daddy in the house were... hard.  excruciatingly hard. When Daddy could not be reached on Yahoo at all anymore... that became a real issue.  So, I tried to get him on diablo 2... which we both still had, but nada.  We met up on there once.
Then finally, Daddy was allowed to come home for real, 2 years after the whole ugly business started.
And things were okish for a while.  We didn't kill each other.
Then Paul lost his job, and he was unable to function.... and I gave him time, and more time... and the house got dirtier.  Right now, my house looks like a tornado came through it.  The dishes are done, but only after I went into a Hulk induced dish doing session, which I left in the middle of, Paul picked up where I left off but...
I'm calm.  But lost... I've lost my best friend... to depression?  To keppra?  Seizures?

I don't know, but he's not here anymore... and I just don't know if I can handle the way things are.
I do everything, and the things I don't do, detailed instructions must be left.  Although his wit is here, his intelligence is lacking, the banter we once enjoyed is gone.

Maybe it is I who has changed?  Maybe I just grew up...

Two songs that I've had on repeat all day:

Nobody loves you like me, Lyrics, Jonathan Coulton

Nobody loves you like me, video

Still fighting it, Ben Folds lyric video

The winter of our discontent

So, I took a break from writing.  A long one...
Don't get me wrong, I am still writing at work, just the usual "this stuff is broken, and I fixed it this way." but nothing significant.
The stresses of life in general have gotten to me.
Aside from the depression of Paul's that has been constant for almost a year now, I've found myself battling my own, and in some cases actually allowing the depression to continue.
I've taken up smoking and a nocturnal life style which is counterproductive when considering that my husband is also on a nocturnal schedule and my kids are decidedly diurnal.
Also, I have a huge case of writer's block in regard to anything even pseudo productive.
So, my novels sit undone, or in a completed but not edited state.

Meanwhile, I've been doing some editing on a friend's work.  (which can be purchased at the following link:Demonic and Other Tales: The Short Fiction of Garon Cockrell

So yes, the children...

Tabbers has been having Febrile seizures, which for those who do not know are seizures brought on by spiking fever.  He has had one that I know of for sure, and another which I only suspect as I was not present for the seizure itself, just the after effects.  In a toddler, the "post-ictal state is a screaming fit a half an hour long as the child becomes again re acclimated to the world.  When Paul has these, he's simply non verbal, but wildly wide eyed. The best way to describe this state to those who do not know is this: Imagine you have landed on a strange planet where everything is completely different than your frame of reference.  The language is different, social queues are different, the smells, sounds and most of all the people are different.  To us, everything is the same, to the person who had the seizure, it's like Mars but the B movie sci fi Mars we remember from the 50s.
So yes, a toddler is going to scream bloody murder because he doesn't understand.

Dan, (who is the next oldest child) just turned five and decided to tell me on the way back from his yearly physical that he wants to be a sister, and not a brother, as he put it.  Now, I had just read this article in the Daily Mail about twin boys; one of which becomes a girl due to hormone blocking at the age of 10.
I want my little Dan to be happy, and I like to think I'm as open minded as one can get, but the whole thought of losing my little boy...  It frightens me.  As much as I bitch about the sausage fest and a half that my house has become, I just don't think I could deal with more than one girl. Obviously, not making any rash decisions about it; I think every child idly wishes they could be the opposite sex at some point in their life.
I thought back to my pregnancy with Dan, and how I was a hormonal wreck and that I was absolutely sure that he was going to be a girl. Even for the first hour of his life, we thought he was female, (the midwife had an awful migraine and all of us, being a bit distracted, didn't notice he was holding his legs together as though his life depended on it.)  In fact, we called him Kathleen for the first hour of his life, and had to call my mother in law frantically to explain where we went wrong.  (let me tell you, that woman is one of the few in life who NEEDS call waiting, especially if there's a new baby involved!!)  So, I've been mulling that over.  I remember Evan going through a similar phase at 5, however.  So, again, just a "what do I make of this and where do I stand." sort of hypothetical question.  I must mention ethics and I are not... how to say... Friends.


Evan was diagnosed with Aspberger's disorder, and the U of M never got around to letting me know due to a computer error, (not a common one, but common enough that when the Doctor received my call 10 months after testing had been completed, the receptionist informed her this does happen.
They suggested getting Evan into play groups for other children like himself, and I of course considered it.  However, Paul has the same disorder, was never in a playgroup and had to learn the hard way.  I think he ended up turning out better for it.  To some folks, Aspie's do not seem so strange.  So, I'm waiting and seeing about that one, too.

Lily is still the pinnacle of popularity at her school, or so she tells me.  She was on the swim team, where they completed the season with a win.  She was very committed to doing well on the swim team, she wasn't drinking pop and she was eating a healthy diet, she even managed to drop a few pounds, (she's not heavy to begin with!)  She can't seem to go through a week without some sort of world collapsing drama; however being twelve, the world IS a world collapsing drama.  I remember 12 well; I hated every minute of it.  I was a stand out, and everyone knew it.  Lily is either fibbing so that I do not worry, or a complete polar opposite of myself and her Father, (her father is my ex, NOT Paul.)  Lily's Father was always awkward in school as well.  So, I must ask in earnest: WHO IS THIS KID AND WHAT DID SHE DO WITH MY DAUGHTER?
Well, I've already been up an hour later than I intended to be.  Hopefully, if all goes well I'll manage to get some more written next week around this time,  If I don't see you until then, be well and have a good week.