As everyone can see, I've yet again done some major revamping of the blog. I'm still not all that satisfied with the look; the red background with black accents is classy-looking (and as it's a combination of my two favorite colors, it's aesthetically appealing to me, personally), but... I sort of miss the "tight" look of the old black background with the cityscape header. I really, really dislike the header now, but I don't really have much time to create a new one. Once I manage to get some more time (yeah, right), I may fuss with it again.
In the meantime, you'll have to take what you get. :p At least it looks somewhat festive for the holidays. I guess that's what I was trying to get at, but I think red and green as a combination blows chunks, myself.
I'm feeling better now that Thanksgiving is over and done with. I had Greg and my mother over; she actually behaved herself for a rare switch. My mother likes Greg (well, as much as she can like any man, I suppose); this has proven to be an extremely rare thing. She's never liked anyone I've dated, and unfortunately that dislike has seeped into my relationships in one form or another. I'm still convinced that she's angry and bitter over my father's betrayal all those years ago - which isn't my fault, but somehow I and my brother paid the price for that anyway. But, anyway.... the feast was a success, at least in my view it was; so that can't be a bad thing. Since Greg has to work a whole lot right now (the curse of the holidays, sigh), I'm spending my weekend just catching up on things; basic chores, putting up decorations (I know, since when did I decorate for the holidays???), listening to music, doing schoolwork, etc.
School is going fine, I guess. I'm not all that convinced that the instructor teaching the public policy course actually knows anything of what he's doing, though. But I have to try and get through it, as it's of course a required class. The film course is as I'd expected, a lot of fun, and I've been seeing some really good black-and-whites as of late. "Strangers on a Train" was the last one - Hitchcock, of course - man, was that Robert Walker character a creepy one or what? Left impressions on me that'll last for weeks.
The job front is as always; nerve-plucking, irritating, lazy-assed coworkers that can't get shit right. In other words, as usual. But I did apply for a project specialist job with the same agency, and I made the referral list twice - which means two upcoming interviews. God, I'm nervous. I haven't had to do one of these in over 4 years, and I've never been good with interviewing; but, shit, I did the drug lab interview at the height of my depression and I managed to get that, so I suppose that I shouldn't worry so much. In any case, I'm waiting on a call from the selecting officials, so we'll see what happens. As always, more shall follow.
I'm making (as of now) fluid plans to maybe buy a new car; Greg promised to teach me how to drive and get this bullshit with the MVA sorted out. I really think they fucked up down there; okay, I'm half-blind, but I know damn well I can see well enough to drive, so I'm going to try yet again and not go through the Medical Advisory Board, not yet. I hope I won't need to, but we'll see. I'll probably do this in March or so, if I do it. Still pondering things. Despite my woeful financial state, my credit is actually excellent (over 700) - now I just have to keep it this way.
Contemplating cancelling therapy for good. I find that I need it less and less, and when I do go down there, I find that I just don't have that much to talk about anymore. I just want to make sure that I don't need it because I'm healthy enough to go on without it, not because Greg's here and seems to be my salvation in everything. That's exactly what I don't want to happen - Greg is a beautiful addition to my life. But not "my life"; as I've said before. Right now, things are going well. We've celebrated six months together as of yesterday, and while it's not the wild limerance of the early days, it's comfortable and happy and we're establishing routines, getting to know one another well, spending time together. It's proving to last beyond the initial excitement; and isn't that what everyone wants out of a relationship?
I've had a great deal to be thankful for this past Thanksgiving, and I'm incredibly grateful for all I do have. I'm not very religious, admittedly, but I do think that blessings have finally come my way. I'm determined to enjoy them, to not feel guilty for enjoying them, and to make the most of what I have and what I'll continue to receive.
Hey.... I think I've finally grown up. :)
Anyhow, I've rambled on long enough, so I'll conclude here. I don't get a lot of chances to write anymore, and even when I do, I find that I have little to really say that's different. Perhaps I'll start doing the old "memes" again, or find something to expound upon that'll be interesting. I'm really glad that it's not a bunch of complaining anymore. I'm glad I'm not that person anymore.
I'm healthy, happy, loved, and fulfilled. What more can one ask from life?
Ciao for now. :p
Showing posts with label mother. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mother. Show all posts
26 November 2011
08 May 2011
A thought about Mother's Day.
Let me preface this post with a simple fact: my mother and I have never gotten along, nor do we get along now if we spend more than say 3 hours at a time together. I already know that if I ever have to live with her again (whether it's because of my having to take care of her, which isn't a far possibility, unfortunately or otherwise), my life would become utter misery. So, before, I'm accused of being an ungrateful brat (which has happened in the past) - try to remember that this is the woman that contributed to my abusive upbringing, even if it was caused by acts of omission.
I've done things over the last few years that have defied description, considering how things have been - I've bought her cruises, I've taken care of her basic needs such as shopping, medical situations, made sure that she's comfortable. People keep asking me why. "Why do you do these things? She's been absolutely horrible to you. Why do you keep sacrificing yourself on her altar?"
Because she's my mother. What can I say? If it hadn't been for her, I wouldn't be here.
I won't mention the fact that I've bemoaned my own existence for a good portion of my life. That's immaterial to the gist of what I'm saying.
No matter what bad shit she's done over the years, or how many mistakes she's made, or how much I wish things could have been different for me - she's my mother. It would go against my personal grain for me NOT to take care of her or do for her. Maybe that makes me a sucker, I don't know. Maybe I'm a masochist. But it's what I am, and I'd be denying an essential part of myself if I don't extend myself to help her out.
It's not about love for my parent. It's about being who I am. It's about love for myself. If that makes sense.
So, happy Mother's Day, for those of you who are mothers, for those of you soon to be mothers, for those of you who wish you were mothers. This holiday, for me, isn't only about love for Mom... but for me.
Peace.
I've done things over the last few years that have defied description, considering how things have been - I've bought her cruises, I've taken care of her basic needs such as shopping, medical situations, made sure that she's comfortable. People keep asking me why. "Why do you do these things? She's been absolutely horrible to you. Why do you keep sacrificing yourself on her altar?"
Because she's my mother. What can I say? If it hadn't been for her, I wouldn't be here.
I won't mention the fact that I've bemoaned my own existence for a good portion of my life. That's immaterial to the gist of what I'm saying.
No matter what bad shit she's done over the years, or how many mistakes she's made, or how much I wish things could have been different for me - she's my mother. It would go against my personal grain for me NOT to take care of her or do for her. Maybe that makes me a sucker, I don't know. Maybe I'm a masochist. But it's what I am, and I'd be denying an essential part of myself if I don't extend myself to help her out.
It's not about love for my parent. It's about being who I am. It's about love for myself. If that makes sense.
So, happy Mother's Day, for those of you who are mothers, for those of you soon to be mothers, for those of you who wish you were mothers. This holiday, for me, isn't only about love for Mom... but for me.
Peace.
17 April 2011
Quiet, unproductive, but relaxing weekend.
Other than getting caught in the massive rainstorm we had on Saturday, it's been rather uneventful around here at casa Ray, which is okay by me. I finally got around to finishing my taxes, though it'll be weeks before I get the money back. Unfortunately, a rather severe miscalculation has rendered my refund about a thousand dollars less than expected. It doesn't bother me, but my mother insisted (and I do mean insisted) that I cancel her cruise. Which I did. Reluctantly. But she's already told me that she'd rather have a new refrigerator, a new air conditioner, an electric fireplace, etc. And since she'd been on that particular cruise before, I tend to believe her, though I still felt like shit when I talked to the Royal Caribbean rep.
She said that she was more than touched that I even offered, and was willing to spend that much money to do it. Eh, well... I wanted to, there's nothing really to be touched about, you know?
Though, I guess that I should take the compliment and not just throw it aside like I usually do, huh?
Haven't done much this weekend. I cleaned the cat's tray, scrubbed out the food and water dishes, did a little minor tidying up - but nothing heavy-duty. That comes next weekend, as I'm going to run through here and do 'spring cleaning' - not that there's much messed up. But you know what I mean.
I lead such an exciting life, heh. I honestly needed a little time to just kind of chill out, relax, enjoy my home and being on my own for a while, though. It's little things like this that reaffirm in my mind that I want to keep on going through life, you know?
Rambling. But I'm going to bed in a few minutes, so it's probably tiredness. Hopefully I'll have a good week.
Until next time.
She said that she was more than touched that I even offered, and was willing to spend that much money to do it. Eh, well... I wanted to, there's nothing really to be touched about, you know?
Though, I guess that I should take the compliment and not just throw it aside like I usually do, huh?
Haven't done much this weekend. I cleaned the cat's tray, scrubbed out the food and water dishes, did a little minor tidying up - but nothing heavy-duty. That comes next weekend, as I'm going to run through here and do 'spring cleaning' - not that there's much messed up. But you know what I mean.
I lead such an exciting life, heh. I honestly needed a little time to just kind of chill out, relax, enjoy my home and being on my own for a while, though. It's little things like this that reaffirm in my mind that I want to keep on going through life, you know?
Rambling. But I'm going to bed in a few minutes, so it's probably tiredness. Hopefully I'll have a good week.
Until next time.
02 January 2011
A rocky start to the new year.
I won't beat around the bush with this entry - there's no point to it. Basically, I got into a rather violent confrontation with my mother this evening. What about, right? She started in again about how my brother was having monetary problems and she was sending him money, lalala. Now, I don't care that he's having money problems - aren't we all - but what I DID care about is that she just starts talking about him again. I don't care, I don't give a fuck, I don't want to know. This is what she always does. Every time I talk to her, she mentions him, and she always makes excuses for him no matter what bone-headed thing he does. So I told her what I thought, that he'd made some pretty bad decisions and maybe that was why he was having money problems. Like, say, having 9 cats. Having 9 cats equals a big fucking money drain! "Oh, they've had those cats. They were doing well once, would you get rid of those cats if you fell onto hard times?" Yes, I would, because that's a money drain. "Oh, no, you wouldn't!"
Uhh.... DON'T tell me what I would do. You obviously don't know me.
Then I proceeded to tell her that I wouldn't be so damned foolish as to have 9 cats in the first place. So then the huge question pops up... "Are you jealous of your brother?"
I said no, but you know what? Yeah, I fucking am. I'm jealous that he's gotten all of your love and attention and happiness over the years. I'm jealous that I've suffered from goddamn emotional abuse all of my life while apparently he gets off scot-free. Yeah, I'm fucking jealous. Sue me. Then she said that she's helped me out plenty (she has, I never fucking said she didn't) and that "he's had it hard, and I don't appreciate you criticizing my parenting decisions".
Anyway, that question prompted a furious lecture, to which I laid out everything I was thinking and everything that I'd told my therapist, including how his bullshit girlfriend fucking abused me while she was busy going out marching for peace and love and all of that crap. It was not a pleasant end to the conversation at all. I ended up hanging up on her, something that I have NEVER done. I screamed into the phone that I was busy, that I DIDN'T want to have this conversation (which I had actually warned her earlier not to pursue, which she didn't listen), and that I'm sick of hearing about my brother and don't want to hear anymore. Click.
And then I couldn't stop crying. I just couldn't stop crying, even through a warm shower and huddling up on the sofa in a fetal position. Happy new year to me, indeed.
I'm awake several hours later. I'm sitting here now and while I still feel raw, while there are still tears coming out of my eyes, I won't take it back. For once in my life, I was honest about how I feel. For once in my life, I told it like it is. If that means that she's mad, too bad. Let WonderSon come up here and take care of her for a change - not that he will, trust me. In that, he's like my father, not giving a fuck what his actions wrought, even if it's emotional destruction.
The really ironic thing about the whole situation is that I'm the one that made good. I'm the one that works their ass off at an odious, emotionally-draining job and doesn't ask for a goddamn thing. He's chronically unemployed and living in fucking "paradise" - only his paradise has now soured because my sister-in-law is in a wheelchair and can no longer work so "he's depressed". Awwww. So sorry, but you know what? It's an excuse. He has a goddamn degree from a culinary school, he can go to work at a restaurant somewhere - fuck, he could OPEN a restaurant. The excuse I got from my mother? "He's too old to do that, he can't stand long hours on his feet anymore."
AND I CAN??? I can stand on MY feet for 8 hours a day serving angry, drug-addicted criminals screaming epithets at me, but he can't stand on his feet for a little while cooking food? EXCUSE!!!!!
Yeah, look, I'm sorry for my sister-in-law, being disabled is hard and especially the way she is, but you know what? You take what you're given in life, no matter how little that is, and you do the best with what you have! You get out there and you WORK IT. My sister-in-law is in a wheelchair and has no control over her limbs - so fine, yeah, she's got an excuse. My brother has NO EXCUSE. NONE.
And I'm blue fucking pissed at my mother because she assumes that I'm ungrateful for the help she's given me. Yeah? I'm ungrateful? So how come I just bought her a fucking television set yesterday for Christmas/New Year's? After I had lunch with her the other day? We went to fucking Best Buy and I bought her a television, a nice flat-screen TV. I offered her a larger size TV than the one she bought, as a matter of fact. "I have the money, don't worry about it." Does this sound like I'm ungrateful for the help she's given me? DOES IT? Does my brother, Saint Kelly, have the wherewithal to buy her a TV set for the asking? Huh? I don't hear any fucking answer from the peanut gallery, so I guess the answer is no!
I am not going to put up with any more abuse. If this means she's mad at me and doesn't talk to me for a few days, so be it. She knows there isn't anyone else up here to take care of her needs and get to her instantly, so she's going to have to make it up to me somehow. And even if she doesn't - so what? It's a weight off of my shoulders.
It's time to start living for myself. I am DONE with this fucking guilt-trip bullshit. FUCKING. DONE.
Uhh.... DON'T tell me what I would do. You obviously don't know me.
Then I proceeded to tell her that I wouldn't be so damned foolish as to have 9 cats in the first place. So then the huge question pops up... "Are you jealous of your brother?"
I said no, but you know what? Yeah, I fucking am. I'm jealous that he's gotten all of your love and attention and happiness over the years. I'm jealous that I've suffered from goddamn emotional abuse all of my life while apparently he gets off scot-free. Yeah, I'm fucking jealous. Sue me. Then she said that she's helped me out plenty (she has, I never fucking said she didn't) and that "he's had it hard, and I don't appreciate you criticizing my parenting decisions".
Anyway, that question prompted a furious lecture, to which I laid out everything I was thinking and everything that I'd told my therapist, including how his bullshit girlfriend fucking abused me while she was busy going out marching for peace and love and all of that crap. It was not a pleasant end to the conversation at all. I ended up hanging up on her, something that I have NEVER done. I screamed into the phone that I was busy, that I DIDN'T want to have this conversation (which I had actually warned her earlier not to pursue, which she didn't listen), and that I'm sick of hearing about my brother and don't want to hear anymore. Click.
And then I couldn't stop crying. I just couldn't stop crying, even through a warm shower and huddling up on the sofa in a fetal position. Happy new year to me, indeed.
I'm awake several hours later. I'm sitting here now and while I still feel raw, while there are still tears coming out of my eyes, I won't take it back. For once in my life, I was honest about how I feel. For once in my life, I told it like it is. If that means that she's mad, too bad. Let WonderSon come up here and take care of her for a change - not that he will, trust me. In that, he's like my father, not giving a fuck what his actions wrought, even if it's emotional destruction.
The really ironic thing about the whole situation is that I'm the one that made good. I'm the one that works their ass off at an odious, emotionally-draining job and doesn't ask for a goddamn thing. He's chronically unemployed and living in fucking "paradise" - only his paradise has now soured because my sister-in-law is in a wheelchair and can no longer work so "he's depressed". Awwww. So sorry, but you know what? It's an excuse. He has a goddamn degree from a culinary school, he can go to work at a restaurant somewhere - fuck, he could OPEN a restaurant. The excuse I got from my mother? "He's too old to do that, he can't stand long hours on his feet anymore."
AND I CAN??? I can stand on MY feet for 8 hours a day serving angry, drug-addicted criminals screaming epithets at me, but he can't stand on his feet for a little while cooking food? EXCUSE!!!!!
Yeah, look, I'm sorry for my sister-in-law, being disabled is hard and especially the way she is, but you know what? You take what you're given in life, no matter how little that is, and you do the best with what you have! You get out there and you WORK IT. My sister-in-law is in a wheelchair and has no control over her limbs - so fine, yeah, she's got an excuse. My brother has NO EXCUSE. NONE.
And I'm blue fucking pissed at my mother because she assumes that I'm ungrateful for the help she's given me. Yeah? I'm ungrateful? So how come I just bought her a fucking television set yesterday for Christmas/New Year's? After I had lunch with her the other day? We went to fucking Best Buy and I bought her a television, a nice flat-screen TV. I offered her a larger size TV than the one she bought, as a matter of fact. "I have the money, don't worry about it." Does this sound like I'm ungrateful for the help she's given me? DOES IT? Does my brother, Saint Kelly, have the wherewithal to buy her a TV set for the asking? Huh? I don't hear any fucking answer from the peanut gallery, so I guess the answer is no!
I am not going to put up with any more abuse. If this means she's mad at me and doesn't talk to me for a few days, so be it. She knows there isn't anyone else up here to take care of her needs and get to her instantly, so she's going to have to make it up to me somehow. And even if she doesn't - so what? It's a weight off of my shoulders.
It's time to start living for myself. I am DONE with this fucking guilt-trip bullshit. FUCKING. DONE.
24 December 2010
A Christmas rant, just for you.
I will open this post by stating that I am sick and tired of being made to feel guilty for the choices I make, especially by my so-called family. I just got off the phone with my mother (of course - didn't you all see this coming?), who asked me what I was doing for the holiday tomorrow. Well, now, duh - I talk to her at 7:30pm every day (shades of my grandmother, sigh) and she KNOWS what's going on in my life (i.e., nothing). What makes her think that I have any plans for the holidays? I mean, really? Does she not fucking pay attention to what I say to her?
So I told her the truth - it's just another day for me. I'll probably clean the house and unpack some more. "Aren't you going to eat?" Well, yeah, a tuna fish sandwich and a bowl of soup later, perhaps. What makes her think I'm going to eat anything other than that? What in her mind is making her think that I'm going to sit down to Christmas dinner somewhere with people? Then she does what I call the "oh" - saying the word in a half-surprised, half-guilty voice. I fucking HATE that. I really, really fucking hate that.
I swear that I don't think she really ever listens to what I say. Mainly because most of the time she's bringing up my brother or his problems or what he thinks or what he did. I. Don't. Care. When is she going to GET that?
Yeah, okay, I'm alone on Christmas Day, wah, boohoo, what a tragedy. I WAS okay with that decision up until now. Now? I feel like shit. She actually asked me on the phone if I wanted to come over to her house. "Why? You're only asking me that because you feel guilty that I'm by myself on Christmas Day and you think I'm depressed. That's the reason you asked, isn't it?" For once, she was honest and said yes.
Yeah, well, thanks, Mom. Now I AM depressed, because apparently my decision isn't good enough for you. But when is that new? When is ANYTHING I do ever going to be enough? I mean, I know I'm not my sainted brother who's just the apple of everyone's eye or anything, but Christ, I'm human too. When are you going to fucking realize that?
Okay. Now I'm angry AND crying. Jesus. Way to go, Mom, you score again. Thanks a whole fucking lot. Why couldn't you just have left me alone?
Someone wake me up on January 1st, please.
So I told her the truth - it's just another day for me. I'll probably clean the house and unpack some more. "Aren't you going to eat?" Well, yeah, a tuna fish sandwich and a bowl of soup later, perhaps. What makes her think I'm going to eat anything other than that? What in her mind is making her think that I'm going to sit down to Christmas dinner somewhere with people? Then she does what I call the "oh" - saying the word in a half-surprised, half-guilty voice. I fucking HATE that. I really, really fucking hate that.
I swear that I don't think she really ever listens to what I say. Mainly because most of the time she's bringing up my brother or his problems or what he thinks or what he did. I. Don't. Care. When is she going to GET that?
Yeah, okay, I'm alone on Christmas Day, wah, boohoo, what a tragedy. I WAS okay with that decision up until now. Now? I feel like shit. She actually asked me on the phone if I wanted to come over to her house. "Why? You're only asking me that because you feel guilty that I'm by myself on Christmas Day and you think I'm depressed. That's the reason you asked, isn't it?" For once, she was honest and said yes.
Yeah, well, thanks, Mom. Now I AM depressed, because apparently my decision isn't good enough for you. But when is that new? When is ANYTHING I do ever going to be enough? I mean, I know I'm not my sainted brother who's just the apple of everyone's eye or anything, but Christ, I'm human too. When are you going to fucking realize that?
Okay. Now I'm angry AND crying. Jesus. Way to go, Mom, you score again. Thanks a whole fucking lot. Why couldn't you just have left me alone?
Someone wake me up on January 1st, please.
16 October 2009
Back to the usual way of things.
Bleh. For some reason, I'm a bit more like "myself" tonight, meaning pessimistic. I don't know if it's because the weather's been so crappy lately (rain, which isn't the bad part - it's adding in the cold that makes it bleh) or what, but I'm just like...oh, God, people are fucking idiots and they act even more so when it's like this out. They can't drive, they complain and bitch (sort of like what I'm doing, haha), and are just such a pleasure to be around. /sarcasm
Don't say one word about how I'm turning into them, or you'll get a backhand across the chops. I promise you. :p
I'm more sleepy than anything, to be honest. I've adjusted to the medicine, but it still makes me feel drowsy on occasion. I did not increase the dosage like the doctor told me to, because I just can't afford it. If I keep at my current level (150mg of the Luvox), I feel fine enough to get through life and I'll be able to stretch it out over a two-month period. I know, I'm going against the doctor's advice, I shouldn't, bleh blah. I know that. But the doctor can afford 145 dollars a month for medicine - I can't. I'm a lowly grade 4 government worker who takes urine for a living, I'm not the President, heh. We need socialized health care, goddamnit. Canada has it, the U.K. has it, Australia has it. When are we going to join the ranks of civilized countries that actually CARE about its populations?
It's funny, but I was reading back over my old posts from when Obama was first elected, and I predicted that he wasn't going to be able to fulfill the promises he made. And so far... he hasn't. I was right - as usual. When are people going to start listening to me and not dismiss my opinions as crackers? :p
You know why I don't really get into political stuff? The reasons are myriad, but I'll start with this - as usual, it goes back to my bitch of a family and what they put me through. My mother was "an activist" - she dragged me along to every protest march she could find when I was growing up, and I eventually grew to hate it - and her. She was "a Communist and proud of it", and she wouldn't hesitate to tell everyone and anyone who would listen - my friends, their parents, their friends, etc. As you can imagine, this didn't make her - or me - popular with my friends' parents, and consequently they dismissed her.... and me. I lost a lot of friends over the course of my life because of her big mouth. Either their parents said that my mother was crazy and not to hang around me anymore, or my peers themselves would get sick of her spouting off about shit that they at ten or eleven couldn't understand anyway.
That's the first reason. Another reason is that I, myself, seem to be in the middle of the road on a lot of issues. I quite frankly am a part of Generation X in that I don't much care about anything that doesn't have to do with me directly. I also don't take a hard line toward one "party" or another as they seem to expect you to do here. I'm pro-abortion and pro-death penalty. I'm for gay marriage and I'm against economic waste. I don't take sides firmly on one issue or another - it is what it is. I once took one of those stupid quizzes on the subject and it stated that I was more of a Libertarian, which I guess is close enough to what I believe in. But I wouldn't apply a label to it. I'm just not political and it makes me ill when someone is too active in it - it's not that I don't respect people who march, I do. But it brings back way too many painful memories for me. I stay as far away from it as I can.
Believe me, I wish that I could sound a little more 'learned' in this blog than I do. But politically? It's painful for me, just like many, many other things in my life.
Man, my family fucked me up but good, didn't they? :( In retrospect, I'm very surprised that my previous and many suicide attempts didn't work - and very lucky. Because most people would have crumbled by now, with all of the issues that I've apparently got.
My mother found out that I was taking Luvox and she was like, "How much more are they going to find that's wrong with you? How much?"
Thanks so much. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have these problems.
These are the kind of people I spring from - insensitive comments like this are a way of life for my family. This is what they do. I'm almost used to it. But now you know why I just won't have children - I wouldn't subject them to this. And as we all know, the violence (physical or emotional) repeats itself. No, thanks.
Sorry for the downbeat turn this has taken - I guess the weather's affecting me, too. It's the start of the weekend, though, which is always good. I hope I'll feel better in a while.
Thanks for listening, if you've gotten this far.
Don't say one word about how I'm turning into them, or you'll get a backhand across the chops. I promise you. :p
I'm more sleepy than anything, to be honest. I've adjusted to the medicine, but it still makes me feel drowsy on occasion. I did not increase the dosage like the doctor told me to, because I just can't afford it. If I keep at my current level (150mg of the Luvox), I feel fine enough to get through life and I'll be able to stretch it out over a two-month period. I know, I'm going against the doctor's advice, I shouldn't, bleh blah. I know that. But the doctor can afford 145 dollars a month for medicine - I can't. I'm a lowly grade 4 government worker who takes urine for a living, I'm not the President, heh. We need socialized health care, goddamnit. Canada has it, the U.K. has it, Australia has it. When are we going to join the ranks of civilized countries that actually CARE about its populations?
It's funny, but I was reading back over my old posts from when Obama was first elected, and I predicted that he wasn't going to be able to fulfill the promises he made. And so far... he hasn't. I was right - as usual. When are people going to start listening to me and not dismiss my opinions as crackers? :p
You know why I don't really get into political stuff? The reasons are myriad, but I'll start with this - as usual, it goes back to my bitch of a family and what they put me through. My mother was "an activist" - she dragged me along to every protest march she could find when I was growing up, and I eventually grew to hate it - and her. She was "a Communist and proud of it", and she wouldn't hesitate to tell everyone and anyone who would listen - my friends, their parents, their friends, etc. As you can imagine, this didn't make her - or me - popular with my friends' parents, and consequently they dismissed her.... and me. I lost a lot of friends over the course of my life because of her big mouth. Either their parents said that my mother was crazy and not to hang around me anymore, or my peers themselves would get sick of her spouting off about shit that they at ten or eleven couldn't understand anyway.
That's the first reason. Another reason is that I, myself, seem to be in the middle of the road on a lot of issues. I quite frankly am a part of Generation X in that I don't much care about anything that doesn't have to do with me directly. I also don't take a hard line toward one "party" or another as they seem to expect you to do here. I'm pro-abortion and pro-death penalty. I'm for gay marriage and I'm against economic waste. I don't take sides firmly on one issue or another - it is what it is. I once took one of those stupid quizzes on the subject and it stated that I was more of a Libertarian, which I guess is close enough to what I believe in. But I wouldn't apply a label to it. I'm just not political and it makes me ill when someone is too active in it - it's not that I don't respect people who march, I do. But it brings back way too many painful memories for me. I stay as far away from it as I can.
Believe me, I wish that I could sound a little more 'learned' in this blog than I do. But politically? It's painful for me, just like many, many other things in my life.
Man, my family fucked me up but good, didn't they? :( In retrospect, I'm very surprised that my previous and many suicide attempts didn't work - and very lucky. Because most people would have crumbled by now, with all of the issues that I've apparently got.
My mother found out that I was taking Luvox and she was like, "How much more are they going to find that's wrong with you? How much?"
Thanks so much. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have these problems.
These are the kind of people I spring from - insensitive comments like this are a way of life for my family. This is what they do. I'm almost used to it. But now you know why I just won't have children - I wouldn't subject them to this. And as we all know, the violence (physical or emotional) repeats itself. No, thanks.
Sorry for the downbeat turn this has taken - I guess the weather's affecting me, too. It's the start of the weekend, though, which is always good. I hope I'll feel better in a while.
Thanks for listening, if you've gotten this far.
14 October 2009
Hmmm....
I've been busy over the last couple of days, and a lot has happened, but.. for some reason I just don't much feel like talking about any of it. Nothing bad, just... I think lazy is a better word for it. It's been cold as fuck here lately and I've wanted to curl up in bed and sleep it away. At least my wanting to stay in bed isn't because of depression! :)
I've had disturbing dreams about my family as of late, specifically my mother and brother, who were the two primary figures in my life while I was growing up. I can't really articulate them very well - as usual, I've partially blocked it out - but I've also neglected to write down my dreams. Usually if they've made a huge impact on my life I'll remember them on my own, anyway. I do dislike thinking about my family, even subconsciously. The more awareness I come to, the more that I realize that I just want to be done with them all - mother, brother, everyone. Sad, but I have to be truthful with myself. I've already "disowned" my father and have more or less told him so. One of these...no, wait.
I keep saying that one of these days I'm going to write him a letter, but... where else should I do it but here. Maybe when I'm less tired, I will. Tonight isn't a good night to do such things, as I might get upset and we don't want that, do we, kiddies.
One of my coworkers had urine thrown on him this week. Everyone's worst nightmare down at work. They tried to deny him six hours of leave, but he raised a huge stink (if you'll pardon the irony, hah hah) about it and he got it anyway. The way I see it is this - if Useless can take two weeks off for being stuck in an elevator for 20 minutes, I think this guy can take six hours' leave to go to the doctor to make sure that urine didn't get in his eyes, don't you agree?
That place is just ... fucked. Seriously.
We roll back the time in two weeks. I can't wait - it means winter is finally here and I love the cold weather (though I'm not sure about this early in the season).
No grade on the paper for crim yet. I don't know if that's good or bad, but I'm not getting a bad vibe from it, so... maybe I did well. Still waiting....
Brrr. My feet are freezing, so I'm getting into bed, and I hope the cat comes up and warms them for me. :D
Until next time.
I've had disturbing dreams about my family as of late, specifically my mother and brother, who were the two primary figures in my life while I was growing up. I can't really articulate them very well - as usual, I've partially blocked it out - but I've also neglected to write down my dreams. Usually if they've made a huge impact on my life I'll remember them on my own, anyway. I do dislike thinking about my family, even subconsciously. The more awareness I come to, the more that I realize that I just want to be done with them all - mother, brother, everyone. Sad, but I have to be truthful with myself. I've already "disowned" my father and have more or less told him so. One of these...no, wait.
I keep saying that one of these days I'm going to write him a letter, but... where else should I do it but here. Maybe when I'm less tired, I will. Tonight isn't a good night to do such things, as I might get upset and we don't want that, do we, kiddies.
One of my coworkers had urine thrown on him this week. Everyone's worst nightmare down at work. They tried to deny him six hours of leave, but he raised a huge stink (if you'll pardon the irony, hah hah) about it and he got it anyway. The way I see it is this - if Useless can take two weeks off for being stuck in an elevator for 20 minutes, I think this guy can take six hours' leave to go to the doctor to make sure that urine didn't get in his eyes, don't you agree?
That place is just ... fucked. Seriously.
We roll back the time in two weeks. I can't wait - it means winter is finally here and I love the cold weather (though I'm not sure about this early in the season).
No grade on the paper for crim yet. I don't know if that's good or bad, but I'm not getting a bad vibe from it, so... maybe I did well. Still waiting....
Brrr. My feet are freezing, so I'm getting into bed, and I hope the cat comes up and warms them for me. :D
Until next time.
20 September 2009
Not doing too well.
I have felt a range of emotions today, most of them not good. From disconnection to anger to intense sadness, I've been through the wringer. I guess that this trip wasn't so good for my psyche after all, because I've been an emotional (and to a point, physical) wreck ever since. It's hard when you're criticized for 9 days straight and can't seem to get away from it... also hard to hear praises on high being heaped upon your sibling constantly at the same time.
I've given up ever thinking that my family will be anything but toxic to me. I'm not going to try anymore to gain their approval or their love. What's the point? It only gets me into a world of hurt. I don't even want anything from any of them anymore - no financial help, no contact, no nothing. I will do the basic minimum that I have to, and no more. I've taken major, major steps back in my emotional health and I can feel it.
It's times like this that I just want to drop everything and run away - to start over in a new place, new environment, where no one knows me and I can be who I am without any judgments or recriminations. But alas, this is real life and I can only 'escape' so much. Isn't that what I've tried to do all of my life? Escape?
In a way I'll be glad to go to work tomorrow - at least it's routine. I can go back to routine and just... try to repair the damage done.
Sorry for the "downer" post... not that I feel anyone's listening, anyway. I asked the question on my Facebook the other day, who would miss me if I never came back...
I got one response. That's right... one. At least that one person said something, and for that, Warren, I thank you...
I'm seriously about to just become a hermit. I won't get hurt that way....
I've given up ever thinking that my family will be anything but toxic to me. I'm not going to try anymore to gain their approval or their love. What's the point? It only gets me into a world of hurt. I don't even want anything from any of them anymore - no financial help, no contact, no nothing. I will do the basic minimum that I have to, and no more. I've taken major, major steps back in my emotional health and I can feel it.
It's times like this that I just want to drop everything and run away - to start over in a new place, new environment, where no one knows me and I can be who I am without any judgments or recriminations. But alas, this is real life and I can only 'escape' so much. Isn't that what I've tried to do all of my life? Escape?
In a way I'll be glad to go to work tomorrow - at least it's routine. I can go back to routine and just... try to repair the damage done.
Sorry for the "downer" post... not that I feel anyone's listening, anyway. I asked the question on my Facebook the other day, who would miss me if I never came back...
I got one response. That's right... one. At least that one person said something, and for that, Warren, I thank you...
I'm seriously about to just become a hermit. I won't get hurt that way....
23 August 2009
Feeling better today.
After a day of what was easily the worst attack to hit me yet since the post-Wellbutrin/Abilify/Buspirone cocktail was prescribed... I'm feeling much more like "myself" today, whatever consists of my self, anyway. I felt better enough to get out of this house and get groceries, which for me is a major coup since I hate shopping of any kind (yes, even groceries. I'm just not a shopping chick).
I'm recommitted to following my medication schedule. Have to be, because I seriously think that's what the problem was.
I was going to go down to Merritt Athletic today and ask about a subscription, but... not enough time today and I want to be able to pay my other bills. Just because I got a raise doesn't mean that I'm all of a sudden Miss Moneybags. Still, I need to work out a lot more, so... maybe the added expense will be worth it.
18 days until I go on this cruise. I'm not sure of why I'm not more excited about it. Possibly because it's a vacation with my mother, which for normal people would be a good thing, but for me... it's a virtual minefield. I don't know what she'll say or do on this cruise to embarrass or humiliate me, so I'm naturally wary. I need the time off from work desperately, though, so I'm hoping all will go well. Pictures to follow, of course, but ship-to-shore Internet access is horrific in price, so I don't anticipate that people will see a lot of me during those 9 days. I'm sure you all will miss me, though, right?
Enjoying a milk chocolate Lindt truffle. I know, I absolutely should not have these, they're fattening and I go through them like water, but they're so good. At ten dollars a pound, though, I assure you that I don't get them very often... my tastes are apparently becoming expensive.
Anyway. I feel a lot better today, which I'm grateful for. Here's hoping the week will run just as smoothly.
I'm recommitted to following my medication schedule. Have to be, because I seriously think that's what the problem was.
I was going to go down to Merritt Athletic today and ask about a subscription, but... not enough time today and I want to be able to pay my other bills. Just because I got a raise doesn't mean that I'm all of a sudden Miss Moneybags. Still, I need to work out a lot more, so... maybe the added expense will be worth it.
18 days until I go on this cruise. I'm not sure of why I'm not more excited about it. Possibly because it's a vacation with my mother, which for normal people would be a good thing, but for me... it's a virtual minefield. I don't know what she'll say or do on this cruise to embarrass or humiliate me, so I'm naturally wary. I need the time off from work desperately, though, so I'm hoping all will go well. Pictures to follow, of course, but ship-to-shore Internet access is horrific in price, so I don't anticipate that people will see a lot of me during those 9 days. I'm sure you all will miss me, though, right?
Enjoying a milk chocolate Lindt truffle. I know, I absolutely should not have these, they're fattening and I go through them like water, but they're so good. At ten dollars a pound, though, I assure you that I don't get them very often... my tastes are apparently becoming expensive.
Anyway. I feel a lot better today, which I'm grateful for. Here's hoping the week will run just as smoothly.
11 May 2009
Early morning rumination.
I woke up extremely early this morning, refreshed for a change, so I figured that I'd get up and post a little bit of what's on my mind today - and as usual, it churns with useless bits of information.
It seems that quite a few people were a bit upset about my Mother's Day rant post yesterday, which came as no surprise. What did surprise me, however, was the broad-brush general assumption that I don't love or honor my own mother. Uh... that's a rather bold statement (not to mention wrong) to be making, don't you think?
Let me say now that I'm in therapy for my issues with my family - which is where I belong at present. Because of my condition, I have a lot of problems in dealing with the dynamics - some of which involved a lot of neglect, both emotional and physical, and ignorance of some physical abuse that was going on. I hold a lot of anger toward my entire family - mother, brother, father - and I'm in the place that I need to be to work it out. Being angry with my mother doesn't mean that I don't love her - I do - but there's that old saying that you don't have to like a person to love them. And let's be blunt - I don't like my mother, or my brother, or really my entire family. If they weren't related to me, I wouldn't piss on them if they were on fire - and that's the truth.
With that said, I did have a nice Mother's Day lunch with her yesterday, so it all worked out for the best.
There's more going on, but I'm not real comfortable discussing it at this point. I'll get around to it when I can.
If my post bothered you, I'm genuinely sorry, but... I'm not taking back any of what I said in it. It's how I feel, and I'm not going to apologize for my opinions, or the right to express them. I spent too many years burying how I feel under a blanket of so-called societal approval - no more.
I think I'll actually be happy to start the week for a rare change... go figure.
It seems that quite a few people were a bit upset about my Mother's Day rant post yesterday, which came as no surprise. What did surprise me, however, was the broad-brush general assumption that I don't love or honor my own mother. Uh... that's a rather bold statement (not to mention wrong) to be making, don't you think?
Let me say now that I'm in therapy for my issues with my family - which is where I belong at present. Because of my condition, I have a lot of problems in dealing with the dynamics - some of which involved a lot of neglect, both emotional and physical, and ignorance of some physical abuse that was going on. I hold a lot of anger toward my entire family - mother, brother, father - and I'm in the place that I need to be to work it out. Being angry with my mother doesn't mean that I don't love her - I do - but there's that old saying that you don't have to like a person to love them. And let's be blunt - I don't like my mother, or my brother, or really my entire family. If they weren't related to me, I wouldn't piss on them if they were on fire - and that's the truth.
With that said, I did have a nice Mother's Day lunch with her yesterday, so it all worked out for the best.
There's more going on, but I'm not real comfortable discussing it at this point. I'll get around to it when I can.
If my post bothered you, I'm genuinely sorry, but... I'm not taking back any of what I said in it. It's how I feel, and I'm not going to apologize for my opinions, or the right to express them. I spent too many years burying how I feel under a blanket of so-called societal approval - no more.
I think I'll actually be happy to start the week for a rare change... go figure.
10 May 2009
Warning. A Mother's Day rant - just for you.
Back out now if you can't handle extreme sarcasm, bitterness and bile. Because I don't want to hear it about how 'negative' I am and all of that rot. If you're a regular reader here then you know damned well I'm not going to be happy and cheery and full of sunshine, bleh blah. Deal with it.
So, today is Mother's Day. And quite honestly, I'm sick of hearing about it. I'm not a mother, first of all - I don't have kids, I don't want kids, and I don't particularly like kids. Kids are tolerable once they hit 11 or 12 because it means they have enough sense (or the capability of having enough, anyway) to know better when they do something stupid. But before then? Forget it. I don't deal well with adults that have no sense, so kids don't stand a chance.
I also have a problem with the fact that we're "celebrating" the fact that women spread their legs, get screwed, and nine months later another human overpopulates the world. So the fuck what? No offense, but any woman can do that. It takes no special ability. It takes no talent to breed. I don't think that a day to celebrate a supposedly natural human function is necessary.
And I can hear all of the "mommies" screaming now. "You're not a parent! You don't know what we go through to raise these kids! Wah, wah, wah, wah!"
My response is simple. You brought that shit on yourself. Don't come crying to me when little Johnny or Susie steals money out of your wallet for makeup or pot or something stupid because of "peer pressure". Don't whine to me when little Johnny or Susie pitches a fit in the grocery store because you won't buy them a candy bar. I'll step right over them in the line and I won't hesitate. And especially don't whine to me when little Johnny or Susie puts your ass in a nursing home at 75, 80 years old because they don't feel like dealing with you anymore. That's the thanks you'll get for "being a mommy" - drooling all over yourself in some old age home, with bedsores on your ass and wishing for death every second.
Doubt me? I've seen it happen too many times.
It amuses me that the people who make the very best parents either don't want or don't have children, or at the most they have one that they know how to parent properly. Fuck this shit with the Duggers or that dumb bitch in California with the 14 kids. It's people like them that should be shot in a public square.
I know my opinion isn't the teeming masses'. I'm glad it's not. Because I can take my money and enjoy it. I don't have to worry about little Johnny or Susie's diapers/sneakers/school clothes/band instruments/club dues/blah blah on and on.
When I go on my cruise later this year, I'll be sure to wave to all of you "mommies" on shore, hmm?
Edited to add: Besides, I don't think males get nearly enough credit here, either. Some of my friends are excellent fathers - but recognition for it? They usually have to whistle for it. And that's not right either.
So, today is Mother's Day. And quite honestly, I'm sick of hearing about it. I'm not a mother, first of all - I don't have kids, I don't want kids, and I don't particularly like kids. Kids are tolerable once they hit 11 or 12 because it means they have enough sense (or the capability of having enough, anyway) to know better when they do something stupid. But before then? Forget it. I don't deal well with adults that have no sense, so kids don't stand a chance.
I also have a problem with the fact that we're "celebrating" the fact that women spread their legs, get screwed, and nine months later another human overpopulates the world. So the fuck what? No offense, but any woman can do that. It takes no special ability. It takes no talent to breed. I don't think that a day to celebrate a supposedly natural human function is necessary.
And I can hear all of the "mommies" screaming now. "You're not a parent! You don't know what we go through to raise these kids! Wah, wah, wah, wah!"
My response is simple. You brought that shit on yourself. Don't come crying to me when little Johnny or Susie steals money out of your wallet for makeup or pot or something stupid because of "peer pressure". Don't whine to me when little Johnny or Susie pitches a fit in the grocery store because you won't buy them a candy bar. I'll step right over them in the line and I won't hesitate. And especially don't whine to me when little Johnny or Susie puts your ass in a nursing home at 75, 80 years old because they don't feel like dealing with you anymore. That's the thanks you'll get for "being a mommy" - drooling all over yourself in some old age home, with bedsores on your ass and wishing for death every second.
Doubt me? I've seen it happen too many times.
It amuses me that the people who make the very best parents either don't want or don't have children, or at the most they have one that they know how to parent properly. Fuck this shit with the Duggers or that dumb bitch in California with the 14 kids. It's people like them that should be shot in a public square.
I know my opinion isn't the teeming masses'. I'm glad it's not. Because I can take my money and enjoy it. I don't have to worry about little Johnny or Susie's diapers/sneakers/school clothes/band instruments/club dues/blah blah on and on.
When I go on my cruise later this year, I'll be sure to wave to all of you "mommies" on shore, hmm?
Edited to add: Besides, I don't think males get nearly enough credit here, either. Some of my friends are excellent fathers - but recognition for it? They usually have to whistle for it. And that's not right either.
22 April 2009
So much going on....
I'm off again to the land of travel. Explain myself, right? Well, okay.
I've decided to go on a cruise. Yes, that's right, you heard correctly. I'm going on a cruise in mid-September to Canada and New England on Royal Caribbean. What prompted this, you ask? (Yes, I can hear you saying it.) Well... here's the part that might shock you.
I've decided to take this trip with my mother.
Okay. Now I know I'm hearing jaws dropping to the floor. "WHY?", right? For several reasons.
#1: She's paying for it. Who's going to turn down a free trip?
#2: I think she's offered this because she knows that she... won't have a lot more time to take these trips, you know what I mean? If the family pattern holds true to form... she's going to be gone in 10 years, maybe less. I'm thinking that maybe she's realizing all of what she's lost as far as I'm concerned over the years, you know? Maybe it's a "guilt trip", so to speak. I don't know. But she's invited me along, so who am I to say no?
#3: This is sort of connected, but... I feel a need to maybe try one more time to connect with my mother again, even if it's not on the level that it was when I was a small child. I just want one more attempt to have things the way they used to be, before all of the stupid fucking troubles started. Then maybe I won't be completely broken inside when she does finally pass away, you know?
Heh, I can already feel myself tearing up at that thought, so I'll move on from that subject, thanks.
Anyway, the plan seems to be Baltimore - Bar Harbor ME - Portland ME - St. John's Bay, Canada - Halifax NS Canada - Boston MA - back to Baltimore. It's a 9 day cruise. It was not cheap. And I hope to Christ that my job doesn't give me a bunch of shit about going, because it's too late to cancel it, heh.
I've wanted to go to Boston and to Maine for some time now. I guess this is the way to go.
I'm hopeful that this cruise will finally bring my mother and I a little closer, or at least to some understanding. I wonder what my therapist is going to say about this...heh... but we'll see. If it gets too awful I can take off of my own, I suppose... but I'm hoping that won't be the case.
Here's some pictures of the ship.
Other than this news, not much has really been happening as of late. Work sucks, as usual - but at least it's consistent.
I'm excited to be traveling again. And pictures? But of course.
I've decided to go on a cruise. Yes, that's right, you heard correctly. I'm going on a cruise in mid-September to Canada and New England on Royal Caribbean. What prompted this, you ask? (Yes, I can hear you saying it.) Well... here's the part that might shock you.
I've decided to take this trip with my mother.
Okay. Now I know I'm hearing jaws dropping to the floor. "WHY?", right? For several reasons.
#1: She's paying for it. Who's going to turn down a free trip?
#2: I think she's offered this because she knows that she... won't have a lot more time to take these trips, you know what I mean? If the family pattern holds true to form... she's going to be gone in 10 years, maybe less. I'm thinking that maybe she's realizing all of what she's lost as far as I'm concerned over the years, you know? Maybe it's a "guilt trip", so to speak. I don't know. But she's invited me along, so who am I to say no?
#3: This is sort of connected, but... I feel a need to maybe try one more time to connect with my mother again, even if it's not on the level that it was when I was a small child. I just want one more attempt to have things the way they used to be, before all of the stupid fucking troubles started. Then maybe I won't be completely broken inside when she does finally pass away, you know?
Heh, I can already feel myself tearing up at that thought, so I'll move on from that subject, thanks.
Anyway, the plan seems to be Baltimore - Bar Harbor ME - Portland ME - St. John's Bay, Canada - Halifax NS Canada - Boston MA - back to Baltimore. It's a 9 day cruise. It was not cheap. And I hope to Christ that my job doesn't give me a bunch of shit about going, because it's too late to cancel it, heh.
I've wanted to go to Boston and to Maine for some time now. I guess this is the way to go.
I'm hopeful that this cruise will finally bring my mother and I a little closer, or at least to some understanding. I wonder what my therapist is going to say about this...heh... but we'll see. If it gets too awful I can take off of my own, I suppose... but I'm hoping that won't be the case.
Here's some pictures of the ship.
Other than this news, not much has really been happening as of late. Work sucks, as usual - but at least it's consistent.
I'm excited to be traveling again. And pictures? But of course.
10 March 2009
On the upswing.
I'm feeling a little better today, oddly. I say 'oddly' because today is Tuesday and I had possibly the worst day at work, volume-wise, that I've ever had in my seven months there. I jokingly say that I think I see every drug addict in D.C. on Tuesdays, but today I think it really happened. :o
Good progress on the medicine front. The absence of the Paxil doesn't seem to be affecting me too much, which is definitely very good news. Before I got on the Wellbutrin, even missing one day's worth caused me to free-fall into an attack! I've definitely felt more energetic, and the weight's dropping like you wouldn't believe. This is about as close as I've felt to 'normal' in over 3 years! However.. I'm not letting my guard down, not yet. It's still way too easy for me to feel badly when I run into certain situations and people, and I'm not counting myself out of the woods, so to speak. But I'm starting to get a better realization of just what types of sitches and people will cause that - basically, who's toxic and who isn't. I need to keep as much toxicity out of my life as possible, and so far I think I'm winning that fight. All well and good.
So much that I think I'm ready to explain what happened last night with the family. Are you ready for this? Basically... my mother told me that my brother got all pissed off when she told him "how well I was doing". Isn't that just wonderful? He's pissed off because I'm doing well in my job, because I'm going back to school for my degree, because I'm thinking about traveling later in the year, because I'm finally starting to get better. He's pissed off. How about that for brotherly love? So naturally when I got mad at that, my mother as per usual makes excuses for him. "He's stuck down in the islands, he can't sell his house because of the economy, your sister-in-law's not doing well health-wise, he's having problems, etc. etc. etc. ad nauseum, blah blah..."
Okay. Before anyone accuses me of being a heartless bitch, I want to explain my position here. Some of you might already know what it is, because I've said, but I'll say it again - and make it nice and clear. Hell, I'll even take it point by point!
Point 1: My brother has a degree from a local culinary school. When I brought this up, the excuse was, "He's too old to do that anymore, it requires a lot of bending and stooping and walking back and forth and lifting things."
Umm... and what the fuck does she think I do at my job, sit at my desk all day and play solitaire? My brother is only 44 years old. Since when did his legs break?
Point 2: My sister-in-law has a terminal illness that prevents her from walking or doing much with her hands. She needs nursing care around the clock, 24/7. That point is justified. I'll give him that one.
Point 3: My brother is currently unable to sell his house due to the economy. Basically the story is that they want to move back to "the mainland" (they live in the Caribbean at present) so that my sister-in-law can get the medical care she needs - right now they have to fly out to an outlying territory so that she can keep her appointments.
First of all... whose bright fucking idea was it to move there in the first place? They knew going in that medical care was pretty much non-existent down there. See, the situation is that they spent so much money fixing this house of theirs that they don't have it anymore - so now times are hard and they're struggling like the rest of us. Fine, I'd say - but he can work. Even if it's from home, selling on eBay or doing something. He does nothing. Not one...fucking... thing.
Now, I'm sure that everyone's about to say, "poor old brother of Carrie's, woe is him". As the guy pushing the Ginsu knives on TV says, though... "Wait! There's more!"
What people don't know is that (at least in my mind, anyway) my brother was "the favorite child". My father left our family when he was 8 and I was 1, and ever since everyone's been trying to "make it up to him" in one way or another. I feel that it's been at my expense. A case in point is that his girlfriend (at the time) moved in with us because her white-trash family neglected her or whatever - I didn't like her and she didn't like me. But I had to give up my bedroom and let her move into it, didn't I. Fine, okay, that could be just a brat speaking... but when this interloper starts beating the shit out of you, digging her fingernails into your scalp, into your arms, into your hands, flinging you against walls... well.
My family claims that they didn't know any of this had happened. Uh, right. I tried to show them, either no one ever believed me, or they just shrugged it off as "sisters fight". Only the bitch wasn't my sister, never was, never will be - ever.
I put up with this shit for almost six years. From the age of nine to almost fifteen. Six years of her beating the shit out of me. Six years of nails in my scalp, of being slammed into the bedroom wall, of screaming at me in the middle of the night. And no one ever did one fucking thing about it.
Why? Because, as my mother put it, "I was scared that your brother would run away from home".
Thanks, Mom. Thanks a lot. (end bitterness here)
And my brother is pissed off because I'm finally making strides toward healing? Well, as far as I'm concerned, fuck him with a rusty chainsaw. He will never fucking know OR understand the hell I've been through, all to make HIS life better. Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him.
Heh. Do you now see why I was upset after that conversation?
Anyway. I'm sorry to ramble on and I know this was one long fucking post tonight, but... this is like a cancer growth. You have to cut it out of you in order to begin healing from it, or to keep it from doing more damage to you than it already has.
Thanks for listening... if you've read this far, heh. I sure have been saying a lot of that recently, huh?
And please.. keep your comments coming. I may not respond to them a lot, but trust me - they're read and appreciated so much, and I take them to heart. I really do.
I may have shit for family... but I sure do have the best friends on the planet. :)
<3
Good progress on the medicine front. The absence of the Paxil doesn't seem to be affecting me too much, which is definitely very good news. Before I got on the Wellbutrin, even missing one day's worth caused me to free-fall into an attack! I've definitely felt more energetic, and the weight's dropping like you wouldn't believe. This is about as close as I've felt to 'normal' in over 3 years! However.. I'm not letting my guard down, not yet. It's still way too easy for me to feel badly when I run into certain situations and people, and I'm not counting myself out of the woods, so to speak. But I'm starting to get a better realization of just what types of sitches and people will cause that - basically, who's toxic and who isn't. I need to keep as much toxicity out of my life as possible, and so far I think I'm winning that fight. All well and good.
So much that I think I'm ready to explain what happened last night with the family. Are you ready for this? Basically... my mother told me that my brother got all pissed off when she told him "how well I was doing". Isn't that just wonderful? He's pissed off because I'm doing well in my job, because I'm going back to school for my degree, because I'm thinking about traveling later in the year, because I'm finally starting to get better. He's pissed off. How about that for brotherly love? So naturally when I got mad at that, my mother as per usual makes excuses for him. "He's stuck down in the islands, he can't sell his house because of the economy, your sister-in-law's not doing well health-wise, he's having problems, etc. etc. etc. ad nauseum, blah blah..."
Okay. Before anyone accuses me of being a heartless bitch, I want to explain my position here. Some of you might already know what it is, because I've said, but I'll say it again - and make it nice and clear. Hell, I'll even take it point by point!
Point 1: My brother has a degree from a local culinary school. When I brought this up, the excuse was, "He's too old to do that anymore, it requires a lot of bending and stooping and walking back and forth and lifting things."
Umm... and what the fuck does she think I do at my job, sit at my desk all day and play solitaire? My brother is only 44 years old. Since when did his legs break?
Point 2: My sister-in-law has a terminal illness that prevents her from walking or doing much with her hands. She needs nursing care around the clock, 24/7. That point is justified. I'll give him that one.
Point 3: My brother is currently unable to sell his house due to the economy. Basically the story is that they want to move back to "the mainland" (they live in the Caribbean at present) so that my sister-in-law can get the medical care she needs - right now they have to fly out to an outlying territory so that she can keep her appointments.
First of all... whose bright fucking idea was it to move there in the first place? They knew going in that medical care was pretty much non-existent down there. See, the situation is that they spent so much money fixing this house of theirs that they don't have it anymore - so now times are hard and they're struggling like the rest of us. Fine, I'd say - but he can work. Even if it's from home, selling on eBay or doing something. He does nothing. Not one...fucking... thing.
Now, I'm sure that everyone's about to say, "poor old brother of Carrie's, woe is him". As the guy pushing the Ginsu knives on TV says, though... "Wait! There's more!"
What people don't know is that (at least in my mind, anyway) my brother was "the favorite child". My father left our family when he was 8 and I was 1, and ever since everyone's been trying to "make it up to him" in one way or another. I feel that it's been at my expense. A case in point is that his girlfriend (at the time) moved in with us because her white-trash family neglected her or whatever - I didn't like her and she didn't like me. But I had to give up my bedroom and let her move into it, didn't I. Fine, okay, that could be just a brat speaking... but when this interloper starts beating the shit out of you, digging her fingernails into your scalp, into your arms, into your hands, flinging you against walls... well.
My family claims that they didn't know any of this had happened. Uh, right. I tried to show them, either no one ever believed me, or they just shrugged it off as "sisters fight". Only the bitch wasn't my sister, never was, never will be - ever.
I put up with this shit for almost six years. From the age of nine to almost fifteen. Six years of her beating the shit out of me. Six years of nails in my scalp, of being slammed into the bedroom wall, of screaming at me in the middle of the night. And no one ever did one fucking thing about it.
Why? Because, as my mother put it, "I was scared that your brother would run away from home".
Thanks, Mom. Thanks a lot. (end bitterness here)
And my brother is pissed off because I'm finally making strides toward healing? Well, as far as I'm concerned, fuck him with a rusty chainsaw. He will never fucking know OR understand the hell I've been through, all to make HIS life better. Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him.
Heh. Do you now see why I was upset after that conversation?
Anyway. I'm sorry to ramble on and I know this was one long fucking post tonight, but... this is like a cancer growth. You have to cut it out of you in order to begin healing from it, or to keep it from doing more damage to you than it already has.
Thanks for listening... if you've read this far, heh. I sure have been saying a lot of that recently, huh?
And please.. keep your comments coming. I may not respond to them a lot, but trust me - they're read and appreciated so much, and I take them to heart. I really do.
I may have shit for family... but I sure do have the best friends on the planet. :)
<3
09 March 2009
I'd had more to say...
...but as usual I'm too tired to deal with it. I'm also irritated by my so-called family but right now it's nothing I want to talk about.
First day without the Paxil. So far, so good. But we'll see.
Still feeling disconnected and... without emotion. I don't think I can even take a pill for that.
Sigh. How is it that a 30 minute conversation can completely ruin a day?
First day without the Paxil. So far, so good. But we'll see.
Still feeling disconnected and... without emotion. I don't think I can even take a pill for that.
Sigh. How is it that a 30 minute conversation can completely ruin a day?
06 March 2009
Better.
I'm feeling a little better this morning, though I have a headache that's the intensity of a 18 Richter-scale earthquake, which is a common symptom after an 'attack'. I'm grateful that the duration was very short - it does mean that I'm getting better. It's also Friday, which means very little work and not much stress. I'm grateful for that, too.
I was in the shower and going through my usual mind-process (see here for the details, and I got to thinking about friendship. I was ruminating over my last post, how awful I truly sounded, and thinking to myself that I just sounded like a whiny little bitch. Then my thoughts turned to my ex-best friend April, whom I've occasionally talked about before, but never in great detail.
April was my childhood best friend - we met in nursery school when we were 3 years old, and the friendship lasted until we were both 20. What broke that up? As usual, a man - go figure (and that man, Stephen, wasn't even worth it - he was an abusive son-of-a-bitch but that's another story for another time). That was really the final break, though - April had done a lot to hurt me before that. She was instrumental in the torment that I went through in middle school, with all of the bullying and the physical abuse (again, another story for another time, but I'll just say it happened and move on). To me, our friendship ended then, not later.
I used to ask my mother and brother (and later my brother's bitch of an ex-girlfriend that lived with us) to tell April that I wasn't home when she called. "I'm not home, tell her I'm not here!" My mother would say, "No, you tell her that, you're being cruel, you should talk to the girl, what did she ever do to you?" Thing is... I never told her what she did to me, because by that time my mother had proven that I couldn't tell her anything without my either not being believed, or that she didn't have time to hear it - that was a favorite excuse of hers, she never had time to hear it.
Plenty of time for my brother, though.
Anyway, I'm not sure what the point of this originally was - maybe I'm asking for feedback, were my actions cruel? What would you do if it was proven that a "friend" deliberately hurt you? On top of all the other hurt you were getting as well?
Meh. It was just on my mind, that's all. Sometimes the shower is better than therapy any day, heh.
No worries, for those who have asked, though. I'm okay today. And will be closer to fine by 7pm tonight - when I'm done with work for the week.
I was in the shower and going through my usual mind-process (see here for the details, and I got to thinking about friendship. I was ruminating over my last post, how awful I truly sounded, and thinking to myself that I just sounded like a whiny little bitch. Then my thoughts turned to my ex-best friend April, whom I've occasionally talked about before, but never in great detail.
April was my childhood best friend - we met in nursery school when we were 3 years old, and the friendship lasted until we were both 20. What broke that up? As usual, a man - go figure (and that man, Stephen, wasn't even worth it - he was an abusive son-of-a-bitch but that's another story for another time). That was really the final break, though - April had done a lot to hurt me before that. She was instrumental in the torment that I went through in middle school, with all of the bullying and the physical abuse (again, another story for another time, but I'll just say it happened and move on). To me, our friendship ended then, not later.
I used to ask my mother and brother (and later my brother's bitch of an ex-girlfriend that lived with us) to tell April that I wasn't home when she called. "I'm not home, tell her I'm not here!" My mother would say, "No, you tell her that, you're being cruel, you should talk to the girl, what did she ever do to you?" Thing is... I never told her what she did to me, because by that time my mother had proven that I couldn't tell her anything without my either not being believed, or that she didn't have time to hear it - that was a favorite excuse of hers, she never had time to hear it.
Plenty of time for my brother, though.
Anyway, I'm not sure what the point of this originally was - maybe I'm asking for feedback, were my actions cruel? What would you do if it was proven that a "friend" deliberately hurt you? On top of all the other hurt you were getting as well?
Meh. It was just on my mind, that's all. Sometimes the shower is better than therapy any day, heh.
No worries, for those who have asked, though. I'm okay today. And will be closer to fine by 7pm tonight - when I'm done with work for the week.
04 March 2009
Lots on my mind, with nowhere to put it.
As usual, I had a bunch of stuff to write about today, but I have no energy to actually do so. Perhaps if I just ramble a bit, it might come to me...
Ah, yes. I do remember thinking today while at work that not all is rosy in the land of D.C. drug testing. Apparently I'm not the only one that's been expressing dislike of my coworkers as of late - just this week, I've heard back-biting and sniping from at least three other people, two of which apparently have a snit with each other. The only difference between them and me, however, is that I keep my sniping to myself (and share it with you all when I get home, hah).
I swear to God, working down there is like working in a daycare center - full of 40 year olds. Fucking sad, I'm telling you.
I'm losing a hellish amount of weight, though. I've lost at least 35 pounds since September, and heading full steam for more. I've not been so light on my feet for quite a while now - it feels really strange sometimes. In some ways I'm really afraid, though.. because I guess I've used my excess weight for a long time as an excuse to keep people away from me, to deflect attention from me. I've never wanted attention, never have craved it, because it's never been a positive thing for me - whether I was "skinny" or not. I wasn't always like this - I have a photograph of me when I was 8 years old, just before the molestation started... and I was not overweight. I was actually quite thin, really. It was only after I was molested... that my troubles began for me. That's how I remember it, anyway.
I was on the phone with my mother this evening, and she said something, I can't remember what, but it was in the vein of reminiscence... and all of a sudden I just started to cry. I don't really know what she said to make it happen, except that it actually sounded like an apology for treating me like she did, and for focusing almost solely on my brother all of these years. But I did. I cried like a baby on that train coming home tonight. I just didn't let her hear it, that's all. Because I know deep down inside that things won't change. She'll still think that my brother is the be-all and end-all of the world.
For once, though.. it was nice to hear that I do matter. Even a little bit.
Heh, for someone that didn't quite know what to talk about tonight, I'm saying plenty, aren't I?
It's all a part of my healing. I'm trying, really hard. Whether it's doing me any good, I don't know... I don't feel any differently. But maybe the people who know me well can see it. I hope they'd tell me if they do.
Just a quick update - it looks like I can transfer 19 credits from my old college to UMUC. That's a lot better than I thought, and I don't have to suffer through English 101 again - thank Christ for that. But I'm still stuck with the fucking math course. Bleargh. More later about that as it develops, heh.
Oh, well. Thursday at the drug unit tomorrow, let the idiocy begin. I hope I can get through it all.
Thanks for listening, if you've gotten this far.
Ah, yes. I do remember thinking today while at work that not all is rosy in the land of D.C. drug testing. Apparently I'm not the only one that's been expressing dislike of my coworkers as of late - just this week, I've heard back-biting and sniping from at least three other people, two of which apparently have a snit with each other. The only difference between them and me, however, is that I keep my sniping to myself (and share it with you all when I get home, hah).
I swear to God, working down there is like working in a daycare center - full of 40 year olds. Fucking sad, I'm telling you.
I'm losing a hellish amount of weight, though. I've lost at least 35 pounds since September, and heading full steam for more. I've not been so light on my feet for quite a while now - it feels really strange sometimes. In some ways I'm really afraid, though.. because I guess I've used my excess weight for a long time as an excuse to keep people away from me, to deflect attention from me. I've never wanted attention, never have craved it, because it's never been a positive thing for me - whether I was "skinny" or not. I wasn't always like this - I have a photograph of me when I was 8 years old, just before the molestation started... and I was not overweight. I was actually quite thin, really. It was only after I was molested... that my troubles began for me. That's how I remember it, anyway.
I was on the phone with my mother this evening, and she said something, I can't remember what, but it was in the vein of reminiscence... and all of a sudden I just started to cry. I don't really know what she said to make it happen, except that it actually sounded like an apology for treating me like she did, and for focusing almost solely on my brother all of these years. But I did. I cried like a baby on that train coming home tonight. I just didn't let her hear it, that's all. Because I know deep down inside that things won't change. She'll still think that my brother is the be-all and end-all of the world.
For once, though.. it was nice to hear that I do matter. Even a little bit.
Heh, for someone that didn't quite know what to talk about tonight, I'm saying plenty, aren't I?
It's all a part of my healing. I'm trying, really hard. Whether it's doing me any good, I don't know... I don't feel any differently. But maybe the people who know me well can see it. I hope they'd tell me if they do.
Just a quick update - it looks like I can transfer 19 credits from my old college to UMUC. That's a lot better than I thought, and I don't have to suffer through English 101 again - thank Christ for that. But I'm still stuck with the fucking math course. Bleargh. More later about that as it develops, heh.
Oh, well. Thursday at the drug unit tomorrow, let the idiocy begin. I hope I can get through it all.
Thanks for listening, if you've gotten this far.
22 February 2009
End of the weekend. Verdict?
It's been somewhat of a mixed bag this weekend for me - Friday night was great, saw "Coraline" (which is absolutely an awesomefuckinmovie,you've got to go), but I was too tired to really do much else. I did get a positive 6 month review at work, which brightened my day considerably! If I keep on the track that I'm going (i.e., working myself to death, not getting sleep, holding back my frustration with the utter idiots that I deal with, blah blah), I'll pass my probationary period with flying colors. We'll see. Friday was also great in that the coworker who gets on my last nerve wasn't there - haaaa-lay-LOU-yah, haaaa-lay-LOU-yah, ad nauseum, heh. If only she'd leave there... man, I might actually start to enjoy the job again!
Saturday, though, eh. Not so good. I had to deal with my mother needing her monthly shopping run again. I have mixed feelings about that - I know she's getting to the point where she's going to need more and more and more of my help (and others' as well). But she's so bloody... I don't know... particular about it. When I make suggestions, she shoots it down not only with words but a goddamned Army tank. "I don't want to go here, I want to go there." Don't get me wrong, my mother and I have been getting along a little better this past year, but she drives me up a wall - because inevitably, it never fails, the talk comes back to my brother and how he's doing and why she's worried about him and.. well, ad nauseum. I'm sorry - I don't want to hear about my brother, okay? My brother has been the center of my parents' world for 44 years, everything's been done for him and for his behalf, and it's one of the biggest reasons why my depression is as it is. That's a whole other blog post, frankly, and I don't want to get into it - right now. Maybe I'll explain it all later. Anyway, I had an early night - went to bed and slept, only I think I slept too long...
...because today's been a really lazy kind of day. I haven't done a motherfucking thing other than pull out a sheet for my bed, eat pasta with vodka sauce, and surf the 'net til I'm bored shitless. I'm getting ready to go bowling, because there's a Sunday special on right now where if you rent bowling shoes (which I always do), the bowling's free. Who can turn down that kind of a deal, especially when money's so tight right now?
My life is so exciting, isn't it?
Saturday, though, eh. Not so good. I had to deal with my mother needing her monthly shopping run again. I have mixed feelings about that - I know she's getting to the point where she's going to need more and more and more of my help (and others' as well). But she's so bloody... I don't know... particular about it. When I make suggestions, she shoots it down not only with words but a goddamned Army tank. "I don't want to go here, I want to go there." Don't get me wrong, my mother and I have been getting along a little better this past year, but she drives me up a wall - because inevitably, it never fails, the talk comes back to my brother and how he's doing and why she's worried about him and.. well, ad nauseum. I'm sorry - I don't want to hear about my brother, okay? My brother has been the center of my parents' world for 44 years, everything's been done for him and for his behalf, and it's one of the biggest reasons why my depression is as it is. That's a whole other blog post, frankly, and I don't want to get into it - right now. Maybe I'll explain it all later. Anyway, I had an early night - went to bed and slept, only I think I slept too long...
...because today's been a really lazy kind of day. I haven't done a motherfucking thing other than pull out a sheet for my bed, eat pasta with vodka sauce, and surf the 'net til I'm bored shitless. I'm getting ready to go bowling, because there's a Sunday special on right now where if you rent bowling shoes (which I always do), the bowling's free. Who can turn down that kind of a deal, especially when money's so tight right now?
My life is so exciting, isn't it?
31 January 2009
Sigh.
I'm not having a good start to the weekend. First, the girl at work who won't leave me alone, we finally got into it and I TOLD her to leave me alone... then a fight with someone close to me, now my mother's giving me shit to pile on top of it. When it rains, it pours.
You know...I swore to myself that I wasn't going to take any more crap from anyone. Maybe this is a sign. I've been feeling a little stronger in that regard, but.. it still upsets me and it still hurts. I'm just really tired of .. well, a lot of things. I'm not angry or upset anymore, not so much as just.. tired of everything.
What do you do when you have a lot of anger toward people and you don't feel safe in getting it out or expressing it? I mean... what can you do other than swallow it? But then it all comes back up like so much vomit, you know?
Meh, I don't know. It's just not been a good couple of days here. I'm thinking that if I crawl back into bed and sleep for a while, maybe I can turn back time to.. say... 1975, I don't know, heh.
Just tired of this, of everything. I'm about ready to just wash my hands of it all.
You know...I swore to myself that I wasn't going to take any more crap from anyone. Maybe this is a sign. I've been feeling a little stronger in that regard, but.. it still upsets me and it still hurts. I'm just really tired of .. well, a lot of things. I'm not angry or upset anymore, not so much as just.. tired of everything.
What do you do when you have a lot of anger toward people and you don't feel safe in getting it out or expressing it? I mean... what can you do other than swallow it? But then it all comes back up like so much vomit, you know?
Meh, I don't know. It's just not been a good couple of days here. I'm thinking that if I crawl back into bed and sleep for a while, maybe I can turn back time to.. say... 1975, I don't know, heh.
Just tired of this, of everything. I'm about ready to just wash my hands of it all.
07 November 2008
On the mend.
I haven't been around as much as I would have liked for the past few days, and that's because... for some reason I've had a sort of physical (and mental, too, if I want to be honest with myself) "mini-breakdown". I took what they call "a mental health day" off of work today because I was in so much pain when I woke up this morning - head pounding, body aching all over, just exhausted. And I ended up sleeping nearly all day today. I've missed my medication a few times this week - I know, bad Carrie, I've been yelled at for it already - so if that's happening, I know it's bad. Add in the unbelievably hot weather here as of late - 75 degrees in November? Fuck that - meh. You get the idea.
I want to go home. I'm done with this cat-sitting crap, and I intend on telling my mother that when she gets home. If my brother wants to see her, he can come up here. I'm tired of adjusting my schedule and trying to be "the perfect daughter", blah blah. Especially when it's always revolved around making my brother happy, anyway. It's not that I don't love the cat - I do. She's probably the only thing that's made this whole week and half worthwhile so far. But I miss my apartment, my schedule, the comfortable routine that I had going, etc. Anyone who knows me knows that routine is what I need to make my life at least somewhat stable - God knows I haven't had any kind of stability in my life.
Quick news flash - Obama won. As if you didn't know by now, heh. :p I had a whole blog post prewritten about that and I was going to post it, but... it's sort of controversial and I've thought better of it now. Though I still might, I don't know, it depends.
Mainly what I'm feeling like right now is crap, or "shite" as my overseas friends like to put it. I hope that this doesn't last, because it'll be the second weekend in a row that I've felt ill. :(
Sigh.
I want to go home. I'm done with this cat-sitting crap, and I intend on telling my mother that when she gets home. If my brother wants to see her, he can come up here. I'm tired of adjusting my schedule and trying to be "the perfect daughter", blah blah. Especially when it's always revolved around making my brother happy, anyway. It's not that I don't love the cat - I do. She's probably the only thing that's made this whole week and half worthwhile so far. But I miss my apartment, my schedule, the comfortable routine that I had going, etc. Anyone who knows me knows that routine is what I need to make my life at least somewhat stable - God knows I haven't had any kind of stability in my life.
Quick news flash - Obama won. As if you didn't know by now, heh. :p I had a whole blog post prewritten about that and I was going to post it, but... it's sort of controversial and I've thought better of it now. Though I still might, I don't know, it depends.
Mainly what I'm feeling like right now is crap, or "shite" as my overseas friends like to put it. I hope that this doesn't last, because it'll be the second weekend in a row that I've felt ill. :(
Sigh.
29 October 2008
Contemplation. Hmmm.
I'm currently "cat-sitting" for my mother over at her house. Daisy was my grandmother's cat and really the last link we have to her, so I of course love her to death (my grandmother was very special to me, one of the few family members I have that I can truly say I loved very much), so when my mother said she was going to go down to the Virgin Islands to see my brother, I said I'd be happy to watch her. Anyway, I noticed this morning that the house... is getting rather junky and things are starting to fall apart. The toilet seat in the bathroom literally split in half before she left, so... guess who's attempting bathroom visits without a seat? -_- Ugh.
What I've noticed, though, is the general disrepair of the house. This is not something my mother ever did - she kept that house like a hospital most of our lives, and to see things starting to quietly deteriorate... for me, that's a very bad sign. It means that she's losing strength and energy enough to keep the place the way she used to, and it means that she's starting to get to the point where maybe she won't be able to be so independent for much longer. This is extremely worrisome for me, because in a few years, I might be in the position where I have to live with her again... only now, it'll be as a caretaker and not the other way around.
Now, my mother and I don't get along - as anyone familiar with me and my situation knows well. But I promised myself, after they put my grandmother in a nursing home, that I would never let another of my family members be committed to one of those hellholes. My grandmother suffered from the day she went into that place until the day she died - and that was sadly one of the better regarded nursing homes here. I will never let another family member suffer in that way, ever. So if that means that I have to take care of her until the day she dies... if I have to squander my entire life savings to make sure she stays in her house, or with me... well, I guess that's what I'll have to do, won't it. A nursing home is not an option.
I guess that I'm just starting to face the fact that my mother - and eventually, my brother... and I... won't live forever. We're mortal. We die. Life ends. It's a hard fact to face, and I've always run away from it, I know this. I've refused to talk about my mother dying for the last 5 years, but I'm almost 37 years old now. She's going on 68. It's time to really sit down and start making some decisions and plans on what's going to happen in the next ten years. This isn't something I want to do, believe me. Despite all of the problems we've had over the years, I think about when I was 3 years old and cuddled up in my mother's arms listening to Helen Reddy's "You And Me Against The World" (a song that to this day makes me cry like a baby - I'm tearing up now just thinking about it, it always reminds me of me at 3 and my mother telling me she loves me), and somehow, everything that she's ever done to me to hurt me in my life just melts away. Stupid, maybe. But she's my mother. She's the only parent I've ever had. I can't leave her to rot in some institution - it's not right, no matter what she's done to me.
Augh, I'm crying at work, lol. Not good. They're going to ask me stupid questions now about "am I all right" and "why are you crying" and blah blah. I'm not going to tell them that I'm crying over a distant memory - they wouldn't understand. Most wouldn't, heh.
No big deal, I go back on duty in 20 minutes and if anything will get me to laughing, it's dealing with drug addicts, hahaha. (/sour voice)
Thanks for listening to me ramble, heh. Maybe a flashback later if I'm up to it.
What I've noticed, though, is the general disrepair of the house. This is not something my mother ever did - she kept that house like a hospital most of our lives, and to see things starting to quietly deteriorate... for me, that's a very bad sign. It means that she's losing strength and energy enough to keep the place the way she used to, and it means that she's starting to get to the point where maybe she won't be able to be so independent for much longer. This is extremely worrisome for me, because in a few years, I might be in the position where I have to live with her again... only now, it'll be as a caretaker and not the other way around.
Now, my mother and I don't get along - as anyone familiar with me and my situation knows well. But I promised myself, after they put my grandmother in a nursing home, that I would never let another of my family members be committed to one of those hellholes. My grandmother suffered from the day she went into that place until the day she died - and that was sadly one of the better regarded nursing homes here. I will never let another family member suffer in that way, ever. So if that means that I have to take care of her until the day she dies... if I have to squander my entire life savings to make sure she stays in her house, or with me... well, I guess that's what I'll have to do, won't it. A nursing home is not an option.
I guess that I'm just starting to face the fact that my mother - and eventually, my brother... and I... won't live forever. We're mortal. We die. Life ends. It's a hard fact to face, and I've always run away from it, I know this. I've refused to talk about my mother dying for the last 5 years, but I'm almost 37 years old now. She's going on 68. It's time to really sit down and start making some decisions and plans on what's going to happen in the next ten years. This isn't something I want to do, believe me. Despite all of the problems we've had over the years, I think about when I was 3 years old and cuddled up in my mother's arms listening to Helen Reddy's "You And Me Against The World" (a song that to this day makes me cry like a baby - I'm tearing up now just thinking about it, it always reminds me of me at 3 and my mother telling me she loves me), and somehow, everything that she's ever done to me to hurt me in my life just melts away. Stupid, maybe. But she's my mother. She's the only parent I've ever had. I can't leave her to rot in some institution - it's not right, no matter what she's done to me.
Augh, I'm crying at work, lol. Not good. They're going to ask me stupid questions now about "am I all right" and "why are you crying" and blah blah. I'm not going to tell them that I'm crying over a distant memory - they wouldn't understand. Most wouldn't, heh.
No big deal, I go back on duty in 20 minutes and if anything will get me to laughing, it's dealing with drug addicts, hahaha. (/sour voice)
Thanks for listening to me ramble, heh. Maybe a flashback later if I'm up to it.
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