I havent written in a long while because I was starting to feel depressed from bringing up old memories from my childhood.. In any case, I am back… I’m back because there is a whole shitload of stuff going on in my life, and I feel like I am being swallowed whole… I dont know how else to describe what I’m feeling… I am an addict. I have been an addict for 10 years… I got clean from one substance, only to jump into another.. I have been addicted to pain pills for 6 years.. I feel like just saying that alone makes me sound like a monster, but I am not a monster. I am sitting here with so much to say, and I am trying to cry out, but every time I try, it gets stuck.. I am working 2 jobs, running this household, my 16 year old son is in some serious trouble with the law right now for the first time in his life and he has to move out to my moms house soon – and this coming week I have a diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound on my left breast to investigate the lump that my OBGYN found the other day – this is JUST scratching the surface! so again, I feel like I am being swallowed. I barely have enough time to breathe, let alone go to therapy. just with what is happening with my son, it feels like our whole family has been blown apart – how do i even begin to say out loud to everyone that I am drowning in a sea of pills???? there is so much more inside of my head that is trying to bubble to the surface. This place might be my only outlet to release some of this.. if I still have the courage inside of me, I will be back.
returning!
hi all! its been a super long while hasn’t it? I’ve just been busy with life, kids, fiance, my long-awaited hysterectomy surgery and now, some intense job search. Plus, i really needed to take a break from the things that I was blogging, even though I havent really spilled all that much, but it was weighing me down pretty badly. it was like a heavy weight settled itself nicely on my chest, and i felt like i was a kid again, reliving the fun emotional and mild physical abuse i had the privilege of growing up with. to put it simply, it sucked. i thought it would be cleansing and it would bring me closure to being able to let go, and close that chapter of my life. but sitting here now, i think I’ve done pretty well with repairing myself, for the most part anyway.. I’ll always be damaged, but who of us, as adults, arent damaged in some way?
so as I said, ive just been busy living my life.. i had a hysterectomy 4 weeks and 2 days ago.. let me just say, aside from the first few days of healing and recovering, I’m SO damn happy i was able to finally have it done.. i wont go into details as to why i had to, lets just say it was necessary.
my birthday is in 2 weeks…. I’ll be 36.. I’m split on how i feel about it.. i am absolutely terrified of getting older.. i heard in a movie once a couple of years ago, “we are all dying a little bit every day. we just get one day closer to death”. don’t ask me what movie that was, or who said it, I dont remember at all.. but its stuck with me ever since, and my fear of death is absolutely suffocating, in the most paralyzing of ways.. silly, i know.. but it’s there, and its real..
anyways, its 9am, and day already looks stunning! i am so happy that spring is finally here! i am a spring and fall weather type of girl. i like the mild transitioning weather. its refreshing. the sun is out, i hear a multitude of birds singing.. i have the sliding patio door opened a few inches to let our 2 kitties and our little dog come and go.. they can’t go anywhere, we live on the 3rd floor of our apartment building, so it’s the next best thing to freedom, for the cats at least… our pooch would never even attempt to go anywhere unless i was at least within a few feet of her.
alright, time to go.. i am in need of a shower, and then i get to babysit my 3-year-old niece for a few hours.. yay me!
luvs & hugs!
one boob
so I’m going to stop telling you that I’ll “write more tomorrow”, because I’m terrible at following up lol. I’m almost always on the go or busy with the kiddos, that by the time I remember to sit down with my laptop, it’s late, and I’m really not a night owl.
…finishing up where I left off with my mom being diagnosed with breast cancer when I was 14, and deciding that NOT telling me was some kind of great idea.
the day came when she would go into surgery to have one breast removed, and reduce the size of the other one (all the women in this family, and extended, are large breasted), and I know without a doubt that I have never EVER seen my mom genuinely afraid of anything, like she was that morning.
I went to the hospital with both of my parents, and sat quietly (and confused) as my mom slowly changed from her clothing, into the cold hospital gown. I wasn’t sure why she was scared, maybe I didn’t really know or understand the depth of what was happening, no one bothered to actually sit down with me and explain what was happening. so all I really knew was she had cancer in her breast, and she was having surgery. maybe that’s selfish of me to have felt left out, but it wasn’t just a “boo hoo, I’m feeling left out and neglected while my mom is terrified for her life”, I really cant put my finger on how I felt. I do know though, that if I’m ever that sick, I will keep my kids informed every step of the way, and not leave them in the dark, to fear the worst.
I actually watched my mom have a total breakdown. I sat in a chair in the corner of the room, she was in her bed trying to get up and my dad and the nurses were practically restraining her. she had massive body shakes, she was sobbing hysterically and begging them to not put her to sleep because she was afraid she wouldn’t wake back up, and to please just let her go. I’ve said before that my mom is a hard and cold woman, and to actually see her terrified to the point that she wasn’t in her own mind, left me feeling like I wouldn’t see her come out of surgery. I started crying myself. I was feeling the fear my mom felt, and then some of my own.
mom was hyperventilating at this point, and still shaking violently when two more nurses came into the room, they had with them a small bottle and a syringe, and they injected whatever was in the bottle, into her IV. One of the nurses that was holding my mom and trying to sooth her, looked over at me, and then said something to my dad.. he then simply walked away from my mom, without even so much as a “good luck”, let alone a hug or a kiss, said to me “lets go to the waiting room”, and he was out the door and moving quickly down the hall, leaving me to scramble after him. I looked back at my mom before leaving the room, and she was still shivering from her hysteria and her eyes were still wide and wild, but she started to look limp and it looked like she was starting to fall asleep.. I remember thinking she said don’t put her to sleep, what if she doesn’t wake up? whats happening to her? why is she acting like this? why do I have to leave?
I found my dad in the family waiting room, changing the channel on the tv.. I felt like I was going to start crying again, “why was mom acting like that?” and he replied “she’s scared or something I guess.”
“what did they put in her IV? she’s asleep.” I asked.
He ignored me.
A nurse came in and said we could go back in, and that the sedative was working and mom was calm.
Dad made me stay in the waiting room while he went back to mom’s room.. I was upset about being left behind, I wanted to see for myself that mom was ok. But I waited. there was nothing but news, cartoons and soap opera’s (but not my General Hospital) on tv, and some old magazines but all I did was stare out the window down onto my beautiful city.
Pretty soon I heard my mom moaning, and I went over to the hallway, and watched as my mom was being wheeled down the hall on her little bed by two nurses with my dad walking beside the bed. she was moaning and reaching for him, and he did hold her hand for a moment, but then let it go, and fell behind the nurse at the head of the bed, and came to stand beside me. “where are they taking her?” I ask him as I listened to my mom moan the word “no” over and over again as she was pushed down the hallway and through a set of double doors and out of sight. “to surgery” he said simply, “food?” he asked, and I nodded, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of the doors.
we went to the cafeteria and had lunch, and after that I cant remember what we did for the rest of the time, but I know that she was in surgery for several hours. dad didn’t talk much about it, and I knew I wouldn’t really get anywhere if I even asked questions.
after what seemed like an eternity, a nurse came out and told us that my mom was in recovery, but that she would be there for an hour or so, everything went well, and her doctor would come talk to dad, but then we could see her after that. dad just said “ok”, but I sat there with a big grin on my face.
the doctor came in a while later, but I didn’t hear what he said, and then a little bit later, we were allowed to go into a room where my mom lay in her bed.. my eyes about popped out of my head, mom’s skin color was a weird pale color, and she looked like she just got off of a carnival ride that spun her around a million times.. she tried to sit up, but cried out when she tried to use her arms to lift herself. apparently they had to remove some lymph nodes in her arm pit areas, so her muscles had been messed around with.
dad pulled up a chair next to her bed, kissed her on the forehead, sat down and turned on the little wall tv. I stood next to her on the other side of her, barely holding back tears, and just said “are you ok??” and she smiled and said “I think I am.” and I felt like I could breathe again.
one of my sisters came into town to come home with us to take care of mom.. god forbid my dad take any time away from work, even though he’s the boss..
mom got to come home just a couple days after surgery.. I think everything went smoothly, the only thing that stands out in my memory is that the day after she came home, she wanted a shower.. my sister (we’ll call her H), helped mom undress, and got her situated in the shower, and then left the bathroom.. we waited a few feet away in the living room (during this time, it was still the shitty cabin, lol). When mom was done, she called for H, and we went to the bathroom, and as H walked into the bathroom, mom opened the shower curtain, instantly turned white and collapsed. H moved fast, and barely caught mom’s upper body and head before she slammed against the toilet. H was freaking out, and yelled for me to call 911. I ran for the phone and quickly dialed, but yeah.. we lived in the middle of no where remember? 911 didn’t work out there. seriously. I don’t remember why or what the message was on the phone when I dialed it, but I remember yelling back “it doesn’t work!!!!” (it was several years before 911 became an actual thing in our little po-dunk town).
I went back into the bathroom, H was stroking moms hair and kept saying “mom? mom?! mom!” it felt like mom was unconscious forever, but in reality I don’t think it lasted more than 3 minutes.. when her eyes finally opened, H started laugh/crying and said “what the hell happened?!” mom slowly sat up and took the towel that H held for her and said “I just got really light headed, but I feel ok now”. H and I helped mom up off the bathroom floor. we wanted to just get her to her bed where it was safe and she could rest, but mom really wanted her night gown and to watch tv in the living room.. (I told you before, she’s stubborn).
so we got her nightgown and bathrobe on her, and got her to the sofa and made sure she was comfortable. H called mom’s doctors office and told them what had happened.. The nurse was positive that mom just had a major head rush, and after having surgery and being in the hospital bed for so long, that standing in the hot shower, and then opening the curtain to the cool air just caused her to faint. the nurse instructed H to keep a close eye on mom, and if we were really concerned that we should just load up and drive back to town to have her checked out..
mom insisted that she was fine and wasn’t going back to the hospital.. we ended up joking about it later that day. mom said “thank god there was no ambulance, I was naked! those people don’t need to see my naked body.. I only have one boob now!”
she also used to joke (and still does) that she can never go swimming again.. she says, “I only have one rudder… I’ll just swim in circles!”
thanks for reading!
luvs&hugs
hugs and cancer
I’m adding this note here at the top, but I’m almost done with this blog… I wanted to apologize in advance, as I began writing this about my mom’s breast cancer, but it slowly turned into a moment with my dad that has been buried in my heart for ages.. so, if I cant finish about my mom, I’ll come back later this evening and add another posting to finish that part up for you..
****
while I was in my first year old that first little private school, as we were coming into summer break, I discovered that my mom had breast cancer.. apparently she had known about it for a couple of months, but she felt that I was too young to know this..
I found out by accident. I over heard her on the phone with my oldest brother, a little less than a week before her surgery was scheduled. we have a ton of cancer in our family, and we’ve lost lots of people over it, no one I’ve ever been close too, but I knew that cancer in my family usually meant tragedy was about to hit.
when I heard her say it on the phone, she was in the kitchen, and I was upstairs in my bedroom.. my family has always joked that I can hear conversations from miles away, but still, when they want to keep secrets from me, they’re not very careful!
I came running down the stairs like a lightening bolt, and came to a screeching halt in the kitchen, eyes wide, mouth hanging open, and my mom looked at me, and said to my brother, “looks like I have to go…” and they hung up.
she sat me down and said that yes, her doctors had indeed found a fairly good sized lump in her left breast, and that she had options to go through different treatments or remove one of the breast and have an implant inserted, but she had no desire to go through treatments, so she opted for the removal.
my eyes were dumping tears.. “why didn’t you tell me?”
“you didn’t need to know, its not a big deal.”
I went back to my room, assuming the worst. how could she not tell me? what if she dies? what am I going to do without my mommy? I was freaking out, and really hurt that no one told me, that I was the last to know, just like when we moved.. I hated being the youngest in our family, because everyone left me out.. my mom being sick was huge, that’s something you tell your WHOLE family, not just the ones you feel like telling.
I think I’ve mistakenly led you to believe that my mom was a horribly abusive monster. all of us kids, as well as her, have openly admitted that she was a terrible mom in those days.. apparently she was even worse when I was little, and I just wasn’t aware. my mom is a very complex woman, and knows she made some terrible mistakes when we were all young. When my mom was young (she was born in 1944, and the oldest of 7 kids), her mom favored her other children, and made it known to my mom that she didn’t like her. my mom was close to her dad however, but still felt the sting of the constant rejection from her own mother.
my mom grew up and joined the army after high school graduation.. that, I guess, was just becoming a “thing” back then, as it was still the early 60’s when she joined. well, she got pregnant out of wedlock from a one night stand, and that kind of sealed the deal between her and her mom, that they would never be close..
my mom gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, and towards the end of her stint in the military, she met a man whom she ended up marrying.
I think they were married for about 15-17 years, I don’t know exactly how long.. they ended up having another boy, and 2 girls… through-out the entire course of their marriage, this guy beat the bloody snot out of my mom on a daily basis.. back then in those days, domestic violence wasn’t spoken about.. sort of a “don’t ask, don’t tell” thing.. I’ve heard ugly stories from my sisters and brothers, and a little from my mom about the things that he did to her.. putting her head through a wall because dinner was late, throwing her down the stairway because he heard that she was talking to a male coworker for longer than he thought she should have been, raping her repeatedly if she tried to deny him sex, and so much more, but I think I’d rather stop there.. he also cheated on her a lot, one of the women he cheated on her with, was her own sister, but that’s another story I’ll save for much later..
He was a monster above monsters.. my mom will say today “but he loved his kids, and never laid a hand on them”. I don’t care, he’s an evil monster, period.
I don’t know exactly how she got away from him, but she divorced him, and got custody of the kids. right before the divorce was finalized, she met a guy and they dated for a few months, and BOOM, she was preggers with muah! this lovely species of man was a major drug addict and lazy piece of crap, and when he found out mom was pregnant with me, he left her, and went back to his wife and sons. HA! the men she picks, seriously!
I don’t know if she knew he was an addict, I would find it hard to believe if she did know, but back then my mom was weak willed and didn’t know how to stand up for herself.. its 2017, and she’s almost 73 years old, and she barely knows how to do so now.. my mom has never smoked even 1 cigarette, or one hit of weed, let alone any other drug in her entire life.. I believe this because her brothers and sisters, and old schoolmates have confirmed this.. but as a kid, she wasn’t a goody goody, she just did her own thing, and didn’t see the point in any of that.. I’ve seen her drunk one time, and that was after working 8 12 hour shifts straight, and then having 2 glasses of wine, and really I think her utter exhaustion was just exacerbated by a little bit of alcohol.
so she had me, and at that point was a single, full time working mother of 5 kids for 4 and a half years.. she was tired, and at her breaking point and had no one to help her, so she made poor choices about how to handle stressful situations at home. I think I’ve heard somewhere that back then, it wasn’t uncommon for an abused wife to become abusive after leaving that marriage. obviously it wasn’t ok, but that’s what it was.
however, having said all of this, my mom and I were extremely close. I looked up to my mom as a strong woman, who could survive anything, and as I came into adulthood, I prayed that I could be like her (minus the abuse!), that I could be strong and not let anything knock me to the ground. of course, she lacked the ability to show any emotion, and it was a very long time before I would understand why.
mom met my step dad, and he seemed great, but after they married, he turned into an uber asshole too, minus the angry fists. he was always in a deep depression, and would sometimes go weeks without speaking to anyone. I think I remember getting one hug from him.. I was 11 and it was about a year before we made the big move to the cabin.. the hug was out of the blue, but I remember it like it was yesterday.. (sorry, I know I’m getting off track) he had a burn pile going down by the waters edge, and he was sitting on a stool, with a water hose beside him, monitoring the flames to make sure it didn’t get out of control. I came down to watch the fire with him, and poke at it with a stick, because that was a really important job. I was wearing a cabbage patch doll t-shirt (remember when I said mom always bought me geeky clothes?) Dad sat on his stool in total silence, and I stood beside him trying to be quiet because it seemed that whenever I was making too much noise (typical noise for a kid), he seemed to get annoyed with me. Dad looked over at me and said “hey, can I have a hug?”
I was so excited to hug my dad.. how weird and sad is that? I should have been annoyed with him.. I should have been a normal kid with a normal family where hugs apart of every day life.. It should have been an alternate reality where I was rolling my eyes and saying “god dad, really?! ugh!” and given him some snotty half hug just to get it over with. that’s what happens in normal families right…? I don’t know, because we’ve never been a normal family..
nope.. my heart nearly jumped out of my chest and I could barely contain my giddy smile and excitement to actually get a hug from the man that I believed was my daddy (yep, I didn’t find out for a couple years after this that he wasn’t my dad).
I dropped my super important fire poking stick, and threw my arms around my dads neck and rested my head on his shoulder.. he smelled like Old Spice after shave and deodorant, that musky scent of burning tree branches and brush from around the property, and sweat. for the first and probably the only time in my entire life, I felt like my daddy really did love me.. it was an awkward hug, but it lasted what felt like forever, and I didn’t want it to end. I wanted him to hug me like that forever, and never let go. Just sitting here writing this for you, I cant wipe the tears away fast enough, and I can barely see my laptop screen.. that 5 minutes between my dad and I was barely anything to write home about, but for me at that moment, it was like winning the lottery.. I wasn’t ready for it to be over, I wasn’t ready to let go, but before I knew it, he dropped his arms.. he was done being my daddy.. it was like he accidently let me in, and had to quickly shut the door before I saw too much. his voice was thick and kind of gruff “go inside, your mom needs you”.. I stared at his face for a moment, totally and utterly confused about what just happened and why he wasn’t being nice anymore. was it me? did I do something wrong? I must have hugged him too long.. or maybe I shouldn’t have hugged him? he didn’t really want a hug, he was probably joking and I fell for it. (when dad wasn’t in his silence, he was cracking dry jokes that sometimes had unkind hidden meanings) as I just stood there, he turned and looked at me, and I booked it across the yard and back up to the house..
I burst through the front door, and ran to moms room.. I threw my arms around her, and she laughed, “what do you want..?” she was in the middle of making the bed, but I plopped down on top of the sheets anyway, and launched into the story of what just happened with dad.. the way I told her about it; trying to sit still but unable to stop bouncing around on my butt on the bed because I could barely contain my excitement, and talking so fast, she had to keep telling me to slow down and repeat what I said, you would have thought I had just won a prestigious award, or my favorite rock star, or won $1,000,000.00.
mom even smiled and seemed to be sharing in my happiness.. it was just a hug… but it was worth more to me than anything else the world had to offer..
dad hasn’t hugged me since.. we’ve never shared another moment since then. whenever I think about that moment, I have to push in back down, or I know I’ll lose it. I do every time.
I’m going to wrap this up for now, I was going to add more but I need to take a break..
thanks for reading 🙂
luvs&hugs
christmas grief
hello again.. i havent posted anything in a few days, as i was feeling a little under the weather.. but i’m back today!
i went to that public school for less than a year, im not sure how long.. i ended up getting into trouble with a boy.. not what you think though!
he was cute, and he seemed to be alot like me.. we became friends quickly, and hung out at school all the time. looking back now, he was a really troubled kid, and i latched onto him because i had absolutely no friends.
one day, we were both in trouble for something, who knows what, and we were told to stay back from going to gym, we had to sit in the classroom alone. our teacher had a drawer in his desk stocked FULL of candy that he handed out to the “good students”, and we never got any.. our teacher was a major asshole too, and he was always being reported to the principal by some parent. anyway, as soon as the teacher and kids were out of the classroom and down the hall, my friend and i searched for the keys to the desk. we were successful. we got into the drawer and helped ourselves. moments later, the teacher came in the room. busted!!
we got into some major trouble… my mom got called in, and my teacher, mom and me sat and had a meeting.. my mom and the teacher got into an argument over some not so kind things the teacher had to say about me, so my mom told him not to expect me back in that school again.. and the teachers response was “that would probably be best”.
(my mom and this teacher had been fighting over me the whole time i had been going there.. and again, i hadnt gone there for very long.. 6 or 7 months maybe?)
so anyways, my mom then hears about this TINY Christian private school off in the woods outside of the neighboring town, so she thought it would be a great idea to send me there.. when i say TINY private school, i mean barely 20 students altogether for k-12. its in a cabin and the people that run the school are an elderly couple that live in the upstairs apartment, and the womans 98 year old mother lives in an attached apartment. the man and womans daughter, son in-law and their children live in a small cabin 50 feet from the “school”. sounds grrrrrreeeaat right??
it went as well as can be expected.. i made it 2 years there before i was literally kicked out lol.
i grew up going to church, but by no means was i as hard core Christian as these people were, or the majority of the students were. i was the oddball in the bunch. seriously.
i didnt get along with almost any of the kids, i did make one friend there that i am actually still close with to this day. she was 4 years younger than me.. i didnt get along with the teachers either, and the woman (that ran it with her husband) did NOT like me what-so-ever, and she made it apparent.
on the last day of school before christmas break, after my 2 years i’d been there, they had a conference with my parents.. they told my parents that i just didnt fit in with the environment with which they took pride in within that school, and i was continually challenging their authority, and i was loud and hyperactive (ive always been hyper and somewhat loud, but never have i challenged anyones authority) and they thought it would be best if i didnt return to their school, “but we expect the rest of the school year payment as this was not forseen”, and she held out her hand while my parents, stunned, forked over $500 dollars.
i think i missed something.. at some point between changing between these schools, my parents didnt know what to do with me, and my sister in law, across state, needed my help. she was in the military, as was my brother, and they had a 1 month old baby girl. my brother was stationed in iraq, and my sister inlaw was having to go out to the field several times a month for training, and couldnt afford a babysitter. so my mom sent me over.
this is where i picked up smoking. living over there with her was crazy and fun. she let me do things that my parents would have cringed over. i was smoking, staying up all night, she let me steer the car when she drove, we ate fast food ALL THE TIME (this is also where i started packing on weight). she had a bunch of military friends that were always over at the apartment.. one of the friends, a 25 year old guy (that i developed a massive crush on) lived in the same apartment building too.. i also received my first kiss too, from him of course.. after i moved home, or rather was dragged home when my mom found out i was smoking, my sister in law told me that he, the guy i had a crush on, raped another friend of hers.. -insert shocked emoji here!
i think total, i spent over a month living there with her, and had no desire to come back home..
ok, back to the “present”.. alright, so out of that private school, my mom found yet another christian private school to throw me into.. this one being better, but i still stuck out like a sore thumb..
at this point, i hated my life.. i hated waking up every morning, i hated where i lived, i hated everything.. fighting with my mom was getting worse too. i was miserable.
i was waiting for school to start at my new school, it was christmas break still, so i was back to moping around the house, which by this time, had doubled in size.. because of the work my dad does, he has access to materials and tools to keep building.. the cabin wasnt a cabin anymore, it was beginning to look like a house.. and it was huge. my dad wouldnt let my mom have any input on how the house was being done, so it was all him.. besides being large, it was cold and felt empty. he had the living room done with cathedral ceilings and 2 walls of the living room were nothing but picture windows, floor to ceiling, over looking the river.. you might think that it sounds beautiful.. but it was nothing.. it was just a cold reminder of being in the middle of nowhere and feeling totally alone.
that was also the christmas that one of my 2 dogs died of a brain aneurysm that we didnt know he had been devoloping, and on christmas eve, it burst. i was absolutely broken hearted about it too. obviously its always super sad when you lose a pet. the female dog we had, she was a mutt, smallish in size, but she had been my puppy since i was about 3. when i was off getting into trouble as a toddler, she was usually right beside me. well, she had puppies i think when i was about 4, and we gave them all to good homes, one of those homes being my step dad. he took one of the boy pups.. they absolutely loved living in the woods with us. of course, they had the occasional run in with a skunk or porcupine, they were otherwise happy to have all that freedom out there.
so it started that we noticed about a week before christmas, Z’s (i’ll call him Z) eyes were full of blood.. we didnt know why, but he seemed fine.. my parents wouldnt take him to the vet to find out why because it was so expensive. even if they had taken him in, they wouldnt have paid for any treatment or surgery, i’m sure. he would have died either way.. but i was still boiling hot mad that they wouldnt help him. every day he was deteriorating a little bit more and more.. i knew something was wrong, i dont remember if my parents acknowledged this or not.. he never liked being picked up because when he was barely more than a puppy some 9 or 10 years before, he was barking at a man that was walking by the yard, and before my step brother could stop him, he went running up the the guy and the guy kicked him in the side so hard, Z went hurtling through the air, hit the ground and rolled a bit.. whatever injury had sustained, he apparently never fully healed..
so now, being as sick as he was, he didnt care if you picked him up, and he actually seemed to want to be held and snuggled.. unless he was outside going potty, he didnt leave my bed or my side.. he wouldnt eat and barely touched his water bowl that i brought into my bedroom for him. so, christmas eve came around, and my parents had gone out for a little while, and i noticed that he was more lethargic than normal.. his breathing was fast and shallow. i knew something was super wrong. when my parents got home, i instantly started bawling, and through my tears, i sobbed that he was dying.. my dad kept telling me to stop it and he rolled his eyes and left the room to go to his shop/workroom. my mom sat down on the couch and held me while i held Z, and she tried to comfort us both..
it was late in the evening but she called the local veternarian anyways, hoping he was on call. good thing about small towns is that the phone numbers listed in the phone book, usually were also their home number.. and that was just the case.. however, the girl that answered said that her dad, the vet, was in a neighboring town, 45 minutes away, and with the driving conditions, it was about an hour and a half to two hours. she said she would get a hold of her dad and have him call us right away..
he called about 10 minutes later, and my mom told him everything that we had noticed with Z during the previous week up until now.. the vet was very sympathetic and said it sounded like a brain aneurysm, and from the sounds of his current state, even if he was able to get to us that evening, there would be nothing he could do. it sounded like it was the end. i lost it, and buried my face into Z’s fur. my mom was actually even crying, which i dont think i had ever seen her do as a kid.
my dad stayed in the garage during all of this (the triple car garage was located under neath the living room, and also doubled as his workshop). he kept himself busy, obviously dealing with this tragedy in his own detached way.
after a while, my dad came back upstairs and did his night time routine of showering and planting himself in front of the TV for some Dick Van Dyke reruns, and i kept Z with me in my room, and my mom was in the living room trying to talk to my dad about what to do with Z after “it” happened..
bed time rolled around, i didnt even care about christmas being the next day.. i just wanted Z to survive this. we had a doggie door located at the back door, but Z hadnt been using it maybe because he was too weak? but my dad called me down and told me to let Z out.. i tried, i opened the door but he wouldnt get up.. dad snapped at me to pick him up and make him go out (asshole). so i went over and picked Z up, and he instantly went limp in my arms, and he peed all down my legs. i started crying again and yelling that he was limp and peeing, and dad just said “then put him outside!” i didnt know what to do, i was panicking, so i laid him down on the back porch, which was still under construction and not much more than a 3 foot wide makeshift ramp. as soon as i laid him down, he started sliding down the ramp, and towards the edge, which was a 7 foot drop off. i was crying and trying to tell my dad to come help me (Z was a little dog, but he was fat) but he wouldnt get out of his recliner, he just watched what was happening “PICK HIM UP!” he bellowed. i grabbed Z before he went over the edge and brought him back inside.. when dad saw him, eyes rolled up inside his head, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, and limp body, i think he realized what was happening and what he had just put me through, he jumped up and came over to me and took Z from me. he told me to go to the garage and get a box and then find an old pillow and blanket that we could use as a bed, because he still felt a heartbeat, and Z was still breathing, but barely.
i got everything put together, and my dad gently laid Z in the little bed. my mom was on the phone with the vet again, and he confirmed that it sounded like this was it.. i could hear the tears in her voice.. i kissed Z over and over again while stroking his silvery grey fur, and told him that he was such a good boy, how much i loved him, and that i was sorry i couldnt make him feel better.. i think i knew that my dad needed a minute with him, so i went to my mom around the corner in the living room, and sat on the couch with her and cried while she had her arms around me.. i dont think 10 minutes had even passed when my dad poked his head around the corner and nodded at my mom. my mom squeezed her arms around me tighter than before, kissed my forehead, and i began sobbing even harder. i think i heard my dad sniffled, but i wasnt sure.. my mom was crying quietly with me, trying to not show it, but i could feel it.
pretty soon, my dad cleared his throat and asked my mom to get a garbage bag. i shot up off of the couch and cried “he’s not garbage! you cant put him in a bag!!” and my dad was back to his normal asshole self and he said “do you want the worms and bugs to eat him????” (because apparently the garbage bag is made out of iron and will stand the test of time?)
i ran to my room, hysterical. i heard my mom stick up for me, but i dont remember what she said to him.
i lay in my room crying.. i could hear my dad open the garbage bag, shake it around to catch some air inside it to help expand the plastic. i could picture what he was doing all in my mind. i heard some shuffling, and a soft “thump”, and some more plastic rustling sounds.. pretty soon, i heard the back door open.. my dad had brought home one of his work trailers, and i peaked out of my bedroom window and watched as he opened unlocked the double doors of the trailer, slowly opened them, and gently set down the heavy looking garbage bag. he sat down beside the bag for a moment and didnt move.. i knew he was hurting like my mom and i were, but he was (and is) an ice cold human being that is emotionally constipated, and it would have been comforting had he shown a little bit of what i was seeing in private at that moment.
he came back inside a little while later and the 3 of us sat back down in the living room again, this time with Mary Tyler Moore to keep us company. i didnt mention our christmas tree that my dad had cut down that year, i’ll just say that it was 12 feet tall.. when you own a ton of private property in the woods, you can have as big of a christmas tree as your living room will allow.. and with cathedral ceilings, you can pretty much go as big as you want to.. so ours, was 12 feet tall.. but we had no problems with it at all.. up until that night.. 30 minutes after my dog died, our 12 foot christmas tree came crashing down in a flurry of tinsle and glass balls. we looked at each other, and my mom said “Z is playing one last time”, and we all chuckled, even my dad.
it was a few more weeks before my dad was able to bury Z.. winters out where we lived were pretty major.. i’m talking 5-6 feet of snow easy every year.. dad had to at least wait till the snow quit falling so he could dig and not have it be an endless task.
that christmas day was sad for all of us.. we had family come out for presents and dinner, and it was just not the same.. i think i have photos in an album somewhere of my and my mom and you can see the lack of joy and christmas spirit on our faces..
Z’s grave marker is still there to this day. 🙂 he was a very good boy.
thats it for today, i’ll see you tomorrow
luvs & hugs
Broken Bicycles
When summer was finally over during that first year, I had to start school. my very first “new school” experience. i was freaked! new town, new school, my mom never bought me “cool” clothes throughout my entire school life. i was also not very thin, but i wasnt overweight yet, just thick and with a very very low self esteem (wonder why).. plus i was cursed with curly, poofy hair that my mom made me keep short up until around this time. i was every once geeky and lame looking.
on the first day of school, all of the new kids had to sit in the lunch room until they were assigned to their new teachers i guess? i was starting the 6th grade, so still in grade school. there was actually a student there that i went to school with before we moved, from the city. which was really weird, because we had gone to school together since kindergarten. so, major relief.. but its not like him and i were ever friends, but it was nice i think for both of us to see a familiar, friendly face.
that first day of school was long and boring.. the boy that i knew was put in a different class, so again i was on my own.. i hated being there and i had no desire to come back the second day. i was stuck riding the bus, which i had never had to before, and the ride home that day was a nightmare.. one of the high school kids at the back of the bus walked up and stuck a wad of slimy pink gum in my frizzy poofy hair. but i was too nervous to stand up for myself, and no one else around me seemed to care, they were all laughing hysterically.
the next morning, i went up to my bus stop waiting area up the hill from behind my house, and i was early.. i know i was early, because i was so worried about missing the bus, that i wanted to make sure i was on time. well, i waited for over an hour.. and the bus. never. came.
at first i went into panic mode. i raced back to my house and paced around the house. i had never skipped school before.. i had ditched school a few times. the first time was when i was in kindergarten (yep, really). my friend had a little bit of money, and mcdonalds was only about 10 blocks away, so we walked there and bought french fries. dont ask me how we got away with walking away from school when we were probably only 5 or 6 years old, or werent questioned at mcdonalds because i barely remember any of it.. my mom was informed by the school because when we were walking back down the street (i lived a block away from school, and my friend lived a block from me), we were apparently busted by the assistant principal, and i happily told him about our adventure that day. i ditched another time in 4th grade, but that was uneventful.. in either case, i suffered the wrath of my mom, and i was terrified that she wouldnt believe that the bus just didnt come.
after a while however, i gave up on trying to come up with a plan, and plopped down on the couch.. i was happy that i didnt have to go back to that school!
when my parents got home that day, everything was normal.. i was shocked that they didnt know, but really relieved too. so, i figured this was it. this was how i was going to play it. if the school didnt call her to tell her that i wasnt there, then they probably werent going to call her tomorrow right?
right!
i magically skipped school for 3, count them THREE (1, 2, 3) weeks without getting caught! i got an extended summer vacation 🙂 every single day when my mom got home from work, she would ask “do you have homework?” and i would proudly state “nope, i did it in school”.
now, im not going to tell you what my moms job was, because i’m trying to keep as much anonymity as possible, but her job was one where she was no where near a phone for her entire work day, and i think it was technically a city job. so im assuming thats why she was never informed of my constant absences? but still, no letters? i intercepted the mail every day, but there was never anything in the mail box from the school, or any attempted phone calls.. so that shows how much this lovely school really cared for its students! not like it was a large school, it was in the center of this little town with a population of MAYBE 1,000 people, tops.
alright, so, 3 freakin weeks of bliss! you may ask “did you really think you could do this for the next 5 or 6 years??” but i didnt think long term really, i thought about the present, the future wasnt even a thought.
one day, mom comes home from work, and because before we moved, homework had always been an issue with me, my mom said to me “im just so proud of you and thrilled that you’re doing so well. im going to call your teacher tomorrow and just check in”.
i think my eyes almost fell out of my head, and the air was sucked out of the room. i was frozen to the spot where i stood. i think my life flashed before my eyes too. there was no way around it, i had to come clean.
“mom, about that…………..” and i unloaded the truth. i spoke the words so fast, i dont think she understood at first.
and then i saw it sink in. her face started to turn that shade of red that tells me that something bad is coming.
i waited for the slap or the cruel words or the screaming.. i braced myself.. but they didnt come, when i looked back at her through my flood of tears, she started laughing.
alot.
my mom was chuckling so hard she had to sit down. i got angry and yelled “stop laughing, its not funny!” and she stopped after a while.. i know that we didnt fight, but i dont remember how the talk went.. i know that i begged her not to tell dad.. and she said that she wouldnt (but of course she did).
she said to me that i wasnt in trouble, but i BETTER have my ass on that bus the next school day, or blah blah blah, probably some cold and mean threat that she regularly dished out. but i knew full well that she meant it. and i wasnt about to test it.
so the next day, i was up at the bus stop and waited. but again, there was no bus. but still, scared shitless that i would get the beating of my life, i knew i better figure out a way to get there. the problem was though, the school was 5 miles away, and i had 4 miles of gravel road to travel, and i better get moving.
bicycle! i knew we had some 10 speed bikes in the shed next to the house. so i went and checked them out.
all of them had flat tires, most of them were missing parts and didnt have a chain.
i took the best looking one anyway, flat tires and all. i got up to the road, hopped on and began to pedal away, but found that i was barely moving at a snails pace. i stood up to pedal, and probably got the biggest workout of my life. turns out, its damn near impossible to right a bike with flat tires on gravel. theres noooooo traction. but i said DAMN near impossible. not totally impossible. i road that busted up bike for 3 miles out of sheer terror of what my mom would do if i didnt make it to school.
just before the end of the road was in view, a beat up truck pulled up beside me with an icky looking, greasy mountain man in the driver seat, and his redneck daughter (maybe?) beside him, and when they looked at my bike, they chuckled, and asked where i was headed.. all i said was “school”, and he said “well yer a lil late looks like, wanna ride?” he showed me his watch, it was after 9! i didnt hesitate, i said yes.. he put my bike in the bed of the truck, and i climbed in with it. all i could think was that i HAD to get to school. if i was kidnapped, then maybe she wont be mad that i missed school again.
after a while i knew the school was getting close, but my imagination was started to get the better of me, plus, i had only been to the school once before, i wasnt sure how to get to it. i started thinking that maybe he really WAS going to kidnap me.. did he miss the turn? i think he did, wasnt it back there? where are we going? should i jump? what about the bike? do i get in trouble for missing school and being kidnapped, or do i get in trouble for losing the bike? oh my god, he did miss the turn!
he turned. pulled to a stop at the school curb, and hopped out. my heart felt like it was going to blow up and out of my chest.
the man lifted my bike up and out “ya shouldn’ be ridin this bike like you was. and this is just a 10 speed bike, its not meant to ride on dirt like that either. you should get one of them mountain type bicycles……”
“yep! thanks for the ride!” and i was racing to dump the bike at the bike rack near the doors and get my late ass inside.
for the next week, i rode that bike to school. the only difference being that i would leave for school at 7 so i could be there just before 8:30 when school started.
and it was working! my mom was happy, i was happy i wasnt fighting with her, however, my body felt like it slowly dying. riding a bike every day is one thing.. wonderful work out, leaves you feeling great. but fighting with a broken bike on a rocky road is a totally different story. you use muscles you didnt know existed. i doubt those muscles knew that they existed either.
(i never accepted a ride from anyone again either, lol)
that Friday as i was riding my broken bike home, i was about a mile away from home, a car rolls to a stop beside me.. i stopped to look, and when the dust settled, i saw my moms face. there was amusement, confusion and worry on her face.
“what in the world are you doing???” (she wasnt sick, i dont remember why she was home early)
we put the seats down in the back of our white ford escort wagon, and i practically dragged myself to the passenger seat and collapsed. i felt like i had just finished a week long marathon. she asked me again “what were you doing on that thing???”
i told her “i was afraid of missing school and the bus doesnt come to get me so i had to ride the bike”.
“You’ve been riding that all week?? why didnt you tell me that the bus wasnt coming for you?! i could have called and gotten it straightened out”.
oh.
i. didnt. think. of. that.
we got home and mom blew up the school’s phone, and demanded to know why the bus wasnt coming to get me. “we didnt think anyone lived down that road”.
my mom chewed that woman a new ass hole for #1, not sending a bus, #2, not informing her of my absences by mail or some form on communication “you can call my husband at his work! you have his contact information as well!” (oops, i never thought of that either!).
todays blog turned out to be longer than i intended, and it was really only about that one story.. i’ll have more tomorrow! 🙂
luvs & hugs
history lesson
the last few days, ive been stuck in depression mode and feeling emotional, maybe because of the weather? i dont really know, but todays blog is probably going to be all over the place and messy and hard to read or follow.. bear with me, and read on.. hopefully tomorrow’s post will be better! 🙂
from the time i was born up until i was about 12, we lived in a big city (nope, not telling where).. we had a cabin in a small town in neighboring state that my step dad built (will talk about step dad another time too), and we would stay weekends out there during summer time.. our cabin was on a large river, and it was beautiful, the cabin however, was rather crude as it wasnt 100% finished.
so, at age 12, i came home from school one day and saw a “FOR SALE” sign planted firmly in our yard, and when i came inside, my parents were sitting in the living room with another man and woman, and they were going over paperwork. i had NO idea what was going on, but i knew it wasnt good.
30 days later, we were moving out to our cabin in the woods 😦
the first time in my life i had to say goodbye to the friends i had literally grown up with since kindergarten. we had moved several times before, before my mom married my step dad, but i had never left my school or friends. this house was the house we lived in the longest, and i can still mentally picture the layout, and where everything was at.
side note: the family that bought the house, still lives there today, some 23 years later or so… (im terrible at math.)
i was miserable and freaked out and scared.. my parents kept their jobs in the city, and drove an hour each way to commute, and to finish out the remainder of the school year, which i think was only about a month and a half, i got the pleasure of commuting with my dad too.
throughout the summer after school got out, sucked.. my mom left for work at 4:30a.m. and my dad left for work at 6:00a.m.. mom got home around 4:00 in the afternoon and my dad got home at about 6 in the evening. it was like this from the age of 12 up until the age of 19 when i moved out, and we lived literally in the middle of NOWHERE. Zero supervision. my siblings; 2 half sisters, 1 step sister, 2 half brothers, and a step brother (later i discovered that i also had 2 more half brothers), were all grown and moved out on their own, either with regular jobs or whatever, and others were in some branch of the military. so i was utterly alone, 5 days a week, for nearly 10 hours a day. a 12 year old kid is BOUND to get into some kind of trouble, right?
yep!
during the summer, until i was about 15, i wasnt allowed to go swimming unless mom or dad was home.. and whenever i was able to, i was ALWAYS in the water. i was referred to as “the fish”. I also had ZERO friends as well. and this was what, 1993? we lived down a dirt roads in the middle of the woods practically.. the closest neighbors were miles away, and most of them were retired people living out their lives on their riverfront property. either we didnt get a satellite dish for the first couple years because there was no service providers out there, or my parents just didnt feel the need for it, i really dont know.. we had basic channels… 2, 4, and 6.. our little antenna at the top of the hill behind our house didnt receive much else. obviously no internet either lol.
i entertained myself by getting into my moms stuff, wearing her clothes around the house and playing in her high heels and acting out Zorro episodes.. or i watched soap operas all day, General Hospital was my favorite, and I absolutely LOVED Sony and Jason, they were my crushes. or i pretended to be Julia Child and would go into the kitchen and pretend to be on a cooking show and i would create (hideous) recipes by throwing whatever ingredients i could possibly find into bowls. i had a very large audience, and they loved me and my creations.
One day my mom came home from work early because she was really sick, and i had a huge bowl in the kitchen full of disgusting green goop, and i panicked. its not like we had a weekly garbage truck, we either burned our burnable trash, or my dad took garbage to work with him to dispose of it. he owned his business, so why not right?
anyways, this bowl, i didnt know what to do with it, i knew i would get into serious trouble as both of my parents were seriously anal, and my mom was borderline abusive and she too hated living out there as the stress of the living conditions and commute were weighing her down.. plus, she had always been this way with all of us kids.. i’ll get into more of that later too, but due to the blog im posting now, i’ll be throwing in some examples of her abuse in a bit..
so, i covered the bowl with suran wrap, and ran out the back door with it, up into the woods and over to a trail i had found some time before, and i threw it over the edge of the trail into a ravine type area. i dont know why i didnt just dump the contents into the garbage and wash out the bowl, that hadnt even crossed my mind. i just threw the entire bowl into the woods to save my ass..
this was the lame stuff i did that first summer to pass the time. there was absolutely NOTHING to do. so, my mom one day told me that i was lazy and getting fat (yes, she said that), and told me that i had to have the house cleaned every day before she or my dad got home.
dont get me wrong, when i mentioned above that my mom hated the living conditions, it didnt mean the house was gross or anything.. but it was an unfinished cabin. the walls were nothing more than exposed 2×4’s, insulation and wiring. bedroom and bathroom doors were particle board with a piece of rope for handles, and now that i think about it, i actually didnt even have a door on my bedroom until i was 14. we had a wood stove and space heaters to keep us warm.. deadly stairs from the living room to the two bedrooms. i say deadly because it more or less resembled a double-wide tilted wooden ladder. patches of super old carpeting that had been placed in some areas back in the early 80’s, and spiders.. spiders everywhere.. plus, we had gone from living in a 2 story, 6 bedroom 2 bathroom house with a rec room, living room and a family room, with an attached garage and storage shed, and an attic full of more storage stuff, to living in a tiny 2 bedroom 1 bathroom cabin with half of a living room, and a “laundry room”. we downsized a little bit, but lets just say there was a wee bit of clutter, and “stuff” everywhere, stacked upon even more “stuff”.
so cleaning was anything but simple.. and my mom was a neat freak in our last home, and there was no way i could perform miracles and make the cabin spotless for her…. so needless to say, her and i had some massive and ugly screaming matches. being slapped across the face was a regular occurrence for me, and she was happy to supply them. she admits today that she took out her misery and depression on me. it was not a happy time for her or me. my dad however was living his dream.
one time, i started my first period.. i didnt move off of the couch that entire 5 days.. i didnt clean anything.. the cramps were unreal. i had no desire to move. she came home from work one day, and she started in on me about my being lazy, and the longer i lay around, the fatter im going to get, and “when you have cramps, you have to move around”… my first period and she had NO sympathy or compassion for me. still sitting on the couch, i was screaming through my tears at her that my stomach hurt and “why are you yelling at me!?” and she literally pounced on me and grabbed one of the little 1970’s style throw pillows and covered my face with it and held it and me down with her weight.. all the fat comments directed at me, and my mom wasnt exactly little miss skinny..
i was in panic mode, i couldnt breathe, and i was scared, so with all of my strength i pushed her off of me and she landed with a loud thud on the floor, still holding the pillow. i screamed at her “you tried to kill me!!!!!” and i ran to my room, for the first time i was actually afraid of her. and she yelled back at me, “dont be stupid, i did not, i was trying to make you stop screaming”.
sometimes during our fights and screaming matches, she would tell me that she hated me and i wasnt allowed to call her “mom” anymore because i wasnt worth it. i would sob and sob.. the next day she would bring something home from work with her to buy my forgiveness.. my dad usually just ignored whatever was going on between her and i, and just turn the tv up. i think her and i had cabin fever… this stuff went on for the first few years living out there.. the brutality of it i mean.. i had no one to talk to, no one to look to for comfort or support.. i felt like a prisoner and i felt like my mom hated me with every fiber of her being..
before i go, i’ll leave todays blog with one amusing story of how i entertained myself during that first summer, and how bizarre my boredom really got. 🙂
my parents bedroom had a sliding door that lead to a tiny 4×9 “patio” with a couple of wooden deck chairs.. for 2 weeks, as soon as i woke up in the morning, i would go out onto their patio, and at the top of my lungs i would pretend to be a crow “CAW!!!!! CAW!!!!!! CAWWW!!!!!!!” and i would go back inside and resume my day. for 2 solid weeks, except weekends obviously.. my parents were home, if they heard me doing this, they would have locked me up in the crazy hospital. i think the boredom was taking its toll on my poor brain.. i was really losing it lol. well i finally quit doing it because little did i know, sound carries very well and very long distances on water. im assuming there were people camping down river, because i heard someone shout back “SHUT UP!!!!!!!!” soooooo, that ended that!
luvs & hugs
Meet & Greet
So im a mom of 3 and step mom of 3 additional kids, all of which are under 16.. My fiance and i are waiting to get married until they are all more grown.. no biggie i guess, this is my 3rd marriage, so im all for waiting.
i still can’t believe that sometimes, im only 35 and im going into my 3rd marriage.. sometimes im super ashamed of that fact because i feel like i failed to make the first 2 work, or rather, i failed to see that NOT getting married the first 2 times would be the best choice altogether.
my first husband got me into drugs and he was really abusive. even though i grew up with a very straight-laced family and went to a private school and never went to a party or was ever kissed by a boy, or much less looked at by a boy as anything more than just a friend or best friend even, the crazy chaotic life of drugs and stupidity really called to me.. VERY. LOUDLY.
anyway, when i was 18, i met a guy, who had i known what i know now, should have made my skin crawl and send up red flags.. whatever, i got pregnant after a year, and we got married 8 months later.. the following year, i got pregnant again (i’ll fill you in more about this some other time, but it was with someone else but it’s not what you think), and i couldnt stand the abuse anymore, so i bailed..
i moved in with my mom, who was also divorcing my dad, and she helped me get through my divorce..
fast forward a couple of years, and i met yet ANOTHER piece of shit… but nope! i didnt see that he was a piece of shit, i saw that he paid attention to me.. after a year, i got pregnant.. aaaaand we got married.. cuz, that’s what i do lol. im the female equivalent to Ross Geller.
he turned out to be an abusive, raging alcoholic, and we ended up divorcing too..
so what makes the relationship im in now different from the rest? the guy im with now, #1 doesnt do drugs, 10 years ago, he was a pot head, but he chose to be a hard working father instead.. hes never raised a hand to me or anyone else for that matter, he’s sweet and loving, and he looks at me like im a queen in his castle. he loves my kids as they were his own, and they call him dad now.. my oldest struggles with it, but he’s almost 15, so totally understandable right.. he takes care of us and shows us, or rather ME, what a real man does for his woman. we’ve been together for over 4 years, and every time he says “i love you”, my heart STILL flutters..
whats the point of my blog if all im going to do is gush and blubber? to tell someone that doesnt know me, that something is massively wrong with me. i used to think maybe i had sociopathic tendencies, but i dont think that’s it.. i do know this.. after all that’s happened in my life (done by my own stupidity) i am utterly FUCKED UP, and i dont know how to fix any of it…..
i’ll eventually lay it all out for you, i’ll get down into the nitty gritty and the muck and grime that has been my life for the last 16 years. but for now, im getting used to this blogging thing.. it’s like writing in a diary and leaving it out for eeeeeveryone to read your deepest darkest secrets, and ugly admissions and confessions.. so, i’ll get there.
luvs & hugs
growing up: the scenic route 