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


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?


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