Tag Archives: Life

WHERE DO I PUT THE RAGE?

There are feelings that no matter how hard I try I have trouble controlling. Grief and anger. I don’t do well with either. I will internalize both until I reach a point of no return. In the past I would just drink it away. Of course I knew the feelings were still there but I would vent at the bar or who knows what.

I am beyond pissed that my sister shows little to no emotion about our brother being in the Hospital. When I talked to her this morning supposedly there had been some drama with my youngest niece. She told her mother that when she went to visit her dad in the Hospital he told her it was his liver and pancreas and he was dying. My sister immediately called “bullshit” on that story and said he probably wasn’t even that sick.

He may not be dying but he’s seriously ill. To lose over 50 pounds in a few weeks is not good. His skin is the color of wet cement and I know he isn’t telling me everything. I also know my youngest niece has emotional and addiction problems. She doesn’t always tell the truth.

My brother’s ex wife told my sister she was going to the Hospital to see what was going on. I told my sister that it wasn’t a good idea at all. My sister asked if it was me making that decision. I wanted to scream at her. She hasn’t talked to our brother in over 8 years and she’s questioning me? My brother CAN’T BE AROUND HIS EX. His ex knows this but insists on going to all of our family functions and showing up where he might be anyway. My brother hasn’t gone to any family functions in years. All of the blame of their divorce and the issues with the kids was put on my brother. I knew better. His ex always smiled and laughed no matter what. She faked her way through everything only showing her true feelings when no one else was around to see.

So after arguing with my sister this morning, my brother deciding to leave the Hospital against the Doctor’s advice, I was a little stressed. I called my best friend. She listened for a few minutes and then said angrily “You’re so negative! Every time I talk to you it’s negative!”. Ok. I accept that. But if I call just to talk she doesn’t have time because she’s cleaning, working in the yard, cleaning, grocery shopping, cleaning, working, cleaning, or oh yeah, cleaning. So I only call her when it’s important so I don’t bother her. This is what it’s come to with everyone. No one wants to just talk about the tv shows they’re watching or where they went for dinner anymore. Everyone is too busy except me. I’m angry, I want to put my fist through something like the old days. I know I can’t but I don’t know what to do with it. I feel consumed. My head hurts and my teeth ache. I’m tired of being nice because if I say the wrong thing I get threatened with being committed. I’m sick of people giving me ultimatums that are so not right. No one should be told they can’t see members of their family unless they put themselves in the Hospital or show proof that they are going to therapy. Even my father is angry at that.

I changed a Generic Medication to the Name Brand even though it would be $50 instead of $14. Within 4 days my Dad asked what I did the difference was so noticeable. You know how horrible I have been the last few months? I should’ve known. When I looked it up I could read all the complaints about how it isn’t released the same as the Name Brand and it contains Gluten. This is why you have to be your own advocate.

Ok, I’m done for now.

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WHAT MY BROTHER TAUGHT ME

My brother is 7 years older than my sister and I. Yes, he caused a lot of trouble when we were younger. He caused trouble within the entire family. In my opinion he had some pretty good reasons to be angry and act out. As I look back on it there were just too many things that were kept from him for too long. He found out too much from other people when he should of heard it from my mom. He also never talked about how he felt about what he knew.

I would listen to the music my brother played at full volume and learned to love it. It was a constant battle in our house. I would hear his name being screamed by my mom or dad at least 15 times a day. PHIIIILLLIIIPPP!!! TURN THAT GODDAMN MUSIC DOWN NOW!!!! Then after an hour of my mom yelling my dad would come in. My dad only had to use his voice with us. He has a deep menacing voice. You just know he means it. Just his voice would make you want to throw up. To tell you the truth I would rather be hit with my mom’s slipper than be yelled at by my dad.

I love the bands and singers I do mostly because of my brother. The Babys, Alice Cooper, AC/DC, Bruce Springsteen, Bob Seger, Meatloaf, Boston, Aerosmith, Rod Stewart, the list goes on and on. My brother made sure he took me to my first real concert which was of course Bon Jovi. My brother taught me how to smoke pot. He didn’t suggest I do it he just didn’t want me to look like an idiot because I didn’t know how. I was 14. That was the first time and I may have smoked it again once or twice. I never liked it. Like I’ve said before, gateway drug? Not for me it wasn’t and I believe if there were anything that acted as a gateway it would be alcohol.

My brother didn’t introduce me to alcohol but told me when at a bar make sure you always tip the bartender or waitress well. When the place gets busy later in the night they remember the big tippers and make sure they get served first. I always found this useful. He also told me to make friends with security, doormen, and bouncers. He said it never hurts. He looked at it that way because he was always in fights. I used it to meet people. It served me well and worked many times. And I don’t mean “friendly”. In L.A. the door guys were from Boston, I’m from Rhode Island. When they saw my license they were so excited to see someone close to their home who knew about “Chowda” and “Clamcakes” or the Red Sox that they introduced me to everyone because they were homesick. It was one of my favorite vacations. 

My brother also taught me not to trust people and the people you love the most are most likely the ones who will hurt you. He took me to Boston in a Limo to see The Blue Man Group where I laughed so much my face hurt. I loved watching him laugh. Then he ruined it by smoking and drinking in the Limo when the driver repeatedly told him not to. We then went to a Dueling Piano Bar. It would have been fun if he hadn’t been drinking or maybe if I had. I neglected to mention he was still married at the time so his wife was with us and so was my twin sister. I was forbidden to drink around my twin but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to drink. So I had to watch the entire sad, embarrassing thing unfold. At the end of the evening my brother gave the driver an extra $300 for being an asshole. In my brother’s mind he thought this made it ok.

My brother taught me the figure four leg lock, the Indian Sunburn, The Flying Elbow, and something called The Chinese Chicken Wing. Yes, some of these do not sound politically correct blame wrestling in the 80’s.

My father taught us some softball and my brother did the rest. He was surprisingly great at baseball. He could pitch better than most in our State and went to the State Championships many times. He did well in football too but they wanted him to cut his hair so some words were exchanged with the coach as was his helmet. So no more football. The same went for basketball and wrestling.

He also passed on another trait to me. I loved to read. The kids in my class didn’t or if they did went at a much slower pace. If there was one thing I hated it was when a teacher would make us take turns reading passages out loud then discussing them. By that time I had already read the book and knew what it was about and was ready to move on. I would bring a book from home and read it while everyone else was reading out loud and trying to figure out the plot. ( I wasn’t in a slow class. It was a normal Junior Year High School English class) One teacher noticed. Just one. She watched me for a bit. After a while she came over to my desk one day and asked what I was doing. I told her I had already read the book, was tired of hearing everyone else, and was reading a new book. She didn’t look mad she looked like she had seen a ghost. I was never disrespectful to09171612062.jpg.jpg teachers so I don’t know why I was a little mouthy with her.

She asked if I had any older brothers. I said yes but he has a different last name. That’s when she laughed out loud. She asked me his name and I told him. She said “You’re like him. Too smart, you get bored easily. The difference is he caused trouble, a lot of trouble. It saddened me to see him waste that brain of his because no one knew what to do with him. So, what I’m going to let you do is read the books and I’ll give you the tests to take when it’s time. As long as you are learning something and quiet that’s good for me.” She was the best teacher I ever had. My brother remembered her fondly. The only one that ever tried with him.

I love him and I’m scared. He was so devastated when my mom passed away. People forget that it was just the 2 of them for years until she was with my dad. They had a special bond. He was chastised for his behavior at her funeral when I don’t think he should’ve been. My mom’s brothers thought he wasn’t showing respect to my dad. He just wanted a couple of minutes with her alone. My brother has suffered as much as everyone else. He just hides it better. Except yesterday when I saw his eyes water and his shoulders trying not to shake.

 

(THE PIC: MY BROTHER, HIS SON, MY COUSINS’S SON, MY BROTHER’S DAUGHTER, AND MY AUNTIE LEE)


Vacation

I’ll be returning home from Florida on Sunday. That’s if I don’t get bumped because of the weather. I do want to go home, but know that nothing has changed. When I arrived here from Rhode Island, it didn’t take long to figure out I had brought my loneliness with me.

I had also brought my fears and anxiety. It doesn’t matter where you go your head goes with you. I have cried here, laughed here, and gained 10 pounds here. The best part was being able to spend some time with my Auntie Lee. My mom’s sister. She reminds me of my mom so much it hurts. We haven’t been able to see each other as much as I wanted. She is in the middle of leaving one job for another.

The house I rented is beautiful. I was going to stay another week but Capital One froze my credit card for suspected fraud. There was no fraud. The Real Estate company was going to give me a deal if I went directly through them and not a third party. I called Capital One to ask about a cash advance because I had never done one. That’s when they froze my account. This left me in a very bad place. I don’t like feeling like I have no back up plan or funds. I needed a place to stay in case the expected Hurricane became worse. I needed to fill my medications.

Capital One insisted on having copies of my driver’s license, Social Security card, and bank statement to take the hold off. I’m on vacation. I don’t travel with my social security card. I have them my driver’s license, Medicare card and bank statement. It wasn’t good enough. I fought, cried, and begged for 4 days.

At one point a woman asked “Don’t you have any friends that can take a picture of your social security card?” and she laughed. I didn’t. Because I don’t.

On the fourth day a nice older man who looked at everything with fresh eyes and was disgusted, took over the case. 45 minutes later the hold was taken off and I thanked him while stuttering and crying.

Humans are the same no matter where you go.

My kidney and stents are giving me major problems. The Psychiatrist still insists my medications are not affected by my CKD or stents. He also insists my having Celiac Disease doesn’t matter with my meds. If this is all true than everything my family says is true. I am not trying hard enough or at all.


Crazy From The Heat (Not Really)

In four days I leave for Florida. I bought a one-way ticket and rented a beach house for two weeks. Can I afford this? No. I put it on a credit card and hopefully I can pay it back. I needed some time away. Most people think that because I’m on Disability my life is filled with TV and eating Bon Bons on the couch. It’s far from it.

Everyday I am in physical and emotional pain. Everyday I wake up with a lump in my throat, a stiff neck, lower back screaming, hips popping, and a wave of dizziness that let’s me know I’m still here. Lucky me. If it’s a Monday I look forward to my dad coming home from Dialysis. I watch the clock. If it’s past 10:30 I know it’s going to be bad. This means that the staff has infiltrated his fistula again and can’t stop his bleeding. They have to leave him “clamped” longer until the bleeding stops. They blame him and make him feel like a scolded school boy. They have even gone as far as putting him at a station without a TV for a week and that was built for a Right Handed Patient, this means the tubes and wires have to across my dad’s stomach and chest making it hard to relax for four hours.

My sister said today that he needs to speak up for himself. She was pissed at me because I hung up on her. I hung up on her because she wasn’t paying attention to anything I was saying. I couldn’t reach her all day yesterday. She had just come back from another week long vacation where there was supposedly no cell phone reception. This was her seventh or eighth this summer. I’m afraid to leave now because she won’t even answer the phone when she’s 10 minutes away. What if something happens to my Dad while I’m gone and she doesn’t answer the phone? Why can’t she understand that I am sick too?

Lately my stuttering is so bad it scares me. I find myself on the floor in the bathroom rocking back and forth, stuttering to myself. When I stutter it’s to a point where it sounds like a deaf person trying to speak for the first time. I mean no disrespect, I mean my voice has the same pitch and tone. The Doctors found it odd themselves, it was unusual for someone with a stutter to have a change in their pitch and tone. It was a key factor in the diagnosis of the type of Conversion Disorder I have. It’s why it sounds so disturbing to the people who know me. I don’t find it funny and I will never understand why or how anyone could laugh or mimic someone like me. I do think it’s unacceptable the same way my dad’s Dialysis care is.

I find my fuse is short lately. I also find myself not really caring. I have had episodes where I have let things that bother me simmer for so long that one day I see red and hear a rushing sound in my ears. If I continue to swallow it down it’s going to kill me. I’m worried my dad is going to hurt himself when I’m away. He’s been extremely depressed. It’s been 90 degrees here and he’s working under his truck for 8 straight hours without stopping. He does these things just to see if he still can. He’ll lift a 100 pound bag of grain just to see if he can. He just had his Aortic Aneurysm repaired and he isn’t supposed to lift anything heavy with the arm that has the fistula! I can’t take it some days.

I also wish my twin sister would love and understand me someday. I wish she would stop with the guilt and shame. I wish she understood that I didn’t take attention away from her consciously. I don’t remember most of it because of alcohol or I just don’t remember it. I know, thanks to my one friend, that I’m not that crazy. She has one of the best memories and wonders what the hell my sister’s problem is. My best friend remembers the bullying and teasing I went through. That’s putting it nicely. While that was happening my sister had a large amount of friends and wasn’t bullied or teased. She never intervened on my behalf. When I became a Senior in High School and started drinking I turned a little mean and they left me alone. The kids in my school knew who I hung out with outside of school at that time and were afraid of them. For once I caught a break until I realized I was tossed into a much worse place. A place of worse degradation, brutality, and suffering.


Angry Birds

I know that my father’s love of animals, specifically birds has been since he was very young. I realize it was a coping mechanism for him. He wasn’t outgoing like my mom, he never liked social situations or small talk. He often could use them as an excuse to get out of things he didn’t want to do.

His pigeon hobby came close to costing him his marriage almost more than his alcoholism. What do you do with a man who spends 9 hours a day at work to come home only to spend his evenings and weekends with his birds? The birds came before family vacations. If there were babies about to be hatched forget it. I watched my mom slowly start to withdraw herself. She started sitting at the kitchen table, smoking Winston Light 100’s, staring out the window.

My mother loved my father with all of her heart. She would have died for him. And make no mistake my father loved my mother the same way. She saved his life. He will never love another woman the same.

That being said she admits she became pregnant on purpose. My father had taken off at the news and came back at some point during her pregnancy or right after we were born. I know they were not married until we were at least 5 years old. I was an observant/nosy child and always found out the family secrets. I kept them to myself until drunk and angry when I knew they would hurt the most.

I sometimes doubted my dad ever wanted us. I thought he felt trapped or forced into taking care of us and marrying my mom. My mother was so loud and different than him I wondered why he didn’t leave. She would have weeks of depression where she stayed in her nightgown, locked in her bedroom. We all pretended it wasn’t happening. When we were very young I think we were sent to a relatives house for as long as they could take us. As we got older we took care of ourselves.

When my mom was ok she was more than ok. She made up for the flaws in both of them. I don’t know how she did it sometimes. As I sit here now at the same kitchen table, alone, isolated, watching my father kill himself over pigeons, I can’t help but wonder. Did she give up? Did she have enough of seeing my dad but not really ever being with him? Her bestfriend and sister had just moved away. She was used to either talking to her or seeing her everyday. Now she would have to get on a plane to see her. With one lung and other health problems that probably wasn’t going to happen. My Aunt made her leave the house and keep active. When she left that was it. My father never tried. I did a few times but she refused.

She spent more time in her room and more time sneaking food she wasn’t supposed to have. She was good at talking people into bringing things that were not good for her. She would cry and say how depressed she was and how maybe a candy bar would make her feel better. I would go in her room while she was in the shower and find bags of candy bars! She was an insulin dependent diabetic with 1 lung, that 1 lung also had emphysema, she had fluid around her heart and ate bologna sandwiches 4 at a time. It became harder to watch, I spent more time drinking when I could.

It’s easier to understand looking back years later. I don’t think any of us could’ve done anything for my mom. She would tell me she felt like she was drowning. For someone who had a phobia of drowning this had to be a nightmare. I held her beautiful hands in mine and cried with her when she told me this. She passed away a few days later.

People often ask why I don’t live on my own. First of all I’m scared, second I owe my dad my life and he needs me. No, I don’t owe him because he’s my dad. I owe him because he has been there every time I tried to get sober and failed. He has been here when I got sober and so far have stayed that way. He has been there every time I tried to kill myself and never judged me, he just held me and cried. He sat with me through endless hours of mind numbing movies and TV because he knew I didn’t want to be alone. He did this for years. When I think of my parents I think of one picture. It makes everything clear.DSC01024 (2)

Like a bird in flight I start to feel free from my hostility and glimpse a little bit of solace.


WARNING: Do Not Leave Alone Or Feed After Midnight

13626476_10210547133301435_6524932080955258860_nHello! For those of you that have not read my blog before I am a 43 year old woman, diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder at 36/37, diagnosed with Conversion Disorder, and an alcoholic in remission for over 7 years. I also have Chronic Kidney Disease which has left me with one functioning kidney and Celiac Disease. I have always lived at home with my parents and my mom passed away 8 and 1/2 years ago. I took care of her while she was ill. My father is on dialysis and I now take care of him.

When I stopped drinking for the first year I didn’t go many places. I was trying to deal with why I felt the way I did and going to various Doctors. Years later when I found myself in a stable place I realized how many people no longer wanted to BE in my life. They didn’t want to put in the effort they thought it would take to deal with a “crazy” person. Some of them still drank and didn’t want to put me in an awkward situation. Maybe my erratic behavior was just too much. It wasn’t just friends but family too. It didn’t bother me so much when it was cousins or relatives I hadn’t talked to in long time. What did hurt was when it was a relative I was very close to and loved like my mom. In fact, my mother’s sister. My own twin sister slowly started backing away from me. I have not seen my nephews in a long time when I used to see them at least twice a week.

The isolation can get to me. When you combine that with my medication it can be embarrassing. When I do leave the house I find myself talking too much and too fast to strangers in stores or employees. When I leave the store I sit in my car and cry. I feel humiliated because I was so excited to be talking to another human that I babbled their ear off.

I did this two times already today. A woman called to ask about my dad’s pigeons. I talked to her for 45 minutes. A politician came to the door and I talked to her about everything that’s wrong with our state for a half hour.

I remember when I worked in retail and we had customers that we knew were “talkers”. We all tried to avoid them even me. We would roll our eyes when we would see them coming because we knew it would be a big chunk out of our day. I didn’t mind some of them and actually looked forward to a few of them. Then there were a few with problems that no matter what you said or did wouldn’t understand that they were crossing a boundary. They would stand too close, follow you around the store, try to come behind the counter, or expect special favors. These were the only people that bothered me.

I’ll never forget the day I went to my local drug store. As I approached the counter I saw all three pharmacists roll their eyes. There was no one else around. I left immediately to cry in my car. I know I talk too much sometimes. It’s ironic really.

For most of my life I didn’t talk at all. I looked at the ground while walking, never made eye contact, and tried to hide behind my hair. I only talked when I drank. That was it. Sober I never really did. In school I always tried to sit in the back of the class and go unnoticed. I wore clothes that were too big for me and dark colors. I didn’t even use the bathrooms. Maybe that contributed to my kidney problems. The girl’s bathroom is the last place an awkward obese girl wants to be caught alone. So I never went.

Now I can’t shut up and there isn’t anyone to talk to. I can’t win. I thought I was making progress with my sister. I’ve been trying to be cheery on the phone with her. The second day of this she sounded weird. I found out it was because we were not discussing her. As long as we talk about her problems she’s happy. She also took off on another vacation and said she told me about it but she didn’t. She won’t have phone service so if anything happens to my dad I can’t reach her. This from someone who just gave me shit about taking some time for myself at the end of August. My Doctors suggested it. My kidney function has gotten worse and the stress I’m under is taking a huge toll on my health.

I’m going to book my vacation and let the cards fall where they may. You never know what’s around the corner so I’ve learned not to put things off.

If you feed me after midnight I’ll have a gallbladder attack and I wanted it to sound like Gremlins. lol


So, What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up?

When I was little and a grown up asked me this question the answer was always “a veterinarian”. I always loved animals and so did my father. This has never changed. What did change was my ability to watch an animal suffer. If it was by a human’s hand I couldn’t trust myself to leave it to the proper authorities to handle. Seeing an animal in pain brought me immense pain. So I knew I couldn’t do it. I also knew I wouldn’t be able to handle school for that long.

I would score high on tests but physically being in school was pure agony. I would become bored easily and bring a book from home to read hoping no one would notice me or talk to me. As I got older this didn’t change much.

I have had many jobs. I can’t say I’ve really enjoyed any of them. There are parts of some that I loved. As we all know you can’t just do the parts you like.

My first job was assembling jewelry in a factory at the age of 12. I did this for a very long time over the years. Unlike my mom, I never developed a dislike for jewelry. I would see a piece and picture it a new way, a better way. Sometimes we could take home leftover pieces and I would design something of my own. I didn’t like the hours, the pay, working with all women, the fumes, not having summers, and hearing the women talk about their boss. Their boss was my mom. They would forget I was there. I kept my head down and did my work so it was easy to do. One day I had enough. I got up from my workbench, looked at each and every one of them, said “That woman is my mother, are you that stupid? Or doing it on purpose?”. I punched out and started walking home. The owner always liked me. He was an older man with strawberry blond hair, about 5’6″ and in his 50’s at the time. He had never been married. He was always kind and always called me “kiddo”. He pulled up next to me on the road and explained factory life. He also explained how tough my mom was and that’s one of the reasons she had the job she did. I miss him sometimes.

I also worked nights managing a Hallmark Store my Junior and Senior years in High School. There wasn’t much to like about it except having an excellent teacher when it came to counting down drawers, filling out bank slips, inventory, marketing, and another teacher of what not to do.

I then spent about 13 years Managing 2 Blockbusters. I loved movies. That’s it. I watched everything. I knew every foreign film, Indie film, Horror film, you name it. Now not so much. I can still tell when a film is good or just smoke and mirrors.

I then became a Hairdresser. I would’ve loved this if I had the confidence. I know the look I’m going for and how to achieve it. The problem is the client usually wants a perm at this point. I do not do perms. I can’t. My wrists tremor as soon as I start to roll the first roller. If you want a Keratin Treatment I can do 30 a day and have. If you want a dry precision hair cut like SAHAG in Manhattan I can. But a perm? Nope.

But what I’ve always wanted to do was just be a roadie or work for a band. People laugh. But even if I just did the laundry, hair, cleaned the bus, for a band I admired, I would be happy. I can’t lift heavy stuff but still. They wouldn’t even have to pay me. I really don’t want to clean toilets. Make up, hair, wardrobe, laundry, gopher, that stuff is fine. The toilets depend on what they look like.

In case you didn’t know, I might be a little manic. I’m also stalling on booking my relaxing trip because I’m afraid to leave the house. Maybe a Tour With Aerosmith, Steven Tyler, Cory Taylor, Colin Farrell, oops he doesn’t have a band but that’s ok.

I wanted to add that somehow I drank during almost the entire span of working years. It was only the years of 12 to 16 and 1/2 that I didn’t. How I managed to keep my jobs and work the hours that I did I don’t know. There were years where I never worked less than 50 hours a week. I know I could never do it now. I wouldn’t want to.


Love Resembles Rage

When I was younger I witnessed the life of two people that loved each other as much as two people could. They had their ups and downs but at the end of the day they always had each other.

I watched as he completely changed his life for her so he could stay and be a good husband and father. I never questioned if he resented it.

You might ask why I never questioned it. It’s because I saw that same man drop to his knees and howl with rage and agony when seeing her lifeless body.

After that he changed. He slowly became a dry drunk and I never realized it until now. I never realized how much he’s like my sister. Neither of them knowing what they are so lucky to have or what they were lucky to have experienced.

I have no delusions about my mom. I know she wasn’t perfect. But she was a mom’s mom. Being a mom came naturally to her. The only downside to this was her being a mom to everyone who needed one. This sometimes left her real children with little of her time. I understand and loved her more for it.

When my dad and sister complain about their lives now I can’t help but feel this simmer start in my stomach. Resentment bubbles up and flows like lava. I want to scream ” You got to love and be loved! You got to have children that love you! You have friends and family that want to be around you!”

The problem is I will not have that. I will continue to get worse. They will continue to not hear me. I can’t have children anymore. I’m 43 and have not really spoken to a man I find attractive while sober in well over 7 or 10 years and my Psychiatrist and Other Doctors have now gotten together and decided that there really isn’t much they can do for me on the Bipolar, Conversion Disorder, side of things. Either it will affect the one kidney or the Celiac or something else. Therapy has even been deemed useless. My cognitive skills or memory has gone downhill.

I know I’m filled with positivity.


Making Things Up

Today wasn’t a great day. I went to my Urologist. I arrived 20 minutes. It seems I’m always late these days. I have no concept of time. I always have a feeling of being lost or like I can’t find what I’m looking for. There’s a constant ache inside of me that feels like grief. I don’t know why.

The Urologist confirmed that I there’s a problem with my stents and I have to take antibiotics. I already suspected this because my back hurts and I’ve been running a fever. I also feel sluggish. My dad isn’t doing well either. He’s depressed. Nothing I say or do can help him. He doesn’t know how to handle his feelings so he lashes out at me.

My sister just called me for an update. It’s what she does instead of actually coming to visit our father. At the end of our conversation I asked her a question that has been bothering me lately.

I asked her if she was worried to have her children spend time with me. She said that I “was making stuff up in my head”. She also added that she did invite me to go with them to The Aquarium a few weeks ago. I don’t remember this. She could have.

Last year she always invited me over. Her and I would take the kids to local places and then to lunch. This year supposedly I was invited to the one thing. Ever since her husband and I had a disagreement it appears that she’s avoiding me. She repeatedly said the words “you’re making stuff up”. I didn’t like it. What person with a mental illness wants to hear that from their family? It hurt me. Everything hurts me. Now I’ll hear about how I’m “too sensitive” and she can’t talk to me when I get like that. So why bother at all?

It’s funny when I speak to my family in Florida they have nothing negative to say to me. They actually keep asking me to come visit for awhile. I will be taking them up on the offer soon. I hope.


PRIDE BEFORE THE FALL

My Dad was released from the Hospital yesterday afternoon. He had his Aortic Aneurysm Graft repaired because it was leaking. It was a risky surgery because they have gone through his groin 3 times recently for surgeries and he’s on Dialysis and has Vascular problems. He spent his 1 day of recovery in the ICU.

I woke up this morning with my usual stiff neck, joints, and back pain. Stumbled out of bed and made my way downstairs. I expected to find my dad on the couch or if not there at least outside in the yard. I didn’t expect to find his truck gone. He didn’t leave a note.

I called my sister. If you have read anything previous by me you’re probably wondering “what the hell did she do that for?”. The only reasons I have are habit and hope. She didn’t pick up or return my call. I’m not sure how other families are, but I think most would try to answer their phone knowing their father was just released from the ICU after a major surgery. That’s just me I guess.

When he did come home, he came in carrying heavy bags of groceries. The phone rang just as he sat down. I made no attempt to answer it. Of course it was my sister. My dad went down the list of all the things he had done this morning. I became more angry as I listened to each one. My sister on the other hand was encouraging. She then wanted to speak to me.

I told her I had a problem with him doing all of these things then bragging about them like it was a contest. She said it was a good a thing. That he needed to feel he COULD do these things. I understand that, but he hadn’t even been out of the hospital a full 24 hours when he did them. His pride is going to kill him. My anxiety and constant worrying about him is going to kill me. This took us right down the same path of me getting “help” or going into a hospital for “inpatient” care. My family might  hear me when I speak, but they don’t listen. Maybe it’s one of the reasons I repeat myself so often. I even do it here. I even type the same words two times in a row. I do this often.

I’ve been banished to my room for a “time out” by my dad. Did I mention I’m 43? I was crying too much. It’s what I do in the morning until about 2 or 3 p.m. then I get a little better. Diurnal Variation I think it’s called. Topamax can make it worse. I looked at houses to rent if I get to go on a vacation. It calms me down a little. Lately I just want my mom. There are none of the usual triggers. It isn’t her birthday or the anniversary of her death so I don’t why I’m having dreams about her and missing her so much more than usual.


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