My father has joined an internet dating site.
He wants my advice on what to put in the "who I am, what I'm looking for" fields.
I'm not ready for this stage.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
The Dating Game
My father is trying to date.
I'm not quite sure what I think about that.
Mom and I, as well as my sister and mom's two best friends, all talked about this while mom was still alive. She wanted to make sure we knew that she was ok with dad dating, and getting remarried. My sister and I both figured he'd be remarried within 6 months of mom being gone, simply because he is NOT cut out to be on his own. He's still bitching about having to take care of the lawn and garden, as well as take care of himself, pay the bills, and not having any social life.
He quit his job that he's had for years and years because he got tired of the way the company was run - didn't give his two weeks, just 10 minutes. He already had a job lined up at Wal-Mart. He's been there about 7 weeks - he started there the same day I started my job. Today he calls me and tells me he's looking at maybe quitting there and getting a part time job elsewhere. Why? Because he "doesn't have time to do anything." He doesn't get to have a "social life" because he doesn't always have Wednesdays off to go bowling, or Fridays/Saturdays for bingo, and can't always go to church on Sunday because sometimes he has to work in the mornings. But the Dept Manager ALWAYS has Sat/Sun off. I told him "welcome to being a grunt in retail. Your schedule is never set, you work when they want you to." He doesn't get it, he really doesn't. It doesn't matter where he goes, he will be a grunt who doesn't really get much say in when they schedule him to work. He's too used to a M-F, 8-5 job like he's had for 15 years. He actually told me that if all else fails, he could go back to his old job because they'd take him in a heartbeat. With 10 minutes notice? I doubt it. Dad thinks he's just indispensable and everyone will do anything he wants.
I never figured my father for a stupid man, but damn...he has no idea how the real world works, I guess. Things aren't like they were in the "old days". You don't work for a company for life and get a gold watch when you retire - you get a cake, a clap on the back, severance pay. This company was damn good to dad while mom was so sick - they paid his insurance so he wouldn't lose it, even while he wasn't working. He took months off at a time to spend with mom while she was going up and down, and we'd think the end was near, and then she'd recover. How does he repay that? Gives them 10 minutes notice. I know that loyalty to a company isn't exactly a thing of the present, but still...
Anyways, back to the dating. I'm more or less okay with it, but it's still weird. Especially when he asks me for dating advice. You see, dad doesn't seem to realize that I never really dated. John (a guy I met in college) and I moved in together when I left school the first time. My ex-husband and I moved in together shortly after getting together. My ex-fiance and I lived together for about 20 of the 22 months we were together. DH and I have lived together since the day we met 6 1/2 years ago. No dating there, see? I have no idea. Not to mention I'm a girl and we do things differently AND I'm 30 years younger than dad. The girl he was dating? I use the term girl for a reason - she's 45, which is only 3 years older than my sister. I also say "was" because she hasn't contacted dad in a week. He keeps saying he's leaving it in her court, but then he sends her text messages. He doesn't know how NOT to be in control, even when he wants to be. They went on two dates...and he brought her a dozen roses on each. I'd have run screaming, if I were her. While romantic, it's WAY too strong. But I can't explain that to him, because that's what they did when he was dating, before he married mom. I don't seem to be able to get it through to him that it's different now; that even the definition of dating is different.
So yeah, mostly okay with it but frustrated. I have no advice to give, because he won't listen even when I DO give it. The idea of my FATHER dating is a little weird, even though I know mom was okay with it. Knowing that, and still having to deal with it...a little weird. At least I'm not alone - my best friends' parents got a divorce and her mom is trying to date again. So I have someone to talk to, at least, about how weird it is. Probably a little weirder for her, since her father is still alive...I at least only have one parent to deal with.
I'm not quite sure what I think about that.
Mom and I, as well as my sister and mom's two best friends, all talked about this while mom was still alive. She wanted to make sure we knew that she was ok with dad dating, and getting remarried. My sister and I both figured he'd be remarried within 6 months of mom being gone, simply because he is NOT cut out to be on his own. He's still bitching about having to take care of the lawn and garden, as well as take care of himself, pay the bills, and not having any social life.
He quit his job that he's had for years and years because he got tired of the way the company was run - didn't give his two weeks, just 10 minutes. He already had a job lined up at Wal-Mart. He's been there about 7 weeks - he started there the same day I started my job. Today he calls me and tells me he's looking at maybe quitting there and getting a part time job elsewhere. Why? Because he "doesn't have time to do anything." He doesn't get to have a "social life" because he doesn't always have Wednesdays off to go bowling, or Fridays/Saturdays for bingo, and can't always go to church on Sunday because sometimes he has to work in the mornings. But the Dept Manager ALWAYS has Sat/Sun off. I told him "welcome to being a grunt in retail. Your schedule is never set, you work when they want you to." He doesn't get it, he really doesn't. It doesn't matter where he goes, he will be a grunt who doesn't really get much say in when they schedule him to work. He's too used to a M-F, 8-5 job like he's had for 15 years. He actually told me that if all else fails, he could go back to his old job because they'd take him in a heartbeat. With 10 minutes notice? I doubt it. Dad thinks he's just indispensable and everyone will do anything he wants.
I never figured my father for a stupid man, but damn...he has no idea how the real world works, I guess. Things aren't like they were in the "old days". You don't work for a company for life and get a gold watch when you retire - you get a cake, a clap on the back, severance pay. This company was damn good to dad while mom was so sick - they paid his insurance so he wouldn't lose it, even while he wasn't working. He took months off at a time to spend with mom while she was going up and down, and we'd think the end was near, and then she'd recover. How does he repay that? Gives them 10 minutes notice. I know that loyalty to a company isn't exactly a thing of the present, but still...
Anyways, back to the dating. I'm more or less okay with it, but it's still weird. Especially when he asks me for dating advice. You see, dad doesn't seem to realize that I never really dated. John (a guy I met in college) and I moved in together when I left school the first time. My ex-husband and I moved in together shortly after getting together. My ex-fiance and I lived together for about 20 of the 22 months we were together. DH and I have lived together since the day we met 6 1/2 years ago. No dating there, see? I have no idea. Not to mention I'm a girl and we do things differently AND I'm 30 years younger than dad. The girl he was dating? I use the term girl for a reason - she's 45, which is only 3 years older than my sister. I also say "was" because she hasn't contacted dad in a week. He keeps saying he's leaving it in her court, but then he sends her text messages. He doesn't know how NOT to be in control, even when he wants to be. They went on two dates...and he brought her a dozen roses on each. I'd have run screaming, if I were her. While romantic, it's WAY too strong. But I can't explain that to him, because that's what they did when he was dating, before he married mom. I don't seem to be able to get it through to him that it's different now; that even the definition of dating is different.
So yeah, mostly okay with it but frustrated. I have no advice to give, because he won't listen even when I DO give it. The idea of my FATHER dating is a little weird, even though I know mom was okay with it. Knowing that, and still having to deal with it...a little weird. At least I'm not alone - my best friends' parents got a divorce and her mom is trying to date again. So I have someone to talk to, at least, about how weird it is. Probably a little weirder for her, since her father is still alive...I at least only have one parent to deal with.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Anniversaries
Today marks what would have been my parents' 35th anniversary. I'm not sure what to do with this. I'm certain that it must be a really hard day for my dad - I know it would be for me, if I were in his shoes. Do I call him and ask him how quitting his job went (he starts a new one in two weeks and told his employer yesterday) and just hope that he doesn't bring up the anniversary? Do I call and tell him I was thinking about him today, and let him talk about it while being all awkward because I don't know what to do? Should I just wait and let him call me, giving him space?
I also got an odd text message from my sister this morning. She asked me if dad and Sharon (one of mom's best friends, for 27 years, and one of the Three Musketeers) were dating. I told her not that I was aware of and why? Apparently my sister's half-sister Deb asked 'Shell if they were. Now...why Deb would ask this I don't know. She and my sister both live in another state, and neither are terribly close to my dad (although my sister more than Deb, what with being our mother's child and all). I know dad lives in a small town, but I still can't see how that information would have gotten to Deb even if it were true. So now there's this to add to the debate raging in my brain: Do I call dad and tell him about the text, see what he says? Do I ignore it and just wait for him to tell me? Do I call one of the OTHER Musketeers and she what SHE has to say about it? Do I call dad today, ask him about this, see if he says anything about the anniversary?
ARGH! Too many questions, no answers! And no - this is not the only post rattling in my brain. There have been many others recently - I'm just afraid to write them and put them into words, and I don't want to think about them, so I'm sticking my head in the sand.
I also got an odd text message from my sister this morning. She asked me if dad and Sharon (one of mom's best friends, for 27 years, and one of the Three Musketeers) were dating. I told her not that I was aware of and why? Apparently my sister's half-sister Deb asked 'Shell if they were. Now...why Deb would ask this I don't know. She and my sister both live in another state, and neither are terribly close to my dad (although my sister more than Deb, what with being our mother's child and all). I know dad lives in a small town, but I still can't see how that information would have gotten to Deb even if it were true. So now there's this to add to the debate raging in my brain: Do I call dad and tell him about the text, see what he says? Do I ignore it and just wait for him to tell me? Do I call one of the OTHER Musketeers and she what SHE has to say about it? Do I call dad today, ask him about this, see if he says anything about the anniversary?
ARGH! Too many questions, no answers! And no - this is not the only post rattling in my brain. There have been many others recently - I'm just afraid to write them and put them into words, and I don't want to think about them, so I'm sticking my head in the sand.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Happy Birthday, Mom...
My mother would have been 62 years old today. Instead...well...yeah. I miss my mother tremendously. I didn't think her birthday would be this hard.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Six months
Tomorrow marks six months since Mom died.
Six months.
That seems like it should be such a long time. It's half a year. The distance between my birthday and Christmas. The beginning of third trimester for a pregnancy. A little longer than a semester. The grace period on student loans.
It seems like it should be a long time...but it's really not. I'm still at the "it seems like there should be a hole, a big hole, she's only been gone for six months...but she's been 'gone' longer than the time since she died so I guess I've gotten used to it but I'm mad that I'm 'used' to it" stage.
Dad is being stubborn, as usual. Broke two of his toes at work and won't go see a doc about it. Why? Because having them taped would make it more difficult for him to bowl in the state tournament this past weekend, and harder to walk in general. I know mom would have made him go, but I have no way to do that. I feel like I should take her place, and take care of him, but I don't have that power. I'm not capable. And when he whines about having to "do the laundry, and the dishes, and make my lunch, and keep up on the lawn, and weed the garden, and I hardly have time to watch TV", all I want to do is say "welcome to being an adult, dad...it sucks, especially when you're single, but it's the way it is." Mom took care of him for 33 years...I wonder how she managed? It's like payback - for all the time that he didn't help her while they were married, now he has to do it all himself...just like she did. I have a very distinct lack of sympathy. I feel like such a bad daughter.
Dad is also planning on coming up here on Mother's Day to put flowers on her grave. I know I'm going to be expected to go with him. I don't want to. Every time I go to the cemetery, I have nightmares that consist of death, chaos, decay, mayhem and chaos for 2-3 days after. I guess I'm still processing. I'm glad he's coming up here to do it, though. Mother's Day is going to be a double whammy for me this year - even though the whole "never going to be a mom" is getting better, it's still a reminder that makes me terribly hostile. But now "never going to be a mom and never going to have my mom again" is even worse, I think. Sunday remains to be seen.
Six months.
That seems like it should be such a long time. It's half a year. The distance between my birthday and Christmas. The beginning of third trimester for a pregnancy. A little longer than a semester. The grace period on student loans.
It seems like it should be a long time...but it's really not. I'm still at the "it seems like there should be a hole, a big hole, she's only been gone for six months...but she's been 'gone' longer than the time since she died so I guess I've gotten used to it but I'm mad that I'm 'used' to it" stage.
Dad is being stubborn, as usual. Broke two of his toes at work and won't go see a doc about it. Why? Because having them taped would make it more difficult for him to bowl in the state tournament this past weekend, and harder to walk in general. I know mom would have made him go, but I have no way to do that. I feel like I should take her place, and take care of him, but I don't have that power. I'm not capable. And when he whines about having to "do the laundry, and the dishes, and make my lunch, and keep up on the lawn, and weed the garden, and I hardly have time to watch TV", all I want to do is say "welcome to being an adult, dad...it sucks, especially when you're single, but it's the way it is." Mom took care of him for 33 years...I wonder how she managed? It's like payback - for all the time that he didn't help her while they were married, now he has to do it all himself...just like she did. I have a very distinct lack of sympathy. I feel like such a bad daughter.
Dad is also planning on coming up here on Mother's Day to put flowers on her grave. I know I'm going to be expected to go with him. I don't want to. Every time I go to the cemetery, I have nightmares that consist of death, chaos, decay, mayhem and chaos for 2-3 days after. I guess I'm still processing. I'm glad he's coming up here to do it, though. Mother's Day is going to be a double whammy for me this year - even though the whole "never going to be a mom" is getting better, it's still a reminder that makes me terribly hostile. But now "never going to be a mom and never going to have my mom again" is even worse, I think. Sunday remains to be seen.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
It's the little things...
When you think of things that involve presents, most people think of Christmas and birthdays. I knew Christmas would be hard for me, just because I usually spend it with my parents. Thanksgiving wasn't too bad, but I've been out of the house for 13 years - I rarely go home for Thanksgiving, as I've always been married or in a relationship with it's own traditions.
I did, however, forget about Valentine's Day and Easter. Mom always sent me little packages with candy, a stuffed animal, a card. For Valentine's it was usually a bag of giant conversation hearts and some trinket that she got from Avon. Easter has always been a bag of Starburst Jelly Beans, and chocolates, and regular jelly beans. She'd line the box with Easter grass and make it into a basket. This will be the first time in my life I haven't had an Easter basket. At 31 that probably shouldn't bother me, I know. Somehow I don't think it's the lack of candy that is causing me to want to burst into tears..
My dad isn't the type to keep up with stuff like that - that was always Mom's gig. She loved doing stuff like that. At Christmas time she'd send gifts to people or leave them presents where they'd find it, from "The Christmas Fairy". Once she did the 12 Days of Christmas for the "crazy cat lady" down the street from us who used to give me piano lessons. She was a single woman whose mother (who mom called Miss Merry Sunshine) lived with her - and they had about 30 cats. They weren't traditional gifts either - mom delighted in being craftsy and creative. Bottles of Moose Poop (small bottle with milk duds) or Snowman poop (bottle with Junior Mints) make their way into Christmas Baskets on a routine basis.
I expected the major holidays to be hard. I don't know about my birthday. Maybe I just won't have one this year. What I didn't expect was the "elephant on my chest" feeling I get when I think about Easter, 4th of July, Valentine's Day. On my Facebook this morning, a friend had sent me a plant for my virtual garden. I went to send one back and the limited time included Calla Lilies...which is one of my mothers favorite plants. Maybe I'll go put some on her grave this weekend...on my own initiative....
I did, however, forget about Valentine's Day and Easter. Mom always sent me little packages with candy, a stuffed animal, a card. For Valentine's it was usually a bag of giant conversation hearts and some trinket that she got from Avon. Easter has always been a bag of Starburst Jelly Beans, and chocolates, and regular jelly beans. She'd line the box with Easter grass and make it into a basket. This will be the first time in my life I haven't had an Easter basket. At 31 that probably shouldn't bother me, I know. Somehow I don't think it's the lack of candy that is causing me to want to burst into tears..
My dad isn't the type to keep up with stuff like that - that was always Mom's gig. She loved doing stuff like that. At Christmas time she'd send gifts to people or leave them presents where they'd find it, from "The Christmas Fairy". Once she did the 12 Days of Christmas for the "crazy cat lady" down the street from us who used to give me piano lessons. She was a single woman whose mother (who mom called Miss Merry Sunshine) lived with her - and they had about 30 cats. They weren't traditional gifts either - mom delighted in being craftsy and creative. Bottles of Moose Poop (small bottle with milk duds) or Snowman poop (bottle with Junior Mints) make their way into Christmas Baskets on a routine basis.
I expected the major holidays to be hard. I don't know about my birthday. Maybe I just won't have one this year. What I didn't expect was the "elephant on my chest" feeling I get when I think about Easter, 4th of July, Valentine's Day. On my Facebook this morning, a friend had sent me a plant for my virtual garden. I went to send one back and the limited time included Calla Lilies...which is one of my mothers favorite plants. Maybe I'll go put some on her grave this weekend...on my own initiative....
Thursday, February 19, 2009
One Year
I apologize in advance to those who are reading who have angels - this post is quite likely to piss you off. If you read it, please do so with my headspace in mind. My anger is not directed at you in the slightest.
One year ago, I made this post . It was my first one here, and I'm not sure what to make of that. I plan on re-reading my entire blog today, but I'm pretty sure it's going to leave me sobbing. Just reading the first post made my eyes well up.
One year, and so much has changed...and yet, most days, it doesn't feel like anything has changed.
One year, and the anger has finally arrived. I almost yelled at my father on Valentine's Day, when he came up to put flowers on mom's grave site. He picked them out and on the way out of the store he said "She'll like these". I almost responded with "Really? Do you really think she will? Do you think she has nothing better to do with her time than sit around on a fluffy white cloud and stare at her fucking grave, pining over flowers? Do you really think she gives a flying fuck what we do down here? She's DEAD! I'm pretty sure she doesn't care. Do you HONESTLY believe she cares??" I actually said this to Aaron, while dad was getting water. He said that yes, dad does actually believe this. And I thought "how sad"...and that made me realize just how angry I'm getting. If it makes him happy, if it makes it easier for him, what do I care? If it eases his pain to think she's right there beside him at the grave, so what? I know I'm just angry, because I can't believe that. I know she's in Heaven, but beyond that I know nothing and knowledge makes me happy. I'm too logical, too practical, to accept that she's on a cloud looking down at us. I don't believe in the wings and harps theory. I can't.
One year ago, I knew my mother would be dead before the end of the year. Yet...nothing in my dreams could have prepared me for the end. It was both better and worse than I could have imagined.
One year, and I've only written 20 posts. I suck. Thanks for sticking around for the last year, through all the sporadic ranting, raving, and hysterics.
One year ago, I made this post . It was my first one here, and I'm not sure what to make of that. I plan on re-reading my entire blog today, but I'm pretty sure it's going to leave me sobbing. Just reading the first post made my eyes well up.
One year, and so much has changed...and yet, most days, it doesn't feel like anything has changed.
One year, and the anger has finally arrived. I almost yelled at my father on Valentine's Day, when he came up to put flowers on mom's grave site. He picked them out and on the way out of the store he said "She'll like these". I almost responded with "Really? Do you really think she will? Do you think she has nothing better to do with her time than sit around on a fluffy white cloud and stare at her fucking grave, pining over flowers? Do you really think she gives a flying fuck what we do down here? She's DEAD! I'm pretty sure she doesn't care. Do you HONESTLY believe she cares??" I actually said this to Aaron, while dad was getting water. He said that yes, dad does actually believe this. And I thought "how sad"...and that made me realize just how angry I'm getting. If it makes him happy, if it makes it easier for him, what do I care? If it eases his pain to think she's right there beside him at the grave, so what? I know I'm just angry, because I can't believe that. I know she's in Heaven, but beyond that I know nothing and knowledge makes me happy. I'm too logical, too practical, to accept that she's on a cloud looking down at us. I don't believe in the wings and harps theory. I can't.
One year ago, I knew my mother would be dead before the end of the year. Yet...nothing in my dreams could have prepared me for the end. It was both better and worse than I could have imagined.
One year, and I've only written 20 posts. I suck. Thanks for sticking around for the last year, through all the sporadic ranting, raving, and hysterics.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Two Months
I can't believe it's been two months since I've written. So much has happened, and yet nothing has been accomplished. I normally hate bulleted lists, but it's how I'm thinking lately. Also? There's a video at the end that I think expresses a lot for a lot of people.
* In mid-December, my SIL and her fiance moved back in with us. Yes, I'm nuts. For those of you who read my other blog, you know that we just got all family out of the house in May. Now...we have people living with us again. At least it's not MIL and FIL. SIL I can handle, most of the time. There's been a lot of drama lately, and she's got some decisions to make, but we're all ok. At any rate, they moved in with us because things went sour very fast with the person they WERE living with and she kicked them out because she's a royal bitch. Not having any other options, really, they asked to move in with us. We don't turn family and friends away, so we rearranged the house again and in the moved. It's good, though, because...
* even though I graduated in December, I still haven't found a job. Two months of searching, almost, and not even a blip on the screen. I've applied for tons of jobs. I'm qualified for everything I'm applying for. Not even an interview. Things are not going well on the financial front. Having $50 in the bank account and $300 in bills that are due is not the correct proportions. :(
* I miss my mother terribly these days. With all the drama going on, I need her. I need to talk to her. I need her advice. I'm not ready to take up her mantle and help others by myself. I'm in over my head and I'm floundering. How dare she abandon me when I need her? I demand that she be available to help me.
* My father is also driving me batty - I can't deal with him. I've taken to avoiding his calls. He's finally stopped calling me 3x a day, but he still talks to me about stuff I don't care about. I really, really don't. I find it hard to care when he tells me about his Avon for the 18th freaking time. I don't care how much he made this campaign, how "on track" he is for President's Club when he's not even eligible for it because he started halfway through the year, or how he doesn't have time to deliver it. He knew that he was going to responsible for doing everything his own self (laundry, food, errands) while working full-time. He's the one dumb enough to think he could keep up with the Avon on top of it. I have a hard time working up sympathy when all I want to do is say "Uh, dad? Welcome to the world of being a single fucking adult. I'm sorry that you worked the entire time mom was alive and didn't learn how to take care of yourself, but mom did it all and worked at the same time so SHUT UP AND GROW UP. If she could work, run the household, and take care of you, then you can certainly take care of yourself and run your household and work. Just like mom."
* My meds aren't working as well as they should be these days - probably because I've been on them for 8 months and it's time to switch, but I don't want to go to the doc. Back to the whole "$50 in the bank, $300 in bills to pay" problem. I don't want to pay a co-pay, or for my drugs, or anything. I don't want to go find a new doc because I've graduated and can't go to the one I've been seeing for 3 years, and I"m not sure my old one is covered. I hate new docs. I have to prove myself over and over, and get them to listen when I tell them the med isn't working any longer, and NO, upping the dosage is not an option. That just makes it cost more. Also? Could someone please actually bother monitoring me while I'm on the metformin? Could I get on the proper dosage to actually make a difference? 500mg doesn't do much. I'm in no rush to have fire butt, but I'd like to be able to eat cheesecake without getting sick. Possibly actually ovulating would be nice too, but since I no longer really care about getting pregnant, oh well.
* I need to write more. I find myself writing posts while I'm waiting to fall asleep. I never remember them in the morning, but I should probably start taking time to write again. Things are piling up in my brain and I'm going bonkers. It's been two months since I've been to a counselor (again with the graduating and not having access to my counselor, and not really wanting to start up with a new one, or being able to afford it). Perhaps if I go insane and get checked in somewhere with padded rooms it will be better. :D Blogging at least gets shit out of my head.
I leave you with this video. I heard this song for the first time on Saturday morning and it's been stuck in my head since then. It's called Angels on the Moon, and it's by Thriving Ivory. I've thought about it on a lot of levels and...well, listen and think for yourself:
* In mid-December, my SIL and her fiance moved back in with us. Yes, I'm nuts. For those of you who read my other blog, you know that we just got all family out of the house in May. Now...we have people living with us again. At least it's not MIL and FIL. SIL I can handle, most of the time. There's been a lot of drama lately, and she's got some decisions to make, but we're all ok. At any rate, they moved in with us because things went sour very fast with the person they WERE living with and she kicked them out because she's a royal bitch. Not having any other options, really, they asked to move in with us. We don't turn family and friends away, so we rearranged the house again and in the moved. It's good, though, because...
* even though I graduated in December, I still haven't found a job. Two months of searching, almost, and not even a blip on the screen. I've applied for tons of jobs. I'm qualified for everything I'm applying for. Not even an interview. Things are not going well on the financial front. Having $50 in the bank account and $300 in bills that are due is not the correct proportions. :(
* I miss my mother terribly these days. With all the drama going on, I need her. I need to talk to her. I need her advice. I'm not ready to take up her mantle and help others by myself. I'm in over my head and I'm floundering. How dare she abandon me when I need her? I demand that she be available to help me.
* My father is also driving me batty - I can't deal with him. I've taken to avoiding his calls. He's finally stopped calling me 3x a day, but he still talks to me about stuff I don't care about. I really, really don't. I find it hard to care when he tells me about his Avon for the 18th freaking time. I don't care how much he made this campaign, how "on track" he is for President's Club when he's not even eligible for it because he started halfway through the year, or how he doesn't have time to deliver it. He knew that he was going to responsible for doing everything his own self (laundry, food, errands) while working full-time. He's the one dumb enough to think he could keep up with the Avon on top of it. I have a hard time working up sympathy when all I want to do is say "Uh, dad? Welcome to the world of being a single fucking adult. I'm sorry that you worked the entire time mom was alive and didn't learn how to take care of yourself, but mom did it all and worked at the same time so SHUT UP AND GROW UP. If she could work, run the household, and take care of you, then you can certainly take care of yourself and run your household and work. Just like mom."
* My meds aren't working as well as they should be these days - probably because I've been on them for 8 months and it's time to switch, but I don't want to go to the doc. Back to the whole "$50 in the bank, $300 in bills to pay" problem. I don't want to pay a co-pay, or for my drugs, or anything. I don't want to go find a new doc because I've graduated and can't go to the one I've been seeing for 3 years, and I"m not sure my old one is covered. I hate new docs. I have to prove myself over and over, and get them to listen when I tell them the med isn't working any longer, and NO, upping the dosage is not an option. That just makes it cost more. Also? Could someone please actually bother monitoring me while I'm on the metformin? Could I get on the proper dosage to actually make a difference? 500mg doesn't do much. I'm in no rush to have fire butt, but I'd like to be able to eat cheesecake without getting sick. Possibly actually ovulating would be nice too, but since I no longer really care about getting pregnant, oh well.
* I need to write more. I find myself writing posts while I'm waiting to fall asleep. I never remember them in the morning, but I should probably start taking time to write again. Things are piling up in my brain and I'm going bonkers. It's been two months since I've been to a counselor (again with the graduating and not having access to my counselor, and not really wanting to start up with a new one, or being able to afford it). Perhaps if I go insane and get checked in somewhere with padded rooms it will be better. :D Blogging at least gets shit out of my head.
I leave you with this video. I heard this song for the first time on Saturday morning and it's been stuck in my head since then. It's called Angels on the Moon, and it's by Thriving Ivory. I've thought about it on a lot of levels and...well, listen and think for yourself:
Monday, December 1, 2008
Hiding
I know. It's been almost a month since my last post about mom, the one where I let all of you wonderful people know that she died. I know I haven't emailed any of you to say thank you, or left you a comment to say as much either. There's a very good reason for that.
I'm hiding.
I am actively practicing avoidance. I wonder, can you really do that? If you're actively avoiding facing something, are you really avoiding facing it? You're aware of it...
At any rate, I'm not dealing. I refuse. I can't. I just...can't. I mean, I understand and accept that my mother is dead but I'm struggling. I'm not sure if I'm struggling more with the fact that she's gone and I don't really feel anything, or if I'm struggling with the fact that it doesn't seem like she's gone because she's been so mentally gone for such a long time. The person who was my mother has been gone for months - there's been a shell left, someone who looked like my mother, who occasionally acted like my mother, but was NOT my mother.
I was fine until the burial. The viewing was fine, lots of people were there, there was a video that was put together of pictures of mom. The funeral was fine (why do people say beautiful?). Several stories of mom, I sang (since when did I become a soprano?!), and mom looked better in death than she had in life for many years. I didn't realize just how awful she'd come to look, until I saw her at the viewing. That's a very odd statement for me to make...it's hard to say someone looks better dead. It was interesting to see the way others viewed my mother - when I thought she was crazy, they thought she was adventurous. :)
The burial...I lost it. I just sobbed and sobbed at the end, while Aaron held me and dad rubbed my back. I think I even made my father-in-law cry, while my mother-in-law was relieved to finally see me cry. She's been worried about me, a lot. I keep trying to tell her I'm fine - when have I ever NOT been fine and not exploded everywhere and made a mess of things? - but I don't think she believes me. Mom is buried at the Veteran's Cemetary here in town. Dad wanted her here so I could "take care" of the grave (put flowers and stuff on it). He didn't bother to ASK me if I wanted to, just assumed I would. I don't want to. I've never understood why we do that. I think it's to make US feel better, like we haven't forgotten them. I don't think that it matters - it's not like putting flowers on the grave is going to make me remember her any more than I already do. I don't WANT to remember her dead - I want to remember her alive.
Dad came up for Thanksgiving and brought a copy of the CD with pictures on it, and a copy of the audio of the funeral for me. Like I'm ever going to listen to it? He kept asking me on Thursday and Friday if I wanted to look at the pictures. He doesn't seem to understand that I can't, and I don't want to. I don't want to be reminded like that. I'm struggling. He actually made the comment a week or two ago when we were talking about the signs of grief that it's not like this came suddenly, that I really shouldn't be grieving too heavily at this point. I think I know what he was trying to say, but I still wanted to kick him. I got this thing in the mail from hospice on grief and what to expect and it turns out that a lot of what's been wrong with me for the past year or so, maybe longer, can be attributed to grief. This is good, I suppose, because it means that someday I might go back to "normal". On the other hand, people tell me I'll never be truly done grieving - it will just get less. Does that mean that this me is the new normal?
I haven't been sleeping again. Or at least, not well. Even through a full 10mg dose of Ambien, I've been waking up at 4am. Doc gave me a new time release Ambien, but it doesn't work well either - now I wake up at 5:30 instead. Lately I've been having lots of nightmares. Dreams about dreaming, and not good dreams in my dreams either. Death, dead bodies, chaos, decay, murder...gee, wonder what my brain is thinking about?
Ok, so this post got really long. I know I'm rambling, but that's because I'm avoiding going very deep into anything right now. I'm afraid I'll fall apart. I've lost my objectivity and it's killing me. Thank you ALL for all your comments on my post. I know I didn't respond, but I couldn't. Know that I saved them in my inbox so I could read them repeatedly in the days that followed.
I'm hiding.
I am actively practicing avoidance. I wonder, can you really do that? If you're actively avoiding facing something, are you really avoiding facing it? You're aware of it...
At any rate, I'm not dealing. I refuse. I can't. I just...can't. I mean, I understand and accept that my mother is dead but I'm struggling. I'm not sure if I'm struggling more with the fact that she's gone and I don't really feel anything, or if I'm struggling with the fact that it doesn't seem like she's gone because she's been so mentally gone for such a long time. The person who was my mother has been gone for months - there's been a shell left, someone who looked like my mother, who occasionally acted like my mother, but was NOT my mother.
I was fine until the burial. The viewing was fine, lots of people were there, there was a video that was put together of pictures of mom. The funeral was fine (why do people say beautiful?). Several stories of mom, I sang (since when did I become a soprano?!), and mom looked better in death than she had in life for many years. I didn't realize just how awful she'd come to look, until I saw her at the viewing. That's a very odd statement for me to make...it's hard to say someone looks better dead. It was interesting to see the way others viewed my mother - when I thought she was crazy, they thought she was adventurous. :)
The burial...I lost it. I just sobbed and sobbed at the end, while Aaron held me and dad rubbed my back. I think I even made my father-in-law cry, while my mother-in-law was relieved to finally see me cry. She's been worried about me, a lot. I keep trying to tell her I'm fine - when have I ever NOT been fine and not exploded everywhere and made a mess of things? - but I don't think she believes me. Mom is buried at the Veteran's Cemetary here in town. Dad wanted her here so I could "take care" of the grave (put flowers and stuff on it). He didn't bother to ASK me if I wanted to, just assumed I would. I don't want to. I've never understood why we do that. I think it's to make US feel better, like we haven't forgotten them. I don't think that it matters - it's not like putting flowers on the grave is going to make me remember her any more than I already do. I don't WANT to remember her dead - I want to remember her alive.
Dad came up for Thanksgiving and brought a copy of the CD with pictures on it, and a copy of the audio of the funeral for me. Like I'm ever going to listen to it? He kept asking me on Thursday and Friday if I wanted to look at the pictures. He doesn't seem to understand that I can't, and I don't want to. I don't want to be reminded like that. I'm struggling. He actually made the comment a week or two ago when we were talking about the signs of grief that it's not like this came suddenly, that I really shouldn't be grieving too heavily at this point. I think I know what he was trying to say, but I still wanted to kick him. I got this thing in the mail from hospice on grief and what to expect and it turns out that a lot of what's been wrong with me for the past year or so, maybe longer, can be attributed to grief. This is good, I suppose, because it means that someday I might go back to "normal". On the other hand, people tell me I'll never be truly done grieving - it will just get less. Does that mean that this me is the new normal?
I haven't been sleeping again. Or at least, not well. Even through a full 10mg dose of Ambien, I've been waking up at 4am. Doc gave me a new time release Ambien, but it doesn't work well either - now I wake up at 5:30 instead. Lately I've been having lots of nightmares. Dreams about dreaming, and not good dreams in my dreams either. Death, dead bodies, chaos, decay, murder...gee, wonder what my brain is thinking about?
Ok, so this post got really long. I know I'm rambling, but that's because I'm avoiding going very deep into anything right now. I'm afraid I'll fall apart. I've lost my objectivity and it's killing me. Thank you ALL for all your comments on my post. I know I didn't respond, but I couldn't. Know that I saved them in my inbox so I could read them repeatedly in the days that followed.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Gone From My Sight
My mother died at 11:52 A.M on Wednesday, November 5th, 2008. Dad was sitting by her side. He says "She woke up, looked at me and said 'I want to go home'. I told her to close her eyes and go, and she did." Very peaceful, no drama. Dad called Aaron not 3 minutes later and he walked in the house at 12:28. I started packing and by the time we got the dog in the car, the errands run, etc, it was almost 2:30 before we were on our way. I got to my parents' house at 5:45 last night and will be here until Monday at the very least. The viewing is Sunday night, the funeral is Monday morning and the burial is Wednesday. (She's being buried in the Veteran's Cemetary, and Tuesday is Veteran's Day so dad doesn't think they'll do the burial that day.)
For now, I'm ok. Not sleeping, but ok I think. Of course, I haven't really slept since Friday - not more than 4 hours a night. I'm awake, thinking and planning and singing to myself. Just...not sleeping. Friday I came down here and spent the weekend with my parents, and Saturday the nurse told us that mom had less than a week. I knew I'd be back down here in a matter of days and wondered why I was even bothering to go home! Mom was more or less comatose the entire weekend, waking every so often to ask for water and to tell us she wanted to go home. We kept telling her it was ok to go, we loved her, no one was mad at her, but she's stubborn, she is. :) I think her body finally got the message that the soul was already gone. I'm rambling, I know, and I'm sorry. It's 4am and I'm exhausted and so much has happened that I just couldn't bring myself to talk about. So I leave you with a poem that was in a booklet that hospice gave us, way back in July.
*************************************************************************************
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says: "There, she is gone!"
"Gone where?"
Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear the load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says: "There, she is gone!" There are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout: "Here she comes!"
And that is dying.
Written by Henry Van Dyke
For now, I'm ok. Not sleeping, but ok I think. Of course, I haven't really slept since Friday - not more than 4 hours a night. I'm awake, thinking and planning and singing to myself. Just...not sleeping. Friday I came down here and spent the weekend with my parents, and Saturday the nurse told us that mom had less than a week. I knew I'd be back down here in a matter of days and wondered why I was even bothering to go home! Mom was more or less comatose the entire weekend, waking every so often to ask for water and to tell us she wanted to go home. We kept telling her it was ok to go, we loved her, no one was mad at her, but she's stubborn, she is. :) I think her body finally got the message that the soul was already gone. I'm rambling, I know, and I'm sorry. It's 4am and I'm exhausted and so much has happened that I just couldn't bring myself to talk about. So I leave you with a poem that was in a booklet that hospice gave us, way back in July.
*************************************************************************************
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says: "There, she is gone!"
"Gone where?"
Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear the load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says: "There, she is gone!" There are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout: "Here she comes!"
And that is dying.
Written by Henry Van Dyke
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