Sporadic

I know that my writing has been less and less lately.  I’m not sure exactly why.  There are so many reasons to choose from.  But I was sitting here piddling around, procrastinating about filling out this long form for my disability.  I have been chided by  friends to get it done.  Pointed out the sense of urgency.  I had that sense too but frankly it is hard to maintain after almost a year and half.  And damn it the thing is no fun.  It’s long and asks me how bad my life is sense I have become sick.  Well I don’t really need any reminders and I am having trouble seeing the humor in justifying myself all over again for the umpteenth time.  If I felt like this was the time, if I finished the paper work and had all the records sent from my doctors and then they would see the light and rule in my favor this time so that I wouldn’t have to do this again, I would be on top of this everyday.  But my sense is that when this is all done we are going to have to start over from the beginning and do it all again.  Another year of my life spent going rounds with these people.  Of course this time I have a new advantage.  I have an attorney.  They know what to say and do to make this move more quickly.  It was the attorney that suggested reaching out to my congressional rep so that my case could be assigned and after waiting for 8 months it was less than two weeks after the Congress Rep contacted the people who assign the cases and viola I have a case worker. !  So now I have some one to contact and ask how things are going and what they need so I can make sure they get it.  My attorney makes calls but so do I.  Reaching out to my doctors and personally requesting forms to be completed, records to be sent in my experience helps the process move forward more quickly.  After I manage to get through this hateful form I will make sure my attorney has updated information about my medication and I will personally call the doctors and politely urge them to cooperate with the attorney and send them what they need as quickly as possible.

Of course there are plenty of other things going on in my life which makes it that much harder to spend time doing something frustrating and depressing.  But it’s a means to an end. 

We didn’t celebrate Pride when everyone else did.  Our Pride committee made a compromise.  Last year due to the drought, ha ha (it’s been raining for three months), we had to move the party away from our regular location so we did not destroy the grass in the park.  This year we get to have our party in the park but not in the summer when everyone else across the states is having theirs, we are adding Halloween, which is a Queer fest every year to our Pride.  So we are gearing up for Pride on Halloween weekend.  It ought to be a hell of a party.

D has one more weekend to work and then she has some time off including Pride weekend of course.  It’s time to dig in and find out what’s going on and make plans with our Home Girlz.  We need a party.  A celebration.  Some time to take a break from the challenges and focus on the good things in our lives, and have some fun!

Well even if there are long spells between posts I am still here and I will post again.  I do hope to be able to refocus on my writing in the near future.  I have taken up some art work and with the amount of energy I have I can usually manage just one thing at a time.  Right now I am thinking of making things for Christmas so the real submersion into writing will likely not take place until the first of the year.  But then you will hear all about it, I’m sure.

I hope all is well with you and you have something fun to look forward to in your near future!

Yesterday. I Wish It Seemed So Far Away.

This is so long that it isn’t even about yesterday any more because it took so long to write.   It’s more an essay than a blog post but the events brought up so much emotion it took a while to write it all down.

 

I began my account of the notable events of the day in the paragraph that follows but having read D’s account I have decided to approach it in a different manner.

 It was easier to get up this morning than I had anticipated. D was still in bed when I made my way down the hall to the kitchen to make coffee and feed the cats.  Since I had to wash all the espresso parts and to go cups D was up by the time I reentered the bedroom with coffee in hand.  Having skipped the shower D was already dressed.  Reaching for the shower knob I told her I would get ready as quickly as possible. With no wardrobe quandary the biggest hold ups were  getting my computer together and …

That was as far as I made it last night because I could not stay awake.  D was still typing busily when I gave up and instead focused what little energy I had on making myself ready for bed.  As I sat down and made all my many adjustments in an absurd attempt to make myself comfortable so that I could write this, I could hear D in the kitchen putting the dishes away.  She spends so much of her time and energy taking care of me, protecting me.  It is in her nature to protect me, as it is with any one she loves, even when it is not possible.  There are things that no one can save me from.  The very idea of that wounds her deeply I think.

 Last week I spoke to my mom and she told me that the house, my childhood home, the one that I had lived in from the age of four until I moved away to college, the one that I returned to for holidays and family gatherings, the one that burned and took with it in that fire so many of those things that held memories of my life and my family, things that had been in my family for years, the house that in my adult life I returned frequently to so I could play with my nieces and nephew and to participate in their lives, that house was being foreclosed on in just a short time.   I knew it was coming but now I know exactly when.   Many of my memories from that house are painful.  Awful.  Horrid.  Many are happy, funny, pleasant reminders of the days when I felt love and hope for the future.  In the past three years all of those people, my family, that shared in those memories, have for one reason or many become distant from me.  Either by their own choosing or mine or by circumstances neither of us could control.  My family has been shattered.  Broken into many pieces and scattered all around.  Over these past years each of those people, that now are distant, have hurt me in large and small ways, intentionally and inadvertently.  Now the place that we had in common, some of us for more than thirty years, will be shortly removed from our future and relegated to our history.  In our here and now it has become a battleground. 

 A year ago I lived with my sister and when that came to a horrid and ugly end she moved in with my parents, two miles away.  Frankly I was shocked that Mom would allow her to live under the same roof as they have never really gotten along well.  Tthe longer they have known each other the greater the enmity between them.  When my sister, Kelli, and I ceased to share space she attacked me verbally with fantastic energy and wretched words.  Since that time I had seen her only once, at the memorial service for Daddy’s mother.  Some of my things from the house Kelli and I had lived in had been taken by Mom to her house, the subject of the previous paragraph.  Between Kelli’s presence and my health issues I had not retrieved the things.  During the months that followed my abrupt departure from cohabitation with my sister I had been moving things from there to my new place of residence in bits and pieces.  When I was in the area I would stop by and load as many things as would either fit in my car or I could manage before becoming exhausted.  A couple of trips included D or Daddy helping me by carrying and driving their vehicles which had much more space.  There were several boxes left when the house was cleaned out and Mom grabbed up some things she thought I might be attached to.  I don’t really know when that happened but Mom mentioned it to me a while back but at the time I was experiencing great difficulty driving, and remembering things, and with all the turmoil going on at my own house at the time it didn’t seem that high on the priority list.

 Not many months after Kelli moved into the house Mom took Julia (my youngest niece, whom my mother has reared since she was five months old) and moved out.  This is a long enough story without my explaining why my mother, a very accomplished system’s analyst is now broke and working at Wal Mart, but suffice it to say she is and has been in grave need of money.  From the time she left she knew that it was but a matter of time until the house was foreclosed on, therefore she planned to have a substantial yard sale before the bank took the house.  To that end she had been discussing what needed to happen before the sale with Daddy asking him to remove whatever things he wanted so that the sale could be successful.  Months went by.  When Mom left the house,  my parents finally decided that it was time to end their 32 year marriage.  They have not even liked each other for well over a decade.  During their marriage one of the things Daddy did to piss Mom off was to procrastinate.  Partly because he just does and partly because it drove her ape shit crazy kind of nuts.  So true to form Dad has put off making ready for the sale.  Mom really needs the money.  Dad knows this.  Mom gets psycho about money.  Dad knows this.  I lacked some crucial knowledge when I was thinking about what to do about my things that were at the war zone house.

My main thought process had to do with my sister and did not take my parents into account at all.  What I was thinking was that there were things there, not but a few boxes, that were meaningful to me.  Over the years I have lost much.  Over the past three years the losses have been immense and I did not want to add these things to the absurdly long list  just because Kelli was there.  That felt like letting her win.  Many of the things I have endured including many of the capacious and painful losses have been a result of my sister’s doing.  Frankly, I would be damned if I was going to lose anything else at her hand.  During the short drive to the house from where D and I had been I spoke to both of my parents about Kelli’s presence there.  Daddy explained that he had made her promise not to be rude or start anything with me, or D, while we were there.  And, by the way, he expected the same of me.  As if.  When have I been the instigator?  Uh, almost never in all my years and why in the hell would I start now, stiff and in pain often needing assistance to walk.  How absurd.  It was a demonstration of his understanding of my nature and current health.

 My intention was to give the things a quick sort, grab the items I wanted and get the hell out of there.  Mom showed me to the cache of mementos and I began to sort.  Dad went to retrieve a box and I think D went with him.  The house was a wreck.  The sale was supposed to begin on Thursday,  I think (it was Monday) and Mom was standing there complaining to me about the condition of the house and reported a comment Daddy had made that they should begin the sale that day.  The place was in no condition to have a sale.  I kept sorting.  By the time D returned I was about done.  It occurred to me later how totally fucked up my family culture was, and my up bringing because while there was yelling between my family members I had not really notice and was not terribly disturbed by it until my Dad raised his voice to a thunderous volume and ‘told’ my mother to get the fuck out.  Since I was not in the room I am not certain of the order of events but I heard someone slap someone.  D informed me that Mom hit my Dad in the face.  I was already moving toward the door when she came in and informed me we needed to get the hell out of there this instant and she scooped up both boxes, though I offered to carry one – the light one of course.  Following her to the front door I did not even glance around.  Backing out of the drive way I watched as my mother kept going even though D had paused to check for oncoming cars.  Being familiar with Mom’s rages I told D she needed to move quickly, Mom was not concerned with oncoming traffic, or us for that matter.

 As we put distance between ourselves and the insanity I was amazingly calm.  More accustomed to such scenes I suppose.  Anger and anxiety come later for me.  Probably a self defense mechanism I learned over the years.   At some point later that afternoon D got quiet and said, “I want to ask you a question.”  Her manner and tone gave me pause.  “Okay,” I replied tentatively.   “Did your Mom ever hit you like that?”  “No,”  I said, “she only did it verbally.”  The fact that Mom’s abuse was not physical made it take me much longer to realize I was being abused.  No one ever saw my scars and asked, “How did that happen?”  My best friend’s dad would ‘spank’ her, ( too hard, too long and for too many things) or smack her across the face, even this was at the time difficult for me to recognize.  It was a time when parents were rarely questioned about how, or how much, they disciplined their children.  I was an adult before I began to question the way my mother reared me.  I had been an adult for a long time before I judged her ways to be abusive.  It did not take me nearly as long to figure out that I’d had a fucked up difficult childhood but my home life seemed fairly normal to me, as normal as a child’s life could be who was being reared by their dad and stepmom, in 1977. 

 Growing up I found it difficult to cope with not knowing what I would get into trouble for each day when Mom came home from work. There might be no trouble at all she could, in fact, be happy and kind, but we never knew.  How was I to know that the things my mom said to me were not normal?  Everyone yelled once in while, right?  Besides  it could have been much worse, that was for certain, because that was something Mom was very clear about.

Being in that house with Mom, Dad and Kelli (and D), reminded me of my childhood because that’s who was there everyday when I was growing up.  When I was a kid my parents did not yell at each other.  Not in front of us at least.  Mostly they yelled at Kelli.  Not that I did not hear my share of chastising and admonitions whether deserved or not but I never heard as  much of it as Kelli did, not by a long shot.  Yesterday Mom did yell at Kelli and at Daddy.  She did not yell at me but it wasn’t long after the incident that Julia called and insisted that I needed to call Mom.  Hesitating I said I was in a store, that I was not doing so well my self and that I would “see what I could do”.  For some reason she latched onto that phrase and flung it back at me with heat and venom, with volume and tone to match.  I told her that Mom had nearly hit us with her van. “Well that should tell you that she needs comforting,” she shot back.  At some point she hung up on me, which was fine as far as I was concerned.  I get that she is 17 and Mom has been her strongest influence but it struck me as completely fucked up that her response to Mom’s complete disregard for D and me,  was that I should regard it without focus on myself and my well being (D’s too) and instead be concerned only about Mom.  Uh, sweetheart you must not have received the memo, I quit that song and dance three years ago and have taken all the verbal (written or otherwise) abuse I was ever going to take on that account.

 Just a few days ago I had a tentative relationship with my mom, one that had been utterly destroyed and then slowly and therefore only partially rebuilt with extreme hesitancy on my part.  Until that call  I still had a decent relationship with Julia who is as much a sister as a niece to me, having had the same mom.  While I have not had a major blow out with Daddy I have decided that my policy about one sided relationships does in fact apply to him and therefore if he was not willing to take some responsibility by initiating contact in some way at least some of the time that I would not see very much of him because I refused to be the only one calling.  He does not call me except on the rare occasion he is returning my call and I don’t call much at all.  Taking into account the situation with Kelli and Amariah, my eldest niece, and the fact the Seth, Kelli’s eldest son, never would allow me to get close to him, my family is gone.  They are the family of my past.  Aubrey, though I did not know it at the time, was the first of my ‘chosen’ family.  Of course he is blood and did not choose me, but he seems to like me well enough. 

On Sunday nights D and I get together with some friends of ours and have dinner at each other’s houses.  On occasion we move this gathering to a different night of the week, which is fine, as long as we get together.  These women, our home girlz, they are our family.  All my life I have wanted a family that had traditions, a family whose members stood by each other, who gave to each other, who loved each other without selfishness or condition.  I know it is asking a lot.  I was beginning to think it was asking too much.  Our little group doesn’t have much history, yet, but I am hopeful again.  I have people to cook for again, to be there for again but this time it is different.  This time, they are there for me.

Back and Forth

The following is an email exchange between the girl and me.  You know how email is you have to start at the bottom and read your way to the top if you want to read it in the order it happened.  A little background first though.  After an entire relationship of difficult situations the mounting issues of the last six months has finally gotten to us.  I am not saying that we never had a squabble, you can read about every tiff we have had until the past few weeks right here on this blog.  In the past few weeks I have not been righting much at all, not in my journal, not essays, not blog posts, hell I have barely written emails.  There are many reasons for that but that is another story.  In these recent weeks D and I have been struggling.  Arguing.  Disagreeing.  Fighting.  In ways that are out of character for us.  Last week we had a biggie.  Ugly.  Nasty.  Tearful.  Concerning.  We broke all the rules of a fair fight.  Brought up too many issues.  Had the conversation in public.  Didn’t listen.  Insisted we were right.  It took us a couple of days to work through it and smooth things out.  We have both taken a step back and had a look at our own thoughts and views about each other and our relationship and are working on stepping outside of our own problems, at least a little, and remembering we are on the same team.  We have not wandered so far that it will take a long stretch of concerted effort to bring it back around, it was caught early.  These are some things we have said since then.

  

I am ready to feel less tired and have more sex  I am happy that I can be of some comfort to you and that you like my ass. I think you smell good and are sexy, too! I like having a day with you! Let’s do try to keep focusing on the good things about each other – you do a better job of that than I do – I need constant reminders and I’m working on that. 

I love you! 

 

well i am just getting your email.  you are most welcome.  as you know i would be more than happy to offer to sex you up, well, almost anytime, most anywhere.  I have been thinking about you and i think both of us have been a little focused on the annoying things the other one does so i have been considering all the good things.  and there are plenty to consider.  your hand reaching for mine to help me, you stopping off at a store i like and bringing me something home, leaving me money for thing you knew i needed with a single word from me, picking me up and taking me to get my favorite scone and then to sit in a coffee shop together, (that has always been something we liked to do).  and then there are so many things that you can’t help or don’t even think of like the way you smile at me, your kiss, that fabulous ass, the way you move - in general- is sexy, i love to listen to you tell a story, most especially when it wasn’t one of those requests, i love it when you pet my head, rub my back, i do like that you are protective it makes me feel special and safe. (i will call you on it when you take it too far- get a little bossy, but then i am bossy too so what can i really say?)

love love,

 joey
 

I am still determined to be cheerful and happy, in whatever situation I may be; for I have also learned from experience that the greater part of our happiness or misery depends upon our dispositions, and not upon our circumstances.     -Martha Washington

  


Sent: Sunday, September 27, 2009 7:44:54 AM
Subject: Re: Saturday

Good morning baby! How did u sleep? Me -like a log. Thanks for last night -it was amazing! Have fun today!   I left u some $ on the sink. 

Sent from my iPod

 

Text sent from my computer:

I love you deeper than the Atlantic Ocean

    

Re: Saturday


Its a good day for a movie since its so crappy outside. I’m glad u like the texts n emails. I am on my email thru my iPod at Honda. I brought my lunch today so I don’t have to get out in it to get something to eat.
Have fun! I can’t wait to hear the story! 
I love u more than how high lake lanier is! 

Sent from my iPod

 

 
On Sep 26, 2009, at 11:12 AM, joey goodwin> wrote:

thank you so much! really sweetie the little text additions (beyond the class update, weather, news and traffic) make me feel much better.  thanks for thinking of us, we may just go to a movie!!!  I’m glad it’s not raining yet, hope it holds out just right for you.  I love you deeply, even deeper than the water over I 285.  I have a story to tell you later.  Aubrey at his finest.

 XXX’s

joey
 

I am still determined to be cheerful and happy, in whatever situation I may be; for I have also learned from experience that the greater part of our happiness or misery depends upon our dispositions, and not upon our circumstances.     -Martha Washington

 


Sent: Saturday, September 26, 2009 7:43:44 AM
Subject: SaturdayGood morning,baby! How are you so far today? Its not rainy yet. I am hoping we get as much done as possible b4 lunch. If u n Aubrey want go to a movie I will give u some more $ for zacks present tonight. Maybe u could find a PG movie. I hope u have a good day! I love u!
Xxxxxxooooo
 

 D
Sent from my iPod

Spat

Oh, now I have done it

how could I

say that

feel that

think that

?

She doesn’t like it

she abruptly—

SLAM

leaves.

Obviously she did understand.

I must have explained it poorly.

Maybe I was just

tired

emotional

stressed

jealous

in pain

.

Maybe not.

It matters not

the emotions are mine

no matter their origin.

She would say the same.

Open.

Close.

Question.

Answer.

Understanding.

Apology.

Kiss.

Hug.

Over.

Invisible

There is no alarm clock that sounds to insist I get out of bed.  This morning the clock read 9:15 when sat up and decided to meander down to the kitchen for some breakfast.  Contemplating cereal box nutrition labels I mentally added a few things to my to do list.  Finishing up with my morning meal I opened the dryer and began folding towels.  Recently having changed detergent the things I removed from the dryer smelled distinctly like the clean laundry they were.  My keen olfactory sense is not desensitized to the new smell, yet.  In no particular hurry I took my time smoothing the folds, evening out the creases then delivering each pile to its appropriate destination where it was tucked neatly into a cabinet or hung up for immediate use.  Once all the things were put away I started another load before heading back down the hall way to change the sheets on the bed.  Mundane tasks.

Preparing to leave for an interview which was to be taped and critiqued D noticed a small pool of water on the floor.  She grabbed the towel from the ring that holds it at the ready by the sink in our vanity and tossed it on the puddle to mop it up.  The fresh smelling towel I had just hung on that ring, the soft blue towel that had replaced the green one was suddenly lying in the floor.  Before I could censor my response I complained that I had just put that clean towel there.  She apologized in a hurried and somewhat aggravated tone asking if I wanted her to replace the towel.  No, I stated, thinking I want you to pay attention, to mop the floor with a towel from the dirty laundry not one I am going to dry my face on.  The damp towel ended up on the corner of the counter not back in its ring.  I think she was not sure what I wanted but knew she was in a hurry.  Off to do something important.

D had been helping me clean house to prepare for company that was coming to dinner, not that any of them would care, but I did.  Both of us working together can get the entire house clean in a couple of hours, which keeps me from feeling guilty about not doing it and it is all clean at the same time as opposed to the floors one week, the bathrooms the next week and so on.  When we finished each of us showered and sprawled on the bed TV on, laptops as well.  I thought she was deep in thought about a project she was working on until I looked more closely and realized she had a very different look on her face. 

Out came words of frustration followed by tears of the same origin.  Tired of feeling all the things that come with not having a job.  Some of those things are the things I felt when I first found myself without a job.  Panic.  Frustration.  Guilt.  Worthlessness.  Aimlessness.  She has done a great job filling her time which helps her cope tremendously.  When I found myself unemployed, sick and in a destructive relationship I felt lots of those same feelings.  But there is a huge difference in these stories.  A difference that while I comfort and encourage her eats away at me.    

We were sitting together in a coffee shop while I finished and posted my last piece, the one about the argument, she sat impatiently across the table all but tapping and staring in anticipation.  Everything about her body language said “Hurry up.”  When she finished reading it I asked for feed back.  As I always do.  History.  What she liked was the history I gave that built a frame around what happened explaining it in context.  Frankly that is what keeps me from appearing to be a crazy bitch.  So here I go again.  History.

Maybe a part of this comes from my illness – by that I mean that I am in fact accustomed to a certain amount of attention due to being sick.  Some times I don’t want that attention but some of it is comforting, that is the attention I like, the attention I miss.  That said I have also been the one people called on for – well, everything.  When my family was intact and I lived down the street my number was on everyone’s speed dial – and quite a few emergency contacts.   Being the cornerstone, the caregiver, meal bringer, comforter and all round ‘help you of a jam even if it takes a year’ was a role I was more than familiar with.  Somehow though when this job(less) problem came home to roost it took over.  Squashed me flat, more than once.

All those emotions I am supposed to be helping her through I cannot see my way around in my own life so how in the hell am I going to be any good at aiding her navigation through this?  During that argument conversation we had last week she spilled out all the emotions she was having the guilt, the sense of loss of independence, loosing a part of how you define who you are, waking up each day with a nagging cloud of aimlessness, worthlessness, as though all the things you had done before no longer mattered because you were not doing them NOW.  On and on she went about working hard and how that was the key to everything the key to having the things you want, to having success and the Holy Grail…the key to independence. 

Many times in the past months I have brushed her hair back, wiped her tears and told her I know how she feels.  I get it.  The truth is I don’t know how she feels.  I don’t get it.  I cannot solve those problems for me by landing the job I am highly qualified for and make a great salary because I bring such value to the company.  She can.  She will.  Soon.  For me that will not happen so I stare down those issues every morning without a solution.

Each day I wake up to a tinge of aimlessness.  No matter how many projects I have planned.  The guilt is multifaceted as I know I can’t get a job and help out with the money issues.  When we were having that ugly mean conversation I said something I thought D already knew, I was wrong.  Months ago I was having an email tiff (her word) with my mother.  She said to me that it ‘must be disappointing to me to have been unable to ever make myself independent’ and shared the pain that brought me by squeaking it out through my tears.  D had not known and immediately put her arm around me and said she was sorry, that I had not shared that with her.

Over all these months these emotions have been at the forefront for me to deal with.   When I said my wounds had been exfoliated raw with salt and vinegar that is that I meant.  Here I am in this moment working to make sense of this.  To accept that I will never have the career that I wanted and all the self satisfaction that goes with it yet each day I tell D to hold on, it’s just around the corner for her.  It will come.  She is smart enough, determined enough, experienced enough, she is the total package.  Completely employable.

Often I find myself jealous.  Not of other women moving in on my girl, but of my girl herself.  She has accomplished what I so wanted.  All she seems to see is the right now, the time between, not all the things that she has done.  Not past this to the things that she will do.  I have been jealous of her in the mornings when she was in boot camp and could go and workout with other people, I have been jealous of her going to work, of her clothes, her car, her house and even though I am welcomed into her life and take part in it, live in her house, drive her car it is not mine.  I did not accomplish those things. 

On an intellectual level I comprehend that my purpose is different but that does not change the hurt I feel over it.  On some level I realize that my accomplishments are more abstract and like so many things in my life more difficult to see.  My accomplishments on a daily level do not include catching errors or making suggestions that save the company time or money.  I wash clothes and dishes and other boring similar tasks.  After a while there is nothing for it, there is no ‘thanks’ that make me feel like it is appreciated and not taken for granted anymore.   There is a freshly washed towel in the floor.

It is a small thing.  Most days it would not bother me at all but today it.  Today it took over, hung over my head all day.  I suppose I still have towel hang ups.  I will always have towels to hang up and I wouldn’t mind so much if there was something else I did that felt significant.  Lasting.  Concrete.  Something I didn’t have to explain or justify because people understood and valued it.  If only it was so obvious.

Boxing

For months we have lived under the threat of layoff until it actually happened and now we live with the reality of layoff.  I have been through this before but it was just me.  Thursday night D got an email from her sister about the ‘terms’ under which she would be willing to help.  Obviously this upset D.  Basically what her sister wanted was to see all D’s financials and make sure she was not having any unnecessary fun living ‘extravagantly’ – by her standards.  In all the time we have been together I have never really seen all the financials.  There have been times when I mentioned something related to bills and how money is spent and she became immediately defensive so I backed off and came  quickly to the decision that I would stay out of it.  The problem now is that all the things related to the layoff do affect me and after all these months I lost my perspective.  At a really lousy time.

We don’t see eye to eye on money issues.  I have my own baggage where that is concerned.  And several other things that are related to the situation and they all collided and made a spectacular disaster.

We were sitting at the bar of a restaurant near the country bar where we were planning to go and dance.  She had been quiet and sullen.  Except when she was telling me what she thought about her sister’s remarks.  But that was in the car.  At the bar she was writing to her sister and the tension in the air was oppressive.  Strangling.  I stared at the liquor bottles.  I stared at the menu.  I stared out the window.  It was uncomfortable.  Did I mention we are both at that point in our cycles?  Email finished and sent we talked about how she felt about things.  And then… she implied that our situations were the same.  Sort of.  It was an ‘it’s like this you know.’  Yeah I know.  I thought about it for a minute and started crying.

When I lost my job I had some of the same feelings that she has but the layers and layers of other emotions, the ones I have been so desperately attempting to keep a lid on all boiled to the surface demanding my attention.  My attention was supposed to be on her.  On her crisis.  On her issue.  I was supposed to be listening and supporting.  Instead I unzipped my baggage and proceeded to empty the contents in her lap right there in the bar.  As bad as that was I didn’t stop there, oh no, I then opened the special box where I keep my view of the world and dumped that on top of the mess I had already made. 

How absurd for me to push my standards and philosophy on her less than an hour after I said her sister should not do that.  How hypocritical of me to do that when I am so outspoken about NOT doing that to others.

So why was I so surprised when all hell broke loose between us.  I have no idea.  It got ugly.  I have issues that have  been exacerbated, spotlighted, rubbed raw then been further exfoliated with salt and vinegar by all the things that have been happening lately.  Despite my efforts to keep them separate, to deal with them on my own they all came out of there neatly stored boxes where they are supposed to wait until I can deal with them.  Until I have the emotional energy and courage to take them on.  One or two at a time.  I really hate it when someone is careless enough to bump the book case that holds all these boxes.  All the boxes that hold my issues.  My shit.  If the book case takes a hit some times boxes fall off the shelves and there I am with a load of things to deal with all at once whether I have the energy or sanity to deal with them or not.  They came crashing down that night.  Let’s not lay blame on who knocked them off the shelf in the first place (because it was probably me and I have enough crow to eat and humble pie for dessert, thanks).

D was talking about being independent, working hard for the things that she has, hating to ask for help, having to justify herself to others and feeling judged for a situation that is beyond her control.  Uh, yeah.  Sounds like the story of my life.  But for me these things will not be remedied by landing a great job.  For her they will and very likely soon.  (One of the things I said to her, which I should not have, was that I felt she had to learn some lesson before she got that job.  She heard that all wrong.  But I think that she may be near the end of the lesson, she just doesn’t know it.  That’s fine you can learn all sorts of things and not realize the how or why).  For me all those things she has been struggling with are life long issues for me.  I was angry with her for comparing them because it felt like someone who broke both legs and had to spend three months in a wheel chair comparing their experience with someone who has been a paraplegic for ten years and will always be.  Yes it is a glimpse into that world but hardly the same experience. 

It made me feel selfish to have brought up my issues when she was having a problem.  I apologized for that and for telling her she had a lesson to learn.  I thought we were progressing toward a resolution.  I was wrong. 

A moment of quiet passed before she launched into a biting tirade listing all the things I had done wrong, all the ways I had not been supportive, all the ways I had hurt her and judged her and not validated her, not listened.  Ouch.  I was so hurt.  It was silent the remaindered of the drive home.  I had finished preparing for bed before I asked her if she was speaking to me since she had not said a word following her admonishments merely made one of those one syllable mocking laughs when I replied to the angry list of wrongs I had committed by saying that I had thought we were making progress.  Apparently I was wrong; the conversation was far from over.

During all the time she had felt the pressure mounting at work, during the time she felt the threat of loosing her job, during the time following the loss of her job I worked to support her.  Spent so much time and energy trying to think of ways to help her.  To sooth her.  To support her.  To encourage her.  Through her haze of anger and hormones she told me I had not done any of those things in fact I had done the opposite.  I was at a loss.  It seemed counter productive to go point by point down the list and remind her of what had actually happened.  To my mind she needed to figure that out on her own, so I said very little.  Frankly that part is a little fuzzy in my memory, until the part she said she was sorry.  A bit later I said to her how hurtful those words had been.   She apologized again.

Some time ago we were in the shower.  I was exfoliating my legs with a pair of bath gloves made specifically for that purpose.  For some reason I reached a point that I could not tolerate the scrubbing.  This is a very unusual experience for me and I made some remark about having enough of that.  D and I had been talking about something else (how intriguing that we would be speaking about something other than my personal dead skin removal) and the timing of my ‘enough’ coincided with something she was saying and she took it to mean I’d reached my limit about what we were discussing.  I was baffled by her sudden defensiveness having missed entirely the misunderstanding that had just occurred.  In previous relationships it was something that would have been common place but for me, well I would never.  I put my arms around her and whispered in her ear “If you get that feeling, if something I say or do makes you feel bad, pause, think about me and whether or not I would say or do that thing to hurt you.  Pause and think what my intentions would be. You know me well enough to do that.”  She agreed. 

Each of us has had much hurt in our past and at times we confuse that with our partner.  Our loving partner who has our best interest at heart all the time.  Sometimes the boxes fall and too much spills out at once.  Sometimes that makes for a difficult day for me but other times D gets caught up in it too.  I never mean for her to have my boxes fall on her but sometimes it happens.  On occasion I think it happens the other way round too, but I don’t know where she stores her issues, her pains and grief but I have bumped into them a time or two. 

Really this was a collision of all our stuff all at the same time.  That is never good.  Add hormones and it is surprising it wasn’t worse.  I am not a violent person.  My gloves are metaphorical.  We did manage to keep it in the ring and fight as cleanly as possible, considering.  It doesn’t happen often.  And we always manage to bring it all back together and clean it up when we are done.  So far I don’t have a box with her name on it.  Let’s keep it that way.

Better?

This morning I emptied my AM meds into my hand and began to take them as usual. Looking at them but not really paying attention (I do this everyday) I notice that there were two oval shaped pills, one slightly larger than the other. Without really thinking much about it I swallowed the larger one because I felt sure about what it was but left the smaller one on the bed for comparison. First I took out the bottle of pills I was sure the other oval had come from to discover the pill I did NOT take matched those exactly. Oh hell. Placing my med bag, the one which holds all the pill containers I began to open them up one by one, just to be sure. Possibly I had overlooked a change in manufacture and therefore size and or shape. No dice. Next step call the pharmacy. We went over my med list together with me explaining how it was shaped differently from everything even remotely similar.
By this time I had already taken the pill I had a positive ID on and text D to tell her what was up. Just in case. (Worse case scenario it was some totally foreign pill accidentally mixed in my meds that could cause some terrible interaction) Then I pushed a Nuvigil through the foil lined sample package and it strongly resembled the extraneous pill. As a rule I do not put wake me up pills or put me to sleep pills in the day by day pill sorter just in case I take the wrong time of day pills. It has happened once and that would have been a terrible day. When I began sorting my pills this way (a long time ago) I just didn’t add those pills because I only took them when I really needed them. I decided that the most likely explanation is that it was a Nuvigil so I skip the one I had just taken from the packaging.
Today instead of my 2 hour walk taking pictures I split 40 minutes fairly evenly walking and running. Additionally I made it all day with no nap and since I had no real reason (Aubrey, appointments) not to take one it felt like an accomplishment. Is it getting better? Maybe. Is it the Simponi? Maybe. Is it melatonin? Not likely. Maybe.  On the other hand I am having a variety of other symptoms but nothing as painful as before the TNF blockers or as maddening as being desperate to sleep every minute of my life.  Of course I have learned some interesting things about myself.   My writing style is obviously the essay format and I envision my books being collections of those.  It is a collage.  Little slices of my life that create a picture.  Since I have not been able to write as much or as easily I have been focusing my creative energies in other directions.  Making physical collages using a variety of methods.  Much of it is still in my head but it will come out soon.    So as with most things there is a blessing and a curse.  Every time I go through some challenge I look for the lesson.  Many times it takes years to figure it out, other times it is immediately apparent.  Most often though I learn something sooner and later.  For now I will take my new found interest in a different art form and enjoy it while I keep looking for what else there is to learn for the lessons always make it better.

To Do List

Not the things I needed to do but how it actually happened.

 

  • Slept late
  • meds
  • Tiny little breakfast
  • Went for a walk
  • Took many pictures along the way
  • Camera told me ‘memory full’ on my 1 gig card
  • Text D while walking
  • Got rained on all the way down our street
  • Decided to trade a bath for my usual shower
  • Learned more about soap scum than I ever wanted to know
  • Shaved my legs- way past time
  • Dressed
  • Felt that the whole day had run right by me
  • Went out to run errands
  • Dropped book in the Book Drop
  • Went to pharmacy
  • Gave in to urge for coffee and scone
  • Called pharmacy
  • ‘Yes you left them here.  Would you like Charles to bring them?’
  • “Oh yes, that would be very helpful.”
  • Threw a brief pity party to celebrate my scatter brained self.
  • Moved on
  • Made that phone call D’s been bugging me to make
  • Left message
  • Finished and copied letter
  • Introduced: envelope, letter, stamp
  • They all seemed fine with each other
  • Dishes
  • Retrieved mail
  • Sent letter
  • Removed laundry from dryer
  • Spent some quality time with D’s work shirts and a bottle of Shout
  • Started them washing
  • Decided on dinner
  • That’s as far as I have made it so far.
  • Later there will be trivia with friends at a local pizza joint
  • Maybe an episode of Dexter, season three that came in the mail today
  • Then it will be bedtime and tomorrow I will have another go of it.
  • Hopefully.

365

We talk about that night.  The night we met.   When neither of us really wanted to go out but did.  How there have been plenty of nights we went out and… nothing.  Plenty of nights we stayed in, but that night we ended up in the same place at the same time.  We did not take it slow.  Many people suggested we take it slow but we did not.  Life is too short.  I would rather dive in, get hurt and find out soon than to shuffle slowly along to discover this is  not the one and look at all the time that has been wasted.  But that’s just me.  And not just anyone can handle me.

People comment all the time now how we have been through so much together and how well we have handled it.  I don’t believe in coincidence nor do I give much credence to fate however I do believe there are people out there that resonate with your soul.  Not that you just have one person you are meant to be with but there are people you are meant to be with and the universe nudges you in their direction.  You can go where you are nudged, or not.  We went and look where we are now.

Breaking as many personal rules as we could we moved in after just two months.  There were some extenuating circumstance but it has worked out so very well.  We are right here for each other.  The first several months it was all me.  I was really sick and D jumped right in there and took care of me.  She even managed to start learning this whole parenting thing.  Wow, that’s a lot.

But those are just the outside things.  A nurse could have done that too.  Everyday we spent together I grew closer to her, learning more about her and the more I know the more I love her.  I love our late night talks in bed.  I do also enjoy the sex that comes before or after these long talks.

I love cooking with her.  I am ecstatic with gratitude that when we do argue we fight fair and always resolve the issue so that it isn’t out there just waiting to ambush you when you least expect it.  I love her ink.  Her blue eyes and the way she looks at me.  I love that she is a writer and gets that part of me.  I love that she is encouraging of my exploration of my artful side.  I love that we exchange notes, little notes here and there with each other.  I love that if I am having a rough day not only can she sense it but she will do what ever she can to smooth it out for me.  I love that while she does take care of me she also lets me take care of her.  I love that she is open minded and that we can agree on some basic philosophies.  I love the way she kisses me. I love it when she reads to me.  She is great at telling stories.  I love her spontaneity.  I love her love of food, wine and draft beer.  I adore the fact that when I do something she is grateful for that she expresses that to me.  I pretty pleased that she was grateful in the first place.  All of this but mostly that she love me.  That she sees me for who I truly am (and the fact that it did not make her run like hell) and she still loves me and tries everyday to love me in the way I need to be loved.  What I want most for her is that she knows that I see her and always try to love her in the way she needs to be loved

So here is to many more years together.  Growing, learning, laughing, loving and resting comfortably in the acceptance of each others arms.  Happy Anniversary my Love.

Canned Goods

This morning I was eating toast in the car.  Toast with jelly.  Scuppernong jelly which was home made and saved me from a miserable day.  Friday had been Aubrey’s last day with us for the summer. Joe picked him up and for once did the right thing, he grabbed the boy and ran.  All day the both of us had been clingy.  At the pool he hung on me without resistance.  When we returned from the pool, D had joined us while we were there, I sent him to pack his things.  I didn’t want to have to even be in the room, even though I knew I would have to go in check it out.  I put it off as long as I could.

Moments after I sent him to this task he was back in the office playing his game on the computer.  Hiding.  Emotionally.  Insisting he join me in his room, so I could do that once over, I made sure he had all the things he wanted, but hadn’t stowed away a cat.  He had done fairly well and his suitcase was feline free.  Plopping down on the bed he betrayed himself as a sad, weepy look crossed his face.  “You want to take my bear?” I offered.  Shaking his head vigorously he indicated that he did want the comfort of Mommy’s bear.  Snuggled in my arms I assured him that bear had seen me through some very rough spots and was sure to do the same for my sorrowful boy.  Bear was then perched atop the pile going with him to Joe’s.

Bantering back and forth all day about the transition neither of us had showed any seriously pained emotions.  For just a second he did tear up just a bit in his room but he had been easily talked down.  Joking around we were fine but then the time came—and went.  Less than two minutes later I was crying.  This continued off and on all night until almost 4 am when I finally really went to sleep. (such as it was).  D was her amazing supportive self.  Petted my head, stayed right there with me but didn’t follow me around if I left the room.  She always reaffirms my already deeply committed, undying love when she reaches out toward me in the dark and asks if I am ok.  Knowing that helpless feeling she has went she makes that reach I want to be well and happy, if for nothing else than to relieve her of that feeling.

Saturday, early afternoon, I ventured to my favorite coffee shop.  Before leaving the house I gave serious thought to where I would go.  This place has strong Aubrey associations and I was trying to avoid those but the desire for a scone won out over everything else.  And I knew the longer I waited the more difficult it would be to sit in that place without him.  As usual it was crowded but I managed to claim a fantastic spot and then the real shock: the line moved quickly and my drink was ready within two minutes.  These things were impressive as the service here most often is horrid.  Truth be told though, I would walk over glass to eat those scones.  Frankly the coffee’s pretty good too and so is the atmosphere. 

On a sofa in front of me there were two women.  From my vantage point I can only see one face and it was lit up, she was totally into the girl she was with but I couldn’t see the other woman’s face.  Eventually I did ascertain that the starry eyed girl worked with her, I think they were discussing the difficulty of that.  The people watching is one things that draws me back there. 

Watching this was a distraction from my own thoughts.  All during the time I was there I was working on this.  Desperately trying to write. To. Stay. Awake.  I can manage the former if I can do the later.  Most days this is difficult of not impossible.  So I packed it up and text my friend E (Ellen on D’s blog) to see what she was up to.  Her plans beat the hell out of going home and crying and sleeping and being depressed.  When I arrived at her house the first words out of my mouth were, “I need to cry.”  Actually I was already crying.  Hugging me and then settling on the sofa with me we chatted for a bit, long enough for me to stop crying, but then there was a knock on the door that made E and I jump.  It was L.  She came bearing scuppernongs with which we were planning to make jelly.  A couple of years ago I did quite a bit of canning so not only was I familiar with the process I had fond memories as well.  It is always more fun with friends.

Three women in the kitchen smashing fruit and giggling.  Stirring up laughter.  Simmering scuppernongs and warming our hearts.  It was just was I needed.  Felt like a party to me.  While the smashed, gently cooked fruit gave up its juice we took off to eat lunch.  Over wings and beer we continued our joking and jovialness.  Upon our return all the dripping had ceased and L couldn’t wait to take it down and see what had happened.  She is a scientist.  “Ewww.  It looks like a brain.”  Looking at the dried up mass I had to agree, it looked like a brain. 

By this time I was about ready to go.  Not that I was not continuing to laugh and have a great time but it was getting late and I knew my girl was going to be home soon and I wanted to be there to see her.  L was parked behind me though and E concurred with her suggestion that I stay and finish making the juice into jelly and placing it in the jars.  Ok.  Won’t take that long.  And it would be a hell of a lot easier to get my car out if she moved hers. Which she plainly was not going to do until we were finished.  So we added pectin, boiled, added sugar, boiled, turned off the heat, L had been stirring all the while but then she sat and E and I poured the hot jelly into the jars, flipped them over and I deemed that the end.  Grabbing my lunch leftovers for my girl I told them both what a fantastic time I’d had and made my way home.

Over the past few years the family I had know for half my life has changed.  Fractured.  Disintegrated.  Combining that with my coming out and being involved with a community of people who know plenty about loosing their families taught me what I needed.  When I was completely engrossed in my family it still was not what I wanted.  What I needed. My solution is what so many other people have done in similar situations, I have endeavored to create my own family.  These friend that I have, my girl, obviously the boy, they are all my family.  A couple of weeks ago we had some friends over for dinner and decided we wanted to keep doing that.  Every week or two we would have a potluck dinner and take turns at each other houses.  Sunday dinner, our family style.

At these dinners we will laugh and joke and talk and share.  Share each other’s pain, each other’s joy’s, accomplishments and missed marks.  We will share food and love and support.  Some of these things will be made by us as individuals, some by us as groups, some of the things will be made on that day, some made ahead and put up for another time.  Just like us.

That jelly I stayed to finish that day was the jelly on my toast.  When I opened the jar I thought of that day, the fun, the support that carried me through a difficult day.  I like canning but it is so much more fun with friends.  And the results are such a pleasure to share.  Little jars of something tasty, made with laughter and love.

« Older entries