Weekly Update: Updates

 Not the most original title this week, but last week tried to do me in and I'm recovering from that. Some of you may have seen that my father died. I still don't know the official cause of death. Why? Because nobody talks to each other. My sister actually still speaks with the family, but she doesn't know either. I'm trying not to let it bother me, but it does. That's an important piece of information, even if just for my own medical history and that of his grandchildren. 

I'm also bothered that he's gone. No longer is there any hope that someday he would open his eyes and realize the disservice that he did to his children and grandchildren. There's no chance now of me ever having a father and that sucks. Also, finding out while sitting in a hospital gown waiting to be stabbed by a machine also sucks. Nothing like already being vulnerable. That's no one's fault, it's just how it happened.

In better news, the biopsy came back negative. I may have funky boobs, but I don't have cancer. That's such a huge relief. I literally felt a weight lifting off of me when I found out. After such a rough week (his death, all the medical things, and ending up throwing up the following morning), it was good to get some happy news.

Sadly, I couldn't share that with one of my closest friends. Eric is mad at me and hurt by me. It was anything but intentional, but when I wrote about his weight loss project with his best friend last week, he felt I made him look like a dick. God, I never meant for that to happen. He's one of the greatest guys I know; one of the few that I actually trust. He hasn't looked at my messages or spoken to me in a week and I don't know what to do about it. I apologized because I've never thought of him as that type of person and trust me, I know that type of person. I was envious of the support that him and his friend (also a great guy) have for one another. I don't really have that kind of accountability. I never meant for me being envious to make him sound like a bad person. In fact, I eagerly watched their second video this morning because I'm so damn proud of him and what he's doing. If you want to check it out, it's on YouTube. I miss him and I hope he reads my messages or this and realizes that I never meant to hurt him. 

As for that accountability...Well, I'm holding myself accountable the best that I can. I dropped some more weight, making total lost 14.4 pounds so far. It's coming off pretty slowly because I can't do a no carb diet. I have to take in at least 14-18 carb servings a day to balance my blood sugar. On top of that, I have a really small grocery budget and I'm still learning to meal plan around both of those things. Today I have to do a carb tracking sheet to turn in at my diabetes education class tomorrow night. I forgot and now have to play a bit of catch up. My diet is pretty much the same every day though so it shouldn't be too tough. 

Someone said they're hoping that I post recipes that I found to be delicious so I'm considering adding that in from time to time. Right now, I'm using prepared foods to work on serving sizes and the like. Still, I used to like to cook so maybe that'll be a good challenge for me. For now though, it's time to get myself working on some client work because I essentially took last week off. 

Take care of yourselves and each other.

Current weight: 306.6 pounds

Thoughts on My Father

 Yesterday, as I sat in a private room, draped in a gown, I got a text from my sister. She never texts me so I knew something was wrong. It turns out that my father died yesterday morning. I'd love to say that I burst into tears or had some "normal" reaction, but I didn't. I was pretty much numb to the whole thing. I spent every spare minute after trying to sort out my feelings...

Justin says that I don't need to try to untangle all of it, that he wasn't really a good part of my life so it's not surprising that I don't really feel anything. I do feel things though...

I feel sadness that he wasted 44 years of my life and 20/21 years of my children's lives by choosing not to make any kind of effort to be a part of them. Oh sure, he would pop up from time to time but he wasn't a regular part of our lives or even really a parent of any kind. He wasn't someone I could turn to and that makes me sad.

I feel anger because I've had to separate myself away from that side of my family because he was so toxic and make it so I didn't feel as if I could trust any of them. After all, "your father's family likes to drink and smoke (pot)." That wasn't an environment to bring up my children in and that put an even larger wedge between us because he thought that I thought I was too good for them. Not too good, I just wanted better...and to have ever had to defend that makes me angry.

I laid in bed last night and was thinking about the last time that I saw him. It has to be 9 years ago now or so. The boys and I were in my parents house, down in their living room. We had spent the day cleaning out my grandmother's house and my mother reluctantly let us spend the night at their house so that they could get my help the following day. I should point out that this is after she insisted we bring our own food because she wasn't going to feed us. I should also point out that I brought over enough really nice chicken breasts to feed everyone and they were mad at me because I didn't know how to use their grill to also prepare them for everyone. Yep, you read that right. She insisted I not only bring food, but I prepare it for everyone. Anyway, the food was ready and we three were waiting in the living room for my mother, father, and brother to get their food so there'd be room for me to make plates for myself and the boys. There was a pass through window between the two rooms and we sat there as my father said horrible things about me...how I was lazy, a user of people, and I don't even remember what else. It upset my children and it hurt me badly. My uncle had to "bribe" me to spend the night there so that he could get my help the next day. Of course, the next day, he didn't come through on his word and I discovered Roger had picked up head lice from their house. 

But that was the last time I really remember seeing my father. I expect that he was at my grandmother's funeral, but that day is kind of a blur. All I remember was that my children and I stood by ourselves before the funeral and were essentially ignored.

My father had ample opportunities to make any kind of effort. I haven't moved in eleven years. My phone number hasn't changed in basically that long. I'm on social media. He had numerous ways that he could have reached out. I can almost hear his family saying, "You could have reached out too." Yes, I could have but why should I have? He was the one who caused the damage. He was the one to start hurting me from the time I was a toddler and he let his girlfriend beat me and I'm pretty sure almost drown me in the bathtub. I have ptsd that stems from that and I've had to work hard to not have certain things freak me out. 

So, how do I feel now that he's gone? Sad, tired (so tired), angry...but mostly, I feel empty. There's a hole where a father should have been yet never has been and now never will be. Perhaps his three other children will mourn him, but I think I did my mourning in bits and pieces over the past 44 years. I don't have anything more to give him. As I said when I decided to go to my diabetes education class last night instead of staying home...He didn't take care of me in life, certainly won't in death so it's up to me to do what's best for me. 

Weekly Update: Out of the Blue

Well, here we are, Monday again. It's been a rocky sort of week. Not terrible, just a bit rocky. Let's just start typing and see what we come up with, shall we?

Hmm...I don't know where to start...Let's see...

Ben's physical therapy is going well. He only has two more sessions left. In fact, he sees his nurse or whatever she is today to update her and see what the next steps are. His physical therapist doesn't think he needs muscle relaxers which is good. I'm a bit concerned because his arm has seemed to be really tight a couple of times. Physical therapy is so expensive though. His dad's insurance didn't cover $700 of his initial bill. If medicaid doesn't pick up some of that, it's all out of his bank account because I can't help and his stepmom won't let his dad. If we add occupational therapy onto that, that's another bill for the poor kid.

Roger is doing good. He's at his dad's. He doesn't want to spend regular time here which is really hard on me. He said to me this past week that it's gross here and he always feels as if he has to clean. That's a blow. It's not great here, but I didn't think it was gross. I've been trying to do things to improve the place, but I'm not moving fast enough and some of it is what do I tell the owners is the problem first...I don't want to tell them both big things at the same time. I feel like I've failed them. I know that it's not all my fault, but it is my brain that's the problem. I can't ignore that.

On the work front things are slowing down. That worries me, but there's nothing I can really do about it. I have one novel on my desk that I'm working on. I am supposed to have a couple of comics coming my way in September and possibly another novel, so I'll be okay.

DHS sucks. They were supposed to call me on Friday between 830 and 1030, but they never did. I tried calling but there were 47 people ahead of me and only an hour until they closed. I should try to call them again today but I don't have the time so it will have to wait until tomorrow. It's so frustrating that I gave them the information that they requested and they rejected it and now I have to go through all of this.

Let's throw some good news into the mix before I get into what's really weighing on me this morning...

Yesterday, we (Ben and I) picked up two tiny black kittens from someone that I know. Their mother had been hit by a car and this couple rescued the litter from the barn and bottle raised them. To say that they're spoiled is an understatement. These guys have been on high end food and cuddled and coddled to no end. My boys aren't 100% sure why I brought new babies into their house but nobody has massively freaked out. I had them in their carrier, on the couch, last night where everyone could smell each other. Then they spent last night in the bathroom, where they still are. I need to work and that allows them to still all smell each other and get used to each other. It also allows the babies to stretch their legs and explore a bit. When I went in there this morning to use the bathroom, they were curled up together on my jeans that I'd left in there. As soon as I sat down on the toilet, Mina (the female) came running over, climbed up on my lap, then my chest for snuggles. Then she spent a few minutes walking laps around my chest and shoulders, purring the whole time. She is 100% a lover. Apollo, her brother, came over for some attention too but was more interested in exploring the bathtub than me. I think given a bit of time for adjustment, they'll do well here. I've already left a message for my vet to take them in for a well check since they've not been to one yet.

Now...This part is going to be long so if you want to scroll, I'll put a tl;dr at the bottom.

I had a friend. A best friend. We were close and had known each other for about 10 years. After he ended his relationship with his girlfriend, we became lovers of sorts. I say of sorts because we live a good 5 hours apart and due to life stuff, we almost never saw each other. In fact, from the first time we were together that way to the second (and last) time, there was six years in between. While I was at his place the first time things happened, I told him that it would be really hard for me when he got another girlfriend because that'd end things between us. He told me that it wouldn't, that whoever he was with would have to accept me too.  Now, this may sound weird to some of you, but both him and I had led "alternative" lifestyles for ages so it wasn't weird to us.

Six years go by...six long as years where I don't get to see him. It sucked. I'll just leave it at that. One night, out of the blue, he asks if he can call me. I was excited, right until he called me and told me he was calling because a friend of ours had died. I was stunned. My instinct was that I needed to be there, but I was afraid to ask him if I could come. I did though and he told me, of course. The trip there was chaos...my car broke down, I had to get a rental, I had a hard time getting my data to work internationally...chaos. Somehow though, when I got there and he hugged me, it all seemed worth it. I was in my safe space. He's always been my safe space...someone I could be around and just be me. I didn't have to put on an act or pretend. On the way there, I had let him know I'd be late due to all the car nonsense and I had said something about doing something that might be bad for me when I was there...He thought I meant smoke marijuana (he uses it medicinally) but I meant sleeping with him again. I knew that if I did, it'd be even harder on me to go and not know when I might see him again.

That night, I didn't know where I was sleeping. I had asked if I could borrow his couch when I had initially asked if I could stay with him. I didn't know his feelings on things...but somehow, that night, I ended up in his bed. It was probably as simple as him asking if I was coming to bed. Once we got there, I could tell that he was as nervous as I was...we both wanted it, but there were a lot of years and emotion in between. Things happened. I'll leave it at that.

A couple of days later, I had to get back so I packed things up and headed home. This time, though, I was sure I'd see him again soon, probably in a few months. I was wrong, so very, very wrong. About 4 months later, he posted on Facebook that he was in a relationship. My heart broke because I just knew that it meant I was out. I tried to talk to him and he said he'd wanted to talk to me...wanted to, but hadn't. I won't lie. I pretty much lost it. Losing him meant losing one of the few places in this world that I felt safe, where I felt protected. There were other things going on and I was off my medication. It was ugly. I probably begged him not to do this to me.

What I do remember is coming home one night and sitting in my car. I couldn't stop crying. It was all too much. I'd lost my lover, my best friend, my safe space...I recorded a voice message for him that basically said I planned on killing myself and this was my goodbye message for him. The next morning, I updated my "if I die" file and then poured all of my medication into a wooden bowl that he had made. I had read if you take enough of the medication with alcohol, it would kill you. I had a bottle of sangria left over from New Years. Only my silly little cat (who I miss desperately) stopped me from doing it. Every time I reached for the bowl, she stood in between me and it and demanded I pet her. As for him? He never responded.

That was it for me...this man who supposedly loved me would let me die. Avoiding the conflict was more important than saving me. Months went by. The day after my birthday I sent him a text...he never misses my birthday...saying he'd forgotten. He said he had, he was sorry, but that he needed to find a new place to live fast. I knew what was coming maybe before he did. He was going to move in with her. They were going to start their happily ever after. I'd already muted him on social media and I kept it that way. Every post was like a stab in the back, but after a while, I got tired of crying and decided to move on with my life. He'd made his decision. It was to not have me in his life anymore.

Fast forward a year...to last night...he sent me a text saying that he was in the hospital but wanted to voice chat with me if I'd talk to him. I still love him, god help me, but the trust that we had is no longer there. He blew that up. Still, I texted with him a bit...about what he was doing in the hospital, about how I got kittens...easy things. I did ask him if he was high on pain meds and that's why he thought reaching out to me was a good idea. When he initially text me, he said he was now in a position to talk...my first thought was, "Were you being held against your will for the past year?"

Today I asked him why he reached out to me. He said he'd rather voice chat about it. He did say that he's sorry and he owes me a lot of sorries. Well, that's true but it doesn't help me from crying as I relive all of that. It doesn't change that even after something like 15 months that I don't feel 100% betrayed. I moved on, but my heart never truly did. I'm scared. Do I want to risk being hurt again? Am I strong enough? I don't know...I know that if I told him that I can't, he'd respect that. What I don't know if is I want to tell him no...

TL;DR: Former friend/lover bailed on me for 15 months and has made a reappearance in my life.

Edited to add: I let him call. He apologized for..well...everything. He was sincere. If knowing him for as long as I have means anything, I know when he's being sincere. Is everything 100% between us? Probably not. It's going to take some time to rebuild that trust to where it was before. It turns out that he got himself into a bad situation with this woman and like we've all done at some point, didn't see the red flags for what they were until it was too late. He's moved out now and will be rebuilding for a bit. I wish I could see him face to face because I think it'd bring healing to both of us, but since I'm not allowed in his country, that's not going to happen. This will be a one day at a time rebuilding of a friendship, but I think it'll be okay and that's the part that matters.

On Death and Dying

Image from: http://wisdomquotes.com/

I would love to say that this past week outshone the week before that what with cars breaking down and black licorice taffy, but sadly, that isn't the case. The reality is that it's been such a rollercoaster that a part of me is screaming, "Please just let me off. I can't do this anymore."

I don't tell you that to scare you, but to be real with myself and with anyone who reads this. It's been a really rough week...and as the mechanic told me last Monday, "But, honey, it's only Monday."

Let's backtrack just a little bit. I want to tell you about my friend, Laura. Just over a week ago, I got a call from one of the few people on this planet that I trust with my everything. It sounds a bit odd to say that since before this call, I hadn't heard his voice in probably five years, but it's true. Anyway, it wasn't a happy call...he called to tell me that Laura had died. In that moment, I think I went numb and into some sort of denial. It wasn't possible. She was 53. She was this amazing, incredible woman who was loved by so many. Writing this now, almost two weeks later, the tears are finally there and I can't stop them.

Going to her funeral was only reliant on one thing..if the friend mentioned above would let me stay at his place. Once that was set, I move heaven and earth to get there. Of course, my car broke down on the way and there was a bit of drama trying to get it fixed/get a rental car, but I got there. The funeral, as far as funerals go, was lovely. The room was packed and I couldn't help but look around and wonder if anyone would come to mine if I died. Compared to this woman, I've done nothing with my life. What would they have to talk about in my death?

I came back home just two days ...not even two days really...after getting there. I left with mixed feelings: sadness over Laura, fear that it'd be another six years until I was back "home" again, a desire to prove myself to the world, and a need to see my children. Since then, I've pushed and pushed trying to be even a quarter of the woman she was. I've taken the youngest to rehearsal, attended his senior breakfast, took both boys for one last immunization, had lunch with an author friend who amazes me constantly with his skills and talents, worked on projects for clients...do you all see where this is heading?

At no point have I taken a moment to mourn or grieve or even breathe. Tonight though, I can't stop the tears. I can't stop the sobs that wrack my body. It's good that I'm alone because if I were with someone else, I'd try hard to be strong for them. I'd shove it all down. I wouldn't be able to say what I'm about to put here...

I feel guilty for being alive. The world needs Lauras. They need those amazing hearts matched with strength and determination. The outpouring of love and the number of people in that room showed that. I live in fear that when I die I will die forgotten. There will be nobody to even put together a funeral, let alone people who will travel from all over to share their stories of me or to help comfort those who grieve.

I want this post to have a happy ending. After all, that's what I do, right? I write these posts about my struggles but I always end them with some little ray of hope, some thought that keeps me going. Tonight, I don't have one of those. All I can think is...why me? Why am I still here but she isn't? The world needs Lauras.