People always say that they look up to me, I guess I'm just more successful than they are at being a people person because I remember things that I learned when I was a kid.
If it doesn't belong to you, don't touch it.
If you don't like something, you are perfectly capable of saying so without being an asshole about it.
If you get offended by something, it's perfectly fine to state your opinion about it, but talking about a problem without proposing a solution is whining.
Whining get you nowhere and makes you look like a jackass.
I'm a tad frustrated at the moment. The first time in months that I actually have something to say and I turn on my computer, only to find that half the keys on the keyboard aren't working and that all of my pictures are missing. Fortunately I have a keyboard that I was able to plug in and use and the dear friend who helped me "fix" my other computer problem completely backed up my pictures on his drive so nothing important has been lost. I wish there was an easier solution to fix my brain.
I've stopped drinking. I've stopped fucking around. The latter is a different post entirely, but the point I'm getting at is that I stopped doing all the things that were keeping me together. I, at the moment, am a broken vase.
I don't know what it is with love that makes me freak out so much. I've never had it really; but the mere thought of it growing up would make my throat tighten to the point of a full on allergic reaction to human relationships.
I'm in therapy. My anxiety has been through the roof. This time of year does things to me. Nothing fun. He wants me to start medication other than PRN, but I can't do it. Pre-2016 I could manage. Which also goes to say that pre-trauma; pre- my entire world turned into a psychopath's pretty human skin suit dress, I was fucked up, but I managed.
This afternoon I spend 3 hours finally cleaning my basement that I haven't touched since it flooded 3 years ago. There's a lot of crap there that I am throwing out and it's kind of nice to find things that I knew I wanted to start enjoying again. I talked my son into cooking dinner which was nice. I was way to tired to move after that. I'm watching the movie "Love Actually" for the first time. Several coworkers and my best friend that I miss dearly (hello, Matt) consider it to be one of the best Christmas movies in existance. I have avoided it, of course. I was damned if I was going to watch something about love. *Also coming from the woman whose favorite movie line up includes mostly RomComs*. I was sitting here in my angry, cynical, fuck everything usualness, and then I had to pause to watch the movie. And I love it. Of course I do.
I've found that despite all the cynical overlay in the core of my being, there is something in me that has opened up. I'm becoming quite a sap lately. I'm more excited for Christmas this year than I have in about 5 years. I'm sharing my feelings and my life with people and I'm starting to allow relationships that I never thought I'd want to have. Without going into details at the moment, I'm finding that my life has the makings of an interesting RomCom story myself.
I had surgery. I made it through despite some complications. It's been a long 2 month journey. I had to relearn how to talk and swallow but I am. My voice doesn't sound like a cartoon character anymore and I am eating again.
Before Thanksgiving, my therapist gave me homework. To think about 3 overdeveloped coping mechanisms and 2 underdeveloped ones. To think about them, talk about them, write about them. I have mulled them over in my head. I'd love nothing more than to say that nothing came to mind, but then I'd be a liar. And a liar, I am not. I'm working on it. I'll get there eventually.
Maybe I'll find some gold to fill in my cracks like they do in Japan to their broken vases in the meantime.
Saturday, December 15, 2018
Sunday, August 26, 2018
Walls, Who Needs Them?
I have been told that I have a glacier surrounding my heart.
Take a closer look
It's paper mache.
This is the guy I love.
Have loved for nearly half a year.
The one who, without expectation,
shows up for me.
He takes me as I am without blinking.
I have spent 37 years building the strongest of walls.
I believed that finally,
upon its gravity defying completion that no man, woman or beast
would ever be able to penetrate my self inflicted prison.
Until one day,
a snarky, self deprecating social media joke
about there being no hope for my dating life
brought me to the attention of a couple of coworkers.
Then a man,
this man,
who saw past my creation.
I fell as he fought his way through
and he found me here;
unguarded and fine with my destruction.
As a matter of fact,
I am at peace with the rubble at my feet.
I was so used to holding everything up
that I had no idea how exhausting it really was.
It was a terrifying thought to realize that it's been ten years since my kids have met anyone I was dating.
5 minutes into sitting around at the dinner table and it was as if we'd been there every night for years.
He's the one of the top five things I think about when I wake up in the morning,
navigating the desire to get up is always first.
He's the one who keeps me in a straight line.
He treats me like a person worth getting to know.
He understands the value of people.
That means more than anything to me.
When we talk, he says things like "us" and "we"
and I don't feel like a cat being baptized in a swimming pool full of alligators.
I have a brain and I love that he likes it when I use it;
and when I don't.
Without him, I'd be an overdue library book without vowels.
A complete mess.
The one that captured the hearts of my dog and children
before I even realized that he was already in mine.
And if I'm truly honest about it for a minute,
he was the second he ordered my favorite sandwich on our first date.
I like him more than I like pineapple on pizza,
and that's saying something.
Apparently gravity is here to stay and so is he.
~Cynicallovebird
Tuesday, March 20, 2018
Needful Things
I don't need to be in a relationship to be happy,
but if I'm being honest for a minute;
it feels a hell of a lot better to have your open wounds
kissed by someone who doesn't treat the things wrong with you
as if they are disasters to be avoided.
My needful things are not to be dismissed.
And besides,
someone needs to hold my purse as I put out my fires.
~ Cynicallovebird
but if I'm being honest for a minute;
it feels a hell of a lot better to have your open wounds
kissed by someone who doesn't treat the things wrong with you
as if they are disasters to be avoided.
My needful things are not to be dismissed.
And besides,
someone needs to hold my purse as I put out my fires.
~ Cynicallovebird
Tuesday, February 20, 2018
Fumbling For Words
My heart is a messy bedroom I never take the time to clean.
The walls look as thick as an iceberg,
but if you take a closer look you'll see they're actually paper mache.
I like my body the best when I'm not worried about how much space it's taking up.
I've never been this myself around anyone.
It's freaking me out a little.
Sometimes my mind is as serene as my camp on Toddy Pond.
Other days, it's Thunder Hole.
Filled with crashing thoughts so loud I can't hear anything else.
You went into this knowing I was a total creep,
don't quit on me now.
Sometimes all I can say is "Hi",
and when I say "Hi",
I mean I adore you.
And when I say that I adore you,
I mean I will check your horoscope.
Everyone loves to tell me to
"Trust my gut",
But the truth is that most days my anxiety
Blocks out the sun
And my gut is begging me to abort mission.
I know you don't know this,
but there are balloons that you carry in your laughter
and I like them better than flowers.
And flowers are something that I don't understand
unless they're still in the ground
because how on Earth would you love a gift
of something that's going to die?
So I just blew on my ice cream.
Apparently my brain thinks it needs to be colder.
And as I was contemplating that thought process,
I also blew on the following spoonful.
Sometimes I feel like the world is spinning out of control
and then suddenly there's one face;
your face,
saying one word that makes it all stop.
The mind that is busier than the streets of New York and Tokyo combined
Just. Stops.
And then the spinning becomes more like a dance move.
And I'm no longer fumbling for words because we understand the steps of the Tango.
Hi.
I'm a Pisces, how about you?
The walls look as thick as an iceberg,
but if you take a closer look you'll see they're actually paper mache.
I like my body the best when I'm not worried about how much space it's taking up.
I've never been this myself around anyone.
It's freaking me out a little.
Sometimes my mind is as serene as my camp on Toddy Pond.
Other days, it's Thunder Hole.
Filled with crashing thoughts so loud I can't hear anything else.
You went into this knowing I was a total creep,
don't quit on me now.
Sometimes all I can say is "Hi",
and when I say "Hi",
I mean I adore you.
And when I say that I adore you,
I mean I will check your horoscope.
Everyone loves to tell me to
"Trust my gut",
But the truth is that most days my anxiety
Blocks out the sun
And my gut is begging me to abort mission.
I know you don't know this,
but there are balloons that you carry in your laughter
and I like them better than flowers.
And flowers are something that I don't understand
unless they're still in the ground
because how on Earth would you love a gift
of something that's going to die?
So I just blew on my ice cream.
Apparently my brain thinks it needs to be colder.
And as I was contemplating that thought process,
I also blew on the following spoonful.
Sometimes I feel like the world is spinning out of control
and then suddenly there's one face;
your face,
saying one word that makes it all stop.
The mind that is busier than the streets of New York and Tokyo combined
Just. Stops.
And then the spinning becomes more like a dance move.
And I'm no longer fumbling for words because we understand the steps of the Tango.
Hi.
I'm a Pisces, how about you?
The Caterpillar
Happiness turned to me and said - "It is time. It is time to forgive yourself for all of the things you did not become. It is time to exonerate yourself for all of the people you couldn't save, for all of the fragile hearts you fumbled with in the dark of your confusion. It is time, child, to accept that you don't have to be who you were a year ago, that you do not have to want the same things. Above all else, it is time to believe, with reckless abandon, that you are worthy of me, for I have been waiting for years."
Last summer, I saw this meme:
2016: The Caterpillar
2017: The Cocoon
2018: The Butterfly
I remember saying FUCK YES and saving it to my phone the second I saw it on my Instagram feed. Three months ago I was so done being a Caterpillar. To me, "becoming a Butterfly", meant that I'd finally overcome all the trauma, my finances were more in order and I'd be back 100% to loving my body as much as I used to. That I would finally be on speaking terms with the Universe again because I could trust. Becoming a Butterfly meant that I'd reached the end of my tunnel. That the light wasn't just some moron with a magnifying glass. So when the clock struck 12 on New Year's Eve - I was asleep - but the next morning I awake exclaiming "This is it! My bullshit free year has begun. I've paid my dues and I'm going to finally be a Butterfly!"
But that's not exactly what happened.....
I had no "Great Awakening". My bruises from 2016 - or any resurfacing from childhood - didn't magically heal. My health didn't instantly get better. My stress level could still knock over a horse. I didn't wake up on the first day of 2018 without the urge to spend every dollar in my wallet on the useless stuff at Target or fitting into the pants I've been holding onto for years. Instead, I woke up the same person I was the day before. A little more hopeful, perhaps, but the same old Jessie that existed the day before.
If the last few months have taught me anything, it's that the great awakening that I've been busting my ass for isn't going to happen. At least not like I've hoped. I've had many "awakenings" in my life, moments I learned hard lessons or experienced deep healing, but none of them completely transformed me into the flawless and perfect human I desperately wanted to be.
I'm not at all saying that I'm the same person that I used to be. I'm definitely a stronger, more resilient, more real and more vulnerable version of myself. I'm proud of who I've become! I'm not perfect, nor do I ever want to be.
And instead of looking for the light at the end of the tunnel, I've learned to be ok inside that tunnel and to create my own light.
What if instead of waiting to evolve into Butterflies, we mold our world around the fact that we might remain a Caterpillar forever?
What if we never get "there", but wherever we end up is good enough?
I think I might always be a Caterpillar. Life will always be work and there will always be things that I can't control. And it's finally becoming ok with me.
Love yourself. You're the only one you've got.
Be good to each other.
~ Cynicallovebird
Tuesday, February 6, 2018
The Glued On Smile
Every single time that I feel the rain of okay and it's tiny miniscule drops, I find myself treading in gallons of not okay and I end up just drowning in exhausted frustration.
If glitter is the herpes of the craft world, then mental illness is the glitter of the Healthcare Community. Hollywood absolutely loves it, but everyone is expected to clean up their own mess.
It's forcing yourself to find the capability to help a child that you can't even help because you don't even know how to help yourself.
It's adjustments; it's exasperated crying in the bathroom alone with every milestone that you never thought you would even hit, and then binge eating cookies when next week that milestone shows itself as the first step on Kilimanjaro.
It's dealing with a monster inside of your own mind that you don't know how to tame and then the next minute your child is the monster.
It's the I'm sorry that I'm late the 10th time but we couldn't find the other purple shoe and she just couldn't wear the black ones and yes, I understand that she's 16.
It's the you driving yourself crazy every second of every day feeling and looking and sounding exactly like a drill sergeant only this isn't the army and you aren't getting paid for any of it.
it's a hell that you've created with your own body.
It's being the most sarcastic person on the planet with the child that has the mind of a scientist and you're damn right that we're going to dance in the grocery store aisle for no reason.
It's knowing when to pick up the expensive stuff that she'll eat when she's having a crappy day because you know damn well she isn't going to eat anything else.
It's the drowning in not okay with exhausted frustration until you are bombarded with a huge wave of hope that brings you to the dry land.
But some days, there's a drought.
If glitter is the herpes of the craft world, then mental illness is the glitter of the Healthcare Community. Hollywood absolutely loves it, but everyone is expected to clean up their own mess.
It's forcing yourself to find the capability to help a child that you can't even help because you don't even know how to help yourself.
It's adjustments; it's exasperated crying in the bathroom alone with every milestone that you never thought you would even hit, and then binge eating cookies when next week that milestone shows itself as the first step on Kilimanjaro.
It's dealing with a monster inside of your own mind that you don't know how to tame and then the next minute your child is the monster.
It's the I'm sorry that I'm late the 10th time but we couldn't find the other purple shoe and she just couldn't wear the black ones and yes, I understand that she's 16.
It's the you driving yourself crazy every second of every day feeling and looking and sounding exactly like a drill sergeant only this isn't the army and you aren't getting paid for any of it.
it's a hell that you've created with your own body.
It's being the most sarcastic person on the planet with the child that has the mind of a scientist and you're damn right that we're going to dance in the grocery store aisle for no reason.
It's knowing when to pick up the expensive stuff that she'll eat when she's having a crappy day because you know damn well she isn't going to eat anything else.
It's the drowning in not okay with exhausted frustration until you are bombarded with a huge wave of hope that brings you to the dry land.
But some days, there's a drought.
Sunday, January 7, 2018
Happy Fucking Holidays....A Rant, of Sorts.
Let's start from the beginning and state for the record, that I have shed more tears in the last 2 weeks in December than I have in an entire year.
It all started on the 15th. I had a 3 day weekend. I started it, by breaking down in tears in the office of my daughter's doctor; trying to get the point across that, when I say that if I am not there prompting her constantly to do things, it doesn't happen. Because I did what she suggested for an entire week; and NOTHING happened. She didn't go to school for 5 days. She didn't shower for over a week. She didn't change her clothes. She didn't get out of bed. She didn't eat. I feel like I have tried everything that I possibly can, and nothing is working.
Fast forward to Saturday. I got a new dryer. That was fantastic. It was not fantastic however, that my house was a disaster and it was the first time in almost 2 years since I have had a man in my house other than my son and my dad. Leading to the food for thought: who dates someone for 18 months and doesn't even flinch at the fact that they've never invited you over to their house? The story behind that is for a different post; long story short, it was very bad for my anxiety. I made my son go to the town dump with me and he did it. Every single thing I asked him to do all weekend long had to start with a 5 to 10 minute lecture and screaming fit about it first (on his part, not mine.). My daughter barely got out of bed. Nothing got done around the house because I had no energy to do it. I was in so much pain I could barely stand. The day before, I had it in my head all day long to check the oil tank and call for a delivery because they delivered M, W, F in my area and I didn't. I checked it when I was downstairs and low and behold, I was almost out and if I called them I didn't think I was going to have enough until they delivered Wednesday. My sister called me to chat out of the blue and I was just done with the day already. I told her what was going on, and she said for Christmas that she would give me $100 in oil and that she would call and have it delivered. I burst into tears.
Onto Sunday. Still no kids participating in life, let alone basic human decency. It was my son's potluck and Yankee swap for Boy Scouts that night and he was on edge making sure that we had all the ingredients to make the mac and cheese that we signed up to bring. He was acting like a 50 year old impatient man of the house from a stereotypical sitcom set in the 70's. By the time rolled around to bring him, I was so fed up with the universe that I dropped him off and left. The second my tires hit my driveway, I was swimming in hatred for my life. By the time I called my aunt and she answered the phone, I was drowning in tears of frustration and sadness. What parent genuinely hates their kids? At that moment, I sure as hell did. I sat in my car for an hour in the freezing cold, bawling like a someone who just watched their dog get run over. Because that is what happened: I wake up with a little cloud of hope, and some jackass always seems to find suck all the air right out of it. I called my dad and asked him to get my son and bring him home. I didn't want to see another person on the planet. I went to bed and stayed there until work.
Monday came and I tried to keep my hate and discontent to myself. I made it through the day without swearing at anyone. My son called me after he got home like he always does. To tell me....wait for it:
that he had just taken the bottles back (a never-ending battle in my house...and they get to keep the fucking money if they do it!). And asked me if there was anything else that he wanted me to do.
When I got home, I was greeted with a hug. All the clean laundry that I had done was brought upstairs and the clean dishes in the sink were put away. He said he had let the dog out like he was supposed to.
The whole night was like I was in the Twilight Zone. He asked me how to show him how to work the new dryer, so I did. I also showed him how to work the washing machine. Then he proceeded swap laundry three times. Now make no mistake, I am not complaining. It's just that we have lived in our house since 2009, and every time I have tried to show him how to use the washing machine, he says he can't remember how the next time I ask him to do it. WE HAVE THE SAME FUCKING WASHING MACHINE.... Then he was super impressed with the dinner that I made. And he made me a cake....by himself, not asking me for a single thing....just reading the directions on the box. And shoveled the porch off. And then, he put the Christmas tree up all by himself.
I was so busy googling which alien species might have taken over his corpse that I couldn't even enjoy the moment.
Thursday at work was fantastic. It was the Yankee Swap at work and I got a $20 certificate to the local casino and we snacked throughout the day. I made sugar scrubs and lotions out of coconut oil and a coworker ordered some off of me. I ended up making a bunch and selling it to other people, made almost $100. We closed early and barely had any patients that day. That evening it was the Star Wars: The Last Jedi premier. It was amazing. If you haven't seen it yet, YOU MUST!!! It was like the Super Bowl, but for nerds. Jesse was over the moon that he got his picture taken with both a Storm Trooper and Darth Vader. John had picked up tickets for Jesse and I to go to a different showing than the one that he was going to with his ex wife, her husband and their oldest daughter to avoid "conflict". Don't get me wrong, I get it....but I also don't. Again, another post.
And then on the way home, my son; who regularly pushes me to date/get married/find him a dad, but doesn't really talk about his own, asked me questions about his dad. As fate would have it, I was talking with my therapist about this very same thing happening the day before. I answered his questions, not really knowing where he was going with this; and then he says "You do realize that you just gave me everything I need." I asked him to clarify. He made it clear that the information that I gave him was all the information that he would need to find him on the internet. The person that he has not seen since he was 3 years old. 11 years ago. The person who was court ordered in our divorce to maintain contact with them via phone twice a week if I was to allow visitation, and hasn't called since 2009. The person who has not once given me a penny of child support. I slowed my brain down a tad, and just made him promise me that he would not do anything like that until he was 18. And he promised. And we left it alone.
The next day, was all planned out, or so I thought.
I was supposed to go to Bangor, do my Christmas shopping for the kids and then go home, get ready to go to my grandparents, and have a great evening. I had worked a couple of extra shifts that were supposed to give me overtime for Christmas. What really happened, is that I woke up to half a pay check in my direct deposit. Upon calling the payroll department to find out why, apparently the coworker that my manager assigned to update payroll when it was due didn't read my slip and 2 days didn't get factored in, and I was missing a bunch of vacation time. She wasn't sure that they could get it corrected in time to cut me a check, and I was beside myself most of the day. I went to Bangor and shopped for my son's stuff and some random things that I could think of. My daughter just wants money. She doesn't know what she wants until she actually sees it.
Things eventually worked out, I found some cute stuff and everything on my son's list at Home Depot came in under $50. I got home, carved up the ham and put it in the crock pot. My aunt was planning to meet the kids and I at the waterfront gazebo to take our pictures for cards and other things, but I couldn't find the battery charger to my camera. Then the kids wouldn't wear what I wanted them to wear. And it was freezing cold. They were miserable, my daughter wouldn't smile because I wouldn't let her wear her hair in a scarf because I love it when it's combed out. And then, when we got something that was good enough, my son locked the keys to the car in it. We waited outside in the freezing cold for 27 minutes before the garage that was 10 minutes up the road could show up.
I got to my grandparents in one piece and in a relatively good mood. Hanging out with my mom's side of the family always puts me at ease. Aside from the exception that my mother was not there. That too, is another post.
I love my dog, dearly. However, he seems to operate under the belief that it's his sole duty to be the most disgusting animal on the planet. On the way home from my grandparents house, the crock pot was not put in the back of the car right and it fell over, spilling ham and pineapple all through the back. When I got home, I did my best to clean it out, throwing it all off to the side of our driveway and the crock pot fell out of the car and the drippings got all over the driveway. The kids go to the house and let the Jack out, and he immediately bee lined it for the ham mess before I could see him. He rolled in it like it was the best thing ever. Then, he picked up a piece of ham almost the size of his head and thought he'd play "my precious" with it while I chased him all over the yard with it. I was finally able to entice him with a smaller piece that I "traded him" in order to get him back in the house. He ate it on the dining room rug, and then proceeded to roll himself on the rug before I could get to him. I had to pick him up, grease-ball and all, to give him a bath - which he loves, by the way. He gets himself as disgusting as possible, and jumps into the bath tub grinning from ear to ear.
I get up Saturday, again, with a plan. It was going to be great. I ran to Belfast to grab my check and get it deposited. My son had breakfast one on one and it was fun as always. I had ordered prints online for my step dad for my siblings "covert operation" for our Christmas present to him. You see, my mom had taken all of the family photos with her when they divorced and they used to be all over the walls. So I, got the idea that my siblings and I would get an 8x10 picture of our own families taken and framed, and that I would sneak over to his house and hang them up when we were all over at my brother's celebrating. I get to the Bangor Walmart, and the kiosk is completely closed. I flagged down an employee who said they couldn't help me because all the systems were down. Even though my pictures were probably sitting in one of the drawers. I was upset, but it was not the end. Again, I am determined to make a great day. I called Brewer Walmart to see if their systems were working. "Yes, absolutely. Come on over", said the representative who was working AT THE PICTURE KIOSK. I get there, fortunately I had the pictures that I ordered on my phone also, so I hook it up and place my order for the 1 hour photos. I do my shopping and get to the checkout isle. My card is declined. Weird, I had just deposited a check that was drafted from an account AT THAT SAME BANK. I call the branch on Broadway that is usually open until 4, no answer. I said screw it and decided to drive back to Bangor to discuss this with them - it's 2pm by that time. I show up at the branch, and it's closed. I proceed to completely break down in front of my son. I called my sister to tell her what was going on. I was ready to just give up and go home. She wired me $200 via Western Union - both of our banks were closed, insisting that I don't give up and trying to do everything that she could to help me all the way from Virginia. That money wasn't made available in my account until Wednesday. I get back to the Brewer Walmart, I get to customer service where they were holding my stuff for me and I paid for it. Then I get up to the back of the store where the picture kiosk is. There is a line halfway through the store to that desk, and one person is telling everyone that because they were so backed up, that our pictures were going to print sometime during the week and that they would call us when they were finished. I didn't get home until 4:30 and I was supposed to be at my brother's at any time. I got there at 6. The rest of the night was good. It was the first time that both of my dads were celebrating a holiday together. My mother was not there. No call. No text. Absent; like a shadow you can feel in the back of your mind when you're watching a suspense thriller. Like that dark secret you try to figure out the heroin has. I did my best to ignore it and move on with the day. I got stuck in my brother's driveway and had to be pulled out of his ditch by my brother and dad.
I worked Christmas Eve. That was a nice break from the chaos. Christmas day the kids were happy with what I got them. We stayed home. It was quiet. Nothing went wrong for a change.
But there's my daughter, who is going on week 2 with no shower.
Oh 2017, I am so glad to leave you right where you are.
It all started on the 15th. I had a 3 day weekend. I started it, by breaking down in tears in the office of my daughter's doctor; trying to get the point across that, when I say that if I am not there prompting her constantly to do things, it doesn't happen. Because I did what she suggested for an entire week; and NOTHING happened. She didn't go to school for 5 days. She didn't shower for over a week. She didn't change her clothes. She didn't get out of bed. She didn't eat. I feel like I have tried everything that I possibly can, and nothing is working.
Fast forward to Saturday. I got a new dryer. That was fantastic. It was not fantastic however, that my house was a disaster and it was the first time in almost 2 years since I have had a man in my house other than my son and my dad. Leading to the food for thought: who dates someone for 18 months and doesn't even flinch at the fact that they've never invited you over to their house? The story behind that is for a different post; long story short, it was very bad for my anxiety. I made my son go to the town dump with me and he did it. Every single thing I asked him to do all weekend long had to start with a 5 to 10 minute lecture and screaming fit about it first (on his part, not mine.). My daughter barely got out of bed. Nothing got done around the house because I had no energy to do it. I was in so much pain I could barely stand. The day before, I had it in my head all day long to check the oil tank and call for a delivery because they delivered M, W, F in my area and I didn't. I checked it when I was downstairs and low and behold, I was almost out and if I called them I didn't think I was going to have enough until they delivered Wednesday. My sister called me to chat out of the blue and I was just done with the day already. I told her what was going on, and she said for Christmas that she would give me $100 in oil and that she would call and have it delivered. I burst into tears.
Onto Sunday. Still no kids participating in life, let alone basic human decency. It was my son's potluck and Yankee swap for Boy Scouts that night and he was on edge making sure that we had all the ingredients to make the mac and cheese that we signed up to bring. He was acting like a 50 year old impatient man of the house from a stereotypical sitcom set in the 70's. By the time rolled around to bring him, I was so fed up with the universe that I dropped him off and left. The second my tires hit my driveway, I was swimming in hatred for my life. By the time I called my aunt and she answered the phone, I was drowning in tears of frustration and sadness. What parent genuinely hates their kids? At that moment, I sure as hell did. I sat in my car for an hour in the freezing cold, bawling like a someone who just watched their dog get run over. Because that is what happened: I wake up with a little cloud of hope, and some jackass always seems to find suck all the air right out of it. I called my dad and asked him to get my son and bring him home. I didn't want to see another person on the planet. I went to bed and stayed there until work.
Monday came and I tried to keep my hate and discontent to myself. I made it through the day without swearing at anyone. My son called me after he got home like he always does. To tell me....wait for it:
that he had just taken the bottles back (a never-ending battle in my house...and they get to keep the fucking money if they do it!). And asked me if there was anything else that he wanted me to do.
When I got home, I was greeted with a hug. All the clean laundry that I had done was brought upstairs and the clean dishes in the sink were put away. He said he had let the dog out like he was supposed to.
The whole night was like I was in the Twilight Zone. He asked me how to show him how to work the new dryer, so I did. I also showed him how to work the washing machine. Then he proceeded swap laundry three times. Now make no mistake, I am not complaining. It's just that we have lived in our house since 2009, and every time I have tried to show him how to use the washing machine, he says he can't remember how the next time I ask him to do it. WE HAVE THE SAME FUCKING WASHING MACHINE.... Then he was super impressed with the dinner that I made. And he made me a cake....by himself, not asking me for a single thing....just reading the directions on the box. And shoveled the porch off. And then, he put the Christmas tree up all by himself.
I was so busy googling which alien species might have taken over his corpse that I couldn't even enjoy the moment.
Thursday at work was fantastic. It was the Yankee Swap at work and I got a $20 certificate to the local casino and we snacked throughout the day. I made sugar scrubs and lotions out of coconut oil and a coworker ordered some off of me. I ended up making a bunch and selling it to other people, made almost $100. We closed early and barely had any patients that day. That evening it was the Star Wars: The Last Jedi premier. It was amazing. If you haven't seen it yet, YOU MUST!!! It was like the Super Bowl, but for nerds. Jesse was over the moon that he got his picture taken with both a Storm Trooper and Darth Vader. John had picked up tickets for Jesse and I to go to a different showing than the one that he was going to with his ex wife, her husband and their oldest daughter to avoid "conflict". Don't get me wrong, I get it....but I also don't. Again, another post.
And then on the way home, my son; who regularly pushes me to date/get married/find him a dad, but doesn't really talk about his own, asked me questions about his dad. As fate would have it, I was talking with my therapist about this very same thing happening the day before. I answered his questions, not really knowing where he was going with this; and then he says "You do realize that you just gave me everything I need." I asked him to clarify. He made it clear that the information that I gave him was all the information that he would need to find him on the internet. The person that he has not seen since he was 3 years old. 11 years ago. The person who was court ordered in our divorce to maintain contact with them via phone twice a week if I was to allow visitation, and hasn't called since 2009. The person who has not once given me a penny of child support. I slowed my brain down a tad, and just made him promise me that he would not do anything like that until he was 18. And he promised. And we left it alone.
The next day, was all planned out, or so I thought.
I was supposed to go to Bangor, do my Christmas shopping for the kids and then go home, get ready to go to my grandparents, and have a great evening. I had worked a couple of extra shifts that were supposed to give me overtime for Christmas. What really happened, is that I woke up to half a pay check in my direct deposit. Upon calling the payroll department to find out why, apparently the coworker that my manager assigned to update payroll when it was due didn't read my slip and 2 days didn't get factored in, and I was missing a bunch of vacation time. She wasn't sure that they could get it corrected in time to cut me a check, and I was beside myself most of the day. I went to Bangor and shopped for my son's stuff and some random things that I could think of. My daughter just wants money. She doesn't know what she wants until she actually sees it.
Things eventually worked out, I found some cute stuff and everything on my son's list at Home Depot came in under $50. I got home, carved up the ham and put it in the crock pot. My aunt was planning to meet the kids and I at the waterfront gazebo to take our pictures for cards and other things, but I couldn't find the battery charger to my camera. Then the kids wouldn't wear what I wanted them to wear. And it was freezing cold. They were miserable, my daughter wouldn't smile because I wouldn't let her wear her hair in a scarf because I love it when it's combed out. And then, when we got something that was good enough, my son locked the keys to the car in it. We waited outside in the freezing cold for 27 minutes before the garage that was 10 minutes up the road could show up.
I got to my grandparents in one piece and in a relatively good mood. Hanging out with my mom's side of the family always puts me at ease. Aside from the exception that my mother was not there. That too, is another post.
I love my dog, dearly. However, he seems to operate under the belief that it's his sole duty to be the most disgusting animal on the planet. On the way home from my grandparents house, the crock pot was not put in the back of the car right and it fell over, spilling ham and pineapple all through the back. When I got home, I did my best to clean it out, throwing it all off to the side of our driveway and the crock pot fell out of the car and the drippings got all over the driveway. The kids go to the house and let the Jack out, and he immediately bee lined it for the ham mess before I could see him. He rolled in it like it was the best thing ever. Then, he picked up a piece of ham almost the size of his head and thought he'd play "my precious" with it while I chased him all over the yard with it. I was finally able to entice him with a smaller piece that I "traded him" in order to get him back in the house. He ate it on the dining room rug, and then proceeded to roll himself on the rug before I could get to him. I had to pick him up, grease-ball and all, to give him a bath - which he loves, by the way. He gets himself as disgusting as possible, and jumps into the bath tub grinning from ear to ear.
I get up Saturday, again, with a plan. It was going to be great. I ran to Belfast to grab my check and get it deposited. My son had breakfast one on one and it was fun as always. I had ordered prints online for my step dad for my siblings "covert operation" for our Christmas present to him. You see, my mom had taken all of the family photos with her when they divorced and they used to be all over the walls. So I, got the idea that my siblings and I would get an 8x10 picture of our own families taken and framed, and that I would sneak over to his house and hang them up when we were all over at my brother's celebrating. I get to the Bangor Walmart, and the kiosk is completely closed. I flagged down an employee who said they couldn't help me because all the systems were down. Even though my pictures were probably sitting in one of the drawers. I was upset, but it was not the end. Again, I am determined to make a great day. I called Brewer Walmart to see if their systems were working. "Yes, absolutely. Come on over", said the representative who was working AT THE PICTURE KIOSK. I get there, fortunately I had the pictures that I ordered on my phone also, so I hook it up and place my order for the 1 hour photos. I do my shopping and get to the checkout isle. My card is declined. Weird, I had just deposited a check that was drafted from an account AT THAT SAME BANK. I call the branch on Broadway that is usually open until 4, no answer. I said screw it and decided to drive back to Bangor to discuss this with them - it's 2pm by that time. I show up at the branch, and it's closed. I proceed to completely break down in front of my son. I called my sister to tell her what was going on. I was ready to just give up and go home. She wired me $200 via Western Union - both of our banks were closed, insisting that I don't give up and trying to do everything that she could to help me all the way from Virginia. That money wasn't made available in my account until Wednesday. I get back to the Brewer Walmart, I get to customer service where they were holding my stuff for me and I paid for it. Then I get up to the back of the store where the picture kiosk is. There is a line halfway through the store to that desk, and one person is telling everyone that because they were so backed up, that our pictures were going to print sometime during the week and that they would call us when they were finished. I didn't get home until 4:30 and I was supposed to be at my brother's at any time. I got there at 6. The rest of the night was good. It was the first time that both of my dads were celebrating a holiday together. My mother was not there. No call. No text. Absent; like a shadow you can feel in the back of your mind when you're watching a suspense thriller. Like that dark secret you try to figure out the heroin has. I did my best to ignore it and move on with the day. I got stuck in my brother's driveway and had to be pulled out of his ditch by my brother and dad.
I worked Christmas Eve. That was a nice break from the chaos. Christmas day the kids were happy with what I got them. We stayed home. It was quiet. Nothing went wrong for a change.
But there's my daughter, who is going on week 2 with no shower.
Oh 2017, I am so glad to leave you right where you are.
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