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Purgatory, maybe Hell.

(This is 2 years old)
Marital verbal warfare.

How do you trump the phrase, “I’d sacrifice everything for the children!”? As if you are making flippant decisions, and could care less about your kids. Is it a pissing match? Who would give up more to be the hero? I should have told him I would support my girls if they tried and kept coming to a similar conclusion in their marriages. For how long does one sacrifice oneself to a marriage, just for the sake of the kids? The point is to now work together differently, for the sake of the kids. How is that so hard to understand? Now add a layer of religious shaming, full in law prayers to save you and bring you back together, like, fuck that! You just outed me to your whole family as a deviant, and apparently did the same to my family before I had the chance. He tells me everyone is sad for me and nobody will accept my new partner. And did my dad just side with him when he shared that my birth mother left him for someone but eventually came back!? It makes me nauseous. 

There are so many tricky things for me to navigate around. Fears. Not knowing how to quickly build myself a fortress of safety (income, housing, filing the paperwork right). I want to leave now, but I want the kids to stay in their house. I’m the primary caregiver. Once I file I’m to move out and arrange to see the kids as much as I want (his version). Had I income, I could say the same to him. You leave, it’s easier for you to step out, and easier for me to get the kids to school and home again from here. 

He says, “How come you never communicated with me!? You never gave me a chance!”.  Because you shut me down early on when I tried to. Because I’m always privy to your thoughts and opinions, and I know your reactions.  Because I don’t want to make you sad while I’m figuring shit out until I’m ready. 

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Death (old post)

When the time comes I hope to god that it is painless and quick, and if not, I hope there will be people to hold me hand and tell me that it will be alright, and not to worry. I hate pain. I hated giving birth, which was the most awful and lengthy pain I have ever felt. And it was a very lonely place to be, especially in the darkness of the night. After injuring my knee, and not being able to go up stairs to sleep with my family, I spent many nights in fear of having painful flashbacks, or worrying about falling and landing in pain on the way to the loo in the middle of the night. I thought about how lonely it was to be in this state of anxiety and fear. I’ve had two medication related experiences of being pulled into a void, which I also found really disturbing. I hope death is not like that. I think being pulled into light will be much better than being pulled into dark nothingness.

Today I caught the last segment of Radiolab on NPR about a father and son taking care of the dying Grandfather. It is a beautiful story. Death is not something to be romanticized of course, but the fact that they cared for this man, and witnessed the process of death, and that the teenage son had friends who came over and helped out touched me. As much as I wouldn’t want to be seen in such a vulnerable condition, I think at that point you’ve submitted to the process and might not care so much. Going into the void, however, seems so terrifying, that it might be a great comfort to have company.

I witnessed the death of an older woman that I took care of. When I say death, I mean the whole process. I watched her let herself go, and become more and more incapacitated over the months. I washed her, helped her to the bathroom, cooked for her. She was alone, except for me. It didn’t bother me that she wanted to go, and I knew she was done from conversations we had had about her friends all slowly passing one by one, not being able to drive, etc. I don’t know if she would have wanted more people around or not. There were some family issues clearly, that kept her son and daughter away. However, she chose me to be there and really didn’t let herself go, until I had moved in with her. Prior to that she had hired me to cook for her once a week. She was a small town aristocrat, alienated by her children, I was very crazy, purple haired teenager. She was a total bitch, but we got on well.

My mother went in to a coma, and I was able to be there for her last days, as was her partner and one of her sisters. I know she did not want to be on life support, and we were asked to make a decision on whether to take her of life support or not. A horrible decision to have to make so I talked to her, held her hand, and told it was ok to go. And she did, later that night, on her own.


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More, Please!

Things I’d like more of:

People having parties, the sound and smells wafting over to my porch. I’m not a party person, and I’d hate to be in there, but I love the alive-ness of people having a good time, and if it is not obnoxiously loud, their music. I got a whiff of pot and some good music earlier. I’m set!

To see more kids playing outside and walking together. Not going to happen in this town, sadly. Even the postwoman mentioned that she was happy to see my kids outside playing, and she was younger than me, not someone reminiscing about the glory days of the past.

Bees and butterflies. We have a bunch of hummingbirds and robins. A few squirrels, but not enough bees and butterflies. I planted for them too.

Hours in the day, or years to my life…sometimes. I want to do right here and now, but I wouldn’t mind more time to be independent and chase dreams.




Flowers. I try, but a lot hasn’t taken off here, and the drought is not helping. I sort of miss the automatic sprinklers of the old complex that we lived in. I miss my nasturtiums.


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Follow Up

spent they day in bed for the most part. Got in to the doctor, got labs done, back on the happy pills so I don’t implode. We got a plan for now. I’m not happy about getting back on, but all this hopeless exhaustion plus the sysiphian nature of parenting and housework is enough to bring out the dark thoughts.

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Imagine myself…

     I’m imagining myself doing a Whole30 diet. Basically an elimination diet, or anti-inflammation diet, which have been recommended by two functional medicine doctors when faced with my myriad of small problems, not big enough to be anything with a label. The Epstein Barr Virus, or EBV, did come up with the last set of labs as high (don’t ask me to explain, or dig through papers right now). That was the only validation I’ve ever had for my exhaustion. It’s not thyroid, not hormonal… I’m going to insist my regular doctor order me another EBV test, which I hope she will do, because I need to either shit or get off the pot with EBV at this point. Either I will be validated again as chronic, and I can start the EBV protocols again, as well as the diet changes, or I can gladly clear out half my supplements, and walk away.

     It was really nice to have something to blame, and hopefully it made sense to my family when trying to explain why I’m in bed all day or too tired to do “exciting” things, or keep the house clean. The state of my home is a daily confrontation. It’s humiliating and exhausting. Sometimes enraging, and sometimes it just sends me to my room to self medicate. I mean, give someone with very little energy and a low tolerance to stress a daily erupting volcano of laundry, dishes, dirt and dog hair, add to that monkey kids who hasten the explosion of shit. I have to admit that trying to get my kids to clean is sometimes exhausting in itself and I do give up. I do not have the fortitude that my step-mom had to enforce, and I have not mastered the shame inducing, look of daggers she could do.  Yesterday was mostly a good day. I ended up getting overwhelmed and frustrated with sitting in the sun and heat waiting for the kids to get out of the pool, which took several goes, and then getting into the car and being assaulted with loud crazy banter (one daughter has this sonic dying cow sound, and both tend to flail around a lot)….well, it put me over the edge, I cried the whole way home, and went to bed. Oh, I guess I should preface that situation with a good dose of chicken or the egg thinking while the kids swam:

“Am I depressed, why am I depressed, am I ill, why can’t I solve this, why is it so fucking hard to remember all my passwords to the online health websites, am I just so obese that I’m tired, is it nutritional, if I go back on meds will I mask this underlying health situation, am I ill because of my marital situation and that maybe I should not be a say at home mom–but how the fuck can I go back to work with no energy, why are all the seemingly progressive doctors and psychologist not taking insurance, why is it so intimidating to ask for appointments!?!?!?!?!?  Arghhhhh!”

I should have just read a novel instead of trying to book appointments and find doctors on a cel phone. In the sun. Bad choice. I was so exhausted before hitting the pool, I probably should have not gone, except I do need to get my kids moving.

So, imagine what a month of clean eating would do (not thinking about coffee, or trying to do this while cooking normal for everyone else)…Let’s imagine waking up without feeling hung over, going for some green tea, eating leftovers (because who the fuck is going to cook meat and veg in the morning, while hungry!? No!). Thankfully I like leftovers and soup. I imagine I’ll be prepping a lot of snacks and foods to be eaten for lunch and breakfast. I will become a meal planning, uber-food-blogger-super-mom. Eyeroll. That done, I will find myself with extra energy (I better fucking hope so!). Now what the fuck do I do with it? Art? Spend it all on cleaning this heap? Apply for a job? OK I have energy and no more moods effected by overeating bad foods, sort of like a snarling discomfort. Oooh, I can have people over! I can organize some neat things at the library or in town. Or a dog park BBQ event. I’d like that. It is really hard to imagine this because it’s been so long since I’ve done stuff, had money or freedom to do stuff… It’s also hard to imagine because I fucking love all sorts of foods, and for some reason I’ve eschewed people who’ve eaten differently (some have been “cooky”and that doesn’t help). I need to dismantle me preconceptions of people who eat differently and let it not be an issue. I’ll be whipped and humbled by this I’m sure. As I have been by every other thing I’ve ever said I’d never be/do.

This might be priority number one, because exhaustion makes me really depressed about my quality of life; I see no way to be better if I have no energy to change what bothers me. End me now then! Don’t let me be a weight that drags down my husband and kids, I’ve already drug down myself. My thoughts can get pretty bleak. When I do take advantage of a moment of having energy, I am a happy person. I love going out. I want more lifetimes.

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“The truth you believe and cling to makes you unavailable to hear anything new.” ~ Pema Chodron

But I’m lost and a bit reluctant to stir the pot. I suppose each area of life can be approached differently, some with a leap and others with caution, or even acceptance. How do you begin? What comes first?



Household management? (Seriously!)

Relationships: familial, marital, social?