A Rant – Unresolved Issues Rear Their Ugly Head

*** You’ll have to excuse my ramblings, it seems I’m trying to work through some issues while my dad is in the hospital.***

It’s kind of funny being home with my family. It brings back so many weird memories and issues.

My sister and I never got along. Scratch that, we got along when my dad was mad at both of us and that’s pretty much it.

Why am writing about her and why am I mad at her? Because I am worried about my dad and this comes second nature.  Wrong I know, but it’s what we do.

She is infuriating. We are at opposite ends of the spectrum. I don’t get her and don’t know what makes her tick. Actually, that’s wrong too. I know what makes her tick.

She s a very self-absorbed girl. She thinks that she is the only one who knows anything and now that she has a new boyfriend, he is the only one that knows anything.

We all went out to dinner last night and she and her boyfriend are the only ones that talked, but not for lack of trying. My mom and I didn’t talk because we couldn’t get a word in edgewise. They talked about crap that only he cares about and when we tried to bring up anything else they entertained themselves with conversation betwixt themselves and ignored us completely.

Really?

When you are trying to get from A to B, you go from A to B. She is the type of person that goes from A to L to R to Z to 6 and then maybe she’ll hit B. She drives me nuts. She doesn’t do anything without some sort of angle.

She has a good heart, but man don’t cross her, she gets mean and vicious. Once she says something, no matter what she’s said before, it’s the truth. It erases everything else that’s ever come out of her mouth. It’s annoying.

Again, I ask myself why am I bitching about her? Because she’s my sister and she’s supposed to be there for me. She was too selfish after my dad got in his accident 25 years ago and I resent her for it.

So now when my dad gets sick and we all have to band together to survive, I can’t deal because I know that she’s always going to come first. If she does something you can count on the fact that she will hang it over your head later on and say you didn’t appreciate it.

When we were kids — me ,11-18 and her, 13 -20— she caused so much pain, heartache and drama in the house that I hold every bit of it against her. It makes me so angry.

I am still so angry at her. I’ve never been able to let go of that anger.

I’ve forgiven my mom and dad for all the roughness that was my teenage years.  I had no control over my own life, because my dad was going through the 5 stages you go through during a “stressful” time and he had no control. Though he had the control to make my life hell or not.

Let me tell you, It wasn’t nearly as fun as it sounds.

I haven’t forgiven my sister, because I feel that she should have been there for me. Instead, while everyone was dealing with the pain and emotional consequences of my dad’s accident I was left alone. Physically and emotionally.

I was 11, but the amount of responsibility that I absorbed was phenomenal and I grew up fast. By the time I was 12 I was 25.

My sister though, being older and a little more mature fought for her childhood and her control and left me in the dust. There was no one to fight for me.

Wow, I sound pathetic, but I was really sad and since then I’ve been angry at her. My big sister that let me down all those years ago.

I should probably try to resolve these issues, but she’s so hard to talk to. So hard to communicate with. She apologizes without any really feeling, no remorse. She doesn’t realize that I was devastated by her abandonment.

Now she tries to be all huggy and stuff and it makes me angry. She calls to talk about her and her life but doesn’t really ask about me. I listen, but when it’s my turn to talk she has to get off the phone. She’s still so self-centered it’s maddening. Everyone just has to accept her for who she is, but don’t cross her by being honest and telling her things. She doesn’t like it and she will retaliate.

Just writing this down has made me feel better. Now for the hard part confronting her. Ooh my stomach hurts now…..

The Weekend From Hell

There I was on Saturday minding my own business, almost done with work, just about to get up and clean the house when Bam! It all went to hell. All of a sudden I was 11 again. This picture was taken a week before his accident. I was so happy then. It was like my light went out.

I should preface this by saying that it was suckage on a whole other level already, because my husbands dee-oh-gee of 16 years was in the throes of death. We knew that was happening and I was prepared for her passage, kind of.

My phone rang and I saw the call was from my parents and I figured they were just calling to say hi and ask whether or not we received the Levis my mom sent.

Yep, we did. Thanks mom…

The call was from my dad, though I didn’t even recognize his voice. He sounded like a drunk, a deaf drunk.  He made no sense at all.

Me: Hello (cheerily)

Him: Helllllllo

Me: Who is this?

Him: It’sssss you daaaaaad.

Me: What is wrong?

Him: Nothing, I jusssssssst calllllled to say Hi. ( keep in mind he hates the phone and doesn’t ever call to say hi)

Me: What is wrong with you? Do I need to come down there right now?

Him: No I’m fine

Me:  NO, you’re not. What is wrong— where is mom? let me talk to mom. ( by this time I was crying and Whit sent the boys out of the room because I couldn’t hear)

My mom took over the phone and she said my dad was sick , incoherent  and refusing to go to the hospital.  I was freaking out!!!

That call was at 1 pm and after several calls back and forth over the next couple of hours and a flurry of information and decisions. I left Seattle at 7:35 and  landed in LA at 9:45pm.

My dad is kind of okay, but not out of the woods yet. He’s septic. Have you ever looked at the statistics of someone with sepsis? They are daunting and scary and I will never look at them again.

His hemoglobin is at 5.3. If that means nothing to you, the norm is 17 or 18. His white blood cell count is supposed to be below 10,000. His doctor said that a severe infection count is 10,000 and my dad’s count was 50,000. His incoherence was due to the fact that there was so much infection in his blood and so little blood. There was so much infection that there wasn’t any room for oxygen.

He’s on about 17 different antibiotics for the plethora of infections that he has. He’s cold, he’s hot, he’s tired, he fakes it when he has visitors. He can’t catch his breath, he has no appetite, he can’t sleep, he’s reminiscing.

What does that mean? Is he getting any better?

I don’t know. Earlier today I would have said that he was on his last leg, which is funny because he only has one. Morbid I know, but hey it’s my fear so pfffft.Then later this afternoon he faked it for the visitors and he sounded so great, but he’s so tired.

He’s been a quadriplegic for 25 years. His system is run down, his organs are weak, he’s lethargic.

Sometimes he’s good, sometimes he’s bad.

I’m afraid!

He’s told stories I’ve never heard, given insights I never knew. Needless to say it’s been quite the roller coaster of emotion. I’ve cried without listening to music, been in the depths of despair and laughed like a child. I’ve traveled down memory lane and had my heart hurt more than it has in a long time.

I realized that this is why I don’t let anyone in, why I have such a hard time with emotion. It’s nothing I’ve done. I thought it was me. It’s not necessarily anything he’s done, it’s the situation. I couldn’t handle it and shut down and have been that way for 25 years. That makes me sick to my stomach, but I’m glad to know. Maybe I can move forward now, slowly. Don’t expect any miracles though.

Even in his sickness I’m still learning from my dad.

Whatever happens to him, this is how I will remember him. This is how I think of him all the time. Active, vivacious, an athlete, laughing, caring, my daddy!

The most frightening dream I’ve ever had

Last night I had a crazy nightmare. I don’t know what brought it on, but it was a doozy.

The dream started innocently enough, but it quickly turned dark and violent. I was outside, looking for Atticus. I was behind the townhouses next door and I was calling for him to come home.

I turned to see a man start running away through the brush with Atticus under his arm. I screamed out Atticus’s name and for the man to stop. He didn’t. I felt like a mama bear, not just in the fact that I wanted to protect my kid, but in my mind’s eye I was big and fierce. Almost animal like in shape and shadow.

I ran through the brush and because I was uphill from the man, I was able to catch up and jump on him. He let Atticus go and I screamed for him to run up the hill and get his brother and go to the neighbors house.

Atticus, being 6, was scared, but had enough whine in him to say that he couldn’t run up the hill because he was tired. Seriously kid, you almost got kidnapped and you are going to whine about the hill.

By this time I had picked myself up and was backing away from the crazy man. The image of him was so real that I can still, hours later,  picture what he looked like. Dark greasy hair, bushy eyebrows, about 5′10″-5′11″, thin build and really jacked up teeth. Not just crooked, but dirty and nasty.

I ran up the hill towards the house. Atticus was ahead of me. I told him to go across the street to get the neighbor and ask for help. I had enough time to watch him go and start banging on the door.

I ran in the house to find Zane, my little 3-year-old. As I ran around screaming for him the man followed me in. He shut the front door and came after me. I ran by the bathroom to the boys room only to see that he wasn’t there. I realized he was in the bathroom as the man stepped into the bathroom with him.

He grabbed Zane and was threatening to kill him. Yes, kill him. He told me he would throw him down and step on him to kill him. I didn’t know what else to do. I jumped. I lunged for him and tried to make his body turn so Zane landed on top.

I was beaten and bruised, my skin was torn up due to the blackberry brambles. My throat was scratched and hoarse from screaming.

My neighbors came in to help, they pulled me out of the bathroom and the police were called.

That was when I woke up. Needless to say I didn’t want to go back to sleep. I got up and started my day. It was too frightening to even contemplate having another dream like that.

This is why I started my day at 4:45am today. Anyone want to try and interpret that dream for me?

Lost. . .

I am lost.

I keep trying to find me, but there are so many detours and roadblocks that I feel like I’m not getting anywhere. I know that I’m not the person I used to be, at all. No where near the person I used to know and love.

What am I supposed to do? How do I get from point A to point B?

I was diagnosed with post-partum depression after my second son was born, but I really think that I’ve been depressed for far longer than that.

It’s the lack of motivation, the slow weight gain over the years, the fact that I haven’t been happy for as long as I can remember, that tells me so.

I know this is my blog and I can write whatever I want, but I feel like such a negative nancy all the time. I don’t want to put such negative vibes out there, but gosh darn it, that’s all I feel, all the time.

There is the baseless anger that I feel towards my kids and husband. I get so angry that I don’t even have the capacity to deal. At all.

Why am I angry?

I am angry because I feel that every one gets to do everything but me. Really though, part of it is me, I don’t want to go when I finally get the opportunity.

It’s a horrible vicious circle that I can’t break out of.

I don’t know what to do. Sometimes I am so overwhelmed by the day to day that I can’t function. I can only concentrate on my work and drown every thing out.

Pathetic, right? I know it’s not, but it’s still hard.

Every day is hard. Getting up out of bed, getting the kids ready for school, sitting down to work. It’s all a battle. I’m not really sure why it has to be so hard.

It’s ridiculous really. I used to have it all together, but not anymore. My chest is tight, my head is heavy, I’m short of breath and my brain is tired.

I am tired.