Tag Archives: sad

Finding My Groove Again.


I may have found my groove today.

The last month has been getting steadily worse for me in regards to moods and thoughts.  There have been some really good things too, of course but then, as the night approaches, so does the sadness, loneliness and racing thoughts of doom.

Here is a little catch up for you since I last posted. I’m way behind:

I MOVED!  My daughter and I finally got a call from low-income housing and we movingmoved in to a beautiful townhouse at the end of February.  It’s been all renovated with new everything.  The bathtub is even slippery and doesn’t scratch my bottom.  hee hee.  Unfortunately I did re-injure my back during the move and it took quite a while for it to be tolerable again.  I still can’t go for my walks or stand for too long.  I’m pretty sure my depression is because of all the excitement of moving and the natural letdown that follows.  Never mind the stress from the move itself both on my body and my mind.  I just feel exhausted all the time.  I could sleep all day but make myself get up. It’s late in the day but I’m up before Carly is home from school.

I’ve seen my granddaughters more.  Such joy they give me.  I have one video of the 2-year-old in my lift chair saying “this is awesome” over and over while I worked the controls.  She says it in her very grownup 2-year-old voice.  I play it every day.  It really helps.

coffeeI met up with an old friend for coffee a few times after my last post.  It was nice to connect again.

My son turned 30.  I can’t believe I have a son who is 30.

My daughter’s 18th birthday is in 10 days.  My sister and I are going to the casino to ply her with liquor and bingo.  I can’t believe my baby is 18.

I finally had someone to talk to today.

I realized last night, while I was feeling my lowest, that I’ve been waiting for something.  I don’t know what it is but I figure it’s time to stop waiting.  Thinking back  I realized there are some things I took control of which felt beyond finishing.  A quick email to my lawyer telling him I want to go to court and not meet with that man ever again resulted in what I hope is finally action on that man’s part.  So it’s not done yet. But it feels like it’s getting closer.  It’s been 5 years since I left him.

I saw my mental health worker today where I spewed out words and feelings and spewingtears. On the bus ride over there I was listening to music I had downloaded on my phone (I finally figured it out) and every song was making me feel sadder and more lost.  When I left my worker, I felt better.  On the ride home I was listening to Paul McCartney sing “Hey Jude” live.  I had shivers up and down my back hearing the love from the crowd as they sang back.  Na na na naaaa.

I guess I must have been acting like I was really into the song because the guy next to me (young, in his 20’s) asked me what I was listening to.  I told him and he had no idea who or what I was talking about (!) so I started it again for him to hear.  It’s a long song but he listened to it all.

He thanked me for allowing him into my groove.  His words.

It might be time to let in a few more.groove

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Roller Coaster


Finally, I feel I have the ability to write again, both electronically and emotionally.  Well, I still don’t know about the emotional part.  Its been a very emotion-filled few weeks, with many ups and even more downs.  My laptop may overheat but I will write with breaks so it can cool down.

During these times I came to learn valuable lessons about myself:  I’m still strong, there is always something new on the horizon, and I have my pride intact.  There were lots more lessons learned but those are the big ones.

I was always waiting for something.  Exterminators because we had bedbugs.  It took the landlord 2 months to get them here so poor Carly and I would go to bed each night so the critters could feast upon our milky flesh.  All the info we read from the government and exterminator’s websites recommended you don’t sleep on the couch or they will find you.  Where. Ever. You. Go.  So I couldn’t sleep.  I would stay awake until the sun came up, killing any that crawled on me and put them in a jar of bleach and laugh manically as they dissolved before my eyes (I bet you didn’t know how sadistic I can be).  During the day I would pick though my daughter’s bed, trying to decrease her discomfort.  She would still have new bites every few days.

During this 2 month time we were banned from seeing my grandchildren as my son has an almost supersized fear of the bugs and he did not want to risk any hugstransfer from us.  Ditto for the boyfriend.  I maybe saw him 4 times in that 2 months and that was to go to movies.  I was so relieved when we were finally sprayed at the beginning of December.  My oldest granddaughter was overjoyed when I walked though their door.  The hugs!  Hugs beat the bedbug blues every time!

Unfortunately the bugs seemed to be the beginning of the end for the boyfriend. He called less and less and I saw him very infrequently. We seemed to have a plan to go to Cuba though, where I hoped some alone time would help.  Over the holidays, he just stopped calling except for a text telling me Happy New year and don’t be mad, I’m going to Cuba with my friend.  That was almost 2 weeks ago and not a word since.

I knew this was a man who has lived with a very traumatic past and this is the worst time of year for him.  It took me a while to realize that he could not be ready for a relationship.  He needs to find his own self before he could ever trust his life won’t be ripped apart again.  I, of course, have had my own traumatic past.  The difference is I have both professional and familial support.  He chooses to have a different way of handling his feelings.  I’m afraid it ended with me having a broken heart because of the silence.  Or maybe I’m giving him too much credit and he really is just a jerk.  I don’t believe that though.  I do know, really, it’s for the best because, unless there is help in his life, my heart would never heal and would keep going through these unresolved issues he carries.  I think I might be stronger in some ways.  Unfortunately, I’ve now developed some trust issues of my own.  My self-esteem is even more damaged than before.  Who would want me?  I don’t feel attractive physically or emotionally/mentally.  What a mess.

There was one day that I slept away.  22 hours.  That was when I knew I had to try to do something but everything was pretty dark for me.  For those who survive depression hopefully knows everyone feels it differently; it’s never a contest, like “I have more reasons to be depressed than you do” kind of thing.  No.  What I feel ????is physical (heavy like an elephant) and mentally (my brain is a foggy bog of poo).  It’s how to get out of it is the challenge.  Sleeping 22 hours may not seem like a healthy way to do it but that was all I could do that day.  The next day was less, more like 14 hours.  Then it was 12.  I can handle 12. I did the dishes.  I tried to go grocery shopping.  Then suddenly I had stuff to do and had to get out of bed to do them so my going to bed at 7 am was not going to work anymore.  I seem to have developed a fairly normal schedule.

How I felt is so hard to explain.  I wish I had the words to tell you how dark my world was.  My dreams were where I wanted to be.  I couldn’t wait to dream because what happened in them was so much more exciting and meaningful than what my life was.  My bi-polar dreams have always been vivid but never so much as during this time.  My awake-time flashbacks from the dreams would leave me  quite confused. Once, on the rare occasion I did go out, I was very nearly hit by a bus and leapt 3 feet in the air as the driver laid on the horn, inches from my hip, waking me from my musings.  I thought no one would care anyway.  Of course I know now that is not and never been true.  I have my peeps who love me and always will.

Before Christmas, I was on the bus after seeing my mental health worker and tearsjust broke down.  I was crying in public.  No one did anything except for the lady beside me who handed me a used tissue.  I sat there with tears streaming down my face, suffering in silence.  Which is what most people do.    All this was not necessarily because of a man.  I was on my way to my darkness partly due to the isolation I was in and the feeling of not being wanted anywhere because of the blasted bugs.  I was just so sad and lonely and alone.

I missed my Dad so much over Christmas.  His joy was like a child’s when he opened gifts.  His place was empty at the table where we would squeeze his walker in.  I did have a wonderful day with my family though.  We all felt his presence there, especially when, for no explicable reason, glassware started banana-cream-pie-004falling out of the cupboard and breaking on the ceramic floor at my sister’s.  I was making the banana cream pie at the moment, which was his favourite dessert.  I had to stir and stir the homemade pudding for at about 45 minutes so it wouldn’t burn.  Maybe Dad thought I wasn’t doing it right but I kept right on stirring during all the crashing and sweeping and didn’t burn the pudding at all.  One of the best we ever made.  He was keeping me on my toes I guess.

Carly and I got wonderful news the other day.  We now have a townhouse we’re moving to through public housing.  Instead of paying rent I cannot afford it will be covered by the benefits I receive from Disability.  This is a huge financial relief for me.

I have lots to look forward to.  I will get to purge yet again.  The crap that weighs me down.  Crap that I hang on to.  Crap I can let go.   And it ain’t just because of the packing.

If I can help it, life is going be like taking a deep breath of fresh air.

 

Where Did You Go?


I have a sister who has been absent from the family for several years.  No one has heard from her for a very long time.

My sister has schizophrenia.

Since my Dad died a month ago my family has been hoping she will show up or call.  She hasn’t made any contact and my younger sister has gone to extraordinary lengths to locate her, short of hiring a private detective.

It amazes me how someone can disappear like that.  No Manitoba Health card for over 5 years so no medical treatments in that time.  She didn’t even have a card when we know she lived here for sure.

I feel so sad.  Where could she be?  I don’t want her to hide from us, to be afraid of us.

I remember going to see her at her old apartment about 3 years ago and knocking on her door and hearing her drag furniture and boxes away from her door.  After being allowed to enter, seeing her Spartan ways overwhelmed me.  She was scared, lonely and very, very ill. She couldn’t wait for me to leave and when I did, I heard all the boxes and furniture being barricaded on the other side of the door once again.

The last place she was known to live over 2 years ago the landlord said she snuck out of her apartment in the middle of the night, not taking much with her.

The fear.  I can’t know the fear she must live with every day.  All I know is the fear I have for her.  She won’t have ID so if something should have happened to her we might never find out.  No hospital stay information or death certificates would be available because no one will be able to know who she is.

This sister has become a ghost.  I know she might not want to be found but now it’s not about estates and letting her know the news about our Dad.  Now it’s about knowing she still lives, in whatever world she might find herself and hopefully still on the same earth as me.

Mental illness…another one allowed to slip through the cracks.  I can’t blame anyone for that though.  As her family we tried.  Her illness was so frightening.  I couldn’t even let my son drive her home at one time (for which he kindly volunteered) for fear of anything she might say he did or what she might do to him.  Her actions and words struck terror in my gut many times.  The medical community did their best short of locking her up for the rest of her life to make sure she took her meds. The one time she was on meds she was our sweet sister again but it didn’t last long.  Now it must have been years since she’s even seen a doctor.

I remember her when I was a very little girl.  I was very ill for the first few years of my life and still see her lovingly mothering me; taking me for walks in the carriage, scratching my back (which calmed me very much) and giving me treats.  When kids bullied me in school later on she went out and had a T-shirt made for me that said “Marie Boomer – Superstar”.  I wore that thing until the letters fell off.  It made me feel like a superstar.

I’m trying really hard to remember the wonderful sister she could be.  She left home when I was very young though and I rarely saw her until I was an adult again and her illness had progressed so much.  It’s not easy to keep the good memories alive since there are so few of them but I will.

I just hope she knows we are still here for her.

Please come home Sue…

Getting Through the Week


This week my second grandchild was born.  My Dad died on Friday and Lexi was born on Monday , 11 days overdue.  Lexi was supposed to be a boy, according to three 3D ultrasounds but came out a beautiful, healthy girl.  She was a huge surprise.  Hopefully we can find all the receipts for the boy stuff everyone bought.

I was sure having Lexi in my life, now with a huge empty space from losing my Dad, would fill in that big gap in my heart.  She does in a way but I’ve had a cold or allergies since she was born so only saw her once. My Londynn was here, though, and kept me going for one afternoon.  She makes me tired.  🙂

I no longer have my daily visits with my Dad.  Those sure got me out of the Sage, fire, memoriesapartment.  I miss him so much.  Tonight there was a sharing circle at my sisters.  It was wonderful to hear stories about my Dad coming from people I barely knew and from family I love dearly.  I  shared some of my own stories while taking in the scent of the bonfire, the sage burning in the bowl beside it and listening to the birds singing and calling out to each other.  After I was finished I threw cedar into the fire and watched it get eaten up by the flames.  Everyone else did the same. I watched the smoke drift up to the sky.  The sky looked like it wanted to rain but it held off.  I was glad I went.

Never have I felt so alone as I have this week.  It’s been a confusing time and I thought I would have been prepared for this but I wasn’t.  I’m not.  His birthday was on Tuesday and that day was just a write off for me.  I spent that whole day in bed.  I just couldn’t get up.  The same thing happened the day after he died.

I’ve gone downhill in my mental health; feeling more isolated, sleeping so much more and feeling quite alone in my already little world.  Everyone in my family are grieving too and my sister is so busy with arrangements and such.  There are a few people who have written to ask how I’m holding up (badly) or one really nice man I know tried TWICE to get me out but I couldn’t bear to leave the apartment.  He even promised me ice cream!  I received a lot of support on Facebook from my friends.  I thank them all very much for taking the time to acknowledge my loss.

I hope to be in a better frame of mind next week.  My routine goes back to normal with volunteering and seeing Dr. G again.

Now I better check myself for wood ticks.

Ciao

Songs, Birds and Goodbyes


After an incredibly long fight my Dad finally let go in the early hours of May 23.  Every day for weeks you could see the struggle within him; wanting his aging, ailing body, mind and soul to hang on, to stay here with his family and to live another 95 years.

My Dad’s final days were spent with his family surrounding him every chance they got.  I spent a huge amount of time with him and have some very happy times I really want to share.  Little things, like when we first played bird songs on my sister’s iPad and the smile that came across his face.  He wasn’t really in the same world as we were at that point so this was really nice to see.  He spent a lot of time in this another world so any indication that he heard us or recognized something else was wonderful and so very special.

The nurses all had stories to tell and all said how much they love him, how he was a favourite there.  Dad was known for his hugs after putting up big battles whenever he had to be turned or changed as it gives him so much pain.  He would fight, kick, hit and swear at the nurses and then, when they were done, calmly ask for each of them to give him a hug.  They loved it and made it worthwhile they said.

The day before he died I was there with him and my sister.  We were playing music from his era as well as songs he used to sing to us when we were little girls, all from his era as well.  “You Beautiful Doll”, “I Did It My Way”, lots of Frankie and Bing and some Al Jolson.  Of course it was hard not to cry when we heard these songs.  We even sang them to him too.  When he could still talk he told me, very politely, to stop singing please.  So when he couldn’t talk anymore, I started singing to him again.

One song, “If You Were The Only Girl..” we played over and over because he seemed to react to it the most.  I was holding his hand when he started tugging on it, urging me to get up off my chair.  I did and his other hand was searching for my other one so I grasped our hands together.  Suddenly, he started swinging my arms to the music!  We were dancing!  It was marvelous and my sister and I were laughing so hard and he was grinning as he was trying to push me over on one side then all the way over across his bed.  Finally, his incredible strength got me to almost topple right on top of him where he had me in the most incredible bear hug and had my arms all twisted like a pretzel.  I honestly couldn’t move!  My sister was laughing so hard she finally managed to choke out, “need a little help?”  I could only squeak, “yes please” when a nurse appeared, shocked at the spectacle and he let go.  I will never forget that last dance with my Dad.

I spent a night there and would have spent many more but I was on baby alert, waiting for my grandson to arrive, which, as of this date and 10 days overdue, he has not.  But I would spend all day every day with my Dad.  Yesterday, though, my sister told me something was different and maybe I should get there quickly.  So I took the hour-long bus ride earlier than I was going to, praying that he will hold on just long enough for me to say goodbye again and arrived there in plenty of time.

I leaned over him, giving him my killer smile as I always do, and, lo and behold, he smiled back, tried to say my name and wrapped his arms around me in a huge hug.  After that though, his morphine was working and he really wasn’t conscious anymore.  More family came to say goodbye and all we did for hours was watch his chest move up and down, then nothing, then up and down again.  Fooled us many times.  With his apnea, this was expected we were told.  My sister and I were finally left alone with him for the night.  My son was getting someone else to be on baby alert.

Before he finally let go my sister and I were trying to conjure up my mom so she could come and get him since he wouldn’t leave on his own.  Not 3 hours later, I noticed his breath getting shallower and quieter.  Then I went to his mouth and nose and felt for his breath.  There were only one or two more breaths, then nothing.  Still nothing.  I checked his heartbeat and got my sister to call the nurse.  The nurse came with her stethoscope and confirmed what we already knew.   My mom found him and took him home at last.

It’s so hard to believe that this is over.  My Dad is gone.  An era is finished.  It’s very strange not climbing on the bus everyday.  It’s very strange not to hear him babble about his mom and dogs and horses and call me by his sister’s name or him thinking I’m his mom or even knowing it’s me.  It’s very strange connecting to family I haven’t seen in months or years.  It’s very strange to have the first love of my life leave this earth so quietly after arguing so much and so long with whomever is in charge of our length of time on Earth.  That’s it.  All done.

But my Mom did come and get him.  I know she did.  Thanks Mom.  Love you both so much.

Waiting


This has been a week of waiting that’s made me weary to my bones.  My daughter-in-law is due to have my grandson anytime now and she’s working right up to the bitter end.  Good for her.  The anticipation is killing me.  I’m the grandma in line to look after my granddaughter when the time comes.

My dad hasn’t been doing very well this week.  I’ve been going every day to spend time with him, just holding his hand and talking. He was so dehydrated that first day and I was told he wouldn’t eat or drink anything for days before that .  Well, the first day my younger sister and I got him to drink lots of ginger ale and 7-up and those cracked lips and tongue plumped right up in no time.  He wasn’t refusing anything except the food.  And every day after that when I arrived he would be in the same condition, just parched.  So now my sister and I are going to make sure he stays hydrated by one or both of us going in to see him every day.  He’s definitely not the same man he was; he’s skin and bones and quite aggressive at times but not to me thank goodness.  My kids have gone to see him too.

Apparently he wouldn’t have made it to the weekend if we didn’t do this.  Time will tell how he will do now.

I’m exhausted today after  I spent 8 hours there in the most uncomfortable chair you can imagine.  So this post is short and sweet.

Oh and for the third time in my life, I heard him say “I love you”.  🙂

They SUCK!


Bad things happen to really nice people and my daughter just had the worst week of her life.  Sometimes teenaged boys just suck.  I’ve been dreading this…

My sweet and unsuspecting daughter’s relationship with her boyfriend of a year and a half came to an end this week.  She had no idea it was coming and is in total shock.  There is no comprehension, no reasoning she can see.  Why can’t it make the sense it should?

I feel so much of her pain.  No mom ever wants to see her child go through this drama.  I hate it. They got along well and didn’t really fight or argue a whole lot. I knew there was a strong likelihood that the relationship would end eventually because they’re so young.    I just didn’t want it to happen NOW.  A week before Valentine’s Day.  Holy cow.cookies and creme

My strong and beautiful daughter sobs like I’ve never seen her.  I let her and cry along with her sometimes.  Our home is where it’s safe to cry.  He won’t answer her texts, he isn’t calling.  This has to be the worst time in her life so far. Her heart is broken. I want to take all the hurt away, realizing eventually that this, for both of us, is all part of growing up.

I feel I’m making a difference.  She’s talking to me about her feelings, she’s set some goals, agreed to and made up some restrictions with her phone use so she won’t call him.  She listens to my advice, which I don’t give overwhelmingly. She wakes me up early in the morning just so I can sit with her until she has to leave for school.  She trusts me.carly

Needless to say, I haven’t left her alone very much.  To the dismay of my sister, I’ve even kept her home from school for 3 days and she’s now been back for 2.  The first day was hard but the second was better.  I encouraged her to get together with some girlfriends this weekend and is at a sleepover now.

I hate these hard lessons we have to face.  My memories of the first guy to dump me were horrible and will always be, even though I learned more about myself because of it.  I would call his place at all hours of the day and night and hang upprincess phone when he answered.  I would let it ring 30, 40, 50 times if he didn’t.  Needless to say there was no caller ID then.  I was so angry and sad and resentful. He was just cruel when he broke up with me.  There was no need for that.

Carly’s boyfriend wasn’t mean at all really.  He was “sugar-coating” his reasons which she recognized right away.  The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, which she recognized as well.  It’s just now, for her, that hurt is burning and alive and it stabs me through my heart.  I feel it every moment she starts to cry or I look into her big brown eyes, full of sorrow.  Her posture is no longer straight and proud.  She is feeling beaten and betrayed.  How do you fix that Mom?

Time, I tell her.

We talk every evening.  I’m so proud of her for opening up about so many things I didn’t know but glad I know now.  She says I “get it”.

And I do.  I feel like a Mom again.

How about you?  The first time is always the worst isn’t it?