Tag Archives: sad

Housework


Wow, It’s been a while again. I guess I’ve been all discombobulated. Life has sure had its ups and downs in the last few months. Let’s see…

  • I’ve moved and survived.
  • I’ve discovered music on my TV and that is giving me a lot of joy. I never did figure out how to get music on my iPhone.
  • I lost 30 pounds without even trying!! That would be because of no more Lithium.
  • My cat is now home with us in the new place and that puts me over the moon…even though she had has some adjustment issues. I look out where I’m stepping now. cat-pukingNothing like warm (or cold) cat puke on the bottom of my foot when I’m trying not to wake up too much when I have to go pee in the middle of the night.  Or the yowling.  She especially likes to yowl in the bathroom.  At 3 am.  The echo I guess?

I had such a bad time before the move. I honestly didn’t know if I could make it. My daughter was at her wit’s end.  Neither of my kids Bipolar-disorder-treatmentreally understand what’s going one with my illness.  So they get impatient. They figure I’m lazy and probably even stupid.  I’ve done what I can to get them to get it.  I will keep trying I guess.

In past posts I’ve written about my mom and how her presence seems to be everywhere. Well, the months and weeks leading up to this move I know she was trying to help. I would babble to her while I was awake and in my dreams.  I was a basket case as only I can be. I was driving everyone nuts with my fears and tears and rants and being generally incapable of coping. Coping skills? What the fuck are those? I had no money (again), no food (again), bills piling up (uh huh again), welfare not paying me what they were supposed to. I couldn’t afford bus tickets or fare so I was even more isolated than ever before.

So anyway, my daughter and I were going through yet another box of stuff that she was urging me to purge and to which I would resist. “It was Gramma’s,” I would cry. She was relentless on lots of stuff but that always got to her so I used it a lot. When we came to some pictures of she and her Gramma we would both cry. Then, in an old purse she was MAKING me get rid of, there they were.  The crystals.

stonesOf course there is a reason why I bring this up.  After my mom died, like pretty much right after and when I went back to work, a volunteer came to my office telling me she was moving in the next few days to London, England to marry her long time lover.  Same-sex marriage wasn’t legal in Canada yet.  I was glad for her of course.  We had gotten rather close the last few months before my mom died.  She always knew things.  She was very spiritual as well as a Wiccan.  She taught me a lot and gave me peace of mind.

That day she came in, she saw the sadness in my eyes that no professionalism could hide.  (Who was I kidding anyway?  Professional? Me?)  She told me about leaving and I told her I knew it was coming and I was so happy for her.  We hugged for a long time in my office.  We didn’t cry though.  She said she wanted to pull some of the sadness from me and give me some of her joy. As she moved away she reached into her bag and pulled out a little baggie with stones in it.  Gorgeous stones: amethyst for my mom, rose quartz for her and the blue quartz for me.  Spiritually aligned.  A beautiful gift.

Then I cried.

I hadn’t been able to find these particular crystals for a long time until I found ???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????them in the old purse. My heart flipped in my chest when my eyes found them and my fingers touched the little bag.  I whispered “Mom” and Carly looked at me like I was, once again nuts.  She just rolled her eyes until I explained it to her.

I think her head must hurt from doing that all the time.

It was like everything changed when I got up the next morning.  The hopelessness had lessened so much I could call my worker at welfare and demand the bus tickets I needed to get to doctor’s appointments.  I could purge the things that weighed me down in that apartment.  Our new apartment is rather cozy so of course I had to give up things.  I didn’t mind so much anymore.  My daughter even said “Mom, look at you” as I zinged crap into garbage bags and hauled them to the garbage bin.  I purged even more when we were unpacking.  I arranged movers and COMMUNICATED with professionals.

Suddenly things were just working out.  We looked at a great apartment for a great price and the manager liked us so much he wanted to move us to the top of the list.  It turned out he couldn’t do that and had to take the first tenants that applied.  He did have another place, though, that we could have first crack at.  He went to bat for us to make sure we got it.  He made sure everything was ready for when we moved in.  He was wonderful.   Welfare was paying for movers so that was great.  Like I said there wasn’t much to complain about at all.

Oh and I will be a Gramma again! (No NOT Carly)

Of course I am not miraculously better.  I am better though.  I’m still more isolated than before we moved but, for some reason, welfare sent me $150.  So I bought a bus pass for the next week.  I can get to the dentist to have my broken tooth looked at, see my psychiatrist (missed the last appointment because I hadn’t called for bus tickets, doh!).  And get some food!  After that I don’t mind not going out in the bloody cold.

Part time work may be in my near future as my wonderful sister figured out a great job that might just work for me and it sounds like one I would love to do.

Things are more peaceful in my head. There’s more purpose to my days whether I’m selling my jewelry on Facebook (Carly needed tampons) or actually doing the dishes instead of letting them pile up.

My crystals are in my purse again.

I am getting things done.

funny stories about bad dates


My sister and I went for our walk tonight.  She wanted the details of my dating experiences I’ve had so far with an on-line dating service.  It was good to tell her about my week; I finally could see the humour in it.

And there was a lot.  Of humour, I mean.

I can sit watching the dating site’s in-box feature where everyone you corresponded with will show up; the site making sure you know they’re online and available to chat.

In my case, since I am a chatty thing, there are lots of names there on any given evening.  Almost all these men shall now become a part of this post.

Including the guy who posts a picture of himself 200 pounds ago.  Now I knew how big he was before we met so it wasn’t really a surprise.  What surprised me was how much of a predator he was, how full of himself, and pompous.  It was all about the hunt.  Mr. Octopus by the third date.  He had stuffed animal-toys in his house and they all had names and different voices.  Kinda creepy. He tried to change my diet Pepsi habit, my salt intake and what I listen to before I go to sleep at night.  When I sort of broke it off after a date of more fighting him off, saying we could just start over and take our time more, he decided he wasn’t physically attracted to me.  No problem.  and Whew!

Then I talked to a guy on-line for a few days.  He sent me a picture; it was pretty good but I didn’t believe it was really him.  The guy said he won’t post his picture on the dating site because then he gets bombarded with too many unwantables.  Apparently, I was a wantable.  We switched over to a better chat host and he sent me another picture.  This one took my breath away.  He was absolutely gorgeous to look at.  Johnny Depp and Brad Pitt.  I kid you not.  I was amazed I had this guys attention.  So amazed, in fact, that I missed a few key clues along the way to his personality . But I did catch on in time that he was psycho.

Not him but sorta close.

The night before we were going to meet for the first time, he decided for some reason, to bring up porn.  He asked me if I liked porn.  I said no.  He asked why.  I told him why.  He flipped out.  He wrote in all caps (screaming) that I was a victim lover and help make society restrictive and unbearable to live in.  He called me names.  Really bad names.  But none that I hadn’t heard before.

I disconnected and proceeded to block him from anywhere I had talked to him.

Then I went and had a shower.  I had almost met this guy.  Scary stuff out there.

More recently, I found a fellow on the site, who said he had a rare form of arthritis.  I wrote to him to ask him what kind it was.  He answered back and we tried to chat.   I gave him my phone number so he wouldn’t have to type so much with one finger.  We had such a nice time on the phone I agreed to meet him the next day.  Turned out he lived a block or so away from me.  Because of his age (60 to my 50), my safeguards (name, address and phone number to my kids) he picked me up at my place.

Well I was waiting at the agreed upon time when he called to say he would be late by 20 minutes.  Okay with me.  I tried to do something better with my hair.

I went out front of the building to wait for him.  Along comes this van, hurtling itself around the corner to my street, screeching to a halt, backing up to turn around, narrowly missing a parked car.  He sped up to the door, almost resting on the boulevard.

My thought was:  oh dear.

I opened the door and there was this smiling, very wrinkled face looking back at me.  He was practically bouncing up in his seat.  He kept saying”Oh wow, you’re real. Wow what a woman” and checking out every inch of me.  He continued to do this as we were driving, swerving into the other lane jumping the curb once.  I made him stop the van for a moment so he could collect himself.  He turned on all the lights in the van so he could show me his deformities.  They were absolutely severe.  That wasn’t the problem though.

He smelled really bad.

Those who follow my blog know about my sensitivity to odours.  Gooood ones and baaad ones.  This was a bad one but it would get worse.

We got to the pancake house where George announced to everyone that this was our first date.  Everyone made a fuss over us and led us to a quiet table.  I had tea and he had coffee.

Not 5 minutes into the conversation, he suddenly stopped talking about his deformities for the fourth time and asked me what my favourite sexual position was.  He really did.  I didn’t tell him, of course, but did tell him how offensive that was.  He was so sorry but asked again in a different way a few minutes later.  The waitress kept coming over, cooing how cute we were and looking at me like I must be some kind of saint.

George finally left the table to use the washroom so I took the opportunity to frantically text my daughter to please call in a few minutes and ask me to pick her up.

George came back to the table excitedly shouting to the waitress to please save him, bring more coffee.  I sank lower in the booth.  He sat down and started rubbing his leg up against mine.  I told him not to do that.  He said it was an accident.  I kept checking my phone. He kept rubbing my leg and making these grunting noises.  I finally told George that my daughter has to be picked up shortly.  He said he would love to come with me, with a leer on his face and his tongue sticking out from between his missing teeth.

My daughter finally texted me back saying “but mom I’m going to my friend’s house remember?”

Great.  Good job.  We need a code.

We finally got back in the van and were heading back to my place.  I know I was quiet and it was mostly because I was trying not to throw up.  With him drinking the coffee along whatever other smell he had on I was having a hard time not being sick.  I don’t mean to be disrespectful about this or his deformities.  It was so bad and too much for me.

We pulled up to the front of my building, almost hitting the same car.  He put the van in P and flung off his seat belt and held open his arms and said, “c’mere”.  Oh Jeez.  I opened my door, saying I had to run or be late getting my kid.  I nearly ran up the steps.

The next day he sent me an email saying he thought about it but he didn’t feel we would work out.

Double whew.

The next guy is a whole post on his own.  So this will be at least a 2 parter if not a series.  Stay tuned.  It does get better.

Depending how many frogs I keep almost kissing.

I’m not even going to pretend to know what these guys are thinking.  This has been a whole different world for me.  When I met my last fella on the same site he was the second guy I met.  It’s not so simple now.

Later, I’ll tell you all about Bobby (not his real name).

Curves


I’m going to apologize in advance to all who read my words at this time.  My life has, once again, taken a turn for the worse.  I think my next couple of posts will be on the oh so tragic, poor me, side. If I can post anything at all.

My heart hurts, my life hurts.

I lost my job and I lost it because of me, who I am and I’m just no good.  My brain is confused and has been for months.  The near misses when I’m driving, the forgetting where I am or even what I’m doing. The paranoia that drive many people away from me is on full attack.  I’m at the door and windows half the night watching and waiting for some one to come for me.  This is even on a doctor approved triple dose of my anti anxiety medication and I can’t sleep.

I think I’m sick.

I think I’m sick again.  Now I’ve lost my job due to my incompetence and have no way to provide for my family. I’m in no shape to work and no one will want to hire me.

I had the presence of mind to go to Employment Insurance who told me, even though I was fired, I might still collect from them.  I had walked in there, thinking it was the welfare office and realized later that I must have known it wasn’t.  They were very kind.  I must have looked pretty awful because the woman behind the desk came out and led me to a chair where she explained to me about filling out the form online.  She led me over to a computer and got me started and introduced a man who would be around if I needed help.  I checked the time, not that I had anywhere to go.  I stared at the screen for a while, reading each word carefully, using all my energy to be focused on this one task.  I started to type; to fill in the blanks.  It was then I noticed how bad I was shaking.  The kind man was right there as I held my head in my hands, willing my body to have some class, some dignity.  He ended up filling in the claim for me.  I sat there and shook and shook and answered the questions he asked me. Except for my address.  I had to find something with my new address on it.  Even as I left I lurched into a couple of chairs, sending one of them skidding into the aisle.  More humiliation before 10:30 am.  This had taken 2 hours of my pathetic life.

I called welfare from my car after EI and I go Tuesday after I see my GP who had called me about test results that were a “concern”.  Great.

Soon no car.  Soon no phone.

After calling welfare I went to my lawyer’s office to stop him from proceeding on my domestic case against my Ex.  I couldn’t afford a lawyer.  He was so kind and assigned his son to take my case as he does the Legal Aid in the office.  Good.

I went to the grocery store and bought 4 things.  I don’t know what they were.

I got home and went to take off my shoes and realized I had worn my slippers all day.  What a stereotype of mental illness I must have looked like, shuffling along in my slippers, clothes that don’t fit because I’m so swollen.  None of my shoes fit either as my feet are double the size.  I could not afford the medication I take to get rid of the swelling and had to get my psych meds so something had to go.

I had seen Dr. G. shortly after I was fired.  He’s not talking about putting me on disability again; he wants me in a 4 week program that is supposed to help me get back to work and deal with my psych issues.  Today I got in touch with them and I’m set for an interview/intake for Monday.

I had to tell my ex tonight that I lost my job.  He had brought money for “child support” (I would laugh but it’s pathetic) and he immediately made noises of taking our daughter.  I promised my sister I wouldn’t tell him I applied for welfare this means I’m able to get Legal Aid get the frigging money he’s supposed to be giving me.  There is a risk of him deciding to just cut me off now and wait for a court decision.  He would too.  He resents every pitiful cent.

Today, 2 days after leaving the office, I slept.  I slept all day.  I know that’s bad.  I couldn’t help it.  I got up and drove my girl to school and came home, crawled into bed.  I got up once after a couple of hours only to realize I was falling asleep drinking a cup of tea which sloshed on my shaking hand, waking me.

My sister said a wise thing last night(?):

 Hopefully this is your rock bottom and all you can do is go up from here.

I figure I must be stronger than I think.  I’ve been grabbing onto anything I can to be alive.  I welcome the numbness my meds are bringing me right now. Today there were all kinds of posts on FB and the internet about suicide.  My thoughts were definitely in this direction. I don’t know how the hell I’m holding on, my threads are my children, my sister, my precious few friends and even my cat. These are the things that keep me alive.

I want to do something.  I NEED to do something.  I don’t know what to do. I’ve done what I can.

I feel bad for those I let down.  This is my punishment.  Who the hell do I think I am.

I want to be somebody again.

Now This is Love


I’ve started two posts this week and gave up after only a couple of paragraphs.  That is not like me at all.  When I start writing it’s very difficult for me to stop so usually I don’t stop until it’s done.  This one I know will be complete because I had an epitome and didn’t get a headache this time.

I’ve been feeling pretty down the last few weeks because everything happened at once as you may remember here.  Well more things happened and I’ve been more than a little overwhelmed.  Been teary all day; all week really.  Fragile is a really good word.

The end of my work day/week came finally.  I don’t really look forward to not going to work because then I have way too much time on my hands.  I am trying to rectify that by looking for another part-time job. I start volunteering next week too.  Meanwhile I just had to get through an evening with the Sisters and go through the Trunks with them.

These are two of my estranged sisters and I was absolutely dreading this day.  Not only did I feel enormously uncomfortable in their presence but going through the trunks from my dad’s house would make my already emotionally crammed brain/heart/soul go over the edge, lithium or not.

My parents were married almost 63 years when my mom died.  They were bitter enemies during most of that time and indifferent to each other a lot of the other years.  The first time I saw my dad kiss my mom was when I was about 8 and it was because I asked him to.  After that, though, he did kiss her goodbye semi-regularly in my presence.

Going through two trunks, filled with cards, letters (hundreds of letters), pictures (hundreds and hundreds of pictures) all starring my young, beautiful and very-much-in-love-with-each-other, parents.

My sisters and I read a few letters, looked at many pictures and tried to sort it all out.  Sitting in a storage locker, where my phone didn’t work and my discomfort starting to border on ease, the metal walls of the building echoed with our screams of laughter and gasps of disbelief, but held back its announcements during these delicate expressions of grief.

Memories came to life and new ones were discovered.

These two trunks were filled to the brim with stuff.  These are metal steamer trunks that took two really strong men to lift, never mind carry.

Full.

The question kept coming up; what do we do with all of it?  It broke our hearts when we threw some things away that wasn’t obviously garbage.  I offered to sort it all out, put the letters in chronological order so it would be easier to decide what to do later.

Reading all about these parents I never knew was amazing.  How much love they had for each other, the pet names and the silliness.  Later on, hardship and, well, life came into their world, all before I was born.  I am the seventh out of eight children and did not know them like these two older sisters did.

We three had to make some decisions that were very difficult about several items.  We managed to talk it through, came up with some brilliant ideas.  I left the storage locker with my few mementos clutched under my arm and with my phone squawking crazily.  My heart was lighter than when I went in.

I drove away knowing I would have to stop before I got home.  I had a lot to process.  One of the things I realized was that I HAD seen my parents very much in love and devoted to each other.  It wasn’t while I was growing up though.

It was when my mom was dying.

She would wait for him, watching the door of her hospital room.  He would go there a couple of times a day to see her.  I had been going to see her twice a day too, before work and right after.  These last two weeks of her life, I could see a light in her eyes I never saw before.  She would scramble out of her bed before I could help her because she just knew he was coming.

And then he would be there.

They would hug.  Kiss.  They hung on.  Then they would talk to each other.  They would sit together and laugh at each others stories, tease me and share coffee.  I would go to the cafeteria and get them both coffee, leaving them alone.

The only time I have ever seen my dad cry was when we were all with her as she died.  Silent tears.  I never knew if it was regret for all the lost time or grief for losing the woman he just found again.

I started up my car again, wiping my face, driving carefully. I got home, took my little pile of memories and went into the apartment.

I heard little footsteps and looked down the hall.  There was Lucky.  Our cat.  I hadn’t seen her since the middle of July.  I barely got the door closed when she rushed me, like a dog.  She put her feet up on my legs so I stooped down to pick her up.  She followed me everywhere I went the rest of the evening.  I missed her so much.

I missed being missed that much.

I may never have what my parents had but I know I had something close.  I think that’s going to be good enough for me.

The past should be the past. It can destroy the future. Live life for what tomorrow has to offer, not for what yesterday has taken away. The NoteBook

Blue


Okay so a lot of you won’t relate to this.  Maybe some of you will and won’t admit it and think I just might be a whiny baby cry baby.  I don’t know what to do.  At this point I feel pretty desperate.

Why can’t I stop thinking about a man who was so callous towards me.  One who acted like I was the most amazing thing in his life then turning around and treating me so disrespectfully.  What is it about me?  He’s not the first and I hope he will be the last.

To not hear a word from him is a shock, even to Dr. G. who has a real handle on personalities (he is a PSYCHIATRIST).  I don’t want to think the last year was a total farce, I just don’t believe it.  The realization of that possibility, though, makes me feel like a total fool and I am left cold.

I don’t want to write this.  I want to show everyone how much I learned without being cynical and self-serving.  I want to appear strong and brave and cool. I don’t want to sound bitter and weak and needy. How does one do that?  I have had years of counselling, 23 to be exact, so I know a thing or two or 22,349 things.  This just isn’t going well tonight.

I know I said I learned a lot from this relationship and I did.  I learned about loving someone and being able to consciously and unconsciously overlook their faults and mine too.  I didn’t even notice anything like faults until they were shoved into my face.  I loved being able to tell him constantly how smart, sexy and capable I thought he was and being surprised to know these were things he had never, ever heard before.  I believe he may have actually started to see these things in himself. I was proud I could be there with all my support and love that was all for him.  I showed him how much I appreciated him and all the things that were him, baggage and all.  I embraced his, and what he thought were, his shortcomings; i.e. his weight, his lack of money etc.  Those were things that did not make the whole man but only part of him.

For some reason, these good feelings I had made him push me away.  I finally had to realize there was only so much I will take.

I learned joy, true joy, whether we were together or not.  Because he lived an hour away I was able to learn to do a lot of things on my own.  I had his encouragement, perspective and advice  to help me along.

I learned how strong I am and not just in making day-to-day decisions.  But in knowing what is right for me and my family.  I waited  “four seasons” just like my counsellor advised me before making any solid commitments, like living together.  I had to look at factors I was never faced with before and question whether I thought it would be truly wise to uproot myself, my daughter and my cat to a home so different from ours.  The opposite of ours.  This was not about me.  It was never about me.

I made the right decision.

There is pain psychologically.  I am having so much trouble focusing on the day-to-day things. Work is next to impossible.  I am not at my best, not even close.  Every amazing idea I think I have for a new program or something is met with polite voices and a change of subject.  God, I hate when that happens.  It usually means the end and I love my job very much.  So, for now, I shut up and just be what is expected of me.

Physically I have the usual aches and pains with more pronounced pain in my back and more headaches.  This is all because of my back and my being unable to do simple exercises such as walking.  10 minutes is it.  I have gained more weight than ever before; Dr. G. is talking about changing one of my meds as it seems to be the culprit for my increased appetite and consequent ballooning.

That should be interesting.  He is holding off, though, because of the increased stress in my life.  Thank goodness for that because if I was not on the dose of Lithium I am on currently, I don’t know how I would be getting through this at all. I see Dr. G. every two weeks so he will assess me intermittently.  I’ve made all my appointments with various other physicians as per his orders.

Of course I think, how could I meet a new man looking and feeling like this?  Who cares?  Not me. I can’t.  I won’t anyway.  I don’t want to at all.  I’m not even close to being ready.  I have no desire to be vulnerable like that again.  There is no way I can even imagine talking to a guy, let alone having someone see me naked.  So the increased weight is a good incentive not to meet anyone.  Not that anyone is knocking on my door. I don’t want anyone to, I need to gather my wits about me.  This is unusual for me, for those that know me.  I have always had a man in my life.  Always.  So it really is time for a break.

This has been a triple whammy really; that man I lived with, that man I was friends with for many years and took a tumble with, and Dennis.  Funny how he is the only one with a name.  That should change in time.

So now’s the time for a good, long break and enjoy being me.  I am eager to make new friends, get to know old ones and try some new things.  I enjoy the lack of someone else’s drama in my life.  I am spending more time with my kids now and it’s so much fun.  With me not working my second job its amazing how much time there is in a day when I’m not waiting for someone to come on-line or call me.

So, I wrote it all down, I feel better, now how the heck do you feel?