Happy New Year’s Eve

Here’s to a happier and healthier 2009.  Tonight, we’re having a few of our best friends over to play cards and hang out.  I’m not excited about it at all, honestly, but the rest of the family is, so I’m going along with it.  Maybe I’l feel better about it when everyone gets here.  I don’t know.

We haven’t hung out with our core group of friends since I got shingles back in October, so it’s defintely been quite a while.

Was chatting with my dear, darling, wonderul Mother in Law last night.  She and I haven’t had a chance to have a private conversation for a while (holidays)…and she was dying to know what the latest scoop is with my parents and I.  I told her I was going to permanently cut off all ties.

You see, my parents don’t give a shit about me.  They don’t like me, and, I deserve to choose to  surround myself with people who adore me. 

Selfish?  No.  It’s called surviving.

We talked about estrangement

I'm going to walk away from this.

We talked alot.  We talked about “taking a break”.  This was something that I did last year, and it didn’t really do much good, because, of course, I succumbed to my family’s abuse.  Their disrespect of boundaries.  My parents were home for ONE exact week before my mom came <–>that close to being asked to leave my home.  She felt it necessary to tell a hilarious tale about how she “NEARLY LOST $60,000…but THEN…..OH MY GOSH!!!! It was in the CREDIT UNION ACCOUNT…and not the BANNNNNNNNNNNK ACCOUNT!”hahahahahahaha!  Shortly after that, she nearly slipped with the “n” word, and next thing you know, I was sobbing with embarrasment in my own bathroom, trying to entertain an entire housefull of people that I adore. 

So, E and I talked alot about, if I were to just walk away from this, what would I miss?  I haven’t spoken to my sister in years, I don’t miss her one bit.   I haven’t spoken to my mom in over 3 months, and before that, I can’t recall a kind word.

My dad knows that this is happening, and does ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. 

His mantra is this, when I tell him how passive-aggressively-horridly cruel she is:

“THAT’S MY WIFE THAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT, THERE!”

He’s used that one for years, apparantly that’s the trump card.  The, “I love your mom more than you, and she’s ALLOWED to abuse you because I love her so much”

Vomit.

So.  I don’t see this changing.  They’re getting old, they’re both showing the effects of aging.  I owe them nothing.  They get nothing.

I can’t imagine how nastymy mother will be in her “golden years”.  Fortunately,  I won’t be there to find out.

She will still be hateful and spiteful, and make it perfectly clear that I disgust her, and my dad will still be beating his chest and exclaiming this prize to be “MY WIFE”.

Suicide.

Find Peace, my friend.

 Happy Holidays.  Our friend Glenn killed himself on Christmas.

We found out about it yesterday, and have clung to each other ever since.  Literally.

My husband’s wife killed herself 6 years ago, and we live with that every.single.day.

I wish that, for just a moment before a tortured soul makes that final decision, that the Universe could somehow show them all of the crying souls that they would undoubtedly leave behind.

Anyhow, be at Peace, Glenn.  I wish we had known how bad you were hurting.

love.

TIGO

Snap.

Wellbutrin: feeling the effects.  I’m level.  I didn’t cry at all yesterday…really.

Smokes: not many. Mouth tastes wierd, probably from the Wellbutrin.  I’m not trying to quit.  I like smoking, actually.  But, I’m certainly not smoking much.

Weight:  Wellbutrin = appetite suppressant.  Nausea inducing.  Have I found the perfect mood-altering drug?

SO ANYHOW….

Thank (Whomever) It’s Over.   The holidays are not my favorite time of the year,  understatement of the year.  I’ve spent WAY too much time in hospitals, nursing homes, hospices, and funeral homes during the holidays and, ya, ya,ya…I need to let it go…blah,blah…easier said than done.

I’m going to strip the house of all things Christmas and focus on 2009.  This  next year, since I will be 100% free from my abusive family, and, really, by OK with it, I’m going to do all holidays here.  I like to stay busy, I LOVE to cook, and my depression and anxiety really robbed me of that this year, and I shall not let that happen again.

And, although “the phone works both ways” (whatever)…my parents did not bother to call yesterday.  Merry Fucking Christmas to you, too.  They did write me a check.  Thanks, but I can make $100.00 in 15 minutes at an art show, so  I ripped up your check.

What if you actually left your home, went out shopping, and found something that MEANT SOMETHING?  Something from your heart.   I don’t need $100.00.  I would have bought fucking groceries with it. 

rock the fuck on.

I Don’t Hear You. I don’t even see you anymore.

I took this picture on vaca at Lake Michigan this summer

This is one of my very favorite snapshots.  

This is my new mantra.  In fact, I paid this forward to a friend of mine who was beaten by his lover.  I ran into him,  he had a black eye.  I grabbed his shoulders and said, “honey, what happened?”  “Andy did this to me”, he said.  I told him this:

” My friend, I’m going to tell you something that someone said to me just yesterday.  From this day forward, I want you to work really hard to only surround yourself with people who adore you.”

For a brief pause, he looked at me, really LOOKED at me, softened, and fell into my arms like a rag doll.  I kissed his cheek and told him that I love him, and, as he walked away, visibly feeling alot better, I turned back, and said:

“J.  No More.  OK?”

He promised.

Oh…and Merry Christmas.

 

We talked alot about disengagement.

I had 2 major panic attacks yesterday.  One here at home, and one in E’s office.  They are so awful.  I truly think I’m dying during a panic attack. 

Between the panic attacks, I had a tennis ball-sized lump in my throat that I could not swallow.  The grief and sadness, welling up, until I figuratively vomited the vile darkness onto my therapist’s floor.  And left it there.

My session was absolutely tremendous.  I spoke so freely with E about where I am with things.  My dad spews things from his mouth that are toxic.  “HEY!  BIG BUTT!”   “FATTY FATTY TWO BY FOUR!”  He has this habit of touching or grabbing right where your belly and pants come together, that roll of fat that, over the years I’ve learned to loathe.  Self conscious.   He always smacked us on the ass.   He says things about my eldes’t daughter’s butt, and I cringe.  My mother?  She just glares, or talks to my daughter about “Pop-pop’s checkbook and Gold Card!  Let’s GO SHOPPING!”  Not the family values that we are incorporating.

When I was growing up, the  “N” word was no different than any other word in thier home.  I wasn’t allowed to associate with African Americans, hell, I wasn’t allowed to be friends with a girl named Angie Z.  because she was too poor and her dad was a whack job.  hello?

Niggers, faggots, queers, spics,trailer trash, dykes, homos, hippies, bums, idots, dopers, welfare BUM.  GET A JOB!  Look at them.  Makes me sick. WE DON’T GIVE MONEY TO BUMS!  ( I saw my first homeless person in a train station in Chicago, and I begged my dad to give him a dollar).  no fucking way.

Ironic, too.  Because my hubby’s family is THE rainbow family, amongst our friends, we have chosen Human Beings as our friends, regardless of anyting aside from the size of their hearts.

Wonder what D and P would think if they knew that, because of my husband’s layoff, I’ve stood in line at the Food Pantry to feed my children.  That I have Medicaid and Food Stamps?  I’m a BUM.  A lazy ass BUM.  DON’T GIVE HER A DOLLAR! 

So, I’m going to disengage from this.  I’m going to free myself of this vile vomit.  E told me these words:

“Don’t you EVER again surround yourself with any person who doesn’t ADORE YOU”

And when she said that, I swear, a weight was lifted.  I don’t *have* to deal with this.  The title “Mother” “Father” “Sister” means absolutely nothing when they are abusive.  Not one thing.  Because definitively, those should be people who love you.

So…I’m going to set myself free.

My parents will be gone to their condo in Myrtle Beach on the day after Christmas, and they’ll stay until sometime in April.  So my next harrassment from them and my sister will be on Easter.  In fact, in an email, my sister even said so.

By then, E told me that I’ll be ready for it.

AAhhh, Monday. Love you.

Wellbutrin:  no side effects as I can see.  However, if this stuff is given to people for smoking cessasion, that’s a damned joke. 

Cigs: normal ( maybe 6 yesterday, not bad )

Weight:  I ate about 35 pecan tarts yesterday.  Will report back later.

Monday is actually my day off.  Sundays and Mondays.  Yesterday, I had my hubby’s family here for one of our many Christmas celebrations.  We ate and laughed and talked and all of us drank too much wine.  We exchange small gifts, but moreover, we just enjoy each other’s company. 

It’s wonderful, really.  They all love to be in our home, and stay for a very long time, lounging in front of our fire.  I always make way too much food, and we graze all night.  Sometimes, there’s no conversation at all, no “fill in” words.  Just being together is peacful and plentiful for my husband’s family.

We have a brand new baby in the family, and he brings great joy.  The sound of a baby’s laughter is angelic.

I’ve asked my sister to leave me alone.

I took this pic on vaca last summer.

 I just love this photo.  I’m really proud of it.  It was taken at P.J. Hoffmaster State Park near Muskegon last summer.  My hubby and I sat on that beach all day, and just basked in the sun and sand.  It was a fab day.

SO ANYHOW.

I had a big chat with my therapist about my sister, and why I’ve chosen to disengage from her entirely. 

My sister threw my tiny daughter into a river.  Only seconds after my own father had to be rescued from the river.  My little girl also had to be rescued and wanted to come home.  I heard nothing of this event until about 10pm that evening.  My daughter was crying on the phone, begging me to come get her.

I had specified to my parents that, YES, they can take my daughter with them to my sister’s home ONLY if she were to stay that night at the hotel with my parents.  Why?  Intuition?  I have a deep and longstanding mistrust of my sister, who, by the way, was later diagnosed as Bipolar.

I asked my daughter to put my sister on the phone to explain.  There was absolutely no feasible or reasonable explanation for this.  I told my sister to take my daughter IMMEDIATELY to my paren’t hotel room, as that was the understanding.  She told me to FUCK OFF.  And so it went, with my daughter crying in the background, listening to my sister call me a cunt. 

So. I called my parents.  Guess what.  My dad is drunk. 

Long story short…no more.  Ever. 

I talked with E for a long time about this and her theory is that my sister has so much resent for me, has such a deep rooted distaste for me, has SO much pent up anger for me, along with her mental illness, that she, on that day, took her aggression for me on my young daughter.  And it will not ever.ever.ever.happen again.  Her distaste for me is so evident.

For 5 years now, I’ve asked for an explanation and an apology.   I get a big FUCK YOU.  And now, as it is in my family, now my dad, mom, sister all claim that none of these things ever EVEN HAPPENED.  My daughter (remember her?)  well, she does remember it.   Later on, Ill make a list of things that never happened in my family.

I have asked her to leave me alone.  Just don’t email me.  Just don’t harrass me.  Stay away from me, my husband, and my children.  She won’t even  do that.  Her aggression terrifies me, and I will not allow her to hurt any one of us ever again.

Kelly:  The End.

Ouch.

Everybody Needs a Place to Rest.

Wellbutrin: I’ll do  2 today.  I was cranky yesterday.  Dunno why.

Klonopin:  Didn’t do any last night.  Drank about 12 gallons of Jack Daniels.

Weight:  clothes are getting loose ( a fantastic side effect from Wellbutrin)  I failed to mention to Dr Springer that I have a tendency toward eating disorders.  I happen to know that I can go without food for 3 days before passing out.

I love this picture.  See that little buggie hiding in the tulip? 

Everybody needs a place to rest, everybody wants to have a home….Tom Petty.

Today, my son and I have tons of little errands to do.  I love hanging out with him.  He’s a fascinating Human Being.  He’ll cure this unreal hangover that I have, or at least, make me forget about it.  He’s such a doll. 

E said something that broke my heart yesterday about Polly.  We were talking about our toolboxes.  How, perhaps, Polly lacks the tools to be a really great and caring and loving mom to me.

E said:  “But, it appears that she is this way to your sister.  She has the tools, Karen.  She chooses not to apply them to you.”

I need to figure out how to NOT care WHY.  

Today.

whatever.

ok ya.

Update:  Wellbutrin: 2.  I’m supposed to wait ’till Monday to up my dosage to 300mg / day, but I’m doing fine, so I went ahead and upped it.  Rock on.

Appetite: zero

Cigarettes:  tons

Weight:  Pants are loose.

It’s only a few days from Christmas and I couldn’t care less.  I am usually really excited, but this year, I just want it   O   V   E   R with so I can forget that I don’t have an extended family to celebrate with.  Kev’s family rocks, though.

Because we have no money, and no gifts bought, and are short on time, we did the only logical thing:   Went to the bar, ate dinner and drank about 3 dozen Jack and Cokes.  I never get drunk on Jack Daniels.  I believe it’s because I sipped it from my granddaddy’s glass when I was  a little kid.  We played Keno and lost our asses, and didn’t even care.  We eavesdropped on other people, and decided that we’re really lucky.  We are.  I adore Kevin so much.  I have no idea what the hell I would ever EVER do without him.  He is my love.   I adore his blue eyes, his gentle voice, and his adoration of me.  Is that ok?

Tomorrow, a busy day.  Cook,bake,clean, sell our art.  Be kind to strangers.  Pay some blessings forward.   I’m going to do something really spectacular tomorrow for someone I don’t even know.   Homeless people wander through our venue.  I’m going to do something for one of them.   I loves me some poor people.  Always have.

I will have to email my aunties and let them know that my Christmas presents will be late.  Tardy.  Why?  Because I have no spirit.  Truth: I haven’t done a damned thing about Christmas, and I don’t even want to.  Mailing gifts to people I may never see again seems so worthless.   A gesture.  I’d rather hug them.  I’m really going to miss them.  Really.

Since I was born, they’ve been here.  That’s 40 years.  That’s a damned long time.

I must sleep now.  Tylenol.  Too much Jack = morning regret.