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The Groups
The Year in Review
2006: The Good, the Bad & the Ugly
(in a whatever sort of order)
The Bad:
1. Removing myself from close friends as I felt too dull or dreary to converse
2. GM getting worse & evolving from low moderate to high moderate
3. Freaking out about money daily
4. Moving away from friends & support in Alabama
5. Not selling the Alabama house (also known as: no IVF funds)
The Ugly (with notes):
1. weight gain (thankfully it is going down - more about that in another post)
2. increased acne (taming it slowly with creams & reduced stress)
3. Debilitating depression (actually thankful for it as it pushed me to get help)
4. regretting cutting my hair & resorting back to bun security mode
5. Being told that IUI’s were no longer a viable option and hating my body for failing me.
The Good:
1. Moving away and getting Mother & GM under one roof
2. Meeting people from the computer. It started with Sarah & then there was THE convention.
3. Meeting J & C’s son and working through some issues
4. Recognizing that I needed help with depression & getting it
5. Receiving the gift of hope from supportive friends (why the fuck do you even put up with me??) and from friends of friends (free meds kick ass!)
2006 was a lot of things and yet nothing at all for me. It was the end of my usual flavor of hope. The year I faltered in faith, and the year that dragged on through mud and it almost swallowed me whole. I had very few excellent moments in 2006 and so am now quite glad to be nearly done of it. 2006 can hit the road.
As for the next year, well I have long since learned not to set resolutions. That is one sure way of getting many hopes dashed. Instead I will allow the year to unfold like a (perhaps) quality novel. I’d like to see the main character get more support from her family. She should read more and call up her friends often. It would be lovely if a handsome, kind man would sweep her off her feet, but she will realize no sweeping can be done unless some weight is lost. Wonderful surprises should take away our hero’s breath and she should work to renew any damage that previous years have done to her. But at the end of the book, there had better be a nice, and tidy finale. Maybe a perky musical number with dancing and laughter.
Thank you all for your letters, e-mails, phone calls, thoughts. Things have not been good. GM has had way more bad days than good and they are taking its toll on my spirit. I have hermitted myself away to preserve what energy I have to cope with sometimes violent and often exhausting days with GM. She is on anti anxiety meds but I am starting think that she needs something more or something else. I am so behind in phone calls, news, e-mails, and blogs. That sucks.
I wish all of you that stop by here a calm and good new year. Don’t we all need it!
Protected: Looking forward to looking back.
That is one of my Mother’s favorite sayings. Anytime something even remotely shitty happens she chips in with that old adage and a small band aid is placed on whatever is going on and we somehow muddle through. Not always cheerfully, and not always in the best form, but we endure.
This weekend there were many knowing glances exchanged between Mother and myself. It seemed as if every five minutes one of us was catching the other’s eye and trying to project a secret message of care.
If I said this was the worst holiday of my life I would be incorrect. It is the 2nd worst. The worst holiday was the last one with my Grandfather. He was in the hospital, dying, but we all left to go have this insanely massive & over done holiday meal at an aunt’s house (an aunt I have not spoken to in nearly 3 years). Everyone was trying to be chippy and pleasant, but we were all over doing. All over compensating for the drum beat of doom beating within all of our hearts. Grandfather would be dead soon. We all knew it, but we did the best we could. After the evening meal I excused myself to go to the hospital to be with my Grandfather. I couldn’t stand the idea of him being by himself.
He didn’t recognize me when I got to him, but he told me about all of the battles he was fighting. You can learn a lot from a brilliant man that is hallucinating. Some people see 6 foot tall invisible rabbits, but my GF was a soldier in the Franco-Prussian War. It broke my heart not to hear him sing happy birthday in German - something he had done since forever. But it gutted me when he had no idea who I was or why I was in his room. I remember going to bed that evening already in mourning.
This birthday and Christmas was the first one I have had without GM. In fact after some horrible moments I pretty much isolated myself from anyone that might try to cheer me up.
I woke up on my birthday around 7am and went downstairs from my attic bedroom to make some strong coffee. I put out GM’s morning pills and then went back upstairs to watch a few saved episodes of Felicity (it might be wrong how much I loved that show). & while I was watching it I also had the door to my room open - waiting for the trumpet song of Happy Birthday and well wishes.
After 4 episodes of agonizing teen angst (just sleep with Noel already!) I went back downstairs to see if anyone was up. Nope. Not a creature was stirring. Not even the dog. So back upstairs I went, but the pity party was starting to kick off full swing.
Around 1pm I heard Mother make her way to GM’s room. I straightened up thinking that they would soon be calling me downstairs for a snazzy lunch or some gifts. Instead what I heard was GM screaming at Mother. Doors slamming (GM) and then the angry sound of someone (Mother) in the kitchen.
[poor Mother didn't realize that I had already made & had my coffee and she was trying to figure out how to grind up some beans...and let's just say she made quite a mess.]
She clomped up my stairs with apologies for the exploding coffee grinder sounds and then started to cry. A few days ago I had said how I needed some help getting GM to take a good bath. We have been doing washcloth baths for simple hygiene, but it was time for her to have something more thorough. Mother decided that she was going to get GM bathed.
What she didn’t know is that you can not just ask GM to take a bath. Nor can you say something like, “It has been 2 weeks since you have had a real bath.” & saying or alluding to how dirty GM might be is a big no no. It isn’t Mother’s fault. Hell, I did a million wrong things before I found the solution. It is tedious and GM is never happy to take a bath (the fear of getting in & out of the tub is there even when I am in the room with her). But so far the secret is to run a bath at just the right time when she is getting out of bed, then follow her in the bathroom with a pleasant conversation, then sit on the edge of the tub & suddenly discover a nice bath of warm water. Finally one must exclaim how it would be such a waste for the water to go to no use.
No. Mother didn’t know that was the way, and I suppose I should have had her up to date. What Mother did was tell GM to take a bath and so GM went ape shit. She said a lot of cruel and mean things to Mother- nothing that GM hasn’t said to me- but Mother’s ears are not accustomed and it really upset her. Well, fuck it, it is upsetting no matter how many times one gets reamed out by GM.
Mother went back down to her room “to decompress” and I was stuck with checking on GM. By the time that I was able to unlock her bedroom door (I need more practice at it) GM had forgotten that it was Mother that had tried to get her to take a bath and had decided that I was the culprit. I was greeted with a screaming monologue about how GM was NOT five years old! And just who did I think I was being the big boss. I needed a spanking and if she was dressed she would give me one.
Sigh.
I told her I was sorry she was upset but that I hoped she would read the paper with me. She then made it clear that I could bring her a sandwich and a cup of coffee and then I should not bother her for the rest of the day.
Around 3pm Mother woke up from her nap and realized that she hadn’t given me any presents. She came upstairs with an uncorked bottle of Shiraz, a wine glass and two Ray Lamontagne cd’s. She also let me know that there was peppermint ice cream in the freezer whenever I wanted. Then she gave me her copy of a game I had spotted in her room a week ago: the Sims.
After 2 hours of my playing Sims (holy SHIT is it satisfying. I get to control people. Lovely!) I went downstairs to check on GM again. She was reading a book in her room. I asked her if she wanted some “birthday ice cream” and she didn’t say a word to me. I turned on her reading lamp, collected her lunch dishes, and silently left.
At 6pm Mother decided to make me a frozen pizza as my birthday meal. At this point I had consumed the entire bottle of Shiraz and was having a lovely time drunk Simming. I wasn’t hungry, but since Mother went to so much trouble (heh) I tore myself away from my laptop to eat a slice and spend some time crying with Mother.
“She’s gone.” Is what I said. And she knew exactly what I meant. Even if she snaps back we have had a bitter taste of what is to come. Mother & I said goodnight and both promised to try to make Christmas a good day.
Well it wasn’t. GM didn’t believe that it was Christmas. She didn’t even believe that it was December. She refused to come out of her room as she hadn’t gotten anybody anything and she was certain that there were no gifts for her- what with it not being Christmas and everything.
Mother decided we should bring all of the gifts into GM’s room and turn on a live news channel to verify the date. I have to do that a lot with GM on other days as well - most of the time we just leave the tv on CNN headline news which is torture as they repeat every 20 minutes, but at least it keeps GM in the present.
However, GM was not having any of it and with her little scrawny arms she chucked every present she could lift out of her room. The waffle maker from my Uncle was too heavy for her to lift so she pushed it out with her foot. Mother and I just watched her.
I then did something very awful, but I had to do it. I left. I got in the car and drove around the neighborhood. At first I was numb, but then I kept seeing cars ahead of me pull into driveways and get out with gifts and hugs and my heart just sank. No one would be pulling into our driveway to bring merriment and joy. No one was busy in our kitchen making pies or fruited teas.
Instead I had an overwhelmed with reality Mother and an overwhelmed with disease GM. And as absurd as it sounds I wanted to be able to turn my home into a Sim home like the video game. I wanted to be able to monitor the needs of everyone and be able to give them all that they need to be content.
But it is sometimes just too much. Even for me- the girl that needs to please and clean up all of the messes. This weekend I learned in a very harsh manner that I am utterly alone and without anyone to tend to my needs.
I know that in a few years I will look back on this holiday and the couple of years before it and the couple of years after it and always remember this sadness, this empty and yet heavy heart.
My New Hero:
Flora, a Kimodo dragon at the Chester Zoo in England, has managed to fertilize her own eggs.
Asexual fertilization…lucky bitch.
GM fell
Headline is that she is ok, but my shit was FREAKED out.
It happened around 4pm this afternoon. We had a fantastic day and I was feeling so appreciative of it when I heard her scream followed by a thud. We had just spent a few hours running errands and driving around enjoying the weather. Spirits were high & we were making plans for supper. I got her walker out and while she made her way with it towards the door I ran inside to get the dog so that he could relieve himself. From what I can gather she took her hands off of her walker to pull up some weeds by the front door, lost her balance and tumbled down. She propelled a bit forward and knocked her head on the hard wood floor of the entry hall, her glasses broke and actually cut her nose, and she scraped her right arm up something awful.
I ran towards the door to see GM curled up half inside, half outside and wailing. In my head I was screaming, “FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!” but somehow I found myself being very quiet and calm.
As GM is on plavix to help prevent any more strokes her blood is very thin. So when I was able to roll her over I gasped at all of the blood on her face. Her beautiful white hair stained pink. I did a quick check for broken bones and then ran next door to get the help of the live in nurse that takes care of a neighbor’s Mother. She came over and did a concussion check and helped me get GM into a chair so that we could do a full check for cuts, bruises and soreness. The nurse declared us insanely lucky and said that GM would not need x-rays. She came over at the end of her shit to check on GM again. Thank goodness I remembered that she was next door!
I called Mother & told her to come home as GM was so shaken up and I needed an extra pair of hands to bathe her and clean her cuts.
GM had a HUGE egg shaped lump above her left eye but after a few hours of ice therapy it has gone down completely. In it’s place is already the early indications of a black eye.
If you have any healing thoughts to spare will you send them to my dear GM?
Mood swing Monday
I was all prepared to write a post this morning all about my day trip to St. Simon island with Mother & GM yesterday. It was eventually a really good day, as far as good days go. I was in a mild grump/slump brought to you by my impending period, anxiety about having to ride in the back seat for over an hour with my Mother at the wheel (insert metaphor here), and most of all GM was killing me with her rain man routine. 70 miles of “red car, white car, red car, big truck, where are we going? red car, I’m cold, red car. Where are we going?” Non. Stop.
The trip was planned ages ago as something Mother wanted to do to celebrate her recent birthday (insert more grumblings as I know she ain’t planning jack shit for my birthday…pout). GM’s favorite author (Eugenia Price) was inspired by St. Simon Island and was later buried there. I was hoping that I would be inspired by lush Spanish moss, old cemeteries and sunsets. And I was. Truly. You can look at some of the other photos I took by clicking on the photo below doing that scroll thing.
GM actually (hurrah!) fell asleep on the way home so it was nice and peaceful. When we got home she was SO ready for bed so we did a quick bath and I got her tucked in.
Mondays are generally pretty easy around here. The crosswords are easier and she can do around four before getting cranky. I had also asked her to teach me how to purl today and was genuinely looking forward to it.
Things started off great. She woke up easily and I played one of her favorite games to perk her up. I keep the posh catalogues that come in the mail - you know the ones from T!ffany’s and Needless Mark-Up- and then we go over each page and try to guess how much things cost. There was a thick jewelry catalogue that came with yesterday’s paper and so she got a real kick out of learning about pink and yellow diamonds.
Transitioning from the bed room to the den also went like clock work. I had her mellow and working on puzzles for nearly 3 hours. Then we even attempted a knitting lesson but after I saw her getting frustrated I asked for a rain check. I gathered the knitting needles and yarn and took them back upstairs to my room.
This is where things get fucked up. (just in case you were scrolling down until I got to the point.)
Mother started sorting the bills this weekend. She left them all a mess at the kitchen table. It took all of my strength not to tidy up after her. Ha! Well I have certainly learned my lesson.
When I came back downstairs GM was ripping the mail. She also was clutching bills that were in her name. (nothing that she is financially responsible for- things like her medical insurance) There was clawed bits of mail all over the kitchen floor and GM had an aggressive look on her face that I had not seen in a while.
“You have been controlling my LIFE!”, she screamed at me.
“You always tell me what to DO and I am sick and tired of you bossing me AROUND.”
She raised her hand to hit me and I moved out of the way. She stood there glaring at me for a good minute and then went into her bedroom, mail still clutched in her hands, and tried to slam the door.
I was frozen. Really, I had no idea what to do. So I figured I would treat her like I would like to be treated when I get upset. I like to be left alone for a while to stew and then I need someone to check on me. I waited 15 minutes and knocked on her door. She screamed, “Leave me alone. I’m sick of you.”
ok.
I mean, really, could there be a better day for the dose of my antidepressant to go up. (starting tonight I take two pills instead of one…rock and roll.)
Thirty minutes later I knocked and got no answer, but when I tried to open her door it was locked. Luckily for me I happen to know if you insert a nail in just the right place in the door handle it will open. So there she was, in the dark, fast asleep in her chair. I put a blanket on her legs and crept out.
Now Mother is home & I asked her to wake GM up and put her to bed. I have no idea how that is going, but I tell you I feel like such a failure when shit like this happens. I worry that I am fucking up somehow and doing something wrong. Unfortunately there is no damn rule book when it comes to this disease. Hate that.
Now this may be the worst time to bring this up, but whatever…
You may notice a new button on my side bar under the word “donate”. Yes, that is an actual p@ypal site set up to save for IVF. I feel like an ass for being so blatant, but I don’t think it is any secret that my Alabama house has not yet sold and the longer it sits on the market the farther away my IVF dreams go. I also know that quite a few of you are in the same position I am in and you may think I am a chump for begging. But in the off chance that one of the 200 lurkers reading daily is a bazillionaire - well, that button is for you. heh.
Going back downstairs to see how things are progressing.
Protected: Still here.
Yesterday I tasted the salty flavor of sadness again. It was as if I had found an old sore in my mouth and couldn’t help but nibble at the flesh until the old familiar emotions came to the surface. I feel like I am sleep walking through my life at the moment - the numbness of the past week was killing me. I needed to test myself: can I feel? Has my capacity for emotion completely left me?
& just how did I resurrect emotions? I visited my “wish list” on a popular website. I hadn’t looked at the list since I worked on it last December. It is chock full of baby books, advice for plus size pregnancy, all of the books that were my favorites when I was a child. I scrolled down the list and sobs built up in my throat like wailing regurgitation until I finally let them loose.
I am in mourning for my dreams.
I am jealous of every one that still has hope, those that are able to continue to try, those with unlimited resources, those with husbands, those with good insurance, those that aren’t living with a GM with Alzheimer’s, those that can see a pregnant woman & not think, “why not me?”
In the midst of this sadness an unexpected gift is on its way to me. I can’t write too much about it as just thinking about it makes me weep. Somewhere, out there, a woman has decided to pass on a shit load of lucky IVF meds to me. She doesn’t even know me.
Processing what this gift means is very hard. I want to cling to the familiar sadness, but at the same time someone is literally mailing me hope. I don’t know how I will learn to unclench my fists to accept and embrace such benevolence- oh, but I will. I so fucking will.
This year has not been my best. The year that I was 30 was the year that a part of me died. It’s true- a little bit of my light faded under the dark and deadly clouds of depression. I hope to be able to work at reclaiming that as life is pretty bleak without optimism.
In a few days I will be 31 and my wish for myself is that a Phoenix is hatched.
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And now…the year that was:
January: I said I wasn’t going to make a list of wishes for 2006
February: Damn that Sue Miller for being so spot on with my Capricorn horoscope for February.
March: As much as I try to live squarely in a pragmatic world I have a surprising number of Tori Amos sized fairy tails flitting about my head.
April: I have been wanting to get another tattoo for a while now & just didn’t know when to do it.
May: This morning I had a lengthy battle within myself.
June: Tonight I added a candle for you- I said your name out loud and then struck a match and held it to a brand new wick.
July: GM & I made it back safely to Alabama about an hour ago.
August: I need the comfort and security that only an astrology website can bring me.
September: oh it’s ON, people: operation MOVE THE FAMILY is in full effect.
October: Several of you foxies have asked me how I would feel about kids coming to the shin-dig.
November: There has been a small change at casa Calliope.
December: It’s been a long day - while a part of me wants to construct one of those brilliant and amazing posts you all know and love (heh) the reality is that I don’t have it in me. _________________________________________
Steal this meme or else.
Another STEAL THIS MEME brought to you by Calliope, the girl who is dealing with feelings & too chicken to post about the bitter shit that is simmering over…So have fun and be creative. If you steal it let me know so that I have proof of your affection. (tis the time for the needy)
1) December is to _________ as Sand is to __________.
2) If you gave me _______ I would think you were reading my secret diary (& loving you for it) but if you gave me ________ I may wonder if you really know me at all.
3) My house is decorated with _______.
4) All I want for (insert religious gift giving holiday of your choice) is ________. (different than #2, this is where you tell us how much you really want world peace or mandatory nudity at strip malls…)
5) Giving a loved one soap or any type of body wash is ________.
6) What is your favorite holiday movie?
7) What is your favorite holiday food dish?
Who would win in a street fight? Elijah or Jesus?
9) If I hear one more holiday song I will ______.
10) What is your favorite moment/s of 2006? & for all of you bitters, what is (are) your least favorite moments?
Found: wading bird
According to an NBC Nightly news report that aired last night, the wading birds that have been endangered for quite some time are making a come back. Scientists have been studying and tracking the various bird breeds in the Florida Everglades and are getting excited that so many different types of wading birds are thriving once again.
I was fascinated by this report as not five hours prior I had stumbled across one of these wading birds in my own back yard. Tall, majestic and graceful in a birthright sort of way. I knew when I saw it that I was seeing something powerful.
I also felt something that I hadn’t really felt in nearly a week: emotions.
This past week has been a weird one for me. I have shied away from writing about week one on antidepressants because, to be honest, it was a bit surreal. I didn’t experience feelings in the true sense. Instead I had what can only be described as third person emotions. GM would lash out at me and instead of feeling sad or despondent I was aware of thinking, “This is a sad moment.” When I met a cool neighbor across the street I didn’t ping with emotions but I was aware that I should be having the feeling of gratitude for having a good conversation with someone.
I have felt quite removed from myself and on top of that I have been very sleepy. So basically I slept walked through this past week. I suppose that is a marked improvement to being overwhelmed with sadness. It still isn’t quite how I would like it, but I can see how this medication might help me.
But back to the Sunday morning wading bird, a sort of breakthrough moment if ever there was one. I spied the bird through the den window and ran upstairs to grab my camera all the while muttering, “please still be there, please still be there”. So when I came back downstairs and saw that the bird was still standing regally under the willow tree I felt something. And not only did I feel something, but I was aware that I was feeling it. I was grateful. Completely and not at all in a third person sort of way.
I was able to quietly sneak out the back porch and take a few more photos. With each click of my camera I grew more and more thankful. In a way it felt like I was being reborn. I wasn’t taking my feelings for granted nor was I hating myself for having feelings (something I was starting to do a few weeks ago). This wading bird was the portal to a break in the dark and dreary clouds that have been suffocating me.
This isn’t to say that I feel all better, but for the first time in a very long time I can see hope on the horizon.
Photo Friday: H
H is for hanging out.
Protected: Pink pills
Yesterday was day one of the new pills. They are cute little pink numbers which I find adorable. I pulled out one pill, for my first dose ever, and then proceeded to carry it around all morning. I took it downstairs and put it on the kitchen table. There were morning chores to do, there are always morning chores, and I didn’t want to just take the pill like it was no big deal. There should be some “First Pill” ceremony or at least a moment of silence observed for the end of my life as I once knew it. After I took the first pill I could no longer flit about with sane smugness. I would always have to take a shot if someone declared, “I have never taken an antidepressant” in the drinking game, “I never.”
There was a threshold and the pill was going to carry me over it.
I kept the pill in my line of sight for most of the morning. This was to pay homage to it and also to make sure that Talula didn’t claim it as a miniature Barb!e hockey puck.
Then there was the debate of whether or not I should take it with water or if I could take it with coffee. It appears not to matter, but taking a pill with coffee seems weird (right?). I mean I never took a clomid with coffee (granted I was taking clomid right before I went to sleep…) But still, pills are taken with little cups of water. Everything about this first pill needed to be done to the letter.
Surely there were dixie cups somewhere in the house. When I was growing up my GM always had a stash of dixie cups and kleenex. They were the number one disposed of thing and I used to pause over the garbage bin in her bathroom and marvel at all of the vibrant shades of lipstick that were transferred from GM’s lips to the tissue or cup. One day I pulled out all of the cups and arranged them by shade only to be interrupted by a very annoyed GM. I was then given a lecture on how “unsanitary” playing in someone’s “bathroom trash” was and I still carry a bit of that shame with me. I will never go through your bathroom trash.
But no dixie cups so I settled on the next best thing: a shot glass from a Mississippi Cracker Barrel.
Once I took the pill I tried to just go about my business. I had a hot lunch to make, laundry to start and a den to dust. GM was having a sleep-in sort of day as I figured she would. GM is also Queen of the perky and happy patient syndrome. She puts on quite an act to appear ‘normal’ with doctors and it really tires her out. (so you see I come by that honestly)
Around 3 pm I started to think I might be getting a headache. This is very different from actually having a headache, it is more like seeing the headlights of a car start to round the corner. You can’t quite make out what size of the car is coming, it could be a light on a bicycle for all you know, or it could be lights on a semi truck. There is no telling what sort of headache is about to cross your path, but you know it is coming. I was aware of the soon to be headache for nearly 5 hours. That was fucked up - like a cd that is stuck in a groove of lint.
At promptly 9 pm my headache arrived as a passenger in a caravan of mac trucks. First there was a pain at my temples, then it was the nape of my neck and finally a weird top of my head throbbing.
I can’t believe that the severity of this headache was 100% related to my new pink pills. In fact I think I willed it to come much like you would taunt Beetle-juice. If you say the name often enough the fucker will show up. There was this sense that I needed to have a physical reaction to the new pink pill. Something that would register that a foreign object was now going to be directing traffic in my brain for a while.
And now I am about to take my 2nd pill.
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