Life drives me crazy sometimes...Just when I think things are starting to fall into place, everything just falls apart...I am getting too old for this shit and just don't have the patience anymore...
I've made some progress in my life, but it's been so slow going and is always one step forward, two steps back...
I'm tired of starting over...with everything...
Jobs...I have a job...but am, by no means, happy or fulfilled...I'm just getting by...I settled for what I could get and, because I am tired of and hate starting over, will probably just stay where I am and continue to be unhappy and unfulfilled...stuck in my current living situation...barely getting by...and watching my multiple college degrees gather dust and my student loans for the useless and worthless pieces of paper they turned out to be accumulate interest because I can't afford to pay them...
Relationships...I tend to stay in unhappy relationships for far too long and the last one took the cake...I've told myself that it was for the kids...or not wanting to give up hope...and those things were probably part of the reason for part of the time...but I think deep down I was just not wanting to start over and/or afraid to be alone...I truly believe that relationship damaged me beyond repair...I find myself incapable of trusting and constantly questioning...and since he hasn't and, it appears, won't, let me go and/or leave me alone anyway...ever...I'm about to give up hope of ever being able to have a happy and healthy relationship...and there's part of me that thinks that's not such a bad thing...that just being alone would do me good...I am damaged goods and my self esteem is so broken that I'll never be able to be happy anyway...I'll always believe everyone else is prettier, smarter, more talented, and just better than me and that whoever I'm with "wants" everyone else...and is just keeping me around to use me for whatever they can get out of me and/or because I'm "there"...until someone else comes along that will be there and better fits their "ideal" partner...which can't possibly be me for anybody...and I'll always believe I am being played and lied to and duped ...and there's no one on the planet with enough patience to deal with that and do what would need to be done to earn my trust...Yes, I said earn...Because, with me, trust is not just given, it's earned...
Life in General...I've dealt with so much crap with jobs and relationships...and life in general...Have gone above and beyond in jobs only to be tossed to the curb like a bag of trash...Having to go through the agony and hassle of finding another job...Only to have it happen again...And now I'm in a dead end part-time minimum wage job...Forty-two fucking years old with a Bachelor's degree and three Associate's degrees with a 4.0 GPA to boot and a rather impressive work history that should make me a shoe-in for any position I apply for...and all I could get was a job as a cashier...and that's only because I had a friend that worked at the place...What a joke...I'm such a fucking loser...Two long term relationships that turned into marriages and failed after 10 and 12 years...which, the fact they lasted as long as they did should be a testament to my love and dedication, but really is just a reflection of how much of a loser I am...no one in their right mind would deal with the crap I dealt with in these two relationships...which were the same in some ways, but very different in others...and I dealt with it for over half of my life...And, both times, when I finally walked away, I left everything of any significant value behind...which, in a way, I don't even care...I'm not materialistic, for one thing...it's just "stuff" in my eyes...and can be replaced...and someday my hope is to have a place of my very own filled with stuff that is all mine that I picked out and fits my tastes...if I meet someone who has similar tastes or doesn't mind mine who wants to share that place and add some of their own stuff, great...but, if not, then I'll have a place that is comfy and cozy and decorated just the way I like and want it to be...hopefully...someday...God willing...but starting over and having to get everything from furniture to dishes just sucks...
I don't know...I guess I'm just feeling down...and losing hope...and am just tired...Tired of rehashing the same damned arguments with my stupid ex over and over and over again...Thinking he finally gets it...only to have the same argument a couple months later...Tired of feeling like I'm not good enough...that I don't deserve to be happy...that I never will be happy...that I'm not worthy of someone even trying to do what needs to be done to make me happy and comfortable when it comes to a relationship...that I'm not worthy or deserving of a decent job...that I don't measure up...that I'm broken...weird...whatever...
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
My Life--The Beginning...
I was born February 20th, 1972, the illegitimate child of Carol and John. My parents never married due to my Father being very abusive towards my Mother. My Father's name did not appear on my birth certificate and I was given my Mother's last name at the time, which was that of a man to which she had been married for a brief time prior to meeting my Father--my Mother would later remarry leaving me to carry the name I was given, which held no meaning whatsoever to me, alone. I believe that simple fact affected me a great deal when it came to self-identity and fitting in and things of that nature.
Despite having a quick and extreme temper, my Father was always good to me. I was his "little girl" and he treated me like a princess. He was and to this day still is the most intelligent person I've ever known--he had a great mind that gained and stored facts and knowledge like no other I've seen and he could recall that information with ease and accuracy. While he was known as a tough guy and even referred to as "Big John," he was a big old softy with me and would bestow upon me kisses on the cheek as I sat on his lap and even wrote a very sweet poem to me on the day I was born. I never once for even a minute doubted my Father's love for me.
Despite being an alcoholic and having some issues of her own, my Mother was also good to me. I was her baby--the youngest of four children. Smart and tough in her own right, my Mother was a positive influence on me and in my life more than a negative one. She was passionate and not afraid to stand alone when it came to doing what she thought was right or needed to be done. In general, she was a people pleaser who helped others without hesitation when they needed it and would go so far as to borrow money from one friend only to turn it over to another friend who was in a jam and needed it.
My Mother was married five times in her life--the first was a brief marriage to her high school sweetheart, the second to the father of my three siblings, the third to the man who's last name I was given, the fourth lasting only eighteen months until his death which left her a widow, and the fifth occurring in her sixties up until her death. I think her history and the fact she ended her first three marriages, which were abusive and unhealthy, contributed more than I'm willing to even admit at this time to the formation of my views on and behaviors in relationships.
I guess you could say both of my parents had it rough growing up, which probably explains that initial attraction to one another. Both came from poverty stricken homes and families where alcoholism and violence were an everyday occurrence. Things were different back then--you didn't have children services or the court system interfering with people's lives like you do today.
Being the baby of the family, I guess I was spoiled to some extent, especially, I'm sure, in the eyes of my older siblings. I had a ton of awesome toys and usually got my way. I think I might've also been babied a little more than my siblings due to being considered fragile in some ways. I was born with dislocated hips and spent the first year of my life going to doctors and receiving extensive treatment for that condition. I later developed arthritis in my legs and dealt with a great deal more pain than most kids due to that. In addition, I was thin to the point of being "too skinny" during my childhood and adolescent years, which probably also played a role in being considered fragile.
My story with regard to my siblings is different than most. I have two older half brothers that resulted from an early relationship of my Father's who I'd never and still haven't met (though I've spoken to both as an adult). They were both in their twenties when I was born and the oldest already had a child when I came into the world, so I was born an aunt. Then I had three older half siblings from my Mother's second marriage who were significantly older than me--a brother who was 12 when I was born, another brother who was 11, and a sister who was 8. I think being the only child from my Mother and my Father and growing up with three older siblings who all came from the same relationship contributed a great deal to my feelings of being different, an outcast, and never quite fitting in. My siblings' Father also had four more children from his second marriage, who were also the half siblings to my siblings, which made me feel like I didn't mean that much to them, though I'm sure they never meant to make me feel like that.
Being a single mother, my Mom always worked multiple jobs to make ends meet and didn't have a great deal of time for me in those early years. My siblings were often stuck watching me and I credit them for teaching me many of the things a mother would normally teach her child. I remember all three of them teaching me how to swim, my Brother teaching me how to ride a bike, and my Sister spending several weeks before Kindergarten teaching me my ABC's and how to count, blow a bubble, tie my shoes, etc. Even though I'm sure they resented me at times due to my being the baby and getting my way most of the time, as well as being stuck watching me when they'd rather be out having fun, I felt loved and doted on by my siblings much of the time.
To be continued...
Despite having a quick and extreme temper, my Father was always good to me. I was his "little girl" and he treated me like a princess. He was and to this day still is the most intelligent person I've ever known--he had a great mind that gained and stored facts and knowledge like no other I've seen and he could recall that information with ease and accuracy. While he was known as a tough guy and even referred to as "Big John," he was a big old softy with me and would bestow upon me kisses on the cheek as I sat on his lap and even wrote a very sweet poem to me on the day I was born. I never once for even a minute doubted my Father's love for me.
Despite being an alcoholic and having some issues of her own, my Mother was also good to me. I was her baby--the youngest of four children. Smart and tough in her own right, my Mother was a positive influence on me and in my life more than a negative one. She was passionate and not afraid to stand alone when it came to doing what she thought was right or needed to be done. In general, she was a people pleaser who helped others without hesitation when they needed it and would go so far as to borrow money from one friend only to turn it over to another friend who was in a jam and needed it.
My Mother was married five times in her life--the first was a brief marriage to her high school sweetheart, the second to the father of my three siblings, the third to the man who's last name I was given, the fourth lasting only eighteen months until his death which left her a widow, and the fifth occurring in her sixties up until her death. I think her history and the fact she ended her first three marriages, which were abusive and unhealthy, contributed more than I'm willing to even admit at this time to the formation of my views on and behaviors in relationships.
I guess you could say both of my parents had it rough growing up, which probably explains that initial attraction to one another. Both came from poverty stricken homes and families where alcoholism and violence were an everyday occurrence. Things were different back then--you didn't have children services or the court system interfering with people's lives like you do today.
Being the baby of the family, I guess I was spoiled to some extent, especially, I'm sure, in the eyes of my older siblings. I had a ton of awesome toys and usually got my way. I think I might've also been babied a little more than my siblings due to being considered fragile in some ways. I was born with dislocated hips and spent the first year of my life going to doctors and receiving extensive treatment for that condition. I later developed arthritis in my legs and dealt with a great deal more pain than most kids due to that. In addition, I was thin to the point of being "too skinny" during my childhood and adolescent years, which probably also played a role in being considered fragile.
My story with regard to my siblings is different than most. I have two older half brothers that resulted from an early relationship of my Father's who I'd never and still haven't met (though I've spoken to both as an adult). They were both in their twenties when I was born and the oldest already had a child when I came into the world, so I was born an aunt. Then I had three older half siblings from my Mother's second marriage who were significantly older than me--a brother who was 12 when I was born, another brother who was 11, and a sister who was 8. I think being the only child from my Mother and my Father and growing up with three older siblings who all came from the same relationship contributed a great deal to my feelings of being different, an outcast, and never quite fitting in. My siblings' Father also had four more children from his second marriage, who were also the half siblings to my siblings, which made me feel like I didn't mean that much to them, though I'm sure they never meant to make me feel like that.
Being a single mother, my Mom always worked multiple jobs to make ends meet and didn't have a great deal of time for me in those early years. My siblings were often stuck watching me and I credit them for teaching me many of the things a mother would normally teach her child. I remember all three of them teaching me how to swim, my Brother teaching me how to ride a bike, and my Sister spending several weeks before Kindergarten teaching me my ABC's and how to count, blow a bubble, tie my shoes, etc. Even though I'm sure they resented me at times due to my being the baby and getting my way most of the time, as well as being stuck watching me when they'd rather be out having fun, I felt loved and doted on by my siblings much of the time.
To be continued...
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
In Memory of my Brother (Rambling)
Three years ago today, my older Brother, Vince, passed away at 48-years-old. He'd had a heart attack a few days before and was without oxygen for over 10 minutes--a brain scan performed after he was stabilized revealed significant brain damage and little to no hope of a recovery and his oldest daughter, after discussing the matter with family members, had to make a decision to remove him from life support. It was a very unpleasant time for my family and me, as was much of 2010.
Vince was a great older brother. Typical in many ways as far as picking on my Sister and me, he was also untypical in his levels of fun and creativity, as well as love. I believe his level of picking on us actually went above and beyond that of typical as he'd pinch us with his toes hard enough to leave bruises and also threw lit matches at us, but the fun of having him as an older brother far outweighed the annoyance of it. He was often stuck babysitting my cousins, who were close to my age, and me--not sure if it was that my oldest Brother and my Sister had other plans, or if he just didn't mind, or what. To entertain us, he would bring his audio tape recorder and we'd create little plays. I remember making many, many of these tapes and having the tapes on hand for quite some time until one day they just weren't around anymore--what I wouldn't give to have just one of these tapes around to listen to and remember and smile. The plays were often horror stories--I remember Vince would narrate in a scary voice not unlike that of Vincent Price from movies of long ago and have us kids say lines or scream at key moments and that sometimes we even worked from a script of sorts. It was so much fun making these tapes and getting to be little actors for them--I have no memory of being shy whatsoever when we'd make them...no giggling or shyly refusing to speak or scream or anything like that--I mastered the blood curdling scream rather well at a very young age thanks to my older brother.
Vince was the sibling I felt closest to and who I felt was the most like me. We were both awkward and creative and didn't quite fit in. Both of us had a few close friends who themselves were as close as siblings and never sought to have a bunch of friends in the interest of giving the impression we were popular--such things didn't interest us. He was also like me in that he wasn't afraid to have serious and deep discussions when needed. When all my older siblings had moved out and I was left to fend for myself and deal with our Mother alone and on my own, Vince was the one person I could turn to for advice or to vent. While my oldest Brother and my Sister were a great deal alike and interested only in having fun (partying) and didn't like deep discussions that only served to bring them down (kill their buzz), Vince didn't mind. He was in-the-know about our Mother's ways and was also able to put himself in my shoes in order to try to understand what I was going through--while when it was all 4 of us at home our Mother would alternate on whom she took out her frustrations, he was able to realize and acknowledge that with it just being me, I was dealing with pretty much 4 times as much as any of my 3 older siblings had dealt with alone. I could confide in Vince about anything that was going on and know he would not only lend a sympathetic ear, but would also try to help me as much as he could with sound advice on how to handle a situation.
Vince was also probably the least judgmental person I've ever known--I could tell him anything and everything--from my deepest, darkest secrets to anything of which I felt ashamed or embarrassed...and know he would never pass judgment or think any less of me. His lifestyle being one that is not always accepted by others, I believe he'd made a conscious decision to not judge others and accept people for who they were in the hopes they would extend him the same courtesy. In exchange, I did extend him that courtesy and never judged him or his lifestyle. I knew he was a good person with a good heart and that was all that mattered to me.
Vince and I were also the closest to our Mother who, even though she had her moments when she was drinking, was also a good person with a good heart--we were both able to look past the mistakes and occasional bad times and see and accept her for who she was. When our Mother died in March of 2010, Vince took it very hard and to heart. Her death got him thinking about his own mortality and he even started planning his own funeral a couple months prior to his own death. When he ended up dying a short time after our Mother, I found myself deep in thought about it and thinking and feeling it was like he knew his time was coming.
Vince's death was heartbreaking, to say the least. As I recall, the incident which led to his death took place on July 6th--his roommate called for an ambulance after becoming concerned about Vince's condition and behavior. He was living in Florida and the Police were also called to the scene--according to the police report on the matter, when the paramedics and police arrived, they found Vince disoriented and unresponsive to questions. When asked whether he wished to be transferred for further medical assistance, the paramedic claimed Vince had shook his head indicating "No" and had his roommate sign a form indicating his refusal of treatment--the Police officer on hand indicated he was in the room when the question was posed and did not witness this communication and that Vince only stared straight ahead with a completely blank expression on his face. After the paramedics left the scene, the Police officer felt something just wasn't right and "Baker acted" him--a practice in Florida whereby an individual can be transported in handcuffs in a police cruiser without consent if the officer feels it is necessary and in the best interest of that individual...if it is felt the person's life is in danger. It is believed Vince went into full cardiac arrest in the back of the cruiser--Vince was not breathing when the officer arrived at the hospital and was believed to have been without oxygen for over 10 minutes. This whole situation has left a bad taste in my mouth as I believe if Vince had been in an ambulance, where he would've been able to be given oxygen while en route to the hospital, he would have survived the incident--the medical personnel at the hospital were able to get his heart beating and stabilized just fine--it was the brain damage resulting from the lack of oxygen that directly contributed to the decision to remove him from life support and, ultimately, his death after that removal from life support. Granted, Vince may have gone on to have a subsequent heart attack and pass away at a later date, but he would've at the very least survived this particular incident and lived another day and been able to talk to his family at least one more time.
There was a somewhat strange occurrence after Vince was removed from life support that warmed my heart . His Stepmother had gone to Florida to be by his side and decided to start calling family members one-by-one so we could say goodbye--she'd put the phone up to Vince's ear and give us time to say what we had to say and bid him farewell. I was the last person she called--we were having my Stepdaughter's high school graduation party and I believe she'd called a couple times and no one answered, so she had to keep trying. She finally got through and put the phone up to Vince's ear so I could say goodbye--I told him I loved him and that he could let go and be at rest. His Stepmother told me it was like he was waiting for me as he passed away a very short time after I finally spoke to him.
Incidentally, I believe my Mother waited to hear from Vince before she would let go when she was dying a few months prior to that. Vince had actually had a trip to Ohio planned in advance that was to take place a few days after our Mother's death--Mom was very much looking forward to his visit before she took a turn for the worse...he'd told her of wanting to visit after she was diagnosed with cancer and it was determined it was too advanced, nothing could be done, and she was placed in hospice care at home...and that he wasn't sure if he'd be able to afford to visit "now" and later for a funeral...and she'd indicated she preferred he come visit while she was alive and wouldn't care if he couldn't attend her funeral. While he tried to move up his visit when she did take a turn for the worse, he ended up being unable to do so without it costing a great deal more, which he couldn't afford. While our Mother was very much "out of it" in her final couple days, I believe she was still looking forward to seeing him...the rest of us kids were visiting her at the same time and my Sister was telling our Mom, "We're all here" and she responded with a look that can only be described as saying, "No you're not"--confused and almost angry at the suggestion that we were "all" there. I believe our Mother fought to hang on longer than she should have--a blood clot had broken loose in her leg and went into her lungs and she struggled for every breath, but still hung on for over 24 hours. We had put the phone up to Mom's ear so Vince could say goodbye, but I think somehow she still hoped to see him in person as she continued to hang on. After watching her struggle for so long and speaking to Vince and telling him of my intentions, I finally went to her side and told her that Vince had tried to move up his visit so he could see her, but couldn't, so it was still going to be a few days before he would be there--then I told her that he loved her, that he knew she loved him, and that he understood she couldn't wait for him...and let her know it was okay...that she could "let go"...and that she didn't have to continue to struggle and suffer and try to wait for him. It was almost as if she was waiting for permission...or for someone to let her know for certain that he couldn't be there or wouldn't be there in the very near future and that it was okay to let go...as she did let go a very short time after that.
Death is a strange thing and something I've already dealt with a great deal in my life...my Stepfather, Grandfather, Father, a very good friend, my best friend ever, cousin, Mother, 19-year-old Step Nephew, Brother, and Uncle (just off the top of my head). There has been strange phenomena that occurred with many of these deaths and a sense that the individuals, even being in a diminished mental state, were aware of what was happening and I personally felt connected to those occurrences in a couple of the incidents.
My Brother was truly one of my favorite people and his death was very hard to take. I miss him and think about him a lot and often wish he, as well as my Mother, was still around to listen when I need to vent and to provide guidance and advice when I've been going through difficult times. He was loving and supportive and not afraid to express his pride when he felt it--I believe he was one of the only family members to send a Congratulations card when I graduated from college and was elected to City Council. He was a good person and while I do wish he was still here, I'm grateful that he was a part of my life for the time he was...
Vince was a great older brother. Typical in many ways as far as picking on my Sister and me, he was also untypical in his levels of fun and creativity, as well as love. I believe his level of picking on us actually went above and beyond that of typical as he'd pinch us with his toes hard enough to leave bruises and also threw lit matches at us, but the fun of having him as an older brother far outweighed the annoyance of it. He was often stuck babysitting my cousins, who were close to my age, and me--not sure if it was that my oldest Brother and my Sister had other plans, or if he just didn't mind, or what. To entertain us, he would bring his audio tape recorder and we'd create little plays. I remember making many, many of these tapes and having the tapes on hand for quite some time until one day they just weren't around anymore--what I wouldn't give to have just one of these tapes around to listen to and remember and smile. The plays were often horror stories--I remember Vince would narrate in a scary voice not unlike that of Vincent Price from movies of long ago and have us kids say lines or scream at key moments and that sometimes we even worked from a script of sorts. It was so much fun making these tapes and getting to be little actors for them--I have no memory of being shy whatsoever when we'd make them...no giggling or shyly refusing to speak or scream or anything like that--I mastered the blood curdling scream rather well at a very young age thanks to my older brother.
Vince was the sibling I felt closest to and who I felt was the most like me. We were both awkward and creative and didn't quite fit in. Both of us had a few close friends who themselves were as close as siblings and never sought to have a bunch of friends in the interest of giving the impression we were popular--such things didn't interest us. He was also like me in that he wasn't afraid to have serious and deep discussions when needed. When all my older siblings had moved out and I was left to fend for myself and deal with our Mother alone and on my own, Vince was the one person I could turn to for advice or to vent. While my oldest Brother and my Sister were a great deal alike and interested only in having fun (partying) and didn't like deep discussions that only served to bring them down (kill their buzz), Vince didn't mind. He was in-the-know about our Mother's ways and was also able to put himself in my shoes in order to try to understand what I was going through--while when it was all 4 of us at home our Mother would alternate on whom she took out her frustrations, he was able to realize and acknowledge that with it just being me, I was dealing with pretty much 4 times as much as any of my 3 older siblings had dealt with alone. I could confide in Vince about anything that was going on and know he would not only lend a sympathetic ear, but would also try to help me as much as he could with sound advice on how to handle a situation.
Vince was also probably the least judgmental person I've ever known--I could tell him anything and everything--from my deepest, darkest secrets to anything of which I felt ashamed or embarrassed...and know he would never pass judgment or think any less of me. His lifestyle being one that is not always accepted by others, I believe he'd made a conscious decision to not judge others and accept people for who they were in the hopes they would extend him the same courtesy. In exchange, I did extend him that courtesy and never judged him or his lifestyle. I knew he was a good person with a good heart and that was all that mattered to me.
Vince and I were also the closest to our Mother who, even though she had her moments when she was drinking, was also a good person with a good heart--we were both able to look past the mistakes and occasional bad times and see and accept her for who she was. When our Mother died in March of 2010, Vince took it very hard and to heart. Her death got him thinking about his own mortality and he even started planning his own funeral a couple months prior to his own death. When he ended up dying a short time after our Mother, I found myself deep in thought about it and thinking and feeling it was like he knew his time was coming.
Vince's death was heartbreaking, to say the least. As I recall, the incident which led to his death took place on July 6th--his roommate called for an ambulance after becoming concerned about Vince's condition and behavior. He was living in Florida and the Police were also called to the scene--according to the police report on the matter, when the paramedics and police arrived, they found Vince disoriented and unresponsive to questions. When asked whether he wished to be transferred for further medical assistance, the paramedic claimed Vince had shook his head indicating "No" and had his roommate sign a form indicating his refusal of treatment--the Police officer on hand indicated he was in the room when the question was posed and did not witness this communication and that Vince only stared straight ahead with a completely blank expression on his face. After the paramedics left the scene, the Police officer felt something just wasn't right and "Baker acted" him--a practice in Florida whereby an individual can be transported in handcuffs in a police cruiser without consent if the officer feels it is necessary and in the best interest of that individual...if it is felt the person's life is in danger. It is believed Vince went into full cardiac arrest in the back of the cruiser--Vince was not breathing when the officer arrived at the hospital and was believed to have been without oxygen for over 10 minutes. This whole situation has left a bad taste in my mouth as I believe if Vince had been in an ambulance, where he would've been able to be given oxygen while en route to the hospital, he would have survived the incident--the medical personnel at the hospital were able to get his heart beating and stabilized just fine--it was the brain damage resulting from the lack of oxygen that directly contributed to the decision to remove him from life support and, ultimately, his death after that removal from life support. Granted, Vince may have gone on to have a subsequent heart attack and pass away at a later date, but he would've at the very least survived this particular incident and lived another day and been able to talk to his family at least one more time.
There was a somewhat strange occurrence after Vince was removed from life support that warmed my heart . His Stepmother had gone to Florida to be by his side and decided to start calling family members one-by-one so we could say goodbye--she'd put the phone up to Vince's ear and give us time to say what we had to say and bid him farewell. I was the last person she called--we were having my Stepdaughter's high school graduation party and I believe she'd called a couple times and no one answered, so she had to keep trying. She finally got through and put the phone up to Vince's ear so I could say goodbye--I told him I loved him and that he could let go and be at rest. His Stepmother told me it was like he was waiting for me as he passed away a very short time after I finally spoke to him.
Incidentally, I believe my Mother waited to hear from Vince before she would let go when she was dying a few months prior to that. Vince had actually had a trip to Ohio planned in advance that was to take place a few days after our Mother's death--Mom was very much looking forward to his visit before she took a turn for the worse...he'd told her of wanting to visit after she was diagnosed with cancer and it was determined it was too advanced, nothing could be done, and she was placed in hospice care at home...and that he wasn't sure if he'd be able to afford to visit "now" and later for a funeral...and she'd indicated she preferred he come visit while she was alive and wouldn't care if he couldn't attend her funeral. While he tried to move up his visit when she did take a turn for the worse, he ended up being unable to do so without it costing a great deal more, which he couldn't afford. While our Mother was very much "out of it" in her final couple days, I believe she was still looking forward to seeing him...the rest of us kids were visiting her at the same time and my Sister was telling our Mom, "We're all here" and she responded with a look that can only be described as saying, "No you're not"--confused and almost angry at the suggestion that we were "all" there. I believe our Mother fought to hang on longer than she should have--a blood clot had broken loose in her leg and went into her lungs and she struggled for every breath, but still hung on for over 24 hours. We had put the phone up to Mom's ear so Vince could say goodbye, but I think somehow she still hoped to see him in person as she continued to hang on. After watching her struggle for so long and speaking to Vince and telling him of my intentions, I finally went to her side and told her that Vince had tried to move up his visit so he could see her, but couldn't, so it was still going to be a few days before he would be there--then I told her that he loved her, that he knew she loved him, and that he understood she couldn't wait for him...and let her know it was okay...that she could "let go"...and that she didn't have to continue to struggle and suffer and try to wait for him. It was almost as if she was waiting for permission...or for someone to let her know for certain that he couldn't be there or wouldn't be there in the very near future and that it was okay to let go...as she did let go a very short time after that.
Death is a strange thing and something I've already dealt with a great deal in my life...my Stepfather, Grandfather, Father, a very good friend, my best friend ever, cousin, Mother, 19-year-old Step Nephew, Brother, and Uncle (just off the top of my head). There has been strange phenomena that occurred with many of these deaths and a sense that the individuals, even being in a diminished mental state, were aware of what was happening and I personally felt connected to those occurrences in a couple of the incidents.
My Brother was truly one of my favorite people and his death was very hard to take. I miss him and think about him a lot and often wish he, as well as my Mother, was still around to listen when I need to vent and to provide guidance and advice when I've been going through difficult times. He was loving and supportive and not afraid to express his pride when he felt it--I believe he was one of the only family members to send a Congratulations card when I graduated from college and was elected to City Council. He was a good person and while I do wish he was still here, I'm grateful that he was a part of my life for the time he was...
Saturday, July 6, 2013
When I was Little (Poem)
When I was little
I didn't have a care
I'd run and play
And barely brush my hair
I wasn't much bothered
By my unusual life
I'd just go with the flow
And rarely felt strife
When I was little
Life was mostly fun
Laughing and singing
With just about anyone
I didn't stress much
About bills and romance
When an opportunity arose
I wasn't afraid to take a chance
When I was little
I felt so much love
I questioned very rarely
Not even if there's a God above
I didn't think about
Such serious matters
My discussions consisted of
Only frivolous chatter
But now I'm grown
And life is so tough
I sometimes feel
Like I've just had enough
I want to run away
Or going into hiding
This is the truth
That I'm confiding
I don't feel much joy
I stress all the time
Sometimes I feel
Like I'm losing my mind
And I wish and I pray
Though I'd never tell
That I was little again
That would be so swell
To not have a care
Nor a single concern
To not have to think
But only have to learn
To be little again
Would just be so great
But I cannot go back
And that is just fate
I didn't have a care
I'd run and play
And barely brush my hair
I wasn't much bothered
By my unusual life
I'd just go with the flow
And rarely felt strife
When I was little
Life was mostly fun
Laughing and singing
With just about anyone
I didn't stress much
About bills and romance
When an opportunity arose
I wasn't afraid to take a chance
When I was little
I felt so much love
I questioned very rarely
Not even if there's a God above
I didn't think about
Such serious matters
My discussions consisted of
Only frivolous chatter
But now I'm grown
And life is so tough
I sometimes feel
Like I've just had enough
I want to run away
Or going into hiding
This is the truth
That I'm confiding
I don't feel much joy
I stress all the time
Sometimes I feel
Like I'm losing my mind
And I wish and I pray
Though I'd never tell
That I was little again
That would be so swell
To not have a care
Nor a single concern
To not have to think
But only have to learn
To be little again
Would just be so great
But I cannot go back
And that is just fate
Friday, July 5, 2013
Family Time (Rambling)
So, I spent the 4th of July with my brother, his girlfriend, his daughter, and my own daughter...and a couple random people (his girlfriend's family) that were there for only part of the time. It was good day and it was nice to have that family time--I've missed it. It was nice to have my daughter be able to spend time with her cousin that is only a couple years younger than her and who she hadn't seen or spent time with in a'while--they got along really well and had a lot of fun together. I think my daughter had more fun with her cousin than she has had with some of her friends recently.
My brother has been going through a lot lately--and so have I. While we haven't been extremely close and have had our issues from time-to-time, he is my brother and I do love him...and it's nice to have people in your life who know exactly how and under what conditions you grew up and were there 24/7 and experienced it first hand, so have some understanding of why "you" are the way you are...because they're the same way in a lot of ways. So, even though I usually only hear from him when he needs something...and that was how I came to hear from him recently and got invited to a cookout at his house...I realize that he does try to give back in his way...the cookout being the way this time. I also realize that, in a way, it speaks volumes that he chooses to come to me in his time of need...that he knows, no matter how long it's been since we last spoke or saw each other, I'll help him if I'm able to. He has 5 other sisters he could have asked for assistance, but he came to me. Some might think that reflects badly on me...that it says I'm weak or give in or allow myself to be used or taken advantage of...and that may be true to an extent...but I think it also shows that I try to be there for the people I care about and try not to hold things against them...and, while I may complain about him not being around and only contacting me when he needs something, I do still love him...unconditionally...no matter what.
Having family on the brain, it's only appropriate to mention that today is my Stepdaughter's 21st birthday. She and I also have had our ups and downs, but I'm proud to be her mother--the only mother that she's ever had, really. She's put me through hell at times, but she's another who was there 24/7 and experienced first hand the same conditions I lived under from the time she was 8 until she was 18, so has a unique understanding of why I am the way I am...as I do her. When my mother died just a few months before my Stepdaughter's 18th birthday, she was there for me more than anybody else--and that's the truth. While I think a friendship of sorts existed between her and me prior to that, the friendship really solidified after my Mother's death and I sobbed uncontrollably at my daughter's high school graduation not only out of pride of the event (which at times I wasn't sure was going to happen), but out of sadness from the realization she was grown up and was going to be leaving home and joining the Navy and I was losing my best friend. While I may not agree with every choice or decision she's made, she's become a strong, independent young woman for whom my heart is filled with pride and love...and I will always be here for her...and will always love her...unconditionally...no matter what.
I don't know if my family members feel the same way about me, but I hope so...for their sake...for truly loving someone is very fulfilling...and, because I love them, I want them to experience and feel that same fulfillment and joy, which can't be matched...
My brother has been going through a lot lately--and so have I. While we haven't been extremely close and have had our issues from time-to-time, he is my brother and I do love him...and it's nice to have people in your life who know exactly how and under what conditions you grew up and were there 24/7 and experienced it first hand, so have some understanding of why "you" are the way you are...because they're the same way in a lot of ways. So, even though I usually only hear from him when he needs something...and that was how I came to hear from him recently and got invited to a cookout at his house...I realize that he does try to give back in his way...the cookout being the way this time. I also realize that, in a way, it speaks volumes that he chooses to come to me in his time of need...that he knows, no matter how long it's been since we last spoke or saw each other, I'll help him if I'm able to. He has 5 other sisters he could have asked for assistance, but he came to me. Some might think that reflects badly on me...that it says I'm weak or give in or allow myself to be used or taken advantage of...and that may be true to an extent...but I think it also shows that I try to be there for the people I care about and try not to hold things against them...and, while I may complain about him not being around and only contacting me when he needs something, I do still love him...unconditionally...no matter what.
Having family on the brain, it's only appropriate to mention that today is my Stepdaughter's 21st birthday. She and I also have had our ups and downs, but I'm proud to be her mother--the only mother that she's ever had, really. She's put me through hell at times, but she's another who was there 24/7 and experienced first hand the same conditions I lived under from the time she was 8 until she was 18, so has a unique understanding of why I am the way I am...as I do her. When my mother died just a few months before my Stepdaughter's 18th birthday, she was there for me more than anybody else--and that's the truth. While I think a friendship of sorts existed between her and me prior to that, the friendship really solidified after my Mother's death and I sobbed uncontrollably at my daughter's high school graduation not only out of pride of the event (which at times I wasn't sure was going to happen), but out of sadness from the realization she was grown up and was going to be leaving home and joining the Navy and I was losing my best friend. While I may not agree with every choice or decision she's made, she's become a strong, independent young woman for whom my heart is filled with pride and love...and I will always be here for her...and will always love her...unconditionally...no matter what.
I don't know if my family members feel the same way about me, but I hope so...for their sake...for truly loving someone is very fulfilling...and, because I love them, I want them to experience and feel that same fulfillment and joy, which can't be matched...
Sunday, June 23, 2013
Lost Loved Ones & Ghost Stories (Rambling "Story")
As those of you who have read all my posts may have guessed, I've experienced quite a bit of loss in my life.
The first significant loss I remember was the death of my Stepfather when I was 7-years-old. He was a good guy. My Mom had known him for years and he absolutely adored her and had been asking her to marry him for most of those years. She finally agreed. For a Stepparent, he was good to me. His plan was to adopt me not only because he adored me almost as much as he adored my Mother, but also so I would be eligible for all the benefits afforded to family members of those who worked for his employer--he was a sailor with one of the companies that had the big boats on the Great Lakes. My "real" Father did not oppose my Stepfather adopting me as he knew the benefits were significant and worth it and my Mother and Stepfather made it clear my real Dad would always be my Dad and would always be in my life--I would essentially have two Dads. Unfortunately, my Stepfather's life came to an end a mere 18 months after my Mom had married him before the adoption could be finalized--he had a massive heart attack on the boat on which he worked that was believed to have killed him on-the-spot (he was found dead in his quarters). He was only 38-years-old.
Shortly after my Stepfather's death, I had a strange experience that may or may not have been his ghost. My older cousins were watching and hanging out with me for the day--it was just us "kids". I don't remember what our parents were doing. A short time into the day, while roaming the neighborhood, we all started hearing someone calling my name as clear as day as if the person were right there with us. The voice was somewhat soft and distant sounding (best described as having a "haunting" quality), but still very clear and audible at a "normal" volume, and just kept saying, "Annie...Annie". It gave all of us the chills. None of us were ventriloquists or anything strange like that. When the voice continued to call my name pretty much constantly throughout the day, no matter where we were in the neighborhood, including once night came and we all went indoors, we started getting fairly freaked out. The voice was still as clear as day and sounded like it was coming from inside the home--we searched every nook and possible hiding spot in the entire home and found no one besides ourselves. The voice quieted for a'while and I was the first to fall asleep and my cousins swore that after I fell asleep they started hearing foot steps outside the home--they separated so that one of them could check the steps outside leading up to each of the outside entrances and, even while the sound of footsteps continued, none of them could see anyone or anything outside. The strange occurrences came to a quick halt after that, to never occur again, but stuck with all of us for many years.
After my Stepfather, I experienced my Grandfather's (the last of my Grandparents as the rest had passed away before I was born) death from a heart attack when I was 11-years-old. My Father passed away from lung cancer when I was 15-years-old. My best friend passed away when I was 21-years-old--her death was related to a longstanding and ongoing addiction to crack cocaine. My first cousin, Andy, passed away when I was 34-years-old and he was only 38-years-old from complications related to leukemia--he was the first of my generation to pass away. In 2010, when I was 38-years-old, my family had a horrible year as far as deaths with my Mother passing away March 3rd from lung cancer; a Stepnephew dying April 4th officially from hypothermia after the small boat he was on was caught in a storm that came suddenly and unexpectedly on that unusually warm April day; my Brother leaving us July 10th related to a heart attack a few days prior that caused loss of brain function and a subsequent decision to remove him from life support; and an Uncle passing away December 23rd also from a heart attack. There were some strange occurrences with some of these deaths, but aside from my Mother, which I'll discuss momentarily, nothing significant enough to make me think it was anything more than coincidence, like a shadow seen out of the corner of my eye, a strange and/or vivid dream, and that type of thing.
Regarding my Mother, I already mentioned an event that occurred on my birthday in 2012 in the Letter to my Beloved Mother. My daughter also experienced an event in January 2011 that she said was a dream, but pointed out when she told me the story, that it seemed real and she felt like she was really only half-asleep. She had a "dream" that my Mom came to her room (through the wall, not the regular entrance), was wearing a white night gown with flowers on it (she was wearing a hospital gown when she passed away), went & stood by the piano music box (that my Mom said she wanted my daughter to have when she died), smiled, said "Boo!" in a joking way, laughed, smiled again, and waved...that's when my daughter woke up and was looking at the piano when she opened her eyes. For some reason, even though it scared my daughter at the time, it brought me comfort...I like the thought that my Mom went to visit her and is watching over her...I want to believe there was some realness to that dream. By the way, the "Boo" thing is something my Mom would totally do...anyone that knew her and her sense of humor would agree. She would've never wanted to frighten her favorite grandchild, so would've "haunted" her exactly as my daughter described.
In addition to close family members, there were a couple strange experiences in a home in which my husband and I resided. First, there was the night my husband swore he saw a female figure in white dragging herself across the kitchen floor. On a separate night when I was the only one awake, I saw a male figure dressed in all black go from a back bedroom into the bathroom--I thought it was my husband until the figure never came out of the bathroom and I went to investigate only to find my husband sound asleep and wearing only his underwear. I woke him to ask if he'd gone to the bathroom a few minutes prior, to which he firmly responded he had not, had been sound asleep, and acted as if I was crazy for asking.This was not one of those "I thought I saw out of the corner of my eye" events--I was looking directly head on in that direction after hearing a noise which, at the time, I assumed was the sound of him getting up to go to the bathroom. Another incident that I alone experienced early one morning when everyone else was still asleep was a low and deep male voice mumbling something--it was at a normal volume and I've never doubted what I heard--I nearly jumped out of my skin and immediately got the chills when it happened. A few months after these occurrences, the body of a woman was found 50 feet directly behind the home in a wooded area--foul play was most definitely suspected as the woman was wearing only a (white) t-shirt and underwear with a pair of jeans placed neatly underneath her, but the crime was never officially solved due to the decomposed state of the body. The woman was found in March of 2001 and had gone missing six months prior in September of 2000, about a month before we moved into the home--she had lived a few blocks from where she was found, which was the closest wooded area to her home.
I am not one of those that believes anything and everything without question--I usually need some kind of proof. I don't believe in aliens or Big Foot and have even had my questions regarding God. But I have experienced some things that have made me wonder what happens after we pass away from this world. Were these ghosts? Were they perhaps dreams or unexplained hallucinations (related to being tired and/or delirious)? In the case of the voice calling my name, which several of us heard, was it a practical joke of some sort--for which the culprit opted not to reveal their identity (ever)? I don't know the answers to these questions--I only know that these things happened, that it felt very strange when they happened, and that they cannot be explained.
The first significant loss I remember was the death of my Stepfather when I was 7-years-old. He was a good guy. My Mom had known him for years and he absolutely adored her and had been asking her to marry him for most of those years. She finally agreed. For a Stepparent, he was good to me. His plan was to adopt me not only because he adored me almost as much as he adored my Mother, but also so I would be eligible for all the benefits afforded to family members of those who worked for his employer--he was a sailor with one of the companies that had the big boats on the Great Lakes. My "real" Father did not oppose my Stepfather adopting me as he knew the benefits were significant and worth it and my Mother and Stepfather made it clear my real Dad would always be my Dad and would always be in my life--I would essentially have two Dads. Unfortunately, my Stepfather's life came to an end a mere 18 months after my Mom had married him before the adoption could be finalized--he had a massive heart attack on the boat on which he worked that was believed to have killed him on-the-spot (he was found dead in his quarters). He was only 38-years-old.
Shortly after my Stepfather's death, I had a strange experience that may or may not have been his ghost. My older cousins were watching and hanging out with me for the day--it was just us "kids". I don't remember what our parents were doing. A short time into the day, while roaming the neighborhood, we all started hearing someone calling my name as clear as day as if the person were right there with us. The voice was somewhat soft and distant sounding (best described as having a "haunting" quality), but still very clear and audible at a "normal" volume, and just kept saying, "Annie...Annie". It gave all of us the chills. None of us were ventriloquists or anything strange like that. When the voice continued to call my name pretty much constantly throughout the day, no matter where we were in the neighborhood, including once night came and we all went indoors, we started getting fairly freaked out. The voice was still as clear as day and sounded like it was coming from inside the home--we searched every nook and possible hiding spot in the entire home and found no one besides ourselves. The voice quieted for a'while and I was the first to fall asleep and my cousins swore that after I fell asleep they started hearing foot steps outside the home--they separated so that one of them could check the steps outside leading up to each of the outside entrances and, even while the sound of footsteps continued, none of them could see anyone or anything outside. The strange occurrences came to a quick halt after that, to never occur again, but stuck with all of us for many years.
After my Stepfather, I experienced my Grandfather's (the last of my Grandparents as the rest had passed away before I was born) death from a heart attack when I was 11-years-old. My Father passed away from lung cancer when I was 15-years-old. My best friend passed away when I was 21-years-old--her death was related to a longstanding and ongoing addiction to crack cocaine. My first cousin, Andy, passed away when I was 34-years-old and he was only 38-years-old from complications related to leukemia--he was the first of my generation to pass away. In 2010, when I was 38-years-old, my family had a horrible year as far as deaths with my Mother passing away March 3rd from lung cancer; a Stepnephew dying April 4th officially from hypothermia after the small boat he was on was caught in a storm that came suddenly and unexpectedly on that unusually warm April day; my Brother leaving us July 10th related to a heart attack a few days prior that caused loss of brain function and a subsequent decision to remove him from life support; and an Uncle passing away December 23rd also from a heart attack. There were some strange occurrences with some of these deaths, but aside from my Mother, which I'll discuss momentarily, nothing significant enough to make me think it was anything more than coincidence, like a shadow seen out of the corner of my eye, a strange and/or vivid dream, and that type of thing.
Regarding my Mother, I already mentioned an event that occurred on my birthday in 2012 in the Letter to my Beloved Mother. My daughter also experienced an event in January 2011 that she said was a dream, but pointed out when she told me the story, that it seemed real and she felt like she was really only half-asleep. She had a "dream" that my Mom came to her room (through the wall, not the regular entrance), was wearing a white night gown with flowers on it (she was wearing a hospital gown when she passed away), went & stood by the piano music box (that my Mom said she wanted my daughter to have when she died), smiled, said "Boo!" in a joking way, laughed, smiled again, and waved...that's when my daughter woke up and was looking at the piano when she opened her eyes. For some reason, even though it scared my daughter at the time, it brought me comfort...I like the thought that my Mom went to visit her and is watching over her...I want to believe there was some realness to that dream. By the way, the "Boo" thing is something my Mom would totally do...anyone that knew her and her sense of humor would agree. She would've never wanted to frighten her favorite grandchild, so would've "haunted" her exactly as my daughter described.
In addition to close family members, there were a couple strange experiences in a home in which my husband and I resided. First, there was the night my husband swore he saw a female figure in white dragging herself across the kitchen floor. On a separate night when I was the only one awake, I saw a male figure dressed in all black go from a back bedroom into the bathroom--I thought it was my husband until the figure never came out of the bathroom and I went to investigate only to find my husband sound asleep and wearing only his underwear. I woke him to ask if he'd gone to the bathroom a few minutes prior, to which he firmly responded he had not, had been sound asleep, and acted as if I was crazy for asking.This was not one of those "I thought I saw out of the corner of my eye" events--I was looking directly head on in that direction after hearing a noise which, at the time, I assumed was the sound of him getting up to go to the bathroom. Another incident that I alone experienced early one morning when everyone else was still asleep was a low and deep male voice mumbling something--it was at a normal volume and I've never doubted what I heard--I nearly jumped out of my skin and immediately got the chills when it happened. A few months after these occurrences, the body of a woman was found 50 feet directly behind the home in a wooded area--foul play was most definitely suspected as the woman was wearing only a (white) t-shirt and underwear with a pair of jeans placed neatly underneath her, but the crime was never officially solved due to the decomposed state of the body. The woman was found in March of 2001 and had gone missing six months prior in September of 2000, about a month before we moved into the home--she had lived a few blocks from where she was found, which was the closest wooded area to her home.
I am not one of those that believes anything and everything without question--I usually need some kind of proof. I don't believe in aliens or Big Foot and have even had my questions regarding God. But I have experienced some things that have made me wonder what happens after we pass away from this world. Were these ghosts? Were they perhaps dreams or unexplained hallucinations (related to being tired and/or delirious)? In the case of the voice calling my name, which several of us heard, was it a practical joke of some sort--for which the culprit opted not to reveal their identity (ever)? I don't know the answers to these questions--I only know that these things happened, that it felt very strange when they happened, and that they cannot be explained.
Saturday, June 22, 2013
Letter to My Beloved Mother
Introduction: This was a Facebook note I wrote on February 22, 2012--2 days after my 40th birthday. As you can see, I've been doing this soul searching thing for a'while now. This one was pretty touching and made me cry when I wrote it. Rereading it, I realize that I've lost a lot of the faith and hope that I once had...and, also, that I haven't had anything really profound, that I took as a sign, happen in quite some time. It used to be that when I was really feeling down, at the end of my rope, and losing hope, something would happen to lift me back up and restore my faith and hope. This letter talks about a really positive meeting I attended that restored my hope and rejuvenated me...not having any of those events for many months (I believe since the meeting I referenced), a year after I wrote this I made the decision not to run for City Council again. In the past several months, I've felt like there's been a dark cloud hovering over me and casting a shadow of negativity on me, my life, and everyone around me. But, somehow, as I write this tonight and am reading some of my old notes on Facebook, I feel like that cloud is getting ready to dissipate and allow the light, which will appear much brighter than any other I've ever seen, to return to my life.
Dear Mom,
With the passage of my birthday, I'm inching closer to that dreaded day...the anniversary of your passing. March 3rd will be here too soon. I miss you all the time...thought I saw you on the morning of my birthday...choosing to believe I did. With the celebration (if you want to call it that) of my 40th birthday there's come a lot of reflection recently. Been doing lots of analyzing of my life past, present, and future...and trying to figure out exactly what I want. I can sum it up in one word--happy. Not sure how I'm going to get it exactly, but feel like I'm starting to get on the path towards it...baby steps...and feel like I'll make it there with you to guide me. I believe you sent me a message tonight...just wanted you to know I got it. Thanks! Been dealing with a little more stress than usual lately, but have a feeling everything's going to be ok...just a bump in the road...this vehicle is still in good shape and moving forward.
Just reread the line about your message...reminded me of watching "Signs" and "Sixth Sense" the other day...in both, of course, the dearly departed sent messages to their loved ones...it might all be b.s., but maybe not...maybe everything that's been happening...and the seemingly coincidental timing of it all...isn't a coincidence at all...but is exactly what was supposed to happen. That M. Night Shyamalan is a wise one...
Everything has been so surreal...there has to be a reason for it all...I just need to keep my eyes and ears open for it to be revealed...
Even the other day I attended this random meeting...the 5th that week...wasn't even sure if I wanted to go because it had been such a hectic week...but felt I had to because I didn't think anyone else (from Council) was going to go...and it was related to my committee...so I went...and am SO glad I did...the people that happened to be there...the topics that were discussed...even one project the hosts mentioned they were thinking of starting...it just seemed like I was exactly where I was meant to be at that moment...the right place...at the right time...I so needed that.
Not the first or only time that's happened either...I didn't realize it until just now...but it's been happening for a'while now...probably since shortly after you passed...Is it your presence I'm feeling in these moments? The people and events that have come into my life...and that I've chosen to accept...Wow! That's some deep stuff...
I remember growing up and the times we would be so broke and it seemed there was no hope...and just when we were ready to throw in the towel, something would happen to get us through it...I hated it back then, but am so thankful for it now...made me strong...made me have faith...made me believe that no matter how bad things get, better times are ahead...
On my birthday, your cousin Gary's daughter commented about how you use to go there and would talk about me...and were so proud of me...I miss that...I still remember right before the election when you told me that no matter what happened, you were proud of me just for running...and commented about me doing something important and trying to make a difference...it's kept me going....in the times where people that I know you would just look at...or spend a minute with....and be filled with disgust (like a certain someone you pointed out to me way back in '99)...are trying to bring me down...you've kept me going...and have made me realize there are certain people that, if they don't like me, I must be doing something right...
I know this kind of rambles...hope you don't mind...it's 2:00 a.m. and I'm beat...
Now that I got this off my chest, hopefully I'll be able to get some rest.
Peace to you...I love you...
Me
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