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Saturday, July 30, 2011

Been almost 6 months

I'm a half a year older. How about you?

My birthday is next week. I'll officially be 49 and holding.

Bea and I are still struggling, but at least I'm getting a trip to Europe for my birthday. Last year, it was Vegas, which wasn't what I would have exactly chosen. Then seven months later, it was Vegas again for her birthday. I put my foot down and she listened. I chose the places and excursions. Of course, she thinks I should be grateful. I am, but you know what I mean. I'm not much for hand outs.

She has moved with her room mates virtually across the street from me. So far, it's been fine. She's been a carry out chef several times, which I have enjoyed. The difference between her living 2.5h or even 30 min away is that booty calls and sleep overs happen more for her interests than mine. I desperately need my sleep and sleeping with her doesn't provide me a restful night, plus I actually have a kid and a schedule and a life. Also, I'm pretty bored at her place. I am always busy here and am in control of the remote, computer, painting... I am quite happy as an introvert. She and her room mates like crime and blood and jail and yucky reality TV on the tube. It's no wonder people don't rise about life's circumstances when they immerse themselves in such.

Sorry if that was a judgment. Although some people squirm at the thought of presenting a judgment, I am of the opinion that having an opinion is fine. Stating that opinion is fine, too. Her room mates are nice enough people, but are lowlifes. Sorry, but they are. I just choose to surround myself with upstanding citizens. Judgment, again, too bad. It's not that I don't have a heart, it's just that I don't sell myself and my goals short. When you're motivated, people like that judge you, too. And so it goes.

In a strange turn of events a few months ago. P sent me a friend invitation on FB. Could have knocked me over. I didn't bite and emailed from a different account instead, saying I hope he and his family are doing well, plus that my SO wouldn't cotton to him as my FB friend. True, but I didn't want it either. I mentioned that for almost two years I've seen the stats where he's been checking my various blogs, so I know he's kept up with me. I was very glad to find a way to get that nugget of knowledge to him and he hasn't visited since. Alas, but my birthday is the same as his daughter's and that has been his trigger to visit in the past.

My son is almost 14 and going on three. I met with a school psychologist for him this summer and I really feel like I have the tools and confidence to make some headway with him and his school. Maybe they'll listen to me this time as I show them his Interim grades which kicked me in gear each quarter and made me research/practically do his projects and homework and/or bring issues up with teachers who allowed him to turn stuff in a month late and/or begin after school tutoring. I'm going to confess that I push for him to work and I wind up lending more structure than I should, but the kid will not start it for himself. Once started, he's much better, but I know nothing when the teachers fail to communicate with me. I have begun to wish that his ADD had an H thrown in there for fun so that people would actually see him misbehaving and he would receive the attention he needs.

I still have cat #5 and he should go back to the HSoc, but I still can't bear to have them and his errant urin.ation put to sleep. Hey, it's only been nine months he's been incubating here! He's made a lot of progress, but then there are set backs, which include repeatedly taking my beautiful Et.han Allen bedspread to the laundromat. Fucker.

The next month is quite big, in addition to the trip. I have a solo show and have been doing backflips for it. Of course, why else would I do a blog entry other than procrastination?

Monday, February 07, 2011

Mandatory optimism & cheerfulness

First off, I have not read my reader since I committed to reading my reader. Sorry.

I very much enjoy you peeps on FB. If I know you, let me know. I haven't messed up once. Plus, I am a Mafia Wars freak and have close to 1500 friends, so you'll blend in nicely.

I had a chilly convo with my mother this weekend, her complaining that it'd been three weeks. I was rather subdued already, which was nice, b/c I wanted a bit of aloofness. I have this really bad habit of warming up and putting on a show. Can't keep the charm down, even when I should. At the end, she offered up a big pause and then said that if I needed something, to let her know. I really hate asking or groveling. I'm much better at being chatty and tap dancing. For the record, she did truly call to carry on about the new entertainment unit they got to go along with their new 55" TV, how wonderful it is, big it is, etc ad nauseum. If you'll recall, in December I went through similar with her new kitchen appliances. It depresses me the ease my parents have and the sacrifices I went through for it. Goodness knows, besides college and a rood, they didn't provide for me.

Money makes me want to vomit.

Similar is going on with Bea. She throws money at the world, then chides me for buying $100 worth of art supplies every few months. I feel like a second class citizen. I feel like I have earned her trust, but she still wallows. A while back, I mentioned here how she snooped on my computer and even forwarded them to herself. I long ago deleted the offending emails from Lyd and Richard, but Bea now quotes from them when the opportunity arises, hence she doesn't trust me enough to let down her guard. Suffice it to say that it was a very difficult weekend. It is equally difficult to admit that I love her, while the other side of my brain screams L.I.N.E. (I want a tattoo of a simple line) for love is not enough.

I first came up with that concept five years ago. Can't believe it's been so long that P's been out of my life. Well, not all the way out. About 1.5 years ago, he started visiting my art blog. Remembering my birthday set him off. Sometimes he'll visit a couple times in a month. Sometimes three or four will go by. He visited last August for my birthday, then I didn't hear from him. I was kinda relieved. Of course, today he visited. Then he saw my notice for my photography blog, and although it isn't long yet, he went through every page. Although I never intended it as such, there was bait: two photos so far were taken with him by my side. More will follow b/c I have it programmed way out. I guess this probably means he'll come back. Alas. I just don't want him to know that I know.

In the two or three days I didn't phone Bea over the weekend (we had screaming matches on fb email instead), I really missed our telephone routine and stuff. We have a great hang out factor. She wrote me that she wants a partner, not someone to hang out with. I told her that having a good hang out factor is a priority to me and of utmost importance. I would miss that. I cannot be friends with exes so as to preserve hanging out. P had a great hang out factor. We only fought about once a year, but the frustration he brought me has made me fight like a loud, gesticulating Italian.

Hanging out vs. L.I.N.E.

I'm all for compromise; I'm nearing (sigh) 50 and I know the world isn't perfect, have to accept that. She's so young that she still sees roses and white picket fences. She's going to need to compromise, b/c I'm about as compromised as I'm going to get.

~~~

I really enjoyed this video. Check it out. It is my world view set to cartoon.

Wednesday, February 02, 2011

Nothin' much

Things have been going much better.

I've only spoken to my mother once.

I have not spoken to my father again. His sister dared to declare yesterday in FB that she was meeting my father today regarding some of their mother's papers; she needed to sign some things. My sister asked what and my aunt tap danced out of it. I would love to stir up some trouble and get my sister in inquire about today so that I am not seen constantly as the greedy one.

I am back on my computer, but I am still without a printer. Have gone to Kinkos a couple times to print, but I'm realizing how much I have not needed a printer.

Bea and I are getting along much better and I am much happier.

My son and I had some rockiness and I took away his xbox for about three weeks. I waited for him to come up with his own solution and he decided that that last week he had to be polite to me. He was, so I realized that his attitude is a choice, not hunger or hormones. When he got the console back, I made it clear that I am on to him. Even better, he has come when I called, etc. since them. We've made pizza a a couple times and are crazy hooked on Chutes and Ladders. I like this version of him.

Besides touching up an old painting of my wonderful old cat, I have done no painting since Oct or Nov. Usually working outside, I really don't like working from photographs inside. To make up for it, I have been active in installing new exhibits and have begun a daily photography blog. Tomorrow, I am going to be a judge of HS kids portfolios for a society's scholarship prize. All of these are great resume-building things, so that's great, but I am losing painting confidence. Alas.

Redbox calls. Seen any good movies lately? I really like how Redbox sends the Tuesday email of new releases and you can easily reserve yours online, movies to pick up by the next night by 9pm. Great system, although it lacks my ever lovin' indies.



Tuesday, January 04, 2011

Computers and I do not get along, among other entities

This post will be lovely. My computer got major viruses again, the fourth time in a year, to the tune of over $800 total. The last time was off the m effin HP website when I tried to download a printer driver for a borrowed printer due to my printer dying. The last two weeks, I've been using my son's new laptop. Not only did I lose (it was kitty tussle as one ran across the keyboard) the A key on my the precious laptop given by his father, this evening the Enter key just plain died. The switch below the key is broken, so this will be a post wil no Enters. Awkward indeed. Oh, add to that no PW for the Parental Controls, meaning no downloading of goodies like Firefox (or Adobe or anything) and you will truly see what a poor speller I am. That or it's a whole heap o' typos..........................Went to my mother's before Xmas for five days, which was four and a half days too long, although I kept face about it. Without an Enter key, I am blissfully unable to go into full detail, but suffice it to say 1) she hangs in the garage in the steam and salt of FL a very worthy watercolor I professionally framed for her about 25 years ago (in her two bedroom house, she couldn't "find" it last time I inquired a year ago), a large cross stitch I created and professionally framed about 15 years ago, and a professionally framed antique doily made by her grandmother (one of four we'd given to her, us, my grandmother, and my sister) about 20 years ago, then she dared to play dumb that any of it was at issue in her fucking garage; 2) when I confided in her that we often lack food at the end of the month, she later let it slip that she'd consulted her coworkers (who'd I'd only met the day before, as I was quite aware that they knew more about me than me them b/c that's how she rolls) about my 'monthly thing,' this from the woman who has spent several thousand on new kitchen appliances and used money "SHE" inherited from my grandparents while my sister and I have yet to receive a thing and we both go hungry. Sooooo, suffice it to say that the painting I brought her as her gift will be her last one..................................On to my father who called after Xmas - he knows we're impoverished and I am quite sure his mother's life insurance has been paid, but he would never fess up to it being appropriate to pass it along. During his call which served to make me ill on several accounts, he had the nerve to inquire in his ever coy fashion, b/c he feels it's not really any of his business, how exactly is this art thing going for me, although it isn't his business in his own words and he really seemed to believe I should give it up, as the undercurrent. He about swallowed his tongue when I said I'd sold 20 paintings in the last year. Yeah, Pops, I might be poor b/c framing, supplies, and workshops are expensive, but I am pretty good at what I do, even if you wife only appreciates hidious hyperrealistic swamp scenes and has a couple (think coastal Kincaid) in each room................................Heck, I'm good enough to hang in the Garage Gallery. Actually I was just juried into my second gallery and they are thrilled to show my work..................................Bottom line: it is very difficult not even having the support of one's parents, be it professional, financial, or emotional............................. I look forward to returning to therapy after the holidays on tomorrow..........................Bea has been behaving. We've spent a lot of time together and it has been good.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

I love Prudie

Dear Prudence,
My boyfriend of two years says that he will not ask me to marry him unless I take a lie detector test to pinpoint the truth about certain things that have gone on in our relationship. I have been faithful and honest to him throughout the time we have been dating, with the exception of getting caught in some white lies about things that occurred before we were together. He says that if I have lied about little things, then I could lie about big things, and he needs to know he can trust me. I've always been of the mind-set that what happened before you were with your partner is not really their business and doesn't affect the relationship. I refuse under any circumstances to take the test. I've made sacrifices and compromises to keep him happy, but his request is completely unreasonable, isn't it? Is it a sign of overall problems? What should I do?

—Am I Crazy?

 

Dear Crazy,
Your boyfriend is onto something. Before committing to marriage, I think everyone should have their sphincter activity monitored in response to important questions. That way, you establish a baseline of trust. So surely your boyfriend would be willing to be hooked up to a lie detector and asked the following: "Are you a pathologically controlling sicko?" "Do you think of yourself as more of a boyfriend or parole officer?" "In your best judgment, would marriage to you be a living hell?" I'm going to assume that you got caught in some "white lies" because your boyfriend was prying about previous lovers and you knew from experience that if you gave him any names, you would be mercilessly grilled. You should have just told him, "This is none of your business." But as you've discovered, the longer you stay with a crazy, manipulative person, the more you lose touch with normal behavior and begin to doubt your own sanity. Your boyfriend has done you a great favor by insisting on the lie detector. This has revealed to you that the most important question to be asked is the one you put to yourself, which is "What did I ever see in this lunatic?"

—Prudie

 

 

 

Yesterday, I forgot to relate a rather morose detail from the weekend. She's been upset at my lack of sex, swearing my menopausal behaviors to actually mean I am cheating. This weekend, I decided to put my brain over my body and give instead of receiving. When she asked if she could touch me (I never let guys touch me when doing them, either, b/c then I begin to think about that and not them and become selfish), I told her no, that she was the focus. She got angry. I said I was starting my period and I just wasn't interested in me.

 

Then she said it.

 

"Let me see your tampon."

 

It's a classic line I will get to use in couple's therapy as I regain dignity. My therapist was aghast when I told her yesterday. There is some entertainment value, anyway.


Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Email hostage

Although her paranoia certainly predated the more severe version of the recent past, I finally found out the real cause this weekend, beyond her paranoia related to having a lifetime of female scoundrels in her presence, people who lie and cheat with abandon, people who have AIDS and do not inform partners, people who routinely engage in illegal activities that Bea seems to condone, with Bea also doing some illegal crap in there to boot.


So, when she read my email folders at least a year ago as I stupidly left the computer on (hmmm, I should review the blog for the dates), there was more in them than I recalled. After I'd learned she read anything from Richard or Lyd, I deleted everything, so I had no concept of what she read.

That's where she and I differ. I learned this weekend that she has them ... and I don't. During her foray, she forwarded all the emails to herself. She claims to have *only* read them five or six times, but she seems to have them committed to memory.

I have readily admitted to my transgressions here and I honestly admit that all were not transgressions to me. However, I have been nothing but faithful to Bea, although I do understand how one could be driven to cheat now.

So she's read and re-read my emails, has gone through my computer's pictures, has routinely gone through my phone, and a vertical folder of old and personal cards, etc, but somehow I am the bigger scoundrel in this b/c I had a life before her. I keep reminding her to wait another 20 years and see what kind of stuff she winds up doing after broken marriages, engagements, plus dashed dreams of additional children and my own picket fence. Yeah, one tends to react to life when one fights with all of one's might not to just hide under a rock. My life didn't go the way I wanted, so I carved out another life. I have succeeded on my own.

Life. That's my concern. She has Richard's email address, so she has both his name and his recognizable work location. How much of his life is she willing to wreck over two incidents that do not affect her in the least? Over a person I have not spoke to in over a year and a half?

My therapist asked why I would be willing to go through couple's therapy with her. I replied that some ego is involved. I'm not a bad person. I am not how she paints me. My therapist and Bea as well wonder who she knows b/c it obviously isn't me. Well, I deserve some validation about that. I'm not the bad guy here and I don't deserve to be treated as such.

When I asked her to delete the emails, she said she only would after we take them to therapy. She wants a firing squad and I have no idea if she has or has not sent them on to other email accounts just to dodge her promise to delete them.

Things aren't good, but my back is against the wall here. I have to find a couple's therapist.

Tuesday, December 07, 2010

I want to connect with you

I think I am out of touch and I really don't like it. My Google Reader is great, but it is so large and cumbersome that I don't know who I read anymore. It is not up to date or reflect who I want to follow..

If you have a blog I should be reading, let me know. For every one I add, I'll take another off.

Wednesday, December 01, 2010

A dilemma

So I have the opportunity to reunite for lunch (routinely) with at least half a dozen moms from the moms group I was a part of a decade ago. Back then, I was very active, a leader, and a guest speaker twice. For part of it, I was married, but essentially single, and for the rest I was actually single. I left after about five years when my membership was up and my enthusiasm had whittled down. Mostly, my son had started school and I had little in common with new members and their new babies.

Therein lies the rub.

A number of this lunch club spit out babies at will or several had them by accident. One in particular (loathe is too nice a word) trapped her poor husband into procreating without appropriate notice for her last two...out of five. At an after-meeting with just her, another mom, and me, I once told her that I could hit her in the face after another one of her rubs. And I could have. She knew I suffered with infertility and yet took every chance she could to remind me of her fertility.

Sorry, but I tell few that I am atheist, however if you carry on about your religion to me repeatedly in a holier than thou fashion as if it is the only life choice, I will offer an alternative viewpoint. Strongly.

In either situation, I am strangely viewed as the bad guy, which is something I am trying to prevent this time. See, I was the poor single mom who did not have a hubby daddy to buy me a McMansion and a Lexus. Fine, I don't see any of that changing. What did change, though, in addition to many years of reading and crying with infertility blogs, was my art emphasis, my professionalism, and my esteem.

In fact, the only reason I learned these moms still get together was because the nicest among them saw my art at my gallery over Thanksgiving and took the time to look me up and email. Then she asked if I'd be interested in lunch, which of course should not be as earth-shaking as it feels.

Bea accuses me of too much self promotion, considering it akin to attention seeking, but I call it appropriate marketing b/c I am a small business. If I were to go to a lunch with them, I would have to let the babies, riches, new cars, and grand houses all fall to the side, b/c I would get to toot my own horn about something special I was born with and am taking the time to capitalize on. I would not care about their viewing my art or a sale and would never elaborate on the snicker-value of sexual orientation. I just would want them to know that I am in national shows, win awards, get juried in exhibits routinely, and have my own juried gallery position(s). (There may be another coming.)

The art part feels good. Revisiting infertility, or rather the massive fertility of others, does not. Which would you choose?

Monday, November 15, 2010

I feel like it's getting to me

I am beginning to drown, even as I fight it so hard. I fear the darkness coming.

There's too much stress.

The kitchen drain. I can't pay for a better plumber than a kitty litter bucket. Someone (a lawyer) actually clicked "like" on fb when I put that lament. People really don't understand when your house is falling down around your head.

The horrible appliances. On Sunday, my mother called to brag about her new ones being delivered next week. She did a complete and beautiful remodel a few years ago when she bought this new place, so this has been in the works. Her call came only days after I commented to her that I am sick that my parents and grandparents all have had standards of living higher than mine. She replied that hers is higher b/c of her inheritance from her mother. And I am left to wonder why I got none. Why I am always deprived. Why I am left out. Why is my stove from 1979? I don't invite any of them up and they take it personally. Maybe I should flip that thought and invite them so they can see how hard we have it.

Bea thinks I think I deserve too much.

My life's watchword is deprived. I don't get what I want, even all along from the people who were supposed to care for me. It makes me more ambitious and it is held against me in different ways.

No flooring. Have largely been without carpet downstairs for six or seven years. Yes, concrete is just lovely. And warm. Fuck this county and their fucking flood they would not own up to causing.

Parents with all they want and no consideration for their children, except for peanut incentives. It's not so hard to think of my father that way, b/c he doesn't care, but it's hard to think of my mother throwing scraps my way in the form of airline tickets to visit her, which is darned self-serving.

Spending so much on going to the funeral. And it took so much from me physically - almost two dozen hours of driving. My father gave me $50 for gas and I told him it would cover about half; he seemed surprised at that somehow and I was bewildered at his surprise. Then the next day, he gave my sister $50 for gas, but hers cost less than $10, so it wasn't for gas and I wasn't special or actually being cared for. He spent about $100K on his back yard in the last year w/the outdoor room, garage, and workshop. He's living it up! He does not care about me, just that I show my face at his mother's funeral.

Spending so much on trying to display paintings. In the past few weeks, it's another $100 to make coverings for the display panel racks. And more frames, especially small ones for small works. Damn Michael's coupons and double coupons.

Peanuts. My needs are peanuts. Honestly.

Still needing to make panel covers.

Coordinating the holidays w/o success. My mother wants us down, but J goes to his father's at noon on Xmas, so it is limited. Bea flew into a rage when my mother called to ask us down. Bea never communicated what she wanted beforehand and I was noncommittal with my mother; last year, Bea went to my mother's and then left me in a huff the week after to go to the Bahamas for a week. I cannot depend on her. I do not trust her. Yet, I am supposed to keep her on the list of people to juggle and please.

She thinks she's supposed to come first and that's what normal couples do. I'm here to say that my marriage revolved around visiting his maternal grandparents, his mother, his father if we could find him, his other grandfather if we could fit him, my mother, my father, and my grandparents. And this was supposed to be a fun holiday or even a quick weekend! It was not fun for us. It was for them and they expected two visits each time we went to our hometown! It's how life is. At least they were all in the same town and gas was cheap.

I am not Christian, people. Xmas is not my holiday. I do not care anymore and my only expectation is to not have to be unexpectedly alone.

Trying to do what everyone else wants. I am lost in this. Today I had it thrown in my face that she'll ask about getting together and I'll say that I need to ck my schedule, that her living closer means we should see each other more. Heck, she can come to any drop off, pick up, or Opening she wants to! She's mad at me when she excludes herself!

It isn't out of meanness for me to check my calendar. It is out of consideration. It is what normal people do. Her schedule is not normal and mine is sparse, but I do, for example, need to deliver and pick up paintings according to others' schedules. This week, besides therapy and my son's school schedule, it is a relatively busy one in that I have a drop off on Tuesday evening, a pick up Thursday evening, and a combo on Saturday. All told, it's less than six hours max and completely reasonable. If at all possible weather-wise, I will paint out with a friend, so my official work hours total less than 10 for the week, because I can squeeze in painting fixes/finishing anytime and I don't need to begin framing again until next week. My stuff is flexible and, if it isn't, it doesn't take too long.

I am ambitious. I have been showing less than two years. I average 1-2 sales per month. That's pretty damn good. I sure would appreciate support instead of competition and jealousy about it.

Bea's current fb status.

“Those who do not hate their own selfishness and regard themselves as more important than the rest of the world are blind because the truth lies elsewhere”

Apparently I am selfish and pompous and blind, b/c my mother wants us to come down two years in a row, b/c I paint out with a friend about twice a month on Thursdays, b/c I participate in art shows which actually influence little else and take little time, b/c b/c b/c. I honestly feel like the most unselfish person in the world. I cannot fathom if I had a 50h+commute job each week.

I wrote her a note and said her status must be about herself, b/c I am not selfish in the least.

Wanting happiness and thinking I'd be successful at it if alone, but sadness and frustration win over. I had a fb conversation with an old guy friend from hs. His sister and mother have died over the past few years. When his sister was ailing, one of her friends got her claws into my friend. He resisted for a very long time, but wound up being grateful for her caregiving. Now he's miserable and it's been something like four years; his mother's been gone a year. He's suffered significant losses, yet felt such responsibility to this stalkerish woman, whom he cannot please. Now he feels like he's had enough and I commented that the holidays make it tough. He said it would be January. I agreed, for me, although I probably said the same thing last year. In my case, when it's good, it's good, but I never know what's lurking. And then it's bad.

I always seem to manage on my own. Deprived and depraved, I muddle through. I am not stronger or happier. I am just surviving, but it's getting to me.

Tuesday, November 09, 2010

New Kid on the Block

We got a new cat. He and his already adopted sister were rescues turned into the Humane Society several months ago when his owner was going away for a mere 10 days. He's solid black and three years old. He's huge, but skinny. He could be formidable if he tried. However, he doesn't try. I call his digs in J's bedroom "The Presidential Suite" b/c Malc takes all his meals, toileting, and bedding in J's room.

We always try to introduce cats slowly, leaving them alone in J's room for two days. By then, everybody can't wait to meet. Problem is, Malc was too slow to change gears and the others are now ignoring his repeated hisses, choosing to chase him back into his room instead. The others were very gracious and sweet in their efforts for over a week.

We got him b/c he was accustomed to living with and sharing a cage with other cats, but he's not a cat's cat.. He was also very affectionate with the HS staff. If I go to the top bunk, he is also affectionate with me. He purrs and flops around, but I've not pet him outside The Presidential Suite, although he has left it a few times for little bits.

I hope he comes around soon. It's been two weeks. At least this is better than Memph, who lived under my bed for 9 months. Bea suggested closing J's door and forcing Malc out, but I'd rather he be where he feels safe and I know his alternative would be under my bed. BTDT.

In short, Malc really likes his new, big, Presidential cage. I think he is happy. He's a sweet and well-behaved cat. Also J always wanted a cat to be *his* cat and I think Malc is vying for the title.

Tuesday, November 02, 2010

Hello and goodbye

First off, Val, it is lovely to hear from you. I actually bought an envelope for your stuff in past few days. Here's hoping I can use it for you soon. Very sorry about the funeral, but it sure is cool and fitting somehow to set off to one by horse.

Secondly and on a similar note, my grandmother is dying. I am thrilled I pushed for J and I to go down to visit her and the rest of the family in August.

This was her conversation with J ad infinitum. No, I meant ad infinitum::
Grandma: How old are you, J?
J: I am 12, 13 next month.
Grandma: What grade are you in?
J: I will be going in the 7th grade next month.
Grandma: Oooooo, I remember 7th grade. It was really hard.

Or, for a little variety:
Grandma: How old are you, J?
J: I am 12, 13 next month.
Grandma: What grade are you in?
J: I will be going in the 7th grade next month.
Grandma: Oooooo, I remember 7th grade. It was really easy.

Seriously. And J was such a good sport. Wish he were so nice to me.

I guess I just had the feeling. Then she had pneumonia in September, seemed to be over it, but is now shutting down from it and heart failure, hospitalized last week. My father and aunt plan to remove everything but the morphine tomorrow. I remember ex's grandmother lived over three weeks with no food or water before she died, but I hope mine doesn't hold out that long.

My grandmother was the youngest of five children. Her father abandoned the family when she was just over a year old. It was the mid-1920's, but it wasn't the Roaring Twenties. Times were tough. Her mother worked in a cotton mill and it was a great day when her brother brought them some food or shoes; he and his wife were the family infertiles and I guess other family members reaped the benefit.

My grandmother got married at 15, the last out of the household, pushed from the nest early. My grandfather was six years older and died four years ago. Back then, in the throes of early Alzheimer's, my grandmother was not a picnic. Usually rather insincere and playing favorites, she was never a picnic, really. He said of her before he died, "Her.mean.has.mean."

After two years of marriage, they had my father. Six years later, his sister was born. I learned a few years ago why the childbearing was sparse between them. I'd wondered if it were a case of secondary infertility, but it wasn't. She wanted another and he didn't. (I wonder why?) When she threatened to leave, he anted up.

I have J this weekend, in case there is a funeral. My father already offered up that it would be on a weekend and I am grateful for that. I just hope my sister doesn't yell at me like she did before my grandfather's funeral. As tough as I am, I've had enough yelling of late.

Friday, October 29, 2010

I guess it's over

I'm not sure if I'm relieved, but I sure am stunned.

I went over there early this morning so I could go to her follow up appt after surgery two weeks ago. She'd had an allergic reaction and vomiting; the surgeon didn't communicate anything about it, either to me with the post-op interview or to us at the appt. The only way we knew anything was because we'd asked for the surgical report during the part of recovery I could be with her. Of course, I'm good at questioning doctors, so I offered up my services. And she was very interested in my being there.

Sounds break up-worthy, huh? I was doing her a favor.

After the appt, we went for breakfast and then we were going to a movie. On the way, my phone rang. It was Lyd, so I just silenced it. Turns out, that means to Bea that I have something to hide. We were 10 minutes into the movie when she said we needed to leave. Once out, she verbally attacked me about me being untrustworthy and that I was cheating on her, if only by sexting or phone sex. This diatribe was to include the revisiting a guy who I thought was a painting sales lead who called a few weeks later to ask me out; she actually thinks that if she had not witnessed the call that I'd have done him. I find all this really insulting and dealing with her baggage is beyond old.

I kept waiting on it to blow over in one of her moods, but she kept at it, so I left. In fact, I believe her old therapist drove several hours today to comfort her. (cough - this therapist is personal and talks of her own life - so wrong) Then Bea wrote she is going to see a hypnotherapist this weekend. She spoke of taking a trip without me again; the last time was the Bahamas. She spoke of drastic and quick personal turn arounds. I just don't think her capable.

She would not pick up the phone, so I left her a couple phone messages. In one, I replied about one of her emails. She is hooked on me, has even called herself obsessed. She generally behaves fine around me, so I don't worry about it. Mostly, I think she's needy. So today she spoke of this addiction and I replied that she has me up on a pedestal, so perfect that I could never live up to her image of me. Then when I am absolutely human (although not guilty), she gets angry b/c I don't live up to the dream.

It has been wrong for me to try to accommodate her. She is always so demanding.

Several weeks ago, she told me that she started taking prenatal vitamins. By ultrasound, they determined she has an oddly-shaped uterus and said that five days after her next cycle begins, she would be scheduled for an HSG. That's on Monday. I will not be there due to art sales stuff, but I'm pretty sure I would not have gone. I do not support this or her timing of it. She's only 30; she could wait.

As far as me going to the wild parties she in her paranoia ranted about, I guess she forgets I am a mom and I talk to her a dozen times a day on the phone. And oh? the sex? that stuff we rarely do? yeah, I could care less. I am menopausal. Sex is a turn off. I need to change my byline, which I would miss more that I miss sex. That is one absurd charge against me.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Wee hours

I woke up at 1:30. Unusual for me, I actually opened my eyes to look at the clock.

Two hours later, I was still awake, so I finally got up. Again, unusual for me to not wallow as long as possible in bed.

After I had maneuvered myself to try to sleep in a sitting position for my cough, I realized why I was buzzingly awake - another inhaler OD - so it's useless to stay in bed. I've had the cough get progressively worse over the last week and had only recently allowed the inhaler at my bedside again. (For years, I kept it in my pillowcase. Did you hear about the woman who stored hers there along side her .22 and she *thought* she was using her inhaler that night? True story. She lived.) I've also been exhausted and had a hard time getting up in the mornings, both presumably from my erratic thyroid and the heaviest period of my entire life - no exaggeration. Such is menopause - you might skip a month or three, but you're gonna pay.

So the inhaler OD just means I am jittery while I can simultaneously breathe. It's a trade off. I'll use the nebulizer, which I forget I have, when I come down.

Last night, I spoke to my mother about her exMIL, who she never liked. (See previous comments.) When I said I was contemplating a drive across several states to provide some respite care this weekend as my grandmother isn't expected to make it out of the hospital (which I believe is an exaggeration by the staff) due to a hypothetical "event" which will not mesh with her pneumonia or her new found (only by them and not communicated a month ago, not by her own cardiologist two weeks ago) heart irregularieis, my mother stridently said to take care of myself and my own interests, to include my opportunity for retail next week which only comes up less than once a quarter. As I responded to her, it's not the money for the week as much as it is the less fickle vestedness in the future for this opportunity. That and I've worked hard to be prepared.

Besides, she said, your grandmother would not have crossed the street for you, why do this for her?

And she was right. I'd felt guilty that I had not participated in her very healthy three years in nursing home care and I know the circumstances have worn on her two children, although my father has kept himself to a strict once a week visitation schedule until a month ago with her first hospitalization for pneumonia. However, she has three grandchildren within two hours; they are capable and much closer. I can't save the world.

I was really lucky, so to speak, having grandparents in my life for a long time. I had all four until I was past 30 and three until my mid-40s. It doesn't look like I'll make 50 with one, but not many do.

The rain started again. Maybe I can prop myself up for a few precious hours of sleep.