Whiney whiney BITCH PANTS

I'm really in a self pitying mood lately.

It's my upcoming birthday/ big news of if this cycle turned out well or not.  I think.

Or it could just be that I feel like throwing a temper tantrum single every day.

I'm scared that finding out the results of the pregnancy test will make me spiral down into a deeper sadness over the bad luck and unpleasantness that seems to follow me through out my life lately.

It's like no matter how hard I try, things SUCK and will continue SUCKING for... an indefinate amount of time.

I'm sorry that I'm being such a whiner but I have really had it.

This birthday (and year) was supposed to be the year of ME.

Now all special plans and mentions of magical fun times have been swallowed into my family's typical obsession  with all things depressing & sad.

My grandma being in hospital is the icing on the cake - we spent much of last year in hospitals & palliative care wards with my uncle.  Our family really needs a break.  We were going to take a cruise together (ALL of us, which has NEVER happened, and D has never even left our home province!) but... that's cancelled now. (Don't misconstrue this, I love my grandma and am so sad about the state of her health.  I don't want to abandon her in her time of need, and same goes for my Dad (it's his mother).  I guess I'm just being selfish when I say "when will it be time for GOOD TIMES???" 

Seems like the last several years have just been full of shit.

But, the thing that's making me the MOST upset is that my parents signed me up for that presentation (about a Slovak writer who was deeply affected by the loss of his family through the Holocaust) that I've been complaining on twitter about for weeks.  They didn't even really ask me.  And it's going to take up most of my birthday weekend, and prevents me & D from being able to go anywhere. And it's such a depressing topic to make matters even worse.   Every play or poetry reading that my parents are involved in is always about death.  Talk about morbid!

My birthdays in the last 10 years have been full of tears, lonlieness & aggravation.  I was really hoping that for my dirty 30 things would be better. 

Doesn't look like it.

I'm still trying to hold out a bit of hope for a BFP but the bigger part of me is telling my hopeful part to not get too excited.

I'm just not a fairy tale ending kind of girl.

blargh.

Prepare yourselves.
I'm angry.
I'm sad.
I feel guilty about both of the above.
I'm not sure where the guilt is coming from - story of my life.

This post may be a doozy.

I haven't blogged in a week.  Yesterday was a week since Sessie had to be put down. I have been moping through, trying to be 'normal' ever since.

I even went on a mini-camping trip this weekend, which turned into more of a booze fest/stay up all night like teenagers trip.  Not exactly what the doctor ordered for me.   Not saying it wasn't fun, but now I gotta add recovering from a party weekend to the list of other stuff going on in my mixed up head.

I miss Sess terribly every day. Every time something in my life went wrong she was such a strong support to me.  She was always there through my workdays which more often than not are incredibly frustrating, boring & upsetting. I miss her little voice. She'd so often wake up from a cat nap and say "prrrow?" really softly from her spot on the armrest of the couch right beside where I do most of my work.  I really miss that.  It reminded me to breath sometimes when things are work are just too overwhelming. And I miss having her as a reminder of my life before D.  I feel like I've all but lost the woman I was before. She was the last concrete link.

I have been withdrawing (other than on Saturday night when I was quite outgoing in my smirnoff ice induced mood).  My tweeties may or may not have noticed that I'm kinda quiet. (For a change...) I don't know what to say!  Everything that comes out of my mouth feels like a complaint, and since I know so many people on Twitter who are going through such hard times I would rather be a supporter than a complainer. 

But I don't really know how at the moment.  Nothing feels good.  Everything feels faked, forced, frusterating.  And my fuse is extremely short.  EXTREMELY.  Like.. maybe non-existent.  Don't light a match around me. I'll blow.

Today when D got back from work we were short with each other.  And now he's gone out for the evening leaving me to stew.  This is a very bad bad thing. I don't stew well.

I've been trying to throw myself into work but it's frustrating knowing that I have no financial control or freedom, despite my immense responsibility to this company. I am resentful. This makes me not want to work, but the thought of having free time to think is terrifying me.

All in all - I'm pretty toxic at the moment. 
And in an effort to not toxify you, my dear readers, I will say goodbye now and hope that the next time I write I'll be a little (or a lot!! Fingers crossed!) aggravated.

#beingabigfathugewhalesucks

I'm in a dark hole that I am digging further and further into.
Went for a hike on Saturday, and despite many AMAZING photos, and good company, the one thing that is sticking in my brain are the (earth-shattering-reality-bringing) images of me on the video that D took.
I'm a ginormous fat blob.
I can't believe I let myself get like this.
I weeble.  I wobble. 
And I was fucking sore yesterday.  After a WALK. 
And I'm totally stuck in a job that perpetuates my lifestyle of sitting at home, eating, and being depressed.  And not having enough time for myself - despite a clear need.

And...
I'm officially too depressed at the moment to be insightful. ...

to be continued...... 


ps.  I posted this to reach out to anyone who may feel like this at times too. You're never alone. And neither am I. Sorry for the uber depressing nature, but it happens to all of us from time to time.

My last Passover as a neice - and a quick country drive.

I'm not sure what to write.
I'm not even sure I know what I'm thinking about anymore.
The past weekend has been a whirlwind - it's almost Tuesday and I can hardly remember Friday - Sunday. 

But I'll try to recap it. It's the only thing I can think to do to try to keep my brain from whirling out of control and winding up in a dark place.

Friday - was s'posed to leave early to go and visit D's sister up north but when I called my Mom she said that my uncle was doing really badly.  We decided to go to the hospital and decide for ourselves if we should go anyways.  Things had not changed substantially since we had been there on Sunday, however they were not good.  I decided that I needed to go and get @sarahnryan ready for phone calling because when he does pass away I'm not going to have any time or inclination to do any work requiring me speaking to people. The show must go on, so it's better if she is ready ahead of time.  We are getting her to take over most of the customer calling for work so that I can focus more attention on bookkeeping and records management.

And I also wanted to get really really sloshed on a Friday night for a change. It's been a loooooong time since I've partied and really let loose.  D doesn't really drink and I don't want to drink alone, but when we go up North we sometimes partake. I didn't get totally wasted, but was drunk enough to think that sleeping on the floor was a good idea once we realized that we didn't have the plug for our air mattress with us.  But not drunk enough to sleep through the night on an un-inflated mattress.   BOO. 

Saturday - LAZY day, LOVELY day, burning movies, chatting, went for a walk to the 'downtown' core of Thornbury (two streets, lovely little clothing & art shops, little deli's and restaurants and bakeries).  We picked up some yummy homemade sandwiches and returned back to @sarahnryan's for the rest of the afternoon of laziness.  Set out to go home at around 5pm.... took the route bypassing Barrie again, driving along Airport Rd. to 89, then 89 to 400 and 400 to 401.   Took some scenic pics, but not many came out...

Sunday - polished silver with my Dad, set the table for Passover Sedar, then to hospital for a few hours.  Really draining.  Came home and slept for like a zillion hours - aka. 'till 11am on Monday morning.  Gotta love the self-employed life!  Really needed it, D even saw it, and stayed super quiet, keeping the animals out in the living room with him so I could sleep. Still feel like I could sleep and sleep and sleep...

Monday - groceries, cooking, then to Mom's house to finish cooking, get ready and do the Sedar.  It was good to be together, but there's a cloud over our family.  Our close family friend always comes to our sedar and this year her  presence was even more needed, welcomed, appreciated and cherished as it allowed for a sense of 'normalcy' to return to our lives, even if just for the night.  

My poor parents.  They are completely worn out.  I wish I was better at handling death, I wish I could take over for my mother at caring for my uncle, but I just can not.  It took so much out of me just being there for so long on Sunday, watching him suffer.  I do not know how she's been doing that for 9 months straight - day in and day out.

And that's that - Oh.... I think there's something wrong with my iPhone, it doesn't seem to be charging properly, and we got 'lost' several times 'cuz the GPS kept losing us on the way up to Thornbury, and it keeps getting really really hot.... really hoping it doesn't crash on me now, 'cuz it's my lifeline to you all! (thus, sanity)  <3

Grow a set...

I think my blog is (unintentionally)touching on some nerves  because 
I got a couple of hate comments on my last post. I'm not going to dwell on this for too long, but some of my tweeps were asking me what the hate comments were regarding. I kinda wish I hadn't been so rash in emotion this morning and had left 'em on here, they would be good for a laugh now that I'm in a happier, more zen, more secure state of mind.

The jist of it was this:
One commenter mentions that D and I should take some time to sort out our problems before having a child.  This is something we are currently doing, and what I mention in a couple of posts in the past are that I have doubts which I need to quench before going forward with IUI #1. (and that there are financial issues which also need to get resolved.)

This comment was not the issue.

When I read on my heart did a pitter patter.
I'm not one for confrontations.
And the comment started with the B word.

My temper flared right away. I read on.

It continued to say that the above commenter was right,  I am not fit to be a mother (which was not what she said at all), D and I should separate immediately and that I am a pathetic loser because I'm obviously in an abusive relationship and refuse to leave.  And that people like me deserve to be shot.

...
...

That's me, sitting on my couch at 7:30am on a Sunday morning with my jaw hanging off it's hinge.

Why would anyone say these things to me???

I read on.

Next comment, also anonymous:

'Oh Yah, I hope that when you get pregnant you have a miscarriage right at the end of your pregnancy.'

I SHIT YOU NOT.

So I deleted them, like the good little pacifist that I am.... and sulked off to vent on twitter.  But then I thought, "THIS IS MY BLOG!" and my friends re-in-forced.... "THAT'S NA-VE'S BLOG!" and so I retorted.

To myself.

Because the stupid anonymous commenter is a Mrs. Scaredy-Pants who comments mean things anonymously.  And I say "Mrs." because to make a statement like the last comment she left is very distinctly female.  Like - she would want said miscarriage to be as painful as it could possibly be by making it so that I carried almost to term before losing my miracle baby. Men can be cruel, but not that viciously cruel. 

I wish I knew who the commenter was - I'd send her a vat of testosterone so that she could physically grow a set and actually have the kahunas that it takes to throw those kinds of comments into cyberspace and back them up when the person defends themselves.

After all, insulting someone who can't even defend them self is like Arnold Schwarzenegger beating up a little old lady.

BAHHHHH!!!

I don't know what's wrong with me.
I was so calm,
so level headed, so EFFECTIVE last night.
I started a conversation with D in the car that I've been meaning to have for MONTHS. 

And I did it well. I did myself proud. 
All the way through the evening. 

And I had some difficult things to say.  Namely:

1. His tone of voice is a total kill joy.  I get cranky just hearing that tone sometimes. It really sucks because it puts my mood instantly into pissy-ville and then things just escalate from there.

And at times it can be a total turn off.  The second part of that was the hardest to say because it involves our sex life, and it's really really really difficult for me to be completely honest with him about that aspect of our relationship. He's very sensitive and I struggle with how to talk to him about some of the issues I'm having. This feels so taboo even to write in my blog. But I vowed that when I started writing this I would be open, honest and totally exposed.  I've struggled with this notion in the last little while and am amending it slightly because of some tweets I've seen lately.  Am starting to feel a bit insecure about how open I am, but I don't want to lose that part of my blog so I'm making an effort here.  A big one.  But baby steps.... more about this in another post.

and...

2. He is a horrible boss. Let me explain.
I am so afraid of the spring in a sense.  I know my tweets often express a desperate need for spring to return and work to start again.  I was really looking forward to this spring in particular though because we were planning on having me not work for him anymore.  But those plans are quickly unraveling before my eyes, so now I'm kind of afraid of spring because he's such a bad boss. He's rude, ignorant, places blame without hearing both sides, and he's completely ungrateful. I've had some bad bosses, but at least I didn't have to sleep with them!!! We've been driving each other crazy this winter being together 24/7 but if I have to work for him again this spring I don't know if we'll survive the season and still love each other.  This scares the shit out of me because as you saw in my Utopia Rules post from last night, we really have a vision together for our future. I don't know what I'd do without that plan.


But despite how difficult and touchy the subjects were, I did well, WE did well... went off without a hitch (and actually resulted in a little bit of BD, which has been really sporadic and infrequent lately! Ya ya!) 

And then... this morning.   I seriously don't know what's wrong with me, I'm up and down all over the place lately.  All he did was say he had a head ache.  I was about to wake and vape cuz my fibro is still bitching and he said he couldn't (well, he was kinda nasty about it I guess, in retrospect...but still, didn't warrant my reaction and my cold shoulder which he fully told me really really bothered him last night) and now he's at his mom's house and I'm feeling shitty cuz I really just want things to be good.

I'm a cranky, always-sick bitchy wifey and I'm pretty tired of it.  The only places my positivity and kindness seems to shine through is online and sometimes sometimes with our friends, or my family. Never with him anymore.

OK. Pity party over.... when he comes home I'm going to make a real effort to be sweet and see what happens.

Input is always welcome (especially on my touchy topics like this).  I believe that our community of women is a powerful source of support and it makes me feel not so alone, as I've said so many times in the past.

Dark

 

Subdued cries of My frustrated mind
Echo beneath the layers of indiscretion
I have been neglecting
Ignoring
Depleting
Myself, my health, my life

Heaped under the carpet where I swept it
Stress festers, untended, growing
Into something I can't name
Can't claim
Can't tame

Exerted, my mind wanders alone
Into familiar but unsympathetic territory
Unarmed
Uncharmed

Unprepared
For the wholeness of the dark

Quick Rant...

My Twitter followers already know I had a rough morning today.

I am now in bed encased in duvets and as many heat bags as I can stand trying to recover from it.  I'll recap it briefly for those of you who are curious...

I've been in a bad fibro flare since Sunday, and so even though I normally take the subway when I have to go downtown for doctor's appointments, this time D was supposed to drive me.  This was the appointment for the doctor that my Fertility Doctor reffered me to back in November, for some emotional/mental health support for women who just found out about their infertility and were having trouble coping.
I had a really bad case of depression at the time, brought on by the Clomid I think.

But anyways, this morning I kinda had a bad feeling about it 'cuz the appointment was 'early' (9am, so we had to get up at 7am to be there on time with traffic, parking and what not).   Generally speaking when I need to be somewhere early and D has to drive me there is always some attitude and negativity when we're leaving the house.  (Not something I really like to talk openly about because it makes me question stuff that I'm not ready to question.... maybe in a future post. I don't know. )

This morning was no different.  But I had a shorter fuse than usual because of the intense pain in my back and legs, so instead of putting up with his loudness and ignorance I left alone.  The last straw was when he tried to tell me to CANCEL an appointment that I have been waiting for since November, just because he didn't want to get up and thought I was too sore to go on my own on the subway.

Well, I showed him!

And kinda showed myself too. Cuz I even though I fainted on the subway half way there,  and got to the appointment 1/2 hour late I did it, I didn't give up when he discouraged me, and the appointment went well.

*sidenote* the people in Toronto really really suck! (excluding the wonderful one's I've met on Twitter who may or may not be reading this post)... but, yeah, the people in Toronto are ASSHOLES!  I was at a busy subway station (Yonge & Eglinton) when I fainted, and sat on the floor crying for 20 minutes after I came too ( I wasn't out long)  and NOT ONE PERSON INCLUDING THE 2 TTC (Toronto Transit Commision) WORKERS CAME TO SEE IF I WAS OK OR NEEDED HELP GETTING UP.  Not one person. *

Ahem. Back to the point. 

The doctor seems AWESOME, very understanding,  and I'm really looking forward to the next appointment on March 5th.   I scheduled that one for the afternoon so that in case I'm not well enough to take the subway it won't be so dramatic to get D to drive me.

It really sucks that he acts this way, but ultimately I think this new therapy and the new doctor will be able to help me deal with not only my infertility issues, but also some of these kinds of problems that D and I have in our relationship. 


Please comment - hearing from you makes me happy!

I'M ANGRY!!! please love me.... NOW LEAVE ME ALONE!

I've been having a bit of a mood crisis in the last couple of days.

It's not something new, it's a demon I've been living with for pretty much my whole life.  It appears, it disappears, it appears, it disappears - it's starting to seem like my own misery gets sick of me and goes for a vacation from time to time.

This time, this crisis of mood  is coming at inopportune timing.   Generally when this feeling creeps in and starts to take over my (attempt at a) zen-ish brain I immediately start doing stuff.
Stuff to distract me from the growing unease, the unexplained anger, the darkness.
New stuff - signing up for classes at the local college, joining a new gym or class at the old  gym, trying to meet new musical com-padres to collaborate with on my vocal ventures and experiments...

This time I'm having issues doing those things.  Any of them - all of them.  None of them are getting me anywhere because I am simply too achy or down in the dumps and thus lacking the motivation required for diving into something new.

And thus I'm here, talking to you, my tweeps and blogles, whining in a most unbecoming way, which is starting to seem like an (unattractive) habit.

In a blatant attempt to try and make my misery (anger?) seem more interesting, something that someone would want to read about, and also to try to identify with someone other than a past version of myself, I am once again reaching out to Ani for inspiration, comfort and a l'il bit of good ol' venting.



And there, in an angry outburst of carefully planned melodies and words, is how I feel.

Pretty much to a 't'.

So now, the question that I'm mulling on, and now throwing out into the universe...

How do I switch it off? If I'm too physically stuck(sick?) to be able to vacate the area  (and generally by vacating I am thus shoving my negative feelings and emotional baggage under the carpet in my living room)...what am I to do?
Has anyone else been in this kind of predicament?  

Insight will be greatly appreciated, and good insight will be revered.

Writers Block

Well, I've got writer's block again.  I thought to myself - what do my Tweeps & blogles wanna read? I'm really not sure! I thought the Ani stuff would be big... but alas, only 4 comments on those two posts combined so far...

Then I thought... I'll do a zoo post! But ya'll already know what pets I have.
And it just doesn't seem that interesting right now. Plus, I'd have to dig out pictures. And it's only fair to show ya'll some of the crazy animals we've had in the past as well - so that'll be a post for another day on which I am a bit more inspired.

So, instead, here I am, babbling away, blogging about writer's block.

What are your techniques for battling the dreaded "empty head" syndrome?
Do you get down-in-the-dumps like I do when you can't think of a good blog posting?

(my train of thought when this happens... "I must be useless. I must be boring! Why am I even bothering? I should go back to bed.)

But THEN.... THEN my dear tweets & blogles.... I remember all of you. And I realize... I can't be THAT boring... there are people following me! And reading my randomness! So I pull myself out of my self-pitying duvet-encased cave and write.

And today, I am writing about nothing.

Nothing, nothing nothing.

Sorry to disappoint you, my tweets &blogles.  Even the insanely-sane NaVe has brain farts.
And, occasionally, like this morning, an empty head. 


Please comment - hearing from you makes me happy!

Too little to leave out... a post-post update.

I thought some of you who had been dedicated enough to read all three parts of Too Much for Words would like an update on today's visit....  and if you haven't read - you can read part one, part two and part three by clicking on em.

Today's visit was actually really good!

My uncle felt decent enough to be put into a chair so we wheeled him down to this atrium area in the hospital where there is a weekly concert on Sundays.
 He was tired but said he enjoyed the music and company.
No drama, no fuss.

I feel (physically) like ab-so-lute SHITE right now... lotsa walking/standing up...
but my heart feels happy.Well - happy-er anyways.

Guess this is what doing the "right" thing feels like.

ps. to those of you who read/commented on parts one, two or three,  thank you so much for reaching out!  You are the reason blogging (and tweeting) has become my new favourite hobby!

Too much for words - Part Three

OK - Here it comes.  The final chapter of this WAAAAYYY too long post.
For those of you just joining in the drama now, you can read part one here and part two here.  

I promise to be more upbeat in the next few posts to make up for these last few.

Thanks for reading & not unfollowing me during this rant :)
Here goes.

When I started to realize that I couldn't continue to live my life based on the doctor's (inaccurate)predictions for his life, I basically tried to have a little bit of my normal life (summer)back. But every time I did anything that was out of the city (D and I are big into camping and usually go on at least 5-6 trips per summer) I felt this horrible pit in my stomach like I should be by his side.  So I resolved to spend as much time there as I could.  I was not in the greatest state health wise myself, was waiting for my laproscopy in July, but I tried to get there at least 4-5 times a week.  I'd bring my guitar and play and sing for him.  At first he really seemed to like it.

Then I had to take several weeks off due to my laproscopy. And the pain didn't really get any better even after they removed the endo.  I started getting back into the habit of going there as often as possible, carrying my guitar on the bus despite the pain I was in.

And then he started expressing that he wasn't enjoying my little concerts anymore. And I started getting back the feelings of resentment that I had felt towards him in my youth.  Those feelings didn't just come from his criticism of me though.  I started realizing the my mother is pretty much not available to me EVER anymore because she stays by his side for 10-12 hours a day (despite the fact that she has MS and should be trying to preserve her energy).  She has become completely one track minded, and although I understand that he is her brother, and her baby brother at that, I just really think that she needs some perspective on the whole situation.

My mom got a little does of reality a few months ago.  One of her 'friends' decided to turn against her and started telling my uncle that my mother is trying to kill him (this was shortly after he was moved into palliative care). She caused a HUGE drama, which I won't get into, but I'll just say that my uncle basically spat on my parents, who had been his sole care-givers and his power of attorney since this all started, and said that he was revoking their rights, closed the accounts that my mom was using for funding his care, and accused my father (who lovingly shaved and fed him daily, and kept track of his finances, paid his bills etcetc) of stealing money from his account.

For a few weeks I was the rational one in the family, saying that he is sick and that's why he's so easily misled by this 'friend' of my mom's .  But deep down I thought that this separation was good.  My parents realized that they had been going waaaaayyy overboard, and that they needed to take a step back and start living their own lives again.   At one point during this time period I said to my mom,"Do you believe that if the situations were reversed that your brother would give up HIS WHOLE LIFE to stay by your bedside?"  She responded, "I know he would not."

She has literally given up on calling back her friends, going out for lunch with her daughter, rarely joins the family for meals, stopped talking to her daughter about anything other than his illness, stopped talking to anyone about anything other than his illness.  My father, who has his own bag of issues as well, spends all day at work and then shleps down to the hospital daily to feed him dinner.  Because my mother does not believe that the hospital can care for him adequately.  Nor does she believe that any of the caregivers they have interviewed can do a good enough job.

All that would be fine(ish), except for the fact that my mom pretty much expects me to feel the same way she does.   She makes me feel like I am a bad person because I'm continuing on with my life and not spending every minute thinking about this horribly bad and sad situation.  She appears to think that the pain that I have almost every day of my life is not justification enough to stay away.  And she also gives the perception that she feels I am being heartless, cold and invalid in my feelings about the past.

It may seem that way - and I'm the first to admit my flaws - but I really am having a hard time seeing a good outcome of me getting close to him now that he is on his death bed. The fact that he wants to become a good uncle now is a sweet sentiment, but unfortunately I'm too jaded. As usual. And I'm too scared to get close to him now as well.  I'm too scared of the feeling, the void, it will leave when he passes.

And so, I stay away.  I do a weekly visit, stay a short time, and allow D to deflect attention from me by monopolizing the conversation.  But the phone calls from my mom telling me about how he's sorry about the past etc etc, those are starting to get to me anyways.

I have never gotten along trendously well with my mom, but I miss the normal kind of not getting along.

This guilt-trip, overstressed, overtired, overworked kind of not getting along is too much for me.  And so I avoid.  Whenever I can.

That was my point - here comes the latest case:
This is what I wrote after the last time I went down there (last Sunday).

Yesterday I went down to see my uncle,  feeling like total shit, nauseous, dizzy, the whole works. D started complaining about the whole ordeal as well (I guess he's sick of being a deflector for me) and then we got there and there was no parking...

So I called my Dad to ask if my uncle was even awake, if I should shelp my ass from a  street parking spot on the other side of the world too come there. His cell was off.  I couldn't remember the extention # for the hospital room. So I called my mom.

She immediately started with attitude. I don't know why. She answered the phone sounding sweet and then switched to sour when she heard it was me. Great. Told her my dilemma.  Asked her to call Dad & tell him to call me.  She refused to even hear what I said and kept insisting that there must be parking and that I am just not looking hard enough.  Then told me I couldn't find parking because I "always insist on going there at the worst times". I was getting annoyed. I asked for the number myself so I could call. She spat it out at me and then hung up.  Great.

I called the room.  No answer.  No answer on Dad's cell still.  Called my mom again.
Her suggestion. 
"Why don't you ask D to drop you off and circle around until he finds parking".
"I'm dizzy mom. I don't want to walk alone through the hospital. I want him to be with me or even better push me in a chair." (I also don't wanna make him my hired chauffeur.)
"Hrmph... I see. "
I'm not feeling well. I don't know what else to say to her. I sit in silence.
"I know you can find parking. Just keep looking okay?"
"Fine. I'll look a while longer. If I can't find it I'm going home."
"Bye." Click. She hung up on my again.

So now, I just really really don't wanna go in at all. I want my bed. I want my duvet. I want to maintain my sanity.

BUT I try anyways.

"D? Can you drop me off at the door and then shlep back alone from the street parking spot on the other side of the world"  Cringe.
Squeeling tires out of store parking we were sitting in, and now pulling up beside  side door to hospital. I get up out of the car & as I stood up this bolt of lighting type pain hit my right ovary.  I puked all over myself, the sidewalk, and a bit onto an old lady's shoe.
Luckily I hadn't moved away from the van.  I plonked back down into my seat, pulled my pukey scarf off my neck & literally threw it in the garbage (D is a reflex puker. He sees/smells it, he pukes. I was so not in the mood for that)
And we came home.

What do you think my mom said this morning when I told her what happened and why I wasn't answer my phone all evening when they were obsessively calling and calling?
"Your father was looking all over for you. You should have called him or went to found him. He could have helped."

Helped what... helped me puke? I can handle that on my own thankyouverymuch.

Anyhow. That's the story. And the reason I 'wimped' out this time.



BUT  - Tomorrow is Sunday. I am going to try again.

Too much for words - Part two

Hello my faithful followers,
Here is part two.... for those of you who missed part one - you can read it here.

I'm new at this blogging thing, and am trying to make my posts "flow" together as well as possible, but this is my first time doing a multi-part post, so bare with me if it's a bit lumpy.

So I had just started telling you all about how my uncle and I were starting to get closer and realize some of our similarities in hobbies/talents.

We performed together at a tribute to Slovak Jewish Poetry (I sang, he played the guitar) I also tried to become a bit involved in the theater that he, my parents and their friends were involved in.  I started to loosen up around him.  I tried to help him decorate his new condo - even though my decorating guru's and teachers told me to never work for family (and they were right; that was a slightly trying experience... We spent 6 hours at IKEA picking out window treatments for his bedroom, only to have him return them the next day because they just weren't 'right'. Much more frustrating because I hadn't charged by the hour due to the fact that he is family)

He seemed to start trying too at this point.  He started living his life. His new condo was the first normal thing he had done in a long time.  Before, he had been living an eccentrically "bare" life. Void of ALL things material. Even though he had more than enough money (he's very intelligent and makes good money) he lived in a crappy apartment, never bought himself any 'luxury' items (ie. FURNITURE! A BED!?!?). Even to this day, his 'new'(8 months) condo has only a bed frame and mattress pad(I have NO clue how he slept like that) with some drawers & a dining room table & chairs. No couch. No rugs. Nothing on the walls.  And he seemed to really not mind. He began to reach out to my mom again, through the poetry and the theater, I got involved too and enjoyed working with him on his amazing songs.  I will upload some soon so you can hear.  It's not in english but still quite beautiful melodically. His poetry is unlike anything I have ever heard.  He's actually writing a song right now (about me... flattered but don't know how to handle the emotion, as usual).  The lyrics are amazing. His brain works a very interesting way, even now in his weakened state. He's a total free spirit and very spiritually gifted.  I have always (even through the hard times) admired that in him.

And here came the biggest fail our little family has experienced to date.  He was in Slovakia with the theater group preforming their latest production. This was the trip of a lifetime - him and his sister together in their homeland again. And they were also traveling to Israel together for the play. This was a huge deal for them all. My parents have not been back to Israel since the summer of 1968 when the Russians occupied Czechoslovakia while they were there on a summer student trip and they were not allowed to return home. (That story is actually what the play that they were there to perform was based on.) This was an amazing experience for them to share.  But tragedy struck - they were out for a group meal and he fainted.  He was taken to the hospital where they diagnosed him with Glioblastoma. Then he was flown home, and I was "the only family he had"(my mom's words) in Canada, so I tried to help organize his medical stuff.  But he pushed me away, and told me, not to visit him in the hospital.  I mostly ignored him and went anyways for the most part but it was hard.  The hospital had the audacity to send him home after a day or two of observation.  And he fainted again.  And this time he never got back up.

My parents stayed to finish the rest of the theater's tour, and came home a few weeks later, and his condition got really bad for a while. My mom never saw him standing again after that.   For about 2 months the doctors were telling us he only had 24-48 hours to live.  It was really insane.  That went on for a while, but then he started to get more stable.

This was the start of the summer. His condition has since stabilized considerably.  Meaning, he is still dying, he is still completely paralyzed on the left side of his body, but there is no "deadline" now.
As horrible as it sounds, it is almost harder this way.  He is not living right now.  He's a beautiful mind stuck in a useless body. And he's starting to not realize that - his mind is refusing to admit that his body doesn't serve him anymore.

Part three coming tomorrow. 

Too much for words - Part one

Before you start reading this post, I ask that you please get into your most non-judgemental  state of mind.  I will be bringing up topics that are sensitive and hard for me to talk about and face. I actually wrote this three nights ago and have been battling with myself about posting it since then.  I have decided it's better to let things out than keep them in.

I have a really bad habit that I was hoping to break this year.

I avoid things that are too emotionally difficult for me.
Things that I should not be avoiding.
And I do it much more often lately because when I am physically sore I feel like I can't handle almost anything emotionally.
It makes me feel pathetic.

Because this is such a difficult (and long!) topic for me to write about, I'll split it up into parts over the next few days.

This post topic started with my feelings of  guilt surrounding my recent decline in visits to my uncle who has been in the hospital since June 2009.
He is dying of Stage 4 Glioblastoma (Brain Cancer).
He asks for me all the time (reported to me daily by my mom)

I thought it may help me to understand my recent reluctance to go there if I blogged about it (and got some advice from my readers?)


Before you decide that I'm heartless, judge me and sentence me to a life (and afterlife?)of living with guilt - I'll give you some background info.

My uncle moved to Canada when I was 11 years old.  Prior to this, I had been a happy-go-lucky girl, the revered (adopted)only child, and I think that at that point I still liked it. The world as I knew it revolved around me.  There were pleasant afternoons at the art gallery, zoo, harbourfront... But my little world changed drastically when my uncle came to live with us.  No longer was I the center of attention, and although I grew to appreciate the tiny bit of extra freedom that came with that, the arguments and disquiet that it brought to my home was not enough incentive to make it good.

My mom had raised him until he was around 10 or 11 years old and then she immigrated to Canada (from the former Czechoslovakia).She had been pretty much his sole care giver before leaving, as my grandma was sick and in the hospital or away for respite care for much of my uncle's young life.  My mom therefore has always kind of thought of my uncle as childlike, almost as if he and I were brother and sister, rather than uncle and niece.  Which meant, in theory, that I now had to share my mother with a much older (and comlpletely ADULT) brother - who, despite his age, acted like a sullen and resentful teen.

I am still not sure how I feel about that dynamic, but nonetheless, it is/was the way it is/ will be, and so I will explain my dilemmas in relation to that reality.

When I was growing up, in particular when he was first getting used to life in Canada, life was hectic.  There were arguments, there was resentment. There were a lot of things happening in my sheltered little life all of a sudden.  And then he disapeared for a few years. Completely gone from my life, from my mom's life, from our family's life.

And then he was back.
 (this part is all very abridged and vague, but I'm just trying to cover basics. If anyone, for whatever strange reason, is extremely intrigued by this dynamic leave me a comment and I'll write a post about that alone. It's too vast for this story. Which is already too long for it's own good.)

I love my uncle, but I have never really had a relationship with him. I mean, when I was really little and we were visiting Czechoslovakia he played with me and carried me around everywhere... but that was pre-immigration, and things changed so much during that time.

 We had just started getting to know one another before all of this tragic stuff started   If anything, I had once associated a lot of resentment and bitterness with him.  I was constantly reminded of all the times he asked if we could "move" a Jewish holiday because he already had plans with friends that night. Or move a birthday, aniversary, graduation celebration because it didn't fit in with his schedule. He missed countless birthdays, only putting a "sorry it's belated" card in the mail. In the mail. ( even though we live in the same city).And though there was always a little gift of money, and sometimes even a lot, I never felt a connection.  I felt he was doing it because my mother expected him to - not because he really cared.

As of late I have tried to get past all of these things because he's my uncle, because it is important to my mother, and because we seemed to in fact have some things in common. And I'm getting older and starting to really realize that in families sometimes the younger person winds up being the bigger, more mature person.

But lately I'm not doing so well at it.  And this time of need is exactly when I should be doing well at it and being there to support my mom.  But there are things holding me back.

Anyhow, I think that is enough for part one.  Check back tomorrow for part two.  I'll talk more about the time right before he got sick and explain some of my more recent discoveries about our similarities, differences and why I think I'm pulling back. 

Why I blog

Here are my top 16 reasons for starting a blog this year.

1. I have loved journalling my whole life, but don't make enough time for it.  Blogging is more convenient, plus I feel a responsibility to my readers to post often.  And it's more eco-friendly.

2. I need a place to vent where no body knows my name. All too often I have vented to the wrong person, only to have it come back and bite me in the ass.

3. I love writing and have gotten really rusty at being able to put sentences together that aren't full of slang/ errors.  Practice makes perfect.

4.The Global Village effect.  I think it's amazing at how small the world is when you're a blogger. I love how I feel "close" to women (and men) around the world because of blogging and twitter.

5. I really need an outlet for my emotional stuff.  This is different than venting, its not coming from an angry place.

6. DH is not great at conversing about above mentioned emotional stuff, so I need another support system sometimes.

7. It fills my bored moments (read:insomnia)  with something more productive than staring at other people's lives on facebook.

8. I think it will make me more self aware.

9. Reading other peoples blogs is helping me to become more aware (in general) and also less judgmental.

10. I like the feeling that I may be helping someone out there with my words.  Even if I'm just letting them know that they are not alone.

11. I like having something that is all mine.  DH and I share everything, and spend a LOT of time together.  I sometimes feel like I'm not my own person anymore because of that.  My blog is helping to counteract that.

12. Three words. Shameless Self Promotion.  I wish I could be a rockstar (well, a hippie, indie rockstar).  Maybe I'll make it through twitter  & blogger.

13. It makes me less lonely.

14. I can obsess endlessly over the aesthetic appeal of my blog and no one has to know about it (oops. I just told you all. this one is now kinda redundant)...

15. I like sharing my randomness with the world. Somehow when it's all writeen out, it doesn't seem like such randomness.

16. I can post whatever I like. Even a top 16 list (and no one can tell me it's dumb to have an arbitrary # like 16 as a top "something" list)


So there they are, just a few reasons why I am a blogger now.
What about you? Would love to hear some of your reasons....
Remember - sharing is caring :)

Shrinking Famous People

While at Blockbuster the other day, my eye, invariably trained for movies about the human condition, fell upon the newest Kevin Spacey movie, Shrink.

I hadn't actually heard of the movie (since I'm stuck under a cable-less rock at the moment) but I am so glad that I picked it up.

It's actually very fitting with my post on private school cliques, and how they determined success, both in high school and after. 

I was always in wondrous amazement at how the most popular, most successful girls at my school were the hardest partiers, the most precautions drinkers, the smokers, the snorters, the ne'er do good-ers.  This movie really reinforced my thoughts that the (easiest/most traveled) road to fame and fortune really is lined with booze and narcotics.   Unlike many other films that have glorified this type of life, Shrink does a phenomenal job of showing the limelight in a much darker sense.

Kevin Spacey is an L.A. psychiatrist, far from the picture of health. His pull towards a half-baked life is fueled by questions that he doesn't know how to face.  He does in fact  help  troubled people find peace, but in the process his most dangerously troubled (and REAL) patient shows him the way back from the deluded lifestyle of his Hollywoodite patients. He learns with his patients (in particular this hard up young girl who is faced with the same type of disquieting grief as he is) and this sort of 'parallel' learning allows him to become more in tune with his work and with his short-comings.

In an intricately woven web of seemingly unconnected characters, this movie portrays the darker side of the glamour that embodies the essence of Hollywood. But despite it's somber nature the movie left me with a feeling of hope for us "normal people".

If only more of our world's youth could realize the huge pitfalls in idolizing and imitating the famous.  This movie does a good job of showing what's behind the Hollywood facade - and honestly, it's not so plastic-surgery-perfect.
Behind the botox faces and implanted bosoms are some seriously sad & fucked up people - just like the rest of us.

Who am I?

Things are pretty much back to normal now (thank goodness) so now I can get to some of the posts I have been scheming up in my head but was too scatter-brained to actually write down

Ok - so,  cliques.  Totally  high school right?   So how come, even though I am almost 30 years old, and starting to worry I may not be able to identify with my teenage children, when I finally have them... how come am I still dealing with it all now?!?!?!   I was always hoping that it would pass, as adolescence did, as did early university years, my early 20's and... my more innocent days.   But here it is - constantly and consistantly staring me in the face.

Mainly from out of  facebook's html frames.

I have expressed, in numerous tweets, how I will NEVER go on facebook, ever again. Even D reminded me about 15 min ago (as I hastily checked a fb email from a friend I knew back in elementary school, who tagged me in a pic of me when I was about 9 yrs old.  GREAT.) that I swore - NEVER AGAIN!  One too many pregnancy announcements, storybook weddings, fairytale vacations, and ab-so-fucking-lutely one to many of "those girls" on my list.   (for those twitter amigas and amigos who wanted to exchange facebook's with me - there you have it... the reason why I won't).

I went to a highly prestigious, very  competititve, all girls private school.  I started there in gr. 7 and did 5 years (fast-tracked and did 6 years in 5, which pretty much drove me to insanity!) And, as a result of being in  this environment during some of the more formative years of my life, my facebook is now filled with high acheiving, mostly quite wealthy, women - who all started IN EXACTLY THE SAME PLACE THAT I DID worked hard to get where they are.

Ok- so let me step back a moment and say - I really do believe that all my high school girlfriends worked extremely hard to get where they got.  And despite the fact that I have my moments of insane jealousy (which helps the muse fusing this particular post), I know that I too, if I had made different choices (some of them haven't really felt like choices) and basically, if I had led a different post-high school life, I too could have been in their shoes.  Or at least closer.  Some had a lot more advantages than I did - my parents had to work really hard to put me through that type of school - and they never let me forget it, nor did I have things handed to me.

But I worked god damn hard too. I had horrid jobs, I started from scratch, without help from my parents, or anyone really... and even when I was at my lowest points mentally&emotionally  I still supported myself and was never homeless or starving. Or into hard drugs.   It's not fair that  some of the choices I made due to my (now past) mental illness are now coming back to bite me in the ass every time I "login"....

I want to be able to travel to different destinations around the world every year (or every few months!)
(I have travelled quite a bit in my life, but not at all in the last 10 years)
I want to have beautiful pictures of family and friends dressed up to celebrate my wedding.
(I am really learning the "art and skill" involved in being a wife - which is why I call D my DH... but we are still just common-law husband & wife)
I want to have proud new mommy pictures and turn my fb page into an online shrine for my child (with the odd pic of me in the mix at some point)
(well.... we all know the lovely long infertiliy story that goes behind this one)

and so... longer story made shorter.... I am still not in the right "clique".
I'm not a mom.
I'm not a carefree spirit roaming the earth trying to find myself, or at the very least, make things better.
I'm not even techically a wife.

So who am I?

I'm not sure... but the woman whom I find when I finally figure that out, I'm sure that she'll be stronger for having asked these types of questions.
And I do try to help the earth in what measly ways I can - I recycle, when I do work as a decorator I try to use only eco-friendly products/manufacturers, I used to ride my bike everywhere (pre fibromyalgia & endometriosis)...and I plan to use cloth diapers when my TTC dream is finally realized...
So I'm not that bad, from what I do already know :p

Final thought?   Even in our darkest hours, there is a lesson learned.  No regret, no looking back, move forward and things will enivitably be as they should be*.

*a lesson I learned (but am still trying to LIVE) when I was in dialectical behavior therapy.   I used it as a mantra for a while.   It helped me.

The Calm after the storm...

Please pardon me if I'm depressing today.  The last few days have been excruciatingly difficult.  
If you are following me on Twitter you know that I had a relationship meltdown on Thursday night, and D left the house for a while.  Things are a bit better now but I'm still recovering.
Between the arguing, the quitting smoking (both of us @ the same time, and cold turkey), and with time off of infertility treatments (the only thing stable and positive that I was focused on before..... 
I feel like too many things in my life are just too negative.   

My uncle's situation in palliative care is going from bad to worse, and as bad as this sounds, there is no relief in sight for him or for us.   I miss having a normal family life - we haven't had any good times since last spring.

My health is going from bad to worse - probably because I'm so depressed and barely ever want to leave the house. 

If it wasn't for Twitter right now I would be totally and completely isolated.
Sounds so pathetic when I type it out.

I stopped talking to the only close girlfriend I had about 2 months ago because she was completely incapable of comforting me, but expected me to consistantly come to her rescue.  I am too tired to rescue someone else, and too tired to entertain someone who calls, leaves a voicemail saying she wants to "catch up" and then says absolutely NOTHING when I call to chat.  If I wanted to hear myself speak I would talk to my cats. 
I'm actually pretty relieved that I am not speaking with her.  My frusteration levels would go through the roof every time I called her in the last little while.

I can't understand people who WANT to be depressed.  I spend every day that I am depressed trying NOT to be - and trying to plan activities (even though at the moment they are mostly  within my home) to keep busy and not stay sitting like a lump on the couch.(I'm all for marathon couching, sometimes, but you can't do that all the time all day long!)   She did not do the same, nor did she encourage or try to participate in any of the stuff that I was trying to plan.  She just wanted to sit on her porch smoking cigarettes all day long - and even when I told her I was quitting, she could not respect that fact and would still constantly bring up smoking when we talked. And if I were to come over, she still wanted to sit on the porch smoking cigarettes all day.   Same thing happens with emotional cutting.  I haven't done it in years, but she constantly still does it.  I asked her to please not talk to me about it, she has a great therapist and I feel that those things are better discussed there - especially since I told her that I  felt quite triggered and had to work very hard not to fall back into old habits when she would describe her cutting to me.  The same thing would happen if she decided to overdose on her medications.  I have had issues with that in the past as well, and am doing my best to stay away from that kind of harmful behavior.  Sure there are nights when I wish I could just down 5 sleeping pills and knock out for the whole night (normally I sleep maybe 1-2 hours and then wake up).   I don't need that kind of temptation. Or lack of support. 

Despite the fact that I am relieved to be rid of that particular frusteration, I am still missing female contact.  I think that if I had more girlfriends I wouldn't feel so desperately sad about some of the things I'm lacking in my romantic life.  Plus I'd probably have a more realistic view on what a romantic relatiionship is really like, 'cuz right now I compare our life to that which I see in the movies... and, lets face it, that's probably enough to make anyone depressed.  

I'm not giving up on my happiness though.  I don't know what it's going to take to get there - but I'll figure it out eventually. 

Today WILL be a G-DAMN good day. Dammit.

So, even though I was up at an ungodly hour this morning... I have decided.
Today IS going to be a GREAT day!
Despite the fact that I forgot about the run in that my laptop had with my un-lidded Subway 7-up and turned it on this morning ( but it turned on! YAY!) ....
Despite the fact that after I turned it on, and went to make tea (at the ungodly hour) I stepped with faith into the pitch dark kitchen, knowing that D vacuumed & cleaned up yesterday and... SPLASH! The sink overflowed and flooded the kitchen & dining room. 
Despite the fact that my 'c' button has fallen off my keyboard and I now have to type this blog with my desktop's keyboard balanced on top of my laptops sickly one... and I just searched desperately for the mouse pad on the desktop keyboard... for like 5 min... before * aha!* I have to lift it OFF the actual laptop first!
Despite the fact that when I shifted around to get comfy just now my laptop ( which can not survive even a moment without it's lifeline) came unplugged.  Thank god for Blogger Autosave.  
Despite the fact that I have to see my parents later... this is not really a bad thing, just, considering the circumstances right now in our family, it may prove to be rather depressing... but it's my Daddy's 62nd birthday so I gotta try and make him smile.  At least for a bit.  But more on that stuff another time.
Today will be a good day. A great one even. 
I was quite an insomniac last night and I realized a few things. Namely;
1. I have gained 60 lbs in 3.5 years!
2. I am completely out of shape wheras 4 years ago I could bike from Birchmount & Finch to the Beaches (for you non Torontontians... that's pretty damn far - hold on I'll check the mileage on Google Maps....10 miles... or 16.7 km... and I was still able to walk the next day (sitting was a different story. Oh, the bruising!)
3. I have now quit smoking cigs. This fact ALONE means a lot.  I was in a serious love affair with my DuMauriers.  But I left 'em in the dust.   So if I can do that, I can go back to looking, acting and feeling how I did 4 years ago.  EVEN WITH Fibromyalgia... right?
Right.
I've been carrying the financial assistance forms for the YMCA in my purse for over a week.  Need to go do it, but we're pretty tight at the moment so Wii Fit will have to do for now (for a couple weeks, 'till some of our outstanding cheques start comin' through the mail slot!!! DAMN DELIQUENTS!)

And, I went to Chapters and bought books on a fertility diet, so before I go for groceries I am gonna actually look through that book and make a list so that I'm not wandering aimlessly looking for pregnant women in the store so I can buy what they are eating.... 

So today will be a great day.  Even though when I read this blog to D just now (hoping for some kind of positive reaction)... well.... lets just not even go there. Smile, nod & DO MY THANG. (sorry... in the process of finding a new mantra)

The Darkness Continues...

Today has been a really really dark day for me.  And before I even get really into this post I'll say this:
Readers be prepared, I'm emotional, full of doubt, unleashed and I'm coming straight at ya.

As some of you know, I've been in and out of bad relationships for the last several years.  I really and truly thought that the one that I'm currently in was "it" ... or is "it"... I'm so mixed up right now I don't even know what tense to be using.   There were all the stereotypical "signs" that we are meant to be, all the feelings, all the "right" milestones coming along at the "right" times... and then this came.  This darkness or depression that always seems to come to any romantic relationship I've ever been in.    Which generally leads me to believe that I am the one at fault.

It always creeps in, reminding me that I've never really been blissfully happy.  Even as a child I felt this shadow that clouded my happiness.   And as I've grown into adulthood, I realize that even though this is a problem that is all  mine, and not the other person's, it is not my fault.   I don't know what it is that is in me to make me feel this way, but it's there, and I'm sick of pretending that it isn't.

Having said that, however, I am also acutely aware of the fact that certain people bring this melancholic tendancy out of me, and certain people help me to get past it.  And the thing that I've gotten stuck on now is that I am so afraid that the man I have chosen to spend the rest of my life with, the man I'm desperately trying to have children with, is in fact the first out of those two types of people.   And I'm so scared and sad now.

I am honestly starting to feel that he doesn't actually love "me"... but instead the concept of me and who I could be.  The idea that I presented, nice and neat, in a package just for him.  He hadn't tried to get me, I tried to get him.  And I was in a dfferent mental state at the time, so motivated, so physically healthy, so.... inspired.  I don't feel like I am any of those things anymore.   And I am starting to notice signs that he doesn't think so anymore either.   And I'm fucking scared shitless of what that means.

Is this relationship really going to be another epic NaVe Fail?   I can't accept that reality.   My last 2 serious relationships were just that... but those were abusive, manipulating men... this one isn't.... right?  Usually when I've felt like this, it was the wake up call, the signal to exit.   I don't even see an exit this time. I never planned to exit.  I never planned for any of this.

But I don't want to give up.