Tag: anger

New Year’s Eve Is Just Not Enough To Erase 2020 (G-uno)

If you’re looking for sunshine, and rainbows don’t waste a single second reading this post. You should also go away if you’re searching for some bull crap platitude about starting the new year with some magical clean slate. I spent the entire year trying to do my best to be positive, introspective, and forgiving. What did I learn from this little experiment in enlightenment? I learned that “When people show you who they are you should believe them.”

This writer is not looking for any sympathy, or any sappy commentary regarding my piss poor attitude so with the greatest respect just go to another blog. I can assure you that the next few posts will be filled with some pretty dark, sarcastic angry diatribes. Now that you’ve been given appropriate time to escape lets begin with crappy siblings.

I will admit that I broke a promise in 2016 that started this whole crazy mess. My sibling went on vacation, and I was asked not to clean up their home. I promised I would not do it, but I broke my promise, and spotlessly cleaned their entire home from top to bottom. I had some very great intentions, and some seriously legitimate concerns behind this broken promise. This however does not excuse the fact that I was wrong. I have potty trained this sibling. I realize that sometimes I overstep from the sibling role into the parental role. We come from a particularly complicated childhood. I am the oldest child. The fixer slash protector.

You should also know that I love my sibling deeply. I have been there for them in an above average way their entire life so admittedly I’m pissed that they are happy to enjoy my crossing of sibling boundaries when it suited them. I’m also extremely pissed that they pretended to accept my sincere regret for breaking my promise, while continuing to seethe privately until the point of exploding in the most vulgar outburst which was followed by the most passive aggressive retaliation seen since the demise of our parent.

My sibling, and I have always been extremely close. A relationship so close that it would have been completely unthinkable to anyone that we are now so estranged.

culture with the little ones (g2)

When I was having dinner with my little cousins, we talked about so many things that I believe there were at least 4 conversations running simultaneously the entire evening. The youngest even enlisted us in playing a cellphone game that worked kind of like charades in reverse. You hold your phone to your forehead outward and everyone else is supposed to give you hints without saying the word or phrase on the screen.

The youngest blazed through the music category and wanted me to try.

I love music.

With how many posts I have made that involved a video, or song reference, I’m sure you’ve figured this out. The only group I have joined on any social media has to do with music, mostly indie/alternative.  I played three different instruments growing up, I listen to college radio because I think its awesome to listen to dubstep going to work, then spanish rap on the way home, for example.

My hunger for music has only increased with age, contrary to what psychology/sociology doctrine says I should be. When I first interacted with Pandora, I was in heaven… a genome project for music? What the hell? I plugged in a few songs I could think of off the top of my head and it played completely different shit that I totally loved. I plow through my Spotify weekly… well, weekly and add anything I like to a current playlist to get me through work. Any band I like two or more songs of goes on a list of things to purchase an album… or two. I’m the revenue online music sites can’t track.

Spawn and I go to the local music store that still specializes in records and spend an ungodly amount of money and take out stacks of stuff. I am so connected to them via social media, I send them instant messages to request stuff I know they will have to order so it will be there when we get there. They show me stuff when I come in they think I will be interested in. They are my people.

Yes, I still buy CD’s. I figure when I make my first mill, I’ll invest in albums again and the stereo system it would take to make me happy, but I like the liner notes and inserts regardless. We listen to each in the car until we’re tired of it, I burn them all when we’re done so I can access them online or burn them onto mix CD’s for road trips.

I have a system, man.

I love music.

I also sincerely believe that my former spouse only owning two albums, one of them being a soundtrack, should have been sign enough to run the other way and I was just being stupid.

It was the elder of the two who piped up and said “pick a different category, they’re not going to know that crap.”

I asked what kind of music they thought I listened to. I barely see these girls anymore, which kills me, so I made no assumptions of them knowing my musical taste or taste in anything really. Hell, most people who did know me couldn’t tell you what my music tastes are.

The eldest responded immediately with, “eclectic, very eclectic is your taste.”

They really couldn’t be more right. I actually thought that would be to my advantage in a music category, but apparently they only put current music on the Gaga front and any other female singer willing to wear plastic and pasties to cut a record.

The older sister was right, I didn’t know anything about the current stuff they played in that music category. I could only nail it when they played stuff before 2k or the 90’s and earlier. The younger sister knew all of it, from classic rock on, she nailed it all. It’s not that I don’t listen to recent stuff either, I just don’t listen to recent “popular” stuff apparently.

I truly cannot tell the difference between almost any of the female singers that are currently being gushed over these days. It all sounds exactly the same to me.

The older sister and I share a mutual love of books. One of my most favorite gifts ever is when she gave me The Perks of Being a Wallflower. At the time, it was one of her favorites and she was the same age as the protagonist. I loved it as well. Probably not least of which due to it being set in an era I was growing up and experiencing some of the same things. We talked about our current reads and made mental notes of ones to check out from the other’s coffers.

Spawn was mostly silent throughout dinner, looking exhausted and overwhelmed. I often wonder if they might be a little closer to what good relatives we do have if they would just give a little more input into the conversation or reached out just a little more. However, I wasn’t much different at that age, just preferring to listen because I felt nothing I said would be interesting enough to contribute.

I sincerely hope that isn’t the reason for Spawn’s silence.

Little sis loved picking on Spawn on about this, to which the older sister would immediately defend them. I found it amusing. I’d always operated under the assumption that Spawn would talk when they wanted to and not a minute before.

The older sister also went to the school of fine arts that Spawn wishes to also attend, only for the cello, which Spawn has been playing too and loves. I doubt either of them have discussed the commonality at any point ever unless I brought it up.

The younger is putting aside her dreams of being a DJ to become a professional student. I would love this. Get up, learn shit, go home. If I could do that every day, I would be in heaven. I get the sense she is just feeling really directionless whereas her sister was very driven and had solid goals. In this area, I empathize with the younger sister more. I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, I just know I’m not doing it.


so the deviant absent parent has reared their drugged up head… (g2)

Spawn has just me.

I have no siblings, a cousin whom I only get along with for three day or less periods, an absent dad I flipped off once over thirty years ago, a dead mom, no living grandparents.

On the other end, there is a shitty biological donor with mental and drug-related problems, one dead sibling, an absent dad, absent half-siblings, a dead mom, no living grandparents.

Don’t get me wrong, if you dig past that, I have a couple aunts and some more cousins, but we don’t see each other much since we aren’t close. I’m the evil black sheep of the family and I’m to be kept away from the straights lest some of my bohemian lifestyle wear off on their offspring.

My BFG is like the only second parent to Spawn. They seem to be kindred souls in many ways, they both have an addiction to bacon and pasta that is unmatched and often, BFG’s presents to Spawn kick mine’s ass. They just “get” my kid.

Spawn’s other donor and I met in art class in high school actually. Then we parted for years because, life, and when I met them again, they were able to put on a reasonable facade of the person they used to be, but the cracks showed up pretty quickly and the whole thing ended.

When Spawn became exclusively mine, legally and otherwise, I figured that the questions about the other donor would be better if I made them up. We split a long time before either of us knew Spawn was a factor and its a miracle they came so healthy.

However, the other donor actually  asked if they could be a part of Spawn’s life. I told them the door was open but if they pulled any shit, I reserved the right to end it immediately.

At first, this was a weekly pick-up from daycare and they would go for a walk at a park or something until dinner. It dwindled over the course of a year or so and then it would be nothing.

Almost annually, usually around their birthday (they couldn’t be bothered to remember Spawn’s), they popped up for a little while, want to see Spawn, then disappear like a bad dream. Once they decided popping pills and driving were a good combination, Spawn was no longer allowed to be alone with them, much less in a car.

I tried very hard to work things in such a way that Spawn had a great memory of their other donor without becoming aware of just how messed up they were.  I would pick them up, schedule a “them” focused day and kind of linger in the background. Spawn had a great time, the other donor earned some points, and I didn’t have to deal with the shit for another year.

Example: Spawn wanted donor to watch them at karate class, I dropped them off, went down the road to run a load of laundry, to come back and find out donor has taken off across the street to a place that, not an hour before, they told me they used to buy drugs.

The last one was about five years ago or so when the other donor, who is currently ordered to pay a pittance in child support (seriously, $40/week is the order, I agreed to whatever would get me out of there fastest since they originally ordered $80) decided that in order to get out of this monetary infringement so they could pool their resources for better prescription drugs, they needed to get married. Apparently, they assumed that being married would automatically grant them half-custody and they would not longer have to pay child support.

So the other donor decided to disappear for a month and brought back a spouse from… god knows where. They lived like a recluse so none of us could figure out where they found this person. The donor has a house (paid for) and car (paid for) they inherited when their mom died, plus some actual monetary inheritance. I don’t know the last time they actually had a job, so I have no clue what the hell they thought they were doing. Usually I get a fat lump check whenever the court threatens to toss them in jail, since they’d already done so once.

The marriage didn’t last a month, despite the fact the spouse was apparently at least slightly crazy too. Friending me and Spawn on facebook and gushing about the “happy family” and “fast friends” they hope will be kind of made my stomach lurch. I ran interference before Spawn saw any of it often.

I watched the crazy sort of run its course, talked to a lawyer, found they didn’t have a leg to stand on, and just waited to let them run it to exhaustion. The only thing I had to say about it was to keep their crap away from me and Spawn. There would be no further visits for now.

This was the catalyst for them to release apparently a lot of pent up vile they have been holding onto against me. They couldn’t have their way, so I was the monster. I won’t get into it too much, it makes me rather ill, but when they decided in their drug-addled brain, to send my grade school kid this long facebook message about how I raped them and that was the only reason they existed,and I also apparently orchestrated the goings-on of the entire world with my genitals, being nothing more than a devious puppet-master.

I saved it. I blocked them, blocked their number, and sent everything to social services and family court, along with my only response. I told them if they thought they had a leg to stand on, they were welcome to take me to court, that they had no visitation rights, I had full custody and they had nothing, including the three bottles of prescriptions meds they ordered online, which I listed by name, by quantity and how many were left during the 10 days they had been in their possession before they had their stomach pumped (I was friends with their mom, and their mom’s best friend. The last time donor went to the ER for a stomach pump, the friend did some housecleaning and gave them to me as a backup plan).

That the true problem could be known quite clearly by simply pulling their medical records for the last twenty years and talking to the only person(s) who would still have anything to do with them, since they only did so in honor of their mother.

I told them if they ever wanted to see Spawn again they would have to submit to a mental exam and a rehab program, and only after an extended time of passing both, with court supervision.

It wasn’t long, a couple months, for the silence to end and I get a text from a number I don’t recognize with an apology.  I respond with “too late” and block that one too. So far, they have tried to reconnect only twice. A few days ago, marks the third. Spawn and I both got a friend request from yet another account they have created, since I blocked all the others. They are convinced I’m just going to forget and forgive just because they play nice for now.

I only know because Spawn asked if I wanted them to block it. Spawn remembers when I told them the donor was no longer to be around us, that they had gone too far but I wanted them to keep the few good memories they had so I would not be getting into the details of why, but to please trust me that I was doing it for good reason. Spawn cried of course, but eventually figured out over the years that I wouldn’t do something like that with half-assed feelings.

Donor gave Spawn a ball once, one they’d shoplifted. Other than that, the other donor spends their time inhaling copious amounts of prescriptions and alcohol,  spewing word salad and trying to pass it off as poetry and making shitty art. Even Spawn said “all there is on their facebook is badly taken photos and crappy poetry.”

The donor’s birthday is a little over a month away. I had always tried to acknowledge the big gift-giving occasions on behalf of Spawn.  Of course, that stopped years ago when I noticed that the reciprocation was never there. As usual, this is a test to see if they can eek back in.  I don’t know if selfish acknowledgement is the only motivation.

I’d like to think there is one tiny speck of humanity in there that realizes Spawn is their only living family left. Unfortunately, my very next thought is the only reason why any of this would matter to this particular piece societal garbage is for what exploiting Spawn would get them. They are a taker, they give nothing.

So my response was simple “pull something like this again and I will involve the police.”

Is it bad to wish they’d just die?

The First Fight (G-uno)

Well every relationship has to have a first fight, and Tarzan & Jane’s is no exception to the rule. Jane said that after the whole fight with Ex-hubby she was venting to Tarzan, and he told her that he thought she was allowing the whole encounter with Ex-hubby to be a much bigger deal than it should be. This really struck a nerve with Jane. She told me she immediately snapped back that well you wouldn’t know because you’ve never been married.

Then Tarzan snapped back that he hoped that if he expressed any opinions about Ex stuff, or the kids that directly impacted their relationship (that she didn’t agree with) that she wasn’t planning on pointing out that fact every single time. Jane was not use to having someone directly respond back in such a sharp tone. Ex-hubby was the type to keep things bottled up, and then passively get her back in a way that he could easily disguise as “she took it all wrong” if it really ticked her off way.

She said her first instinct was to insist that he recognize that she had a better insight into Ex-hubby’s intentions because she had been married to him for the past thirty plus years. Then she said as he stood their looking at him standing there with nothing on, but an intense facial expression she opted to be more agreeable. 😉

Tarzan must have been highly aware of her change in demeanor because he focused his intensity in other ways that Jane said could make him win any argument that might arise. I think Jane is becoming a huge fan of the nudist lifestyle these days. She told me that she tried to apologize for snapping at Tarzan, but he told her it was okay. He just did not want to be dismissed like a small child. Jane confided to him that Ex-hubby always told her that she was blowing something out of proportion so that was a sort of hot spot for her.

He asked Jane if she thought that she was having a relationship with him to get back at Ex-hubby? Jane told me that she snapped again asking him if he was having a relationship with her for the same reason?  She said suddenly he looked worried. She told Tarzan that she wasn’t, but she did worry that she was repeating history by entering a relationship with him much in the same way she had with Ex-hubby after they had broken up years ago.

If your heart just dropped to your knees then your having the very same reaction I had when Jane told me all of this. Of course I asked her what happened next? She said that Tarzan didn’t like that she had thought of their new relationship in that way, but he was glad that she told him the truth. Jane said she felt like she had messed everything up at that point. Then Tarzan told her he knew that she was still hurt. He told her he was not trying to be her knight in shinning armor.

He told her that he had been in a lot of relationships over the years that usually ended because he, and the women he dated were never really honest about who they were. That once the “good dating persona” wore off he never stuck around to see what happened next. Jane said she was really scared at that point. The he told her that he really didn’t want to make that mistake again. He asked her to try not to always compare their relationship to her’s and Ex-hubby’s relationship.

I think Jane thinks that she won’t be able to not compare the two relationships. To be fair that’s all she’s known for over three decades. I thought about how hard that would be to do. Mr G-uno, and I have been married for almost as long as Jane, and ex-hubby were. I can see why it would worry her.

Setting Ex-hubby Straight (G-uno)

Jane is furious that Ex-hubby rather graphically told their kids about walking in on her & Tarzan having sex, so after setting her kids straight she had a heart to heart with him. Jane told us at lunch she called him, of course “The infant” (sorry our caddy little nickname for the 24 year-old girlfriend ;)) answered the phone. Jane says that this is becoming a regular thing now whenever she calls him. Imagine that, the young woman doesn’t trust her cheating man.

Jane told Ex-hubby that he could not just drop by without calling anymore. He told her that it was his house so he would come by whenever he wished. She reminded him that he couldn’t wait to move out of that house so perhaps he should reacquaint himself with that memory whenever he got the urge to stop by.

Jane asked him what he thought he would accomplish by sharing the details of his drive by with their children? He told her that she had made him the bad guy with the kids first, and that he thought it was only fair that the kids knew he wasn’t the only bad parent. Jane said she was livid, and told him even though he has decided to relive his childhood he should remember that he is the bad guy. She told him in case he’d forgotten he started his affair before their marriage had even come to an end.

He told Jane their marriage had ended long before he had stepped out that door. Jane told him that he could of chosen to end it officially, but decided to be a cheating, lying piece of shit instead! Then she said if our relationship was so over then why were you so bothered by seeing me move on with my life? He told her that she wasn’t moving on that she was trying to punish him for falling for “the infant ;)” by seeing Tarzan!

Jane told him that he was delusional, and that if he hadn’t of jumped so quickly to become her rebound that she, and Tarzan probably would have gotten back together! (Now that one was meant to hurt him) Jane said it pissed her off that Ex-hubby was implying that the only reason Tarzan was seeing her was to settle a 3 decade old wound. Followed by a fuck you, you arrogant bastard. Then she told him to go make a life with your infant, stay the fuck out of my life, and that way you won’t have anything rubbed into your cheating, lying face.

I don’t know about you all, but I’m feeling the burn from that conversation myself. Sorry it has taken me so long to get this post out. Between our daughter’s wedding planning, and my job I can’t seem to keep up. Jane seems to think that she put Ex-hubby into his place closing the door to that relationship. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m not so sure that this was the final conversation on this subject. 😦

Jane’s Ex-hubby Is Now In The Loop (G-uno)

Jane’s Ex-hubby dropped by his old house to pick up his workout equipment without calling first, and walked in on Tarzan & Jane’s personal workout! Imagine his face when he saw Tarzan’s extremely tan & delicious back view (according to Jane 😉 ) working out with his Ex. I know it’s mean, but I would have loved to have been a fly on that wall.

For those of you who don’t know Tarzan was Jane’s first love, and ex-hubby’s former best friend since childhood. The friendship ended when Tarzan cheated on Jane, and ex-hubby stepped in to console Jane. He consoled her so well that they fell in love, and got married. This of course being a huge violation in the “Bro Code” ended ex-hubby & Tarzan’s friendship. Walking in on this had to bring back some serious flashbacks.

Jane said that ex-hubby was so stunned that he stood there frozen for a moment until she yelled get out. She, and Tarzan quickly dressed, and went into the kitchen where ex-hubby was standing by the bar. Jane admitted that seeing him pissed made her pretty happy. She looked at him and said that she didn’t know he was stopping by, and that maybe he should call first in the future.

Jane said ex-hubby continued to stare at Tarzan, but uttered a snappy comment about it not occurring to him that he needed permission to come to his own house. Jane quickly responded that it was no longer his house. Tarzan walked over to ex-hubby extending a handshake. Jane said ex-hubby hesitated for a moment, but finally shook his hand.

Tarzan smiling with a boyish grin said “Long time no see.” His attempt to bring some humor to an already way too awkward situation. Ex-hubby unamused said he had just stopped by to get his workout equipment. Jane said she motioned him towards the garage. Jane said he opened the garage door, and loaded up his truck.Then without even so much as a goodbye he got back into his truck, and drove off.

I knew that Jane had not told ex-hubby, or her girls about Tarzan. Tarzan also knew that, so Jane said Tarzan grinning at her said “Well I guess he’s in the loop now.” 😉

Furious Frank, And His Death Threat (G-uno)

Patience when it comes to the strangeness of human behavior is truly my forte’, but even I have my limit. Apparently the limit is a death threat. Frank threatened to kill me today. I went to pick him up from school today, he got into my car with his usual look of discontent. I gave him my usual greeting, a smile followed by a how was your day? Fully expecting him to rudely ignore my greeting. He buckled his seatbelt, then he began to scream.

“You didn’t get my paper you freaking, fucking idiot, I hate you!” I turn around completely thrown by how immediately he just went off like a bomb with absolutely no warning. My first reaction was to try to figure out what piece of paper he was shrieking about but then he looked me straight in the eye, and yelled I’m going to fucking kill you!” I completely snapped.

I yelled back “That’s it I’m done with this. I’m not taking any more of your crap! Who do you think you are speaking to me like that? I don’t know what paper your carrying on about because my freaking crystal ball isn’t working, but I can tell you this, you better never threaten me again, and I am done putting up with all your little games. If your were my child you’d be across my lap, and your pants would be melting to your backside from the speed of my hand spanking your spoiled backside!

Of course he started to scream back, and I told him not to say another word that when we got home he was going to put his stuff away, no screaming, no breaking things, and no tantrums. I told him that I would call his Mom, and let her know she could find someone else. When we got to the house I knew he was going to make a run for it, and the very thought of this had my blood boiling. I turned to him before he could climb out of the car, and told him to go straight to the door, put your things away. He told me to stay the fuck away from him, that he hated me.

I knew he was going to run so I sprung from the car, and headed him towards the back away from the front road, and into the back yard. He was screaming at me from the top of his lungs. He reached down picked up a four foot piece of a tree limb, and hurled it at me. I was so angry I picked it up, and snapped it over my leg throwing it back to the ground. He hurled his lunch box filled with heavy ice packs inside right at my face! I knocked it into the dirt ran towards Frank. I got eye to eye with him, and told him in a tone of voice that scared me as much as it did him. ” For the the last time get inside the house I will not ask you again!” This time he went.

His sister heard all of the commotion, she came running to see what was going on with us. He started his shrieking. slamming and kicking things routine all over again. I got close to his face telling him I was calling the police if he did not stop and head out to the dinning room. His sister called their Mom who then called me. Frank begins to yell into the phone that I’m killing him. I tell her that he has threatened to kill me, and that he was going to pick something of his choice, but that he will not be allowed to go outside of my sight until she arrived.

It took almost 45 minutes to get home when she was only 20 minutes away. Frank was sitting on his mini trampoline curled up in his blanket with his book staring at me as I straightened up the room. He did not say a word until she walked in the door. Then he immediately went into his usual mode. I turned right towards him, and told him to sit back down. He starts screaming, and cussing at me. I tell him I don’t care if your mother is here, or not if you don’t sit down I will call the police. He stops then immediately starts crying to his mother that he wants to kill himself. He is playing with her like a complete master of manipulation. He stops between sentences to check my face for a reaction, then immediately proceeds to continue to work on her emotions. Looking up at me almost smirking as he continues to say he doesn’t want to live any more.

She’s holding him on her lap in the way that you would hold a toddler, unable to see the expression on his face. Then it hits me. This is the only time he shows her affection, something she desperately wants from him. She is so desperate to have this connection with Frank that she doesn’t even get that it’s not a genuine show of affection. It’s simply a show.


So I Told Frank’s Mom It Might Be A Good Idea To Seek Psychiatric Help (G-uno)

Let me start out by saying that did not go so well. The woman who is usually quite emotionless welled up with emotion. She was pretty angry about the whole situation. She told me that I should not make accusations about things I don’t know anything about! Then she told me that she didn’t realize I had a degree in Psychology, and that I could be making a lot more money in that field!

I apologized for upsetting her. I told her that I had seen a similar reaction from my brother who suffers from mental illness, and that we found a great doctor who was able to help him almost immediately. She then told me she was sorry that we have mental problems in our family, but that did not mean that Frank was mentally ill. Then she asked me to leave.

I don’t know what I was thinking. I started out by saying that I was worried about them all. That Frank’s threat to hurt her had stayed on my mind. Then I asked her if she had considered seeing  someone about his anger. Then everything went south from there. Mr G-uno says that I had more time to think about all of this before speaking to her, and that maybe she needs some time to take this all in herself.

The most difficult part of being someone’s personal assistant is remaining fairly invisible from their lives. I may have crossed a boundary here. 😦

You Had Me Right Up To The Moment You Decided To Screw Someone Else (G-uno)

Guess whose cheating hubby I bumped into at Old Navy? I was shopping for my kids, he was shopping for his twenty-four year old mistress. He is still my friend, but he is not in my good graces right now. He did not accidentally fall into his 24 year-old secretary’s vagina, and betray my other friend. It was a conscious, deceitful choice that has deeply hurt a lot of people I love.

This is the first time I’ve seen him since I went over to pick his wife up from his office the day she decided to confront the other woman. He knows that his wife, and children confide in me so he knew I was told about the whole invitation fiasco where his mistress decided to invite his children over for a Christmas dinner. He also knows that I will not lie to him.

I said hello first, and he sheepishly said hello back. Talk about an awkward moment. It wasn’t like I could ask him how things were going, or what his plans were for Christmas. So as I stood there thinking about what to say, he said “This is pretty awkward.” I told him that’s what I was just thinking. Then I just came out, and told him “Look you are still my friend, but I’m angry that you’ve hurt my other friends so deeply!” With that being said I don’t know how to balance being your friend, while still being loyal to them.

He shook his head in an understanding way, then he said we tried to extend the olive branch by inviting the kids over for a Christmas dinner that wouldn’t interfere with Christmas with their mom. I said “Yes, I know can I ask you why you decided to do that? He quickly snapped back that he was still their father! I said “Yes you are their father, but she is nothing to them except someone who has betrayed their mother.” He snapped again saying “Well  I guess since I’ve betrayed their mother too I don’t count any more either!”

I said”Look you made a choice to be involved with this young lady, but being their father doesn’t mean they have to do the same. You have not just betrayed their mother, but you have lied, and deceived them as well. They love you, but they will never forgive her for being a part of this betrayal. They will eventually forgive you, but you have some damage repair to do with your individual relationships with them.”  He glared at me and said “I suppose you would like an apology too.”

Annoyed by his arrogance I told him “No but I’d really like to see some results from your brain scan if you decide to have one.”

i know it’s thanksgiving, but i’d just like to leave early because i don’t like you. (g2)

Well, per usual I spent Thanksgiving with my cousin’s family. If you have been confused with my family dynamic…. well, join the club. Why should I be the only one? As far as my cousins and I have been able to discern from our earlier generations…

Great Great and Great-grandparents = Embodied heavenly creatures brought forth to make entire childhoods more epic and special than even the most tear-jerking of xmas films. At least per Grand and her kids to some extent.

Dead grandparent = At least somewhat beloved by all four children, especially my mother. Despised by spouse, based on how they were mentioned our entire lives. Only one cousin remembers this person and yes, fondly.

Grand = one of the single most psychotic creatures I have ever had the misfortune to meet, let alone be raised by. When spouse died within a month of their father dying, Grand snapped and seemed to spend their life devoted to the sole destruction of their own family. Their children remember them mostly as “typical” but not “involved.”

Grand and spouse’s four children = four of the most worthless fucking parents, and sometimes people, the world has ever had the disgrace to have on the planet. Not one, as a parent, has been worth a shit. Yes, including my mother. For their children, this ranged from present but withholds love and pride in exchange for preferential treatment (especially competing with their daughter-in-law), too busy picking out the next ex-Mrs. to be bothered being a parent, too busy partying and trying to find Mr. Right in all the Mr. Wrongs, to I’d rather raise the other kids I made instead of my first born but only if it doesn’t interfere with my drinking.

Cousins = the group in which I am in…. we have families, good ones and good friends. For the most part, we all have our heads on pretty solid in spite of at least half of our genetic makeup. However, we are all such different people that had we not shared genetics in even the most minor of way, we’d never speak.

I used to say I was visiting “my closest cousin” or “the cousin to whom I was closest.” I realized over the years that not only was this strictly relative in comparing my relationship with my other cousins, but completely untrue.

We are maybe the two people who might have had more than a passing conversation if we’d met in a waiting room or similar since we are techies. In my family, that’s close. We also have seven years difference in age. He’s the child of the eldest, I’m the child of the youngest. They had 12 years difference.

My cousin and his wife have an awesome kid who is eerily similar to Spawn, interests-wise, despite their six years difference in age. Sadly, they don’t talk to one another. They will both contentedly sit in the same room and play on their phone, computer or draw and not say a word for hours. This makes me sad, but I understand if it doesn’t happen naturally on its own, it will backfire.

My cousin and his wife do very well. They travel quite a bit, spoil their kid rotten and just generally get to do a lot together. I think it’s awesome. Comparatively, I probably make less than a fourth of what they do and we struggle quite a bit. I’m ok with that. The only time I’m not ok with that is when I feel like I’m getting graded for it. This only occurs when I’m visiting them. “Well, you know… you could do X if you just sock a little aside…” Um, no actually I can’t, that ends up lumped into groceries and we need those.

I also get graded on my parenting. Spawn has my level of stubborn when it comes to something they don’t want to do and for the longest time, this mostly focused on putting anything in their mouth that wasn’t pizza, chicken nuggets or french fries. I blame daycare, since they considered mashed potatoes and rice balanced side dishes when served together. Spawn is older now, has made and tasted a quickie version of kimchi even, but if they don’t like it, they’re still not eating it. I don’t have a problem with this.

My cousin’s wife is an awesome cook and I would use these as good reasons for Spawn to try something they “thought” they hated. Spawn would dig in their heels about it not being on that very short list in their head and instead of letting the parent handle it, both my cousin and his wife would gang up on my kid to make them try it. My knee jerk reaction was to do the opposite and let Spawn escape the onslaught.

They didn’t see they were doing anything wrong, but more than once I would have to point out, “I would never have to audacity to parent your kid, it’s not my place. So remember that when the urge strikes you to parent mine.”

The sad thing is this hasn’t happened with just them among my family. It really breaks down your own self worth when you are overstepped because someone thinks they can “handle” your kid better. Is it due to family persistently thinking you are forever 13? Or do they actually see you’re an adult but just think you’re that incompetent?

The whole reason I ever came to this area… I blame first on my mom’s death, the holidays, or those fucking Budweiser holiday commercials… not sure. I sure as hell wasn’t remembering my actual blood relatives when I came up with this idea.

I had a kid on the way and suddenly family took on a very intense meaning. My family was all over 3k miles away, Grand was getting on in years and none of their kids wanted to deal with them.

I would. I’d dealt with their crazy shit most of my life, another 10 years would be nothing to get them out of the solitude they were currently living in. It would give my kid exposure to at least one member of their own family. I was hell bent on making Grand’s twilight years an epic adventure as I learned what it meant to be a parent.

It wasn’t long before, due to Grand and her minions (the three surviving children) I was soundly ousted from that scenario. Grand was packed up and moved off into a house with a friend of the eldest and not long after…. an assisted living facility and then state-funded type you die in.

I’d managed to get some weight and blood sugar meds off Grand just long enough for the eldest to stuff them on a shelf where they put that and more back on. The degeneration was rapid… so so rapid. Within one year there was a walker… and a diaper.

Greed had always been a driving factor for Grand and her eldest was no different… eerily so. The best I could figure is they were under some assumption I had come back to take advantage of Grand and the… wealth? Grand has social security and a mortgage still, in their 80’s. They had lent 25k to the pathetic piece of shit of their youngest son. The same son who told me during that time period “Family decisions will be made by the family… not you.”

Those were our last words.

Example, I took Grand to the grocery store about 2-3 times a week. Grand was addicted to shopping and I noticed they would go up each and every aisle no matter how much they really needed to get. Did you know just doing that, Grand dropped a couple pant sizes in no time?

Grand had an almost desperate need to shove stuff in their cart. Macular degeneration helped a lot during this time period as Grand would focus on one side, while I pulled things out of the cart from the other and put it back. I always made sure there was at least something there to buy for their fix, but it had to stay under 10 bucks total.

With us grocery shopping so often, the food was fresher. Grand loved fruit and I only allowed 3 servings at most per trip, and all had to be different colors. Grand got pissed at me when I wouldn’t let them buy a 10lb bag of oranges (did I mention Grand was diabetic?). I got calls later that I was accused of not feeding Grand.

Whenever I did something that Grand didn’t like, they would start some shit with their kids in order to bully me, I guess? I would take the infant Spawn to visit their other and only living grandmother. Grand told anyone who would listen I was running around with various people, the allusion was that was sleeping around.

I remember one night I had just gotten back to Grand’s about midnight, Spawn conked out in my arms and Grand was rocking away, arms folded, look of disgust mounted on their face. I asked what was wrong. I was told that someone had called Grand to say I’d been out with some member of the opposite sex.

I’d heard shit like this my entire life. I would tell Grand where I was going and give a number, I would come back accused of all sorts of atrocities. This was before caller id, so I had no reason to believe it was wasn’t true. I just could never figure out who the hell looked like me enough or if their friends were just blind and stupid. I didn’t know how to not be defensive growing up, and always felt guilty for nothing.

I quietly walked over to the caller id when Grand refused to tell me who called… there’d been no calls in 27 hours. I asked Grand why they had spent my entire life sitting in that fucking chair coming up with bullshit lies to sling at me for no other reason than their own twisted amusement.

Then I sat down just opposite Grand, got close and said…”If I want to fuck half a dozen people of both genders in front of my infant kid, I’m almost thirty and you cannot do a damn thing to stop it as that is none of your fucking business. Are we understood?”

Grand was pissed, but a small nod told me what I needed. I rose and as I headed to bed I just said “You know, even if that were some sort of weekend hobby I decided to adopt, I still don’t think it would ever make me as shitty a parent as you.”

As time wore on, Grand tried various bullshit in order to regain “control.” With Grand, that’s all it was really about. I wasn’t letting Grand do what they wanted, or control me, so I needed to be disciplined and put in my place.

Thing is, I was the grandchild. Hearing enough various awful things I was apparently doing to Grand was enough to make her surviving children, at least two of them, wonder what the deal was.

The original plan was that Grand and I would me moving in together but there was no way I was moving back to Grand’s house. So in the midst of all of this, on the weekend I was to be moving into the new place (we got Grand up there in advance), I showed up with van full of stuff and find some friend of Grand’s eldest is already living there. I call my cousin to ask what is going on. They have no idea.

I get back in my van, and I head back to Grand’s old house. In three days, I’ve moved to my own place in the next city and I haven’t given anyone the address. I cut off all contact Grand’s kids in the area.

I get calls from Grand begging me to come get them. My paranoid mind is telling me the eldest is recording all of Grand’s conversations, but my logical mind is telling me not even they are that crazy.

They are that crazy.

The eldest proudly declares this when describing a conversation where Grand called their youngest to check on me and then called me to tell me to call the police if they showed up. Seriously.

I tell Grand that they were the catalyst for 99% of this. It sucks that their kids are as stupid and mean as they are, but they should be proud they’d done so well turning them into exactly what they wanted. That being jobless, homeless with an infant was the last situation I wanted to be in and be surrounded by that goon squad. That I didn’t want a damn thing from any of them and I sure as hell wasn’t telling them where I was.

This is also shortly after hearing about how Grand had enlisted the help of their eldest son to take me away from my mom almost 30 years ago. The one time I remember coming near Grand Jr aka the eldest is to pick up the rest of my things that actually did make it up (there’s still more), Spawn is staying with a friend of mine for the day as I will not have them around my kid in case anyone gets any wild ideas for a do-over.

Fast forward to this past holiday. This eldest child of Grand’s I’m civil to out of respect for my cousin. This is the only family he has to invite aside from me and he loves his parent. I get all that. I loved Grand even though I didn’t like them. Unfortunately, the eldest is hellbent on trying to delve right into the past slew of shit I’ve managed to dodge the past ten years.

I don’t want to hear it. I don’t care anymore. Grand had a shitty final ten years and that is on Grand and their kids. I did my best and like all of my life I have never felt a part of this family. I was the unwanted runt Grand brought home, put on a pedestal and proceeded to sink every dime into buying truckloads of unnecessary shit for, making it obvious to every other member of the family who the favored child was, most especially among other grandchildren. Doesn’t help any bonding with your family peers, I can tell you that. I grew up feeling like there was always going to be a sizable bill at the end. That I was expected to make a large income that would enable Grand to have a life they intended to become accustomed.

What a disappointment I must have been.

This eldest went on about how that friend was only staying there until I got there. This stunned me. They asked why I didn’t ask. I told them I did ask, I asked Grand, I asked my cousin when they weren’t available and they were all as clueless as I was.

I was accused of being insanely picky about everything I wanted down to the minor details. I told them that was ridiculous. Sure, I had a lot of things I liked, everybody does, but I wasn’t allowed to be involved in any of the decision-making enough to be accused of being picky. That the entire time any of this was going on, I saw one realtor, who showed us a bunch of overpriced insane shit and next thing I know there just is a place, it’s purchased and their friend is living in it. What I thought didn’t matter and no one asked.

To some degree, it kind of felt like an act and in some other, it seemed like the eldest kind of figured out where they fucked up. I’m sure, if they are like Grand, this will be rewritten in their mind in about a week, much like the “insane demands” I apparently made about… spigots, tiles? I remember a conversation once about things I thought were cool in kitchens. This is the only reference material I can recall on this and it had nothing to do with any places we’d seen. I want a completely stainless steel kitchen with sealed cabinets, a pressure washer and a drain in the floor… because I’m fucking lazy and that sounds awesome. I also want a more awesome chest and thicker hair.

My cousin’s wife… I’m not sure if she was trying to be comforting, but it really just pissed me off more. They were saying that not having someone as venomous as Grand around Spawn is something I should be thankful for. That I should be grateful to the their kids for all of it since it meant I was free of it.

But I’m not. They fucking meddled and pushed me to the side and instead of discussing anything with me, they just meddled more and dealt with Grand like baggage. There is no way NOW of knowing how any of it would have turned out. Grand might still be here, as cantankerous and shitty as ever, but on less meds and less weight and busy… I just wanted them busy and active and not sitting in that stupid rocker all day brooding over who they would fuck with next. Sure, it would have been trying for both me and Spawn, but maybe not as much as it was at the start had we all been allies versus enemies. We were just NEVER given that chance.

All of this BS aside, it shit on so many relationships with my family as well, I have nothing but bad feelings from all of that. If I’d known that then what would have occurred, before coming back to this area, I would have never come and probably headed further west and away from them.

THAT I could have been truly thankful for.

mom died over a dozen years ago today…but it still seems so very recent (g2)

Over a dozen years ago today I was working a double shift at a telecommunications center that was trying to ramp up for holiday volume. My mom and I were instant messaging back and forth about plans for the upcoming holiday well into midnight. We said our “I love you’s” and “good night’s,” her very last message being how her boyfriend would be coming down.

I didn’t like how my mother behaved around the men she was dating, and this one was no different. This was the first one that wasn’t married, a junkie, a drunk, a loser, or some variation thereof and I could tell she was pretty serious about him. I didn’t dislike him either. I truly felt my mom deserved someone good for a change.

However, I hated how she spoke higher and more sing-songy when he was around. How her very quick and sharp wit was dulled and muted in order to keep the spotlight on her man. My mom was the type of person you’d want to have your back in a beer brawl. Her Mrs. Cleaver act around guys just pissed me off.

I sent a final message opting out of spending the holiday with her, using work as an excuse, and wishing her a good time with the boyfriend.

I cannot express enough the relief when I found that message unread two days later.

When my message arrived, my mom had dozed off in front of the TV, and in less than an hour a blood clot traveled to her lungs and suffocated her in her sleep. She never reached fifty years of age.

A little over a day later, her boyfriend would be the one to find her still on the couch.

I’m sitting at work, on a Saturday, working another double shift with a hundred pairs of eyes on me while a coroner calls me to tell me casually my mother is dead and how by the decomposition and smell of the body, how he managed to estimate the time of death.

I’m also pissed that this man dares to fuck with me over such a thing. There is no way my hiking, fishing, outdoorsy loving mother would be dead.

I put the call on hold and walk to a back office. I have no clue what my face shows at this point, only that all one hundred sets of those eyes are watching me in shock.

When I pick up this call, I start tearing into this man for the shitty human being he is, how my mother would kick his ass if she knew what he was trying to pull. He never responded, except to give me his number and I hang up on him.

It wasn’t until my friend Cris calls me on my cellphone and tells me that she is with my mom’s boyfriend and they are there to pick me up that the weight of it hits me as truth.

Cris was close to my mom, but she’d never met the boyfriend. If she was with him, it was because she is one of those on a short list of emergency numbers my mom keeps of people who know how to find me.

I feel like a building just fell on my chest, I don’t really remember breathing. It gets worse when I see Cris, the boyfriend standing behind and off to the side with downcast eyes as though he somehow doesn’t have the right to be there.

This puzzles me.

I suddenly feel very sorry for him when I realize he has to be one who found her. I also realize I don’t… I don’t want to see her at all.

I also realize this is one of the few people who might actually be hurting as much as I am.

I realize that if I don’t make any other calls, I do need to call Grand and tell them their baby is dead. I’m still at work when I find an empty office and give them the news. It galls me the first response Grand has is “are you ok?”

Cris deals with most of it. I don’t remember much of anything except that it isn’t long later when Cris and another one of my close friends are with me at home. I’ve not cried, I doubt I’ve expressed much of anything. They intermittently ask me if I want anything. I finally tell my friends I love them and appreciate what they are trying to do but I really need them to get the fuck out.

I stared in the dark in my quiet little house for only a little while before I got in the car and headed to my mom’s.

I had my own set of keys to her house, as she did to mine.

I suddenly remember my last text message blowing her off for the holiday. GUILT. It’s blinking unread in her notifications. *SIGH*

I read an email she sent to her boyfriend where she mentioned being just a little disappointed that there had not been any grandchildren from my failed marriage. GUILT.

I curled up into a ball on the couch she died in and for a long time… I cried.

I cried over the fact that the only thing my mom ever wanted from life was the whole marriage and happy home bit. The closest she ever got was the engagement she hadn’t told me about yet to the current boyfriend. He let it slip in the chaos and I’d yet to process it.

I cried over the fact that in all of my almost thirty years on earth, if you took the years that were robbed by Grand, my former spouse and my own stubborn anger… my mom and I had only have seven years of time together. SEVEN.

I was an orphan. I’d long been abandoned by one parent and had spent most of my life feeling like the other one was just half-assing the same. It would be a few more weeks before I would find out just how much of a lie that was, and I would grieve even more.

I stayed on that couch for days.

Then I buried myself in work, and when it came time to leave work, I hit the bars. I had a precarious balance between burying myself in work and inebriation.

I volunteered to train classes at other centers when I couldn’t deal with the fact my co-workers knew about it. When I had to have paperwork notarized, it was a branch manager at another center who did it. They just asked “Why are you even here?”

Grand and my closest cousin came to help clear out paperwork and see if we could find a will. I opted to cremate her, requested a lock of her hair. I’d never done funeral things and we weren’t members of a church. We were outsiders to the area we lived really. I drug my cousin along on my alcohol binges when we had decided to cease and desist in the evening. To this day, we don’t talk about it. He took on the mantra Nevada did… “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas” kind of thing. For me that kind of wildness was pretty normal, for him the family man, it was very eye-opening.

By the time I could tolerate other people and could host a wake, only her boyfriend and a few of my friends had come. I had just waited too long for people to keep an eye out for it. I just did everything wrong. MORE GUILT.

I know deep down my mom would never stress about that kind of shit and she would likely make fun of me for doing so. Unfortunately, logic doesn’t seem to have a lot of pull over emotions. It’s sucks like that.

I know my mom would feel bad to know that the holiday season is very bittersweet for me. She was such a massive kid about the holidays, she loved them all and was excited about them and ran at them with wide open arms. It would kill her to know that losing her makes me want to curl back up on that couch every holiday season until its over.

So I don’t.

I try to channel my mom in spite of the scroogy spirit that I have. I realize now I started doing it for Grand’s benefit right after losing my mom and I’ve been doing it for someone’s benefit ever since. Thank goodness it only took a couple years before Spawn came along, since now I don’t have to work to find a focal point.

I try my best to give my kid the kind of holiday environment that would make the grandmother they never knew proud. It’s the least I can do.

Bury The Hatchet? (G-uno)

Burying the hatchet? I’m having a hard time with this concept. My heart says yes, but my brain is screaming not a chance! I was on FB, and I saw a quote that said giving someone too many chances is the equivalent to giving someone the green light to continue to disrespect you. The premise being that if you keep forgiving someone for disrespecting you, they never worry about correcting the behavior because they know there will be no consequence for their behavior.

Then as I scrolled down a little further I saw the quote that said you can’t change the behavior of those around you, but you can change who you choose to be around. At this point I’m asking myself coincidence or signs from the “Universe?” I am more of a signs kind of gal 😉 so of course I continue to scroll a little further.

Then the next quote says choosing to forgive someone does not dismiss their bad behavior, but it does allow you to free yourself from the negativity of the situation. So now I start to believe that the “Universe” has become bored with all it’s other pressing matters, and has decided that messing with my mind is just way too amusing. I know what you’re thinking G-uno is getting stoned, or drinking, I swear I am doing neither.

I was simply using FB like some “Crazy Eight Ball” asking it questions, and then scrolling for an answer. This is what happens when I’m left to my own devices to amuse myself.  All joking aside I am trying to handle my anger from a humorous point of view. Still clinging to the notion that if you live by sword, you will die by the sword.

Then I spoke with my good friend about everything that was going through my mind, and she said with a huge mischievous grin that from where she was sitting she felt that I had two options. “One option was to bury the hatchet, ignoring the repetitive passive aggressive behaviors. The other was to expertly throw the hatchet so close to my SIL’s head that if she treated me that badly again she’d get the idea that we would be burying more than the hatchet.” Oh how I love that friend of mine! 😉

Are You The One Who Loves More In Your Relationship? (G-uno)

“Love is seldom-

almost never-

an even proposition.

Someone always

loves more.”

Emily Griffin

I love this quote because I think it applies to every single relationship you have with every single person we love.Whether it’s your life partner, your children, siblings, other family members, or your friends, love is seldom an even proposition. Love is a living breathing entity, and ever-changing by it’s very nature, but for some reason we always want to make it equal. We want to compartmentalize love, keep score on who was more giving, who was right, who did more than their share of giving, or compromising.

I think we guard our selves emotionally in this very destructive behavior as a way of covering our bases in our relationships. We have a huge fear of being the one to screw up something that means so much to us. We can be so focused on that fear that we lose the very thing that makes our love so extraordinary. After all the very idea that anything in life is equal, is pretty absurd. If you think about it, it’s a pretty Utopic concept. Talk about chasing the unattainable.

My husband, and I have had a difficult couple of months. We have both been on edge, when this happens I think the feeling of being out of sync is more than uncomfortable, or agitating. I think it’s frightening. Let’s face it no one likes feeling vulnerable. So we stick out our chests, declare that whatevers going on couldn’t possibly be our fault, and before you know it you’ve forgotten that this kind of behavior is something that destroys relationships rather than building them. Ironically you are perpetrating the thing you actually fear happening! Yep that’s why they call love crazy.

So in the middle of feeling agitated, mad, and preparing my next why I’m right speech in my head, I stopped to think about how horrible all of this fighting was making me feel. Mr G-uno is a fierce warrior, something I love when I myself am not what he’s battling, and what I felt was a haunting distance. In my own quest to be understood and of course be right, I had lost track of the what keeps love going.

I forgot that in love someone is always in need of being loved more. I had forgotten that sometimes you get to be the person that is more loved, and that sometimes you need to be the person who loves more. 😉

My Brother’s Mental Illness Is Angry At Me Again (G-uno)

The only thing more difficult than being supportive to someone you love who has a mental illness is actually being the the person with the mental illness.What makes this so difficult is the fact that you can not possibly understand what your loved one is actually going through. You can read all the amazingly written blogs by people who deal with mental illnesses in their daily lives, you can research as much information as possible, and you can speak with doctor after doctor, but simple truth is that illness is as individual as the people who have them.

My baby brother is 25 years younger than I am, and only a couple of weeks older than my daughter. In many ways he is more like another child to me than a brother. He has always been a little unique, we know now that was a great deal due to his undiagnosed Asperger’s Autism. Unfortunately for him very little was know about this diagnosis 26 years ago so he did not receive the early beneficial therapy that children today receive. So he was always a very sweet, but awkward social out cast.

At the age of 17 he suddenly became very dark, and emotionally out of control. He began to exhibit some very unusual behaviors. Uncontrollable fits of anger, and crying, he seemed to be having conversations with someone we could not see. He began to remove my face from family pictures (my sister’s too), and he was very paranoid whenever we were present. Our first thought sadly was that perhaps he was experimenting with drugs/alcohol so we had him physically examined. He passed all exams with no negative results, and the doctor suggested we seek a psychiatric evaluation.

He was diagnosed with Schizoaffective disorder as a primary diagnosis, and Asperger’s Autism as a secondary. It’s very similar to Schizophrenia, but our brother insists that he does not hear voices. This is still something we are not completely convinced of, but we have to take his word to heart. He suffers from extreme paranoia, and delusions when he is not properly medicated. Medications are not an exact science with this illness, and the body builds a tolerance to them after a period of time so then symptoms reoccur requiring a medication increase.

We have a wonderful psychiatrist who keeps our brother at the lowest doses possible especially since he will have to be medicated his entire life. I am not upset by my brother’s extreme anger towards me, because as difficult as that is for me it is also the only way I have of gauging if he is in need of medical attention. I know it is his mental illness that is angry with me not my brother. I just hate that he has to live with his illness, and all the difficult symptoms, his intense loneliness, delusional thoughts, and societal stigmas on a daily basis. I love my brother with all my heart, so every time we reach a point where we need to increase his medicine my heart breaks for him.

The Problem With Telling The Truth (G-uno)

The problem with telling the truth is that everyone claims that they want to hear it, but the truth is the majority  of people really don’t like telling the truth. Maybe Jack Nicholson would have been more correct if he had said “You can’t handle telling the truth!” One of my favorite in-laws called me this morning. She was feeling really upset by some recent gatherings among the family that she felt both her, and her sister had been selectively excluded from attending. I listened with great empathy because I know how exclusive this bunch can be first hand.

This weekend involved an annual 3 day gathering where numerous family members rented cabins in a park. Saturday was an invite for a family picnic that everyone was invited to with great openness. Her issues were with all the other less than open gatherings among a certain click within the family circle. Let me say to you right up front I have been a member of this family for 33 years, and I am not an invited member within this particular group. I am personally okay with the exclusion. Since she grew up with these family members, and had always previously been included to the exclusive click she was very hurt by her obvious exclusion.

She went further to say she actually expressed her feelings to one of the Aunts (A queen bee in the click), and she was further hurt because she could tell that the explanation she received was a lie. She went further to let me know that there was a great deal of anger over our loved one who recently passed’s private internment service the evening prior to the huge family reunion. This was a decision made by our loved one’s wife. Her request was just the immediate family.

I am a huge fan of the truth. Even if it is uncomfortable for those involved because I believe that it is the only way to build genuine bonds between people. It’s also a great way to keep misunderstandings at bay. What happens when you know the truth, but the truth is not yours to tell? In this case I do happen to know why she was excluded. Unfortunately I am bound by the confidence of another family member not to speak about the reason.

Since I had given my promise not to share this information I kept my word. I feel very badly about the entire situation. So I simply told her that I was sorry that she had been hurt. I told her that I couldn’t explain the behavior of the others within the exclusive click. I will never understand how mistreating someone could be easier than just truthfully telling someone what they did to offend you, and allowing them a chance to explain, apologize, or fix the damage.

I personally would have given an open invitation to anyone who wanted to have attended our loved one’s internment, but it was not my decision. I find it ironic that the exclusive click was so indignant about someone else’s choice to be exclusive. The problem with telling the truth is that so many people rarely do so. 😉

if only i could be heard (g2)

I’ve refrained from discussing something I’ve been dealing with for a few years now… and I really haven’t a damn clue why. Its not like you you guys deal with me every day (you’re welcome), I can spare a blog post to bitch about an issue I have, right? I have a doctor’s appointment this morning and this will be with someone new. Everyone I have been accustomed to dealing with has left to pursue other specialties so now after four and half years, I have to start all this shit from scratch.

Ok, so four and half years ago I went to see my doctor about some hot spots and pain I was getting in my legs after walking a few miles. My doc took some blood tests and I actually had the arteries in my legs scanned. Considering my mom died of “clots,” they didn’t mess around. My blood test came back with elevated cholesterol, but thankfully legs all clear. I was given meds and told to follow up in a few weeks.

At the follow up, I had another blood test, but I also handed over a log of every damn thing I put in my mouth from my last appointment and asked “ok, what do I need to change?” I was told they found no problem with my diet (even with the copious amounts of coffee – yes, decaf… even I play pretend).

It was frustrating, but I had to face the fact that maybe it was time to eliminate the one real vice I still had… smoking. We talked about Chantix, they wrote me a prescription and I got started with the standard three month supply.

I didn’t want to quit. I enjoyed smoking. I could still happily sit in the midst of a pack of smokers, as long as it was outside. I hated that shit on me even when I did smoke. But considering smoking over infinite prescription medications, I just faced the fact it was time to end it. My kid was also very vocal about how much they hated my smoking too. I weened myself off smoking and the meds in a month and half.

The 2nd blood test showed that the cholesterol meds they put me on were successful in bringing down the cholesterol, but it spiked my triglycerides times three. The medication was quickly ceased and I was to start taking fish oil instead.

Over the few months after quitting, I probably slapped on about 10 pounds, but that didn’t bother me. I expected worse and knew I’d eventually knock it back off. I ran most of a 5k my company sponsored us to go on with Spawn right with me. I say “most” because we kept having to stop and wait for the rest of our group. We had a blast.

Then I got tired.

I got the kind of tired where I slept 15 hours and could still sleep another 10 on waking. I had no energy, my brain was in a fog and I had trouble focusing. My doc upped the dosage on my anti-depressants. I didn’t feel depressed though… not the usual self-deprecating apathy that usually marks an onset of depression for me anyway.

The pain got worse.. and it spread.

The second 5k, a few months later than the first, I had to sit down and rest over half a dozen times and I couldn’t run at all. My body felt like it was on fire, I couldn’t catch my breath, everything ached. All the people I used to have to wait on, were waiting on me when I finally finished.

The pain in my legs started to get even worse. It wasn’t just hot spots anymore, it felt like nerves, joints, and slowly… muscles. My back started to feel like it would snap in two. I had to strain just to lift my feet. Try to imagine wearing pants made of thick silicone, at least 4 inches thick, nice and heavy… then walk. Walking across my very small house seemed like a huge feat almost beyond my grasp. I didn’t want to scare my kid, but I sure felt like soon I would simply not be able to make it. The weight of course started sliding on. I usually did 5-6 miles a night. Now I just couldn’t do anything.

My next blood test indicated a flux in my thyroid. I was prescribed the smallest dosage to start. It actually seemed to help.. just a bit. It didn’t eliminate anything, but the volume was turned down some.

More doc visits, the thyroid meds are lowered as my blood indicates it is working “too well.” I’m a bit upset by this considering its the only thing that has seemed to help and I feel like they are taking it away.

My cholesterol is still elevated and I’m asked how I take the fish oil. I explain that I will take an entire handful if I’m sitting down to a burger, but if the fat in my meal is an avocado I don’t take it at all. My doc nods, this is fine to them. My hands and feet are now often swollen and numb, I’m constantly having to shake feeling back into them.

The third and my final participation in a 5k happens a few months after the last one… one in spring, one in summer, and now this in fall. By the time I was a third of way through it, every participant had long gone home. I gave up upset and frustrated with my own body. I wanted to scream.

My doc took a job at a cardiac facility, so now I have to talk to the backup whose addiction to the prescription pad is terrifying. Who gives a refill on a z-pack for fuck’s sake? I usually only deal with them when I know I have a sinus infection and my regular isn’t available.

I’m having to explain all this new shit and the old shit, that seems to be going wrong and I’m trying to explain how serious it is for me considering how much it simply feels like I’m deteriorating. I get dubious looks from the nurse and scrips for pain meds that only seem to make my stomach even more acidic than it has ever been while barely touching the pain. I add pepcid to the list of shit I take a day. Yeah, we’re now up to four pill types now.

I do some research on my own. I try a multitude of different vitamins and minerals and/or combinations. Nothing really seems to make any significant difference. The amount of water retention I end up having to deal with is obscene, water pills only seem to help a little but at this point I will take it.

The backup doc refers me to a rheumatologist…  and then left too. The rheumatologist does not think what I have is arthritis. I told them I agreed. At this point I’m thinking… over four years and no one has been able to help figure out what the fuck is wrong with me… is it because they don’t give a shit and care about their quotas more… or I’m just not severe enough to bother? I’m tired of paying fucking co-pays for incompetence, indifference or both.

My masseuse friend managed to unwind so many knots of muscles I had snarled from having to work 10 times as hard to do a 10th as much as I used to, I could not be more grateful. If I could have jumped around, I would have. Between my chiropractor and friend, I have finally tapped into a little more range of motion.

I am middle aged and I move worse than most people I have seen with walkers in their 80’s. It may not kill me anytime soon, but it lowers my quality of life enough to think death would be a great fucking vacation.

Out of curiosity, I started googling various combinations of what I’d been dealing with… cholesterol, weight, exhaustion,pain,water retention,depression, etc… all these seemingly unrelated items and systems that seemed to be on a downward spiral of failure… 98% of the results I got… thyroid. Yes, there was cancer here and there as well, but mostly thyroid. Did you know symptoms can manifest or worsen when you quite smoking? I didn’t.

How much smarter would a doctor look if he just fucking googled sometimes?

Do I have a family history of thyroid problems? um, just my mother, aunt, one uncle, a grandmother, a great-grandmother… I’m sure if the last uncle lived long enough, he probably would have had it too.

I called the office I go to, explained my irritation and how I was not putting up with another 4 years of this shit. They had two new doctors on staff to replace the ones who left, one who specialized with the endocrine system. I had to take a blood test, again, and get a physical, again. This time, I weened myself off all medications.. no synthroid, not the 4 ibuprofen I’ve been taking daily, the 2 pepcid, the anti-depressants, all of it gone.

Today I will find out the results. I demanded they do a full thyroid panel. Apparently, they don’t do a T3 test without written orders from a doctor but hopefully 2 out of 3 might present a bigger picture. I am not optimistic this one will give any more of a shit than the last one, but I’m also at the point that I don’t really care if I get really ugly either.

In 2010, I took Spawn trick-or-treating in a gorilla suit until they begged me to stop from exhaustion. That is who I am. Not this half mummified walking dead piece of shit I have become. Unfortunately, there seems to be little to nothing I can do on my own to regain my old self. I have to rely on the half-assed expertise of the disinterested out to meet their quota.

Have you guys ever dealt with something like this? If so, what did you do? Are you still dealing with it? How do you continue to function?

We Get By With A Little Help From Our Friends (G-uno)

It’s safe to come out now! I have managed to shake all of the sand out of my “Big Girl Pants.” When g2 and I decided to start our blog Idioglossia our intent was to create a place where people could anonymously, and truthfully vent their issues without all the constraints of political correctness. I am pleased to say it really works! For those of you who missed yesterday’s post (be glad it wasn’t pretty) I was completely filled with a large dose of I can’t get over myself anger. I will not lie to you, and say that I’m okay with all of the events that lead up to my enraged rant, but I can honestly say that throwing it all out there in my post definitely helped!

I was so beyond angry, then something really great happened. Thank you  momoseita, Blahpolar, and g2 for taking the time to respond to my little rant. It was so great to purge the whole angry mess, but even more helpful to read your perspectives on the whole situation. Between the three of you I managed to calm down, cry a few tears of remorse, and finally burst out into laughter! Leaving me in a much better state of mind over something I can now see was much more about hurt than anger.

I will need more time to deal with my feelings towards the hijacking of the wedding issue, but I can at least see the possibility of being able to deal with all of this from a place of humor. This makes me feel so much better. So as the wise song once said “We Get By With A Little Help From Our Friends.” 😉

Your Never Too Old To Learn From Your Mom (G-uno)

As you get older you tend to forget that you can still learn some pretty valuable lessons from your Mom. My Mom is a complete trip as far as moms go. She is my second mother since the young age of eleven. My biological mother passed away right before my fifth birthday. I have been twice blessed with two extraordinary mothers. My second Mom is Asian very petite in stature, but large in character. I had confided in her a few months back that I was very annoyed, and that my husband and I had been butting heads for a couple of weeks.

She listened carefully to everything I said and replied with her usual advice “Put water on the head.” This is Mom’s standard advice to me when she feels my temper has gotten the best of me. In translation it means that when you can see someone is angry instead of arguing with them you take a softer approach. The put water on the head is her humorous way of saying when someone’s head is hot with temper cool water puts the fire out. In this particular circumstance I was quite annoyed by my husbands unwillingness to bend so my pride was in no mood to be the bigger person and “put water on the head.”

A couple of days later my Mom and sister stopped by for a visit, and the tension between my husband and I was so thick you could have cut it with a knife. We all sat at the table together to have a bite to eat. Mom who very much loves my husband sat beside him. She stared at him intently as he spoke, and then very apathetically began to rub his arm, and shoulder. In that moment her loving touch seemed to wash away his anger. My sister, and I were completely taken aback by his complete change of mood. He was suddenly calm reassured by her gentle soothing touch.

She had “put water on the head” she had chosen love, and compassion over self-righteous pride. Proving yet again your never too old to learn from your Mom. 😉

weakness as strength and shoving it right in your face (g2)

The above video is by Emilie Autumn. I’ve never heard of this musician before my kid ended up with a custom Sim on their video game (Sims 3) called the same which they had downloaded just because of the unique look of her. After a bit of googling, I found out she is a musician and dug them up on Spotify. Through my googling I found out she was a survivor of abuse, rape and assault, and had a pretty rough case of bipolar disorder which included auditory hallucinations. She apparently can visualize written music because of coping mechanisms she developed to keep the hallucinations under control.

I’m in a very musically submersive mood lately. Not that I’m not always listening to something, but sometimes I will drown in it. This is apparently one of those times.

My first impression of her music was Amanda Fucking Palmer had a lovechild with Maggie Estep in a Victorian Cabaret, her songs were riddled with storyline and tongue in cheek blasting on a lot of women’s issues as well as society’s complete inability to deal with mental health. Through listening to her latest album, which you can hear on Spotify at least, I realized just how right she was and my god, how beautiful she puts it out there and serves it to us, all the while never backing down from being just as shocking and blunt as she wants to be.

Amanda Palmer is a survivor of past assault… Siouxsie Sioux too. These people too and these (from WordPress, no less), and here’s a list of over a hundred songs that relate to abuse, assault and/or rape. And these are just the famous ones, I would not doubt if everyone knows of at least 5 other people who have been victims of some type of abuse/assault, or possibly were yourselves.

Why? What the hell is wrong with people?

I think we have all come to understand that rape is not about sex, but about power. I’ve never understood why there was so much fear of (mostly) women that rape was the main go-to men used against them. I’m not going to get into the politics of female-on-male rape, but I would like to point out that men and women both have reflex biological reactions to tactile stimuli, none of which indicates “consent.” If we didn’t have these responses, sex would not be very pleasant for the times we do consent. Not even if someone was walking down the street completely naked are they “asking for it,” and if a victim is acting “too normal” its probably because, like most us, we want our lives back to where they were before trauma.

But what if you have a mental disability or behavioral disability that makes it difficult for you to interact with others or communicate fully? If you don’t tell those close to you, they probably won’t be close for very long, but what about work and or dating relationships? If you do tell them, do you risk the chance they might objectify you and feel that anything you say has no value since you’re “crazy”?

I already have an epic truckload of issues with the mental health field and its current level of capability. I also have a problem with the level of stigma that is created in which people are only defined by their most prominent weakness. “Oh they were depressed… that’s definitely why they killed their entire family, case closed.” I don’t know about you but when I am in the height of my depression, I can barely come off the couch. It’s usually my overall apathy that tells me I need to get my meds adjusted.

I think the mental health field is about the same level as, historically, the medical field was when leeches and bloodletting were the main go-to for… well, everything. Combined with our bad habit of objectifying someone with a special hurdle in the russian roulette that is genetics & heavy dose of environment, you have a recipe for a lot of problems with assault and rape. Who is going to believe the freak, right?

Personally, the kind of person who would think like that, who would take advantage of that type of situation… they need the special needle…quickly. You’d euthanize a rabid dog, I find no difference here… except the dog couldn’t help it, we just can’t cure it. Actually, can we keep the dog and just eliminate the twisted as fuck human?

The sad part is proving it. The only ones they victimize are the ones who long stopped bothering to say anything because no one listens anyway, their words have no merit. Makes us pretty fucked up as a society, doesn’t it?

But Emilie drags her pain and her weaknesses and everything ever done to her right in the middle of the room and makes you look at it, refuses to let you turn away and makes a bitter joke of it to make you face it and see it all for the truth behind the lies. She, like Amanda and Siouxsie wear their past like armor and use it to toss a giant middle finger at anyone who thinks they should behave “more like a victim” to be credible.

It reminds us the problem doesn’t lie with disability or trauma. It lies with our treatment of those who have suffered, those who have a disability and most especially those who have dealt with both… we all matter, no matter what your unique color or flavor may be, we are humans, the most complex of animals, we just need to stop behaving otherwise.

passive aggressive, or how not to adult angrily 2 (g2)

For part one

Now for the one I cannot seem to get through to on this passive aggressive shit… I really don’t understand. This is a person who is a brand addict, and although I’m never sure if they realize it, loves to brag… it can be about deals they have found on designer shit, how much they have managed to save on food, how they have adopted an all-natural, all organic diet… whatever the latest “thing” might be. Half the time, I haven’t a clue who they are talking about when they mention brands.

They have a talented child they are completely devoted to, no one could possibly question it and this kid really is very very talented. Their kid and my kid never speak to one another even if in the same room, but have a shitload of the same or similar interests. It’s weird, but I attribute it to family just being family, it would make sense if there is some commonality. We have a lot of creative talent and high intelligence coursing through the family, we just have the emotional and maturity level of the Sta-Puft Marshmallow man.

They have a two-parent, two-income home and a spoiled child. The child themself is not spoiled, they simply have the resources to give and do just about anything their offspring wishes. I think that is really great. Sure, I’d like to have that level of resource, but I don’t and Spawn is no worse for it. In fact, I suspect that Spawn will be a lot more self-sufficient in the long run because they have simply had to be. Both are exceptional kids and I love them. I think their similarities yet disinterest in interaction with the other is both weird and funny. I hope they grow out of it because I think a valuable friendship could be had there.

I’m pretty sure my darling family member suspects me of directing Spawn’s interests in the same direction as their slightly older offspring. I think they secretly like this idea. This particular family member spends a great amount of effort extolling their various wins, trips, savings, adventures, and kid’s accomplishments on social media, I’m sure in part to instill jealousy among their social peers…whether they realize it or no.

Of course, among the weaker-minded of their acquaintances as I really am beginning to doubt they have ever had a real friendship, they occasionally end up with some mimicking them. One will post “artwork” by their children that is a little too obviously traced or will post seemingly similar posts about their adventures, savings, etc much in the same way my family member does. Personally, I don’t notice much of the mimicries until my family member points it out, but its like a punch in the face whenever they do their “some people” shit in response. I cannot help fanning the flames by responding with “whose ‘Some People’, do I know them and is Some a first name or middle name or a nickname?”,”If you don’t feel comfortable naming them, then why post this?”,”Does this really need to be directed to more than just the one person you want to notice it?”

I’d probably make a great troll.

When we have gotten together for holidays, I have often asked this as subtlety as I am capable as to why they continue to do this and who cares what the hell other people do around them. They seem to feel that in confronting someone this will affect their general social status. I don’t get it. I still don’t get it today. If they care so much about their social status, isn’t taking the risk their “fans” might pick up on the fact their being mocked also be detrimental to their “status?”

I was told “You say whatever you want and get away with it and people will and ‘oooh’ and ‘ahhh’ because you are larger than life.”

Again, more confused and I completely lost all thought for a couple minutes. My family member told me that if anyone didn’t agree with what I said, they would be either too scared to say it or if they did say anything, I would tell them multiple ways to stick it.

All I could think to ask was, “Is this really how you see me? Because the last thing I would ever apply to myself would be some foreign concept of ‘larger than life,’ that one is especially far reaching.” In the grand scheme of things I feel really quite small, I’m just ok with that.

We talked a good bit trying to understand one another a little more, but they had left me completely befuddled with their view of me. I did encourage them to find their own voice and stop worrying so much about what people did around them, unless they were pulling Single White Female shit. If anything they would probably end up being the hero of the community for being the one to stand up to someone being a douchebag and relieving the cowardly ones from doing so. When we remain silent about shit behavior, we inadvertently reward it. Sure your parents should have raised you with good manners, but where they lacked is where your peers step in to be more effective.

I guess what I really took from it is that passive-aggressive behavior is stemmed deeply in fear. I supposed until we deal with the underlying fear, those who rely on P-A to contend with their issues will never change. I also took away from this is that someone like me who has no real fear of being angry or putting that out on the table to discuss, must seem like an unattainable goal, hence the impression of being “larger than life.”

Maybe I take it for granted, but over the years I have come to realize that relationships in which I’ve confronted someone with the goal of resolving something that angered me and that have become worse because of that confrontation, were never worth having in the first place. Perhaps, in having quite a few deep and valuable friendships, I have been able to make this distinction where my family member hasn’t. Is passive aggressive behavior a method of avoiding finding out your friendship is based on superficial shit?

Maybe, but the sad reality is that when you deal with “friends” through passive aggressive means, you are only deluding yourself in thinking they don’t know what you are doing. They may not see themselves in whatever it is you’re trying to communicate, but deep down they understand you cannot be trusted since you don’t communicate in an honest way.

When you deal with people honestly, they cannot help but find your friendship enriching since they always know where they stand, good or ill. I think that is worth the gamble.