Carry On Tuesday: After All, Tomorrow Is Another Day

Sun Rays Through The Clouds

Sun Rays Through The Clouds (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

What happens when you have those kind of days when everything seems wrong, unfair and it is just plain relentless? It’s like a nightmare when someone is tugging on your arm and you feel the pain but they don’t let up, your arm falls off instead and you scream in raw pain. When people you thought you loved keep taunting you and making you fall deeper into a hole that buries you? When you are completely misunderstood? It gets to the point that the thought of suicide feels like a vacation.

I’m not counting pills or getting out the razor blades nor am I planning to jump from the top of a big skyscraper but suicide fantasies are real; they are a means for escaping pain, too much pain. Last night I indulged in one of them. My life, lately, has been a mess. Too many changes, too much stress, too much anger and it all got to me. Dysfunctional family members ganging up on me, needlessly, almost for sport, not taking the time to think about how that would feel to them. Other members of the family leaving me out, my physical limitations making it hard for me to walk as fast, they march on ahead, leaving me to walk in back of them, physically hurting and psychologically silencing me from their conversation.They are oblivious to my emotional and physical pain, what an incredible disappointment to me and exceedingly hurtful, physically and mentally. My Fibromyalgia and Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis are not new illnesses, I’ve had them for over five and a half years now, this should not come as a surprise. My husband’s comment to me when I brought it up to him was “I forgot, I didn’t notice.” I can’t forget and neither can all of my friends who have these crippling illnesses.

I call my old best friend and she understands, she knows without hearing more than a barely audible whisper of her name that something is terribly wrong. I know what she is thinking but it is not a death or an illness though it feels like that to me; I feel like I am dying slowly inside, emotionally. My friend and I don’t see each other often at all but we are there for each other when we need one another. I can count on her for anything, she can do the same. It’s nice to know, in this complicated world, there is someone from the past who knows you and your history so well that they understand without explaining. “She is my person” as they say in “Grey’s Anatomy;” she is my Christina to my Meredith. I will also NEVER let a “professional” doctor treat me in such an unprofessional way where it hurts me, never. This caused a lot of psychological damage as well. My initial judgments are sound.

Maybe sometime soon I will want to see the sun streaming in through the windows and will take solace in the few flowers that remain, the fading yellow tulips that my daughter gave me for Mother’s Day, the bottle of sugar- free black cherry seltzer water from CVS which reminds me vaguely of almonds. I won’t mind the bite marks on my hands and feet because I will appreciate the dog that I saved when I adopted her from the animal shelter, all curled up in the fetal position, peacefully sleeping, probably drugged. She’s a wild thing now, all energy, safe, happy, loved and a bit out of control.

Tomorrow is Sunday and I hope I will have the energy to get out of bed to take a shower and get dressed, if not happy to be alive than at least grateful. Maybe there will be a small slice of sunlight crossing my body and that will make me happy. My stomach, still clenched in knots, is ever so slowly beginning to relax. The doubts I had about myself, my judgment about people, my strongest quality will come back without question because after all, tomorrow is another, brand new day and I welcome it.

I close my eyes in peace, welcoming sleep and serenity, looking forward to possibilities and not thinking of death or gloom or tragedy. I need to sync my soul back into my body to align myself with the brightness and good, sanity and happiness. I will go downstairs now and play with my puppy that I have avoided for two days; I will give her a treat, I will stroke her silky fur and even if she tries to bite me, I will hand her a bone instead and grin.

p.s. A special THANK YOU to Keith from Carry On Tuesday for just Keeping On….I so appreciate it!

Alone

Description unavailable

Description unavailable (Photo credit: physiognomist)

Two bitches, foaming at the mouth, always ready to pounce on me. I feel their saliva dripping, I am close enough to feel their hot breath on my skin, I want them to back off, I scream for them to leave me alone but they stop short of biting me and tearing my face apart with their sharp, pointed teeth. I am bleeding, all over, yet they can’t see it or they don’t want to acknowledge how much pain they cause me. It’s easier to blame me.

I know nothing will change. I have fought this battle so many times before and I still feel empty, scared and I am hiding in bed. I don’t want to talk to anyone, see anyone. I feel sick, my stomach is in knots, I drink tea with milk and honey, a sure sign of my malaise. There is sunlight coming in through the window but I don’t see it, I turn to the wall instead where the shadows are dark; the door of my room has been shut tight all day. There is no one I know that can make me feel better; it’s been non-stop stress for weeks and I feel like I want to run away.

I want to be like my childhood friend who lives for herself, wherever she pleases, dining, dancing, enjoying life. I am not enjoying life right now, I am barely getting by. My body hurts, my heart hurts and I’m questioning if my soul is even alive anymore or if it is even attached to my body. I don’t think it is. I saw a professional who was the opposite of professional, she, a nasty, cold, devil who did more harm than good. How can you abuse a patient? I just recently let her go but her words still ring harshly in my ears, there are many bad doctors in the world, untrained, shameless, heartless with just initials after the name to claim their worthiness. It’s not enough.

I’m wounded but not like a soldier bravely marching back to duty. I feel defeated and empty, in despair. My stomach rebels with a hard knot and pain on the back of my lower right side. I don’t eat, I’m not hungry. I am more than sad, less than suicidal; I’m a tightrope walker without a net. I don’t remember ever feeling like this before. I wish I could hate it so I could claw my way out of it but I don’t have the energy or the will to do so. I am tired but not sleepy; I am forgotten. I don’t know who I used to be just how I feel right now.

Plinky Prompt: TV Habits

A recreation of the logo for the first America...

A recreation of the logo for the first American Survivor season, Survivor: Borneo. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

  • TV Habits
  • TV: It’s Better Than Drinking or Smoking
    Emmys 2009 Well, there’s Grey’s Anatomy and of course Private Practice (they are practically connected by blood.) There’s Parenthood (which took the place of Brothers and Sisters which some moron took off the air.) Modern Family is a must see and I do admit my husband and I found ourselves back again, after many years, watching the last season of Survivor. I know……we swore we would never watch it again, but times were hard, and reality can be such a bitch that for one hour a week we sat on our faux leather couch, shut the door to the family room and escaped to whatever paradise island they were in. I’m not proud but I’m not ashamed. We may even watch it next season too……sometimes all you need is a little fantasy, your spouse’s arm around your shoulders and escapism. Besides, it was good to see Jeff Probst again, like a long-lost friend; there’s something comforting about that.

Life, Not Made Easy

An elderly couple comfort each other- Part of ...

An elderly couple comfort each other- Part of Paul Ganuchaud’s relief depicting life behind the front-line being one of two reliefs which form the Fort Mahon Plage monument aux morts. Fort Mahon Plage is in the Somme region of France. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’m 55 years old and still battling the stomach bug I got yesterday. With me, you never know if I caught this from my daughter or if it’s one of Fibromyalgia’s side effects rearing its ugly horse head again. All I know is that what I wanted was to be ten again and for my mom to make me two soft-boiled eggs in a dish, with crumbled up pieces of toast and a pat of butter all mixed together. That’s what I wanted and I didn’t want to make it myself.

I am lucky enough that my mom is still alive and so I called her and told her how I was feeling. “I wish for that too” she said somberly, the effects of getting older weighing heavily on her these past few days. She worries about me and I worry about her, not that it makes any difference at all but it feels good to know someone cares. Life, since my father died has been very difficult for her, for all of us, but on certain days she is inconsolable. Her friends are dying or very sick and getting old “is no pleasure.”

When my husband left today to go back to Rochester for work I felt sad and I couldn’t prevent a tear or two from trickling down my face. It’s hard when he goes but it feels impossible when he goes and I’m really sick. I can handle most everything on my own, Fibromyalgia and Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis, but when I get a stomach flu on top of that? I fall apart. I feel vulnerable and scared and alone. This is the worst of Fibromyalgia for me, not the pain or the aches, I can deal with those because I am used to them. It’s when something unexpected comes up that is out of the norm, that’s when I crash and feel vulnerable and all I want to do is stay in my bed and cry.

Since we got the new puppy, it’s like having a toddler again, a biting, misbehaving toddler. I know she is young and will grow out of it but again, when I am not feeling well everything seems like so much of an effort. I’m sure friends would help if I asked them but I usually try to “save” my favors for important things. I’ve decided I’ll be better tomorrow, I have no other choice.

I’ve tried to accept life’s curve balls and I always needed 24 hours to get used to a new, bad, situation. I don’t think I have that luxury anymore. Bad things happen to most of us, except for a lucky few, and it seems like they are happening all the time. Was it always like this? I truly don’t believe so but maybe we were so young and naïve and having fun, we just didn’t notice.

Not Everyone Is Happy On Mother’s Day

Yellow tulips Deutsch: Gelbe Tulpen

Yellow tulips Deutsch: Gelbe Tulpen (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Mother’s Day, like Father’s Day is not necessarily a happy holiday. Either holiday is miserable and sad for MANY people. My dad passed away nine years ago and I still head to the card section in June every single year. I miss him, it’s hard not to have a living or nice parent or a child on either of these holidays and people are often insensitive. So when I say Happy Mother’s Day, I include pet owners, aunts and uncles and women who love others.

For my Mother’s Day my daughter gave me a bunch of yellow tulips, a very sweet card and the stomach flu. I know she didn’t give me the flu on purpose but yesterday as I kept running for paper towels and bringing her buckets I figured I had a good shot at getting something. So far, my husband is safe. Our son is still in college and will be back this week, he sent a very loving card.

I took my mother to brunch this morning even though I felt horrible and could barely eat a bite. It’s not in me to cancel and I wasn’t feeling that bad in the morning. Mothers know, of course, and she asked me what was wrong, I just wasn’t hungry as I excused myself to the bathroom a couple of times. I didn’t want my mother to be alone on Mother’s day and the setting we had picked was beautiful. The food? So-so. The scrambled eggs were stone cold, (I admit it, I complained) and there were various breads, muffins, slices of turkey, pasta salad, fruit and chocolate and vanilla cake. I could eat none of it.

I dragged myself home in my car, not wasting time to get gas, which I sorely needed, headed quickly for the highway. I longed to put on my soft green v-neck  tee-shirt and crawl into bed. I e-mailed my husband to cancel the reservations (that I had made) at a local restaurant for my own Mother’s Day celebration. The truth of the matter was I felt so sick I didn’t want to go, my son was not yet home from college and there was no reason to force ourselves to go out because of the name of a day.

I’ve been in bed all day, my dinner consisted of an American cheese sandwich and a can of Diet Vanilla Coke. Mother’s Day can wait until I feel better and together. That’s the thing about Mother’s Day, it is a commercial holiday that I buy into every year for my mom because I want to acknowledge her, she deserves it and I don’t know how many more years we will have together.

Apparently, after I left, she was home alone when a mutual friend called her and she was sobbing and feeling “very sorry for herself.” You can’t make people happy all the time, no matter what; Mom missed my dad, she felt very alone and she is getting older. She made a remark about “how many more years would she still be my mother?” which concerned me but it’s natural too; she’s a young 85. For that reason alone, I wanted to be with her today.

I can’t solve all her problems, like she can’t solve all of mine. I could just attempt to make her morning a bit nicer, a little less lonely, even when I wanted to stay in bed. I’m saying good-night to Mother’s Day by sitting on the couch with my hubby, sipping on flat Coke with crushed ice and munching quite happily on ginger snaps watching the Survivor Finale.

Carry On Tuesday – Time To Say Good-Bye

Broken Heart symbol

Broken Heart symbol (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Those of you who subscribe to Carry On Tuesday know we don’t pick the prompt, but I would be personally devastated if this WAS the last prompt. The prompt also comes at a very appropriate and hard time for me which makes me feel like my heart is breaking, smashing into little crystal shards that can’t be put back together.  My flesh is being torn apart yet my soul is comfortable and relaxed, knowing I can’t take any more. This break has been coming for a very long time, I know it has, and my feeble attempts before were useless, flimsy, like the shreds that are left on my overused red, silk robe. “I’m sorry” I whisper to my sister silently but I can’t live this way a moment longer. I know you don’t understand me, I know you feel like I act like the victim all the time but, in my heart, I have been the victim. The fact that you can’t see that shows how far apart we really are.

I know I have hurt you too and I am sorry but I feel that my abusive barbs are reactions to your lack of emotions and actions. Can’t you see that? Actually, you probably can’t. I never, in a million years, thought I could be part of a family that was broken, broken with glass shards that gouge and make us both bleed. It can’t go on like this; I know it’s time to say good-bye.

I needed you so many times, when we were teenagers and adults and you adamantly just said “no.” Why? Because you didn’t feel like it or you didn’t want to, it didn’t fit in your schedule, it was always just about you. It was cute when you were little, our parents joking about your mirror that said “It’s all about ME!” but growing up it grew less funny and more hurtful.

I know you hate it when I write about you in my blog so trust me to say this will be the last blog post. I won’t mention you again in a negative way at all. There is a tiny part of me that prays for a miraculous reconciliation but deep down I know that people don’t change. I need to accept my status as an “only child” and again use my friends as my family. I do apologize for telling you out loud that “I wouldn’t pick you as a friend” although it was true, it was hurtful. I need nurturing people in my life, people I can trust to be there for me when I need them; people I can depend on: this was never your strong suit. Not when the window washer abused me when I was a child and I tried to wake you up or when I was mugged and asked you to walk me home, both times you didn’t want to be bothered. That is not okay with me, how could it be?

When I had a lump removed from my breast in my early twenties you did come up to help me with the bandages but only after Mom and Dad forced you to come, they told me. While you came to my college graduation you didn’t ride in the car with Mom or Dad, you insisted on flying so that when they called my name up to the podium, cum laude, you were on your way back to the airport to leave.

When I was in the Emergency Room countless times with Mom or Dad, alone, I called you ONCE because I was very worried. I asked you to come FOR ME, you only lived half an hour away and it was early evening. You said “no” because you didn’t want to: that’s not a good enough reason for me. You question if I hate you? Yes, part of me does.

I still love you as my sister, but it’s not love that is strong enough to keep us together to have a relationship. It’s an obligatory love because you are part of a family we used to have. Just because it is time for me to say good-bye does not make it any easier at all. If there was a way to work on this relationship, I would but you won’t. You are too filled with your own hatred and anger and defense mechanisms you can’t see yourself as others do. I have always loved you, I probably always will. This love hurts way too much for us to be connected. I wish you love, good health and peace; I just can’t be part of it anymore; not the way it has existed for me for all these years. No. That’s not to say that I don’t think this is incredibly, horrifically, sad. I do.

Who Am I?

I’m a young female who loves to drink, I’ve been very thirsty lately. I shouldn’t like alcohol, everyone said I would hate it but I have to admit I kind of like it in minimal amounts. Not me. I hate to admit it but I’ve been hungry all the time too. My new favorites are Greek yogurt (plain) bananas, and coffee. Oh I know I shouldn’t drink too much coffee and I don’t but the smell overwhelms me and the pretty mug with the bright colors on it make me just want to lick it all up.

You want to know what I look like? I’m a honey-colored blonde with some brunette streaks, I like my nails to be long and stylish. I’m into athletics and I love to run, the faster the better. I’ve been dying to go on races with friends but I have to wait for some injuries to heal. I’m not a very patient being. I have tons of energy but also like to nap, I’m not ashamed of that. Napping, when you can do it, is utterly delicious. Do you want to nap with me sometime?

I don’t like chocolate, though my parents sure do, but I’m a peanut butter addict. The scent of peanut butter intoxicates me. I lick it up as slowly as possible to make it last just a wee bit longer. I like to dance, to cut up a rug, as the “old people” used to say, and I have the most fun playing frisbee. I am an outdoors person and I can’t wait for the weather to be a little warmer so I can swim, just being near water makes me happy. Water, sand, sunshine? LOVE IT!

I run around a lot, I need to be social, my parents don’t like that as much as I do, they worry about me. Today, my mom fell and she lay in the grass but as much as I was tempted to run, I couldn’t. I stayed by her to make sure she was alright and she got all teary-eyed and she kissed me and thanked me. I could tell she was emotional though I am not sure why.

Tomorrow is something they call Mother’s Day and I think, somehow, that should have a lot of meaning for me. Do you give up? Huh? Huh? Do you know who I am?  Aww, by now you must have guessed it, or did I fool you??? It’s me, Lexi, Laurie ‘s (I think that’s her name) puppy but I just call her Mom. Without her and Aunt Sarah picking me from the animal shelter I could still be there, lonely and tired all the time, all alone in my cage. They saved me, and they wanted me, only me! So, even though that holiday that is special is tomorrow, I don’t know why I have to wait till then to say: Mama, Happy Mother’s Day, you saved my life and I hope in some way, I saved yours. Love, from your daughter Pup, Lexi

Plinky Prompt: Favorite Rock Album

  • Favorite Rock Album
  • “On The Cover Of The Rolling Stones” The Rolling Stones I can choose one because it was so momentous growing up in the age of The Rolling Stones. It was the album, yes album, with the up close and personal photo of the…(hush) pants/ zipper on it. Quite titillating for a teenage girl and her friends. The Beatles were sweet and romantic, The Monkees were cute and funny but The Rolling Stones? They introduced sexuality, …p.s. I just realized at the age of 55 while writing this blog, I am surely the most gullible, naive, innocent and stupid person alive. “Sticky Fingers,”really? My kids are right, I’m a lost cause. Just shoot me.

Plinky Prompt: Would You Get A Tattoo If It Lasted A Year/Month?

  • Tattoos
  • No Pain, Yes, Gain
    Release from Agony

    Release from Agony (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

    The question for me is not how long tattoos LAST but how much PAIN I would feel. I am not a good pain patient (chronic pain sufferer aside.) I do react to pain on a higher level than most people; I’ve been this way since I have been a child. If it didn’t hurt (ow, the thought of needles digging in my skin makes me nauseous) I would think about a temporary tattoo for a month, maybe even for a year. My logical thought though is it would hurt just as much to have it removed, if not MORE, than to get one….I’m a wuss, I admit it. I try to stay away from all sorts of pain. I have enough pain in my life due to Fibromyalgia and Chronic pain disorders than to look for pain and pay for it. Pain is my enemy, no way would I do anything that would inflict pain willingly; the only exception, childbirth for my two lovely children. That’s it!

Haiku Heights – MASK

Nō mask

Nō mask (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I withdraw within

You can’t see me, I’m not here

Pain turned me to steel

*****

Ballet dancer hides

Behind make-up and feathers

It’s all illusion

******

Green eyes dance and smile

Hiding a scared child

Always uncertain.