Category: Ramble On

I don’t why but I felt the need to…

What Was I Thinking

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really? I try to go see Dad everyday. I am his link to his world. The life he once lived in, loved in, laughed in. I can tell you with all honesty it is the toughest part of my day. I hate to cry. I hate feeling open and vulnerable. Yesterday was hard for me. I had my afternoon coffee fix and prepped a bag to bring to Pops. I kissed my hubby and off I went. Dad was not in a good place. The nurse on duty pulled me aside to inform me that Dad had been grumpy and short (my Mom was grumpy and short but I think she meant Dad was out of sorts ?)

Pops contacted a cold from one of the other patients who likes to kiss the boys and make them cry. There is nothing I can really do about those behaviors so I let Pops be. The nurse I spoke with assured me Dad had been getting cold meds and seemed to be getting better except for his demeanor. She asked me if I had any ideas as to why Pops suddenly seemed angry. I am not sure how much any of you really understand dementia. A person who lives with dementia has their own sense of reality and most likely you are not invited so you have to learn to watch for the signs. Any time my Dad is in pain or has a fever he gets angry, really angry. I informed the nurse that Pops has a history of bladder/urinary problems and infections and sometimes that is enough to send him to Anger Land.

I feel like the outsider now. If pops were home I would have simply called his Dr. and scheduled a urinalysis and a meet and greet to check his vitals. Doctor appointments change when your loved one lives in a nursing home. Someone on staff calls a nurse. The nurse does a quick assessment and then decides whether or not to contact the Dr. or nurse practitioner. Tests were ordered for Dad. I think he is having a urinary tract infection or a flair up with his rheumatoid arthritis.

I left Pops shortly after his supper. I left distracted, angry, scared and plain SAD. I jumped into my Jeep and blindly drove away. Away. Far away. I was nearly into West Boylston before I realized I had no idea where I was going or why I was going. I can’t outrun my Pops’ decline. It is what it is. In my face, part of my life everyday. It sucks. It wears me down and leaves me feeling lonely and vulnerable unable to fix what has gone so wrong.

 

Cloud Surfer

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On any lazy afternoon sun beating down I would find a reason to run from the house out to the backyard to the path that led to Big Rock. Big Rock had a flat ledge you could walk out onto. If you were careful and the sun had been out long enough you might just find the right spot to place your jacket to cloud surf and day dream. The rock warm from the sun and the sky so vibrant blue it hurt your eyes. I loved running to that rock when I needed to feel free.  It’s funny how the world seems magical when you are seven. Everything is possible. You can be a princess or a model or a mad scientist. Your parents arms around you make you feel safe and protected and you know in your heart they will always be a shout away.

I would trade everything I have if I could feel like again. Carefree, wrapped in a blanket of naïve. Not knowing the road of life gets rough. To believe that if I want something enough anything is possible. I want to look skyward, cloud surf and dream.

If

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IF. Who knew a tiny word could cause such big problems?  Life is fluid just like quicksand. Both look and feel like solid ground but sometimes the slightest wrong move gives you that sinking feeling. I have been stuck for a very long time afraid to make a wrong move. What IF I fail? What IF I don’t ? What IF truth be told I have come to believe that I don’t have it in me? What IF I am trying desperately to change the unchangeable? You know what I am talking about. You can’t change a tiger’s stripes or a leopard’s spots. I started writing a blog to help me help myself. I toyed with the idea of having followers but never really put much faith into that notion. Now I have followers. You make me nervous. Yes, you out there just beyond my senses. What if I don’t write often enough? will you leave? What if I run out of things to fight with myself over? what then? What if I just crawl back outside of my own head, follow my instincts and just let my thoughts take me where they may? Why not? It has worked well for me so far. I am writing this for me after all. I just let you peer over my shoulder to check my grammar. =)

The Perfect Excuse?

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Yesterday was rude awakening day for me. I took Pops out for a haircut, lunch and to the optician to pick up his new glasses. My Pops has been in an alternate living situation since right before the Christmas holidays. Yes, that is my fancy way of saying nursing home. Ok, so it is taking me a while in the acceptance department but I am working on it. I am. I promise. I say it was rude awakening day because I guess I never realized before how draining being with my pops can be. I enjoyed his company while I was with him but I felt so tired and sad after I returned him to his place. I am still working on how our relationship has changed. What part I play now versus the role I used to have.

Sometimes the people that a person works with can become like family. Over the years I have grown close to quite a few of my fellow employees. We have formed our own unique family. I would be lost without them. We help each other through some pretty large mine fields of BS. Anyone who works for their $$ knows what I am saying without having to put it to words. More importantly my framily have been there for me when I needed a shoulder to cry on. I like to think I have provided them that same support. The flip side of that closeness however, is that one or two people that runs through the vein in everyone’s family tree; the nay sayer, the contrary Mary, that one person who makes it their personal mission to tear people down.

I have personality quirks, who doesn’t? When someone goes out of their way to sting home a point, I hold onto those biting words, turning the selfhate over and over in my mind trying to figure out why or what I did to this person to make them act this way towards me. I believe that her personal burdens of hurt, anger and disappointment run deep. Striking out at me eases her own self loathing I am guessing or perhaps it may fuel it. Either way I have been a willing target. It is my own fault. This person pretends to want closeness and friends but strikes out at people to keep them at arms length. She can be helpful as long as you are on guard for the payment she seeks. That jibe to your personality that she just can’t stomach. You’re too negative, or too funny or too cute or too smart. I have never met anyone like her and I hope someday to leave her and her pettiness behind. As I try to come to terms with what is going on with my Dad her words roll around in my head like an old album with a skip that you are sure won’t ruin the soundtrack. That skip bothers me a lot. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WITH YOUR LIFE WHEN YOU CAN’T USE YOUR DAD AS AN EXCUSE ANYMORE? hurtful, uncompassionate, cutting and true.

I put my life on hold to take care of my Dad. In more than a few ways he did become my excuses. I couldn’t go away for any length of time. I had to have a cell phone for those in case moments. I lost time from my job to run errands for him and take him to appointments. I lost time with my hubby and my friends. I forgot how to be in my own life. What am I going to do now that I can’t use Dad as an excuse? I honestly have no idea. I can read a book now whenever I want. I can go to dinner and a movie with friends. I can go on long walks in the evening with my bestie. I am free to become that girl I have always wanted to be.

Truth
Truth
I am going to work on the things I want to be and the things I want for myself. Every new day opens with endless possibilities for amazing things to happen.

OUCH

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help
help
If I had a white flag or the strength to hoist it above my head I would throw it out there. I need for the snow to stop showing up wanting to play. I am old. The snow reminds me of just how old. My poor old lady body hurts everywhere. The time has come for me to deal with the mess I have become. I have been afraid for my well being as of late. I let the stress in my life steer my life. I have willing placed my tortured body in that precarious position of ill health looming. I have gained a lot of weight for no good reason. I like to punish myself for my short comings by not dealing with my problems as they are but rather as insurmountable walls of can’ t do, won’t do, doesn’t matter if I do. I always say no one can lie to you like you can lie to yourself.

I have grown tired of my lies. I seek peace. I want Spring and the beauty of new growth. The sun in my face. I want to wear a sun dress and walk the beach.

my happy thought
my happy thought
I want to be young again with the whole of my life in front of me instead of behind me as I now find it. I walked away from my best success at losing weight because I was afraid of who I would be. I am still the same lost girl I was in grade school.
who I am
who I am…
who I wish I could be
… who I wish I could be

There are many things in my life that I don’t like to deal with. I have a difficult time putting my anger to rest. My ability to hate surprises me, sometimes. I have an older sister that most of my friends know nothing of. I like to pretend that we are not related. She is the skeleton in my closet. When we were younger we were closer but time and events of life changed all that. There are things that I wish I could tell her but we don’t speak; we yell, we judge, we let the pain in our lives keep us separate. She doesn’t know me anymore as much as I don’t know her. Sad I know. How could I love my kid sister so much but my older sister not at all? I don’t really have an answer for that. I am not sure I want an answer for it. I have grown accustomed to her not being a part of my life.

The Shadow of Her Smile

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Scan0001

Her birthday has just passed. Her smile haunts my dreams. I am eleven years without her now,my heart still broken. The days and months got easier to live in but not her day. Every year I promise myself I will get through it without crying. Every year I fail. I miss her. I feel alone now. My secrets safe in the silence of her death. Things about me that only she ever knew. I wish I could let her go but I find that I can’t. I find myself talking to her whenever I am afraid or uncertain, like she is nearby.

As the years march by it gets harder to recall what she sounded like. In dreams we are free. In sleep every whisper is vibrant, every smile bright. I remember her love for me. She was the light in my soul. She knew I was broken but loved me anyway. Like a chipped cup you just can’t throw away. She made me feel like I could do anything. She looked up to me, not at me or through me.

It is the shadow of her smile that gets me through the tough days. I cherish the dreams in which she stops by. Young and happy she waits for me. Together we adventure. In my dreams we are the sunshine after the rain. I love you Breny. ❤

I Thought you Were My Friend

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wpid-20140118_163934.jpg You sit there with that smug look of achievement. Oh how happy you are. Well I, I AM NOT HAPPY. Do you remember as a child how happy you were to see snow? I do. It meant no school and hot cocoa. It meant sledding and earning money shoveling walks. It was great to be young in the snow. I would be out in the snow all day and into the night.

Not any more. Now I am young-old. I have to work to keep the heat on and pay for things that keep my life filled with the things I have grown accustomed to; for instance, bread and milk and electricity. Snow is NOT my friend. Once Snow broke my leg. Now she goes out of her way to hurt me and make me miserable with pain, anger, disappoint and missed work. We used to have such fun adventures together. I recall the winter the neighborhood kids, my sisters and I built igloos and snow forts. Or the year we iced a toboggan run with water from a spray bottle so we could sled faster. Where have the good times gone?

Spring is the friend I eagerly am waiting for. I wish she would get her ass in gear. There are things to do.

The Streisand In Me

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wishMusic has always been very important to my well being. Magical is the only way I can convey what it means to me. A depth of beauty many seek but only a few find. I discovered I could sing when I was twelve. I have near perfect pitch and recall. It sets me apart from other people. I am a misfit. I always have been. Music makes me feel like I belong. That somewhere just beyond my reach I am normal. I am well loved and wanted. During the empty years of my youth, before I left high school and ventured into the stark realities of adulthood, I spent most of my free hours singing all things Streisand. I found I could sing just like Streisand. Every note. Every inflection. Singing helped me feel less lonely, less unloved, less unwanted. Not everyone has a wonderful childhood. In fact, I bet most don’t. Yet we mostly survive. Scars only serve as a reminder of past pains and how to avoid them if one can.

Music and singing help me to deal with the burden of sadness that I keep well hidden from most. I learned to laugh to hide the tears, to sing instead of wail, to joke instead of cope. I have never learned to enjoy a moment, to be alive in the midst of something wonderful as it happens. When I sing my soul is at peace. I feel a freedom I don’t want to lose sight of. I am me. I am no longer that lost girl. I am that woman found. Everything seems possible and in an order I alone understand. When I SING I am every single thing I ever imagined I could be: beautiful, well spoken, intelligent. I sing to calm myself, to love who I am. Into everyone’s life rain will fall. Sunshine is always just around a corner waiting for its moment to shine. Sometimes I make my own sunshine by singing.

Turns Out…

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it was never about the food. All these years I have held myself separate from all of the things I wanted or needed or cared about. It is not the story but the telling of the tale that matters. I was never taught how to manage my feelings. I was raised to believe my feelings had no place. My wants, needs, desires were of no consequence. I was supposed to learn how to table them not handle them. I think that is one of the reasons that I grew up feeling uncomfortable in my own skin. I was a fraidy-cat when I was a kid. No adult ever explained to me that a human body goes through many changes as it develops and grows. I was so fearful I often obsessed with my own untimely demise. My mother just called me ‘Camille”. I was overly dramatic and needed to get a grasp on reality. If it had only dawned on her that I was apprehensive about the changes I was experiencing maybe she would have been gentler with important info, maybe. I taught myself to eat instead of feel. If I eat I won’t need to be in my moments. I won’t get hurt. Turns out the only thing I taught myself was how to buy a bad lie.

Have you ever stood in front of an audience and spoke at great lengths on a subject only to realize that no one is listening to you? Story of my life. I have always felt invisible yet I am not Trish alone. I have my constant companions Fear and Loathing. They seem like nice girls but one never wants to do a thing outside of her comfort zone and the other; well, she just hates everything. It is tough to get one damn thing accomplished. These two scream in my thoughts for attention. Thank Gawd for that ray of sunshine called Hope. I love her. She makes everything seem possible. She speaks quietly, determined to be heard, she lurks in the background waiting for her moments. Her moments are the life changing ones. That voice in your head that says, “I can do this!”, ” I am worthy.” “I crave acceptance not food.”, “I am somebody.” I wish I could learn to listen to her more. hope

When you take Hope by the hand and embrace all that she has to offer, the possibilities seem endless. Live in the moments that make your life better.
Today I took Hope to a WWs meeting. It’s time for her to make another appearance in my life. I lost my way. I tabled the belief I had in myself because my life got hard. I have taken care of my Dad for nearly eight years. He lives with dementia. Over the Christmas holidays my Dad was placed into a nursing home. For the first time in a very long time, I can relax a tad. Enjoy my moments, have some Hope that tomorrow will be better. I learned a lot about myself in those eight years. I am stronger than I thought I would ever have to be. I can be tough. I am a loving person. I learned how to hug. I lied to myself for years that I was unhuggable. Hugging someone means being so close to a person that you share the good vibe, exchange chakra. There is a warm glow sensed between the hugger and the huggy. A good hug equals total acceptance from me. The person who I am hugging has earned my respect, my trust. I also learned that sometimes when you hug someone you give them a little of your Hope. In the giving of a small part of yourself you make someone else’s battle seem worth the fight.

The Sea of Uncertainty

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paper boats
I made boats out of paper when I was a child. I liked to float them in the gutter after a rainstorm. I’d skip along the sidewalk and watch the little boats tumble over the debris in the water. I used to like to pretend that I was on one of those boats in the midst of an adventure looking for unicorns and dragons searching for uncharted land to call my own.unicorn dragon 

Children are birthed into this world knowing all the secrets. They carry all the wonderful things about humanity on their tiny shoulders. Not knowing of what the world holds for them infants sleep, they coo, they cry, wanting for their basic needs to be taken care of. It is in the growing up into a person that they learn disappointment, deceit, love, kindness, confidence, anger.

What a wonderful thing it would be if humanity could start raising their children to be more humane. Patience, love, acceptance, and understanding in healthy doses instead of anger, disappointment, cruelty. How amazing we would all be.