Fears and Tears

I have a knack for losing friends by trying to do what’s right.

When I was in high school, I had a really good friend whom I was super close to. She started drawing away at one point and during this rocky time I got a call from her out of the blue saying she had mixed meds and alcohol in an attempt to kill herself. I’m still not sure if she was calling to ask for help or to say goodbye, it was hard to tell what she was saying while she was crying. I told her I’d be right there, let my mom know we what was going on and she agreed to drive me to my friend’s house, I called her parents and told them what was going on. We arrived shortly after her parents had gotten home, they asked me what happened and then we left. The only time we really spoke after that was when she told me she never wanted to speak to me again. I don’t know where she is or how she is but I hope she’s alive and happy. I would tell her I miss her if I could.

That was the first. The latest occurrence was today. It’s a complicated situation but in short I was told by one of the three involved adults that Person C had been threatening to beat/kill/commit suicide and take with him Person A. This was not news and ground for which my friend, Person A, is leaving Person C. What was new, however, was that Person C was becoming even more verbally abusive, Person A was afraid he would escalate to physical violence any time especially since his drinking has been getting out of control and he is allegedly stealing hydrocodone from Person B as well.  Person A and Person C have two girls, 4 and 2… us all being military and my husband being a higher rank, he kind of had to report it when he found out. I cannot deny that I want this people to be safe, though. I can’t deny that I believe she should have been the one to report the abuse, the drinking, the drugs, the fact that he evidently hurts their girls (which I learned last night). Needless to say when Person C got called in behind closed doors at work, Person A called me to see if I had “called” on him. She feels betrayed. I don’t see that as an unreasonable reaction to the situation. I just don’t know how I could have done nothing and left Person A and her girls in a situation she claimed to be terrifying.

Maybe it wasn’t my place, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. I know She told me these things in confidence but when it becomes a safety issue, especially for innocent bystanders like kids, once that line is crossed it’s crossed. I would feel betrayed, too. I’d like to think that part of me would appreciate the help…

Hopefully I’ll be done crying by the time I need to pick my eldest up…


Totally Over Sensitive

So, after attending my first nerve testing appointment we have discovered I am, among other things, over sensitive. Surprising, I know, lol. Seriously, though, my nerves are overactive. I have the second half of the test to perform still but right now it’s already looking like an practically confirmed fibromyalgia diagnosis. There’s a plethora of other tests, MRI’s, blood work (God, it was like 8 or 9 vials, I lost track), and who knows what else down the line.

It’s a diagnosis my last primary care was suspicious of before I got switched to someone who has spent the last two years looking at me like I’m crazy. It took waking up unable to feel my arms and legs before he took me seriously. I am so glad to finally be getting some answers but at the same time, there’s that… line… you cross, that label you’re given that says “you’ll never be the same again”. I”M being dramatic… I’m being over sensitive… I’m being complicated and  conflicted and, yes, probably over-reacting.

The neurologist also found a pinched nerve and a bulging disc. Treatment is supposed to begin after all the scans and tests are done and over with.

I’m nervous. I’m excited. I’m a mosh-mash of emotional mingle-mangle.

Can You Be Reasonable With The Unreasonable?

How can you respond reasonably to an unreasonable person? It would seem that is the lesson my son is bound to learn from this summer as we continue to struggle through things with his dad.

Dear Amebic Toad,

Once again, you have put our son in the middle of communications that should be occurring between us.

When I had him call you to discuss his desire to switch his weekend with you from this weekend to another, it was because he is coming to an age where he needs to voice his desires to you himself instead of asking me to act as a conduit. It was not so you could once again try to indoctrinate him into a childhood/lifelong messenger servitude to you.

Plus, given the multitude of miscommunications between the households, it only makes sense to keep the scheduling discussions between the two people who have control over the scheduling.

Not to mention the fact that, as you so succinctly put it, ChaosMonkey is a child. It is not only inappropriate for you to be putting him in the middle of these “discussions”, but it is not emotionally healthy to be submitting him to that kind of emotional stress. He is dealing with more than his fair share of that going between two completely opposite households. Any attempts on your part to communicate through/via ChaosMonkey will be ignored, one reason among the multitude being that he is a child and could easily misunderstand and I would hate to make plans with a child who has misunderstood the situation. *cough cough*

In short, knock it the fuck off, you dickless reptile.


One Proud and Protective Mama

… I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that he did this, and on our dime nonetheless. If you know a dog bites, don’t be surprised when it does. I just can’t get over how he keeps putting ChaosMonkey in such stressful situations. He’s a kid, a KID, he shouldn’t be a pawn in some control freak’s power struggle over money (I’d say time if ChaosMonkey felt like there was time being spent on him).

My son has come home from his dad’s saying things like “I may as well not even exist till after noon”, or “my dad’s probably not going to show up because he didn’t set his alarm”, or “my dad won’t change because I ask him to”. He has gone through heart broken year after year and he is starting to get angry.

Yes, my husband has gone above and beyond to make him feel like part of the family, and if ChaosMonkey’s dad hadn’t requested visitation (read as reduction of child support) he may very well have truly developed that father-son with Hubby, but when his dad interjected himself and created disappointment after disappointment and stress after stress on our son and I and hence my whole family, it puts this terrible wedge between them.

Hubby is responsible, noble (in his own way), driven to be the best he can be. He expects the same, quite reasonably, from his family. ChaosMonkey tries to live up to that and thrives on the expectations to meet. When he comes home from his dad’s… he’s lost, moody, his self esteem drops, he lashes out. It’s always been difficult but we’re getting to some crucial milestones and how he decides to deal with the situation between his practically warring households will steer so much of his life.

I know he doesn’t feel emotionally safe with his dad or discussing how hurt, ignored, angry, and so on with his dad and he has always been fearful of suggesting things to his dad that would require, frankly, effort. He has told me so many things that he has begged me to not tell his dad because he is afraid his dad will withdraw (not the word he used but it’s the word his mind was going for).

For ChaosMonkey to agree to talk to his dad tonight and not just bow out of what he wanted was huge and I was so proud of him for putting himself out there in that vulnerable position and then his dad does this… and I am still somehow surprised. Why am I surprised that in his narcissism he doesn’t, can’t, or won’t see what he’s doing to our son? Our amazing, talented, compassionate, full of a need to be loved and accepted child?

Yes, he is getting older, and yes, he is extremely smart. He is also extremely, EXTREMELY sensitive to other’s emotions and if you don’t give a fuck he’s gonna know it, and he’s gonna internalize it until he feels like he’s analyzed the shit out of himself and where he went wrong to not be worth you giving a damn. He’s done it, over and over again. Like the summer he kept having panic attacks and I found out later it was because his dad had told him he was going to propose to his then girlfriend, now wife. I don’t know how ChaosMonkey reacted at his dad’s but when I tracked the time back, it coincided with the worst panic attack he’d had during that time which had occurred within 30 minutes of him getting home from his dad’s. And his dad has the NERVE to say that he won’t help with any counseling fees because they must be resulting from MY family? Really? It was terrifying, he was out of control, and could have really hurt his then baby sister.

This summer has basically been one big “you don’t matter” message to ChaosMonkey from his dad and it’s like his dad is trying to pull us into said message with these stupid games he’s playing. I have told ChaosMonkey that certain discussions are to be had between the adults, like scheduling, because they can be so complex. I have told him I will do my best to take care of things, he doesn’t have to worry about it, enjoy being a kid, and his dad pulls this crap.

Questions, More Questions

My appointment with the neurologist was an odd culmination of exceeding expectations and disappointments. Despite having been told by the imaging center that my MRI’s were being sent over right then after they were taken, my neurologist had yet to receive them two weeks later at my appointment with her. After discussing the symptoms I’ve had getting worse over the last three years I have more scans and blood work and who knows what else pending in my near future.

She listed off a few things she wanted to check for that fit what I’m going through, multiple sclerosis was the only one I recognized. Had I been sent to a rheumatologist they’d probably be looking at fibromyalgia or scleroderma, given what my old doctor had thought I might be dealing with.

I don’t like not knowing. I don’t like being exhausted and in pain all the time. I don’t like feeling like I’ve been doing deadweights after I brush my hair.

I went in looking for answers and came out with more questions.

Ironic, how that’s the way it usually goes.

Literary Lion Writing Prompt: Eyes

This week’s 400 word or less writing prompt from ISmithWords is: Eyes.


Eyes Closed

He wasn’t the most observing of individuals. Changes in his day to day routines went unnoticed; haircuts, curtains, employees. It was like certain things just didn’t exist on his radar. if you asked him straight out, you could watch the analyzing develop into surprise and then whatever attitude he felt needed to be attributed to the change. His eyesight was superb, but he didn’t seem to actually see anything.

Having always been a bit of an oddment out, despite his attractive eyes and inviting smile, he could have a conversation just fine, even be funny or charismatic at times, but once you got too close he would shrivel up into his own skin as if recoiling from physical contact.

Today was just another day as he walked from the office down to the park for lunch. He’d eat whatever he had brought and then sit on the bench in the gnarled old tree’s shade by the water with his eyes closed for almost his entire lunch hour.

He wasn’t out of touch here. The only time he felt like he could really see was when his eyes were closed. He felt the summer citrus and rose scented air brush against his skin and lift his hair off his face, heard the children laughing on the playground and dogs chasing frisbees or squirrels, he could feel the lives around him brushing up against one another, weaving together and separating out. It was a beautiful dance.

When he opened his eyes, the life faded away. It was too easy to miss life when his eyes were open.



Words: 267

Sleepover Hangovers

As a kid, i loved sleepovers. I lived for those amazing nights away from home, away from the yelling and constant tension, where I could stay up all night reading, drawing, writing, being myself with no responsibilities come the next day (usually, lol).

As a parent, I love when my kids have sleepovers. I love that we’re the “fun house” that parents still feel they can trust our parental judgement in this world of inappropriate media and propaganda pushing to keep their kids safe in all forms. I love that my kids can bond with their friends at home and don’t feel a need to hide who they or their friends are from us.

What I don’t love? The minute to minute fighting off of zombieness that comes the next day. I already don’t sleep well, and it’s one thing if it’s little girl giggles keeping my up till midnight but last night it was growing pains at least every hour. My poor little girl had her best friend over and here she is waking up crying constantly while her friend sleeps on through it like a rock. I have had a ton of coffee and am trying a coke despite the fact that I am supposed to be staying away from caffeine because of my heart. SOMEONE needs to not be grumpy, lol, but I am utterly exhausted.

It’s Not What You Think…

When I say I hate my body, it’s not what you think.

I think I’m still rather pretty. A bit aged and, yes, wrinkled from the ups and downs I’ve faced. A little weather worn. I’m not bad, though, not perfect but not bad. Aged beyond my years, I’ll admit to, but I’m not unattractive.

Figure? Weight? My figure is fine, my weight is less than I’d like it to be.

It is not an image issue. My body looks pretty much fine. I like my how my body looks and am trying to improve those things I can, toning and what not.

No, when I say I hate my body, it’s an internal matter. I may look fine, but fire crawls under my skin, pain swells around my bones and turns my flesh to unresponsive muck growing like vines up my legs and arms. When the pain is gone I don’t feel anything but faint tingles to remind me that my limbs are still numb.

I’ve developed these curious diagonal lines on my left arm, first it was just a few, but they are growing in number up my arm, like some sort of disjointed tree without a trunk.

My heart is still giving me more trouble than my cardiologist thinks it should.

It feels like every few months I have another specialist to add to my growing harem of doctors. Hell, it feels like I see them more often than I see my husband.

I appreciate my body, and it’s good points, the things about it that have been miraculous. I supported the creation of three wonderful children when I had been told I would never have children. I have survived and at times thrived despite myself.

My husband once joked about trading me in for a newer model after a discussion on my health… I rather bitterly agreed with him, near tears. I didn’t see his face, but the silence probably should have told me at the time that he had realized I wasn’t joking, that I was struggling that much inside my skin. He hasn’t suggested it again since.

I’m not the woman he married. And I feel like I’ve trapped him in a marriage he wouldn’t have chosen if my body had been then what it is now…  you know, a ticking time bomb of stupid self-destructive inflammatory responses and short circuited nerves. I feel guilty for that.

He is always on the go. He has biked over 1,000 miles this year alone (in the last 6 months more like). He swims like a fish. Hikes like a goat. Runs like a goddamn gazelle, but, you  know, a manly gazelle…?

I used to be right there with him. Never a great swimmer but I could run at a decent pace, climb like a monkey, my abs were actually in better shape than his if you can believe it. Now? Now… I feel like a waif in the wind.

So, I may look okay, I may act fine, and I may not know what’s wrong with me, but I am living in this physical anguish which causes emotional anguish. I am mourning the loss of myself each day, and it hurts a little more every time I can’t keep up with the kids quite as much as they/I/we’d like.

I’m not what you think… I’m not even what I think… the docs are still figuring me out, lol.