Give Him Back

My cousin decided last night that he is now a girl. I feel like he was murdered by himself. I am oscillating between shock and this deep set heartache that I’ve lost one of my best friends. Which is silly, really, because I lost him probably a decade or so ago when he started down very self destructive path.

He shared a picture of himself in a dress and make up and he was so ugly, not because of the cross dressing or the emotionally-shaded glasses I’m seeing through right now. He was ugly because of the self inflicted damage I saw. The emaciation… the kind that pulls the skin too tight across the bones because there’s nothing underneath it, like when you pull a hide tight for tanning.

I’m just at a loss right now.

I’m heart broken.

He has been killing himself for so long… I look at him and I listen to what comes out of his mouth and it’s like he’s been skinning the cousin I grew up with away a bit more everywhere to the point where, here we are, there’s nothing left of him so the body has to be someone else’s. He’s gone, someone else has stepped into his place. And they are a miserable, manipulative, self destructive Narcissist. This last decision isn’t a decision, it’s a poor excuse for an obituary.

I want to scream and cry and be angry but I can’t be angry because I’m too broken hearted to muster the energy.

I just want my cousin back. The one I grew up with. The one who was honest and kind, who felt things just as keenly as I did and we made it okay for each other in a world and a family where being hypersensitive meant you needed to toughen up, grow up. We were kindred spirits and now… he’s worse than gone. It’s like he’s choosing this kind of living death where I, at least, won’t be able to find closure because he’s chosen to be gone but he’s not gone.

I just want my cousin back.

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Crumpet Crumbles

What is a crumpet and what does it have to do with me?

I’m not entirely sure.

The only similarity seems to be that they are poured onto a hot surface to be seared from batter into a solid yet holy piece of architecture meant to transport something sweet.

I had a difficult day today. I’ve been struggling with a lot of pain in my lower back, the kind that says my attempts with physical therapy aren’t working. My younger two children made Tom Sawyer’s mischief look like nothing on more than one occasion. One of our dogs threw up in my car at least once during the car rides to/from the vet. And let’s not forget the doctor appointment that was supposed to be simple but wasn’t.

But, you know? It was worth it. The kids need to know that boundaries and rules will be enforced, and, oh my gosh, they had plenty of opportunities where the rules were enforced with discipline. Our pup passed her vet inspection with flying colors and is ready to fly out to her new owner. The surgeon I met with showed a better understanding of how my medications work together and against one another and explained how certain ones could be causing this side effect or that one. While she did give me another medication to take, it is absolutely temporary unlike my pre-existing laundry list of medicines.

After dinner, I excused myself for an errand and went to check out a new beach I was contemplating taking the kids to. It was beautiful, a nice easy slope into the water, shells, I even got to see a crab walking up onto the shore right around sunset. It was a great opportunity to de-stress, plus the sea/salt water is supposed to be good for my fibromyalgia.

Then I came home to a husband who put up with a “me” movie of his own volition and choosing to try and make my day a little better. He hated The Man from U.N.C.L.E., but I thought it was hilarious.

The day had lots of stress, and lots of pain, and lots of messes to clean up. At the end of the day, though, I have an amazing family of… creative… kidlets, and a loving husband. I may feel like it’s all falling apart, but sometimes the pieces need to get rearranged because we’re trying to jam them into places they don’t belong in.

I still feel like there are pieces of my mind just gone, like the holes in a crumpet; sure, the structure is all there for where things should be, but those times are just… empty. The great thing about empty spaces, I guess, is that I can fill them with the sweet little things in life that didn’t have a place before. Like appreciating my kids’ creativity, or my husband’s attempts to be caring even if he won’t actually come right out with it because he has to keep his macho-man image up.

I love my family so very, very much.

Brain Babble

It’s been a rough week. I can’t lie about that but I certainly want to.

Multiple issues Sunday and Monday, a couple this morning. Perhaps one of the most disheartening realizations was the fact that, even though I knew I shouldn’t go on rollercoasters, I will never be on another one as long as I’m alive and  “healthy”. I tried swinging next to my daughter. Swinging, you know, on a swing set? My favorite part as a kid was always that arc right before you got too high and the sing started jumping. I didn’t even make it to that part before “something” happened and I almost fell out of the swing. No swings for me. No rollercoasters. That family trip to Six Flags my husband and I have been planning for when the kids got older just got thrown out the window.

But, hey, even just typing about it I started to get upset and get a little dizzy, but that could just be my medication kicking in.

My husband met his daughter, finally, after being denied for so long by her mother! From what my husband relayed to me and from what I saw myself on her social media stuff… my husband was right in that he made quite a positive impression on both his daughter and her soon-to-be-stepdad. He made enough of an impression on the latter that it has caused his ex some second thoughts in regards to whether or not she wants to indeed marry her third child’s baby-daddy. Interesting creatures, people.

I need to go in to my neurologist, the twitches in my hand keep getting worse. I don’t know if it’s related or not but I am forgetting and mixing up words I shouldn’t be. I can’t help but feel like I started going downhill super fast in one way once the medication was started for something else. What if the seizures are an allergic reaction to the medication? What if I’m not as sick as she thinks or it’s not what she thinks? I’m being hopeful, I’m trying not to be naive, I’m trying to ask questions so I don’t end up like a vegetable for the rest of my kids’ childhoods.

There’s so much in my head, but I am so tired. My sleep has not been restful at all the last few weeks. or maybe just two weeks, I’ve lost count. It’s my body, adapting to the medication.

Even now, I can feel the fire in my hands under my skin has returned. It makes me want to take an ice bath, and I hate the cold, normally the cold hurts. Ah, well,  life goes on.

Hopefully, I’ll be sitting down with my son’s principal tomorrow to discuss why the hell she let a child get away with punching my son in the eye. Accident, my ass. An accident wouldn’t have landed a fist in his eye, instinctually your hands are open when you fall. Just freaking common sense.

I have found myself missing my fellow writers as of late, the ones I used to meet with, and the community of bloggers I was with before I was here. Things keep changing, eh?

Can I Give You Family For Christmas?

My husband is back by where his ex and his first daughter are. Originally we had thought he wouldn’t be able to come home for my birthday or Christmas. Turns out, we had been wrong and he had been allotted two weeks of time off for the holidays. He started taking measures to come home, spoke of surprising the kids, spun some fanciful tales of bringing his daughter home with him for Christmas so we could ALL finally meet her, not just him. They were just daydreams we spun out, laughed over, and secretly wished were realistic.

When he emailed his ex… he got the typical “Of course you can see her, oh, wait, no you can’t” song and dance he’s had every time he’s tried to meet her.

We talked. We sat in silence on the phone, each of us heartbroken in our own ways in the silence, weighing it down with all the tears we’ve shaded in the past and should know better than to shed now.

“Stay.”

It’s what broke the silence. It was the word that broke my heart and would break the hearts of my kids if or when I tell them the untold story of Christmas 2015.

“If there’s any chance you can finally meet her, you should stay.” This was a bit stronger, and felt with a sincere passion and stubbornness.

If I could have seen him, I know the way he would have looked at me; his eyes a bit more open, his shoulders tensed in surprise and apprehension as he waits to see if I’m going to break down crying.

“You should stay.” I said again.

“Okay. I’ll cancel my leave.”

One sentence… with years of heartbreak, trepidation, disappointment, hope, fear.

I couldn’t say “You both deserve this chance.” It felt too much like telling him to put one side of his family above the other. He’s made my son such a priority, how could I tell him to do any differently in regards to his own daughter?

I just hope that one day, they can both see this and realize I said what I said out of love for them both and in hopes that it would finally bring all facets of our family together into the beautiful jewel it is meant to be.

Ba-Dump, Ba-Dump, Ba-Dump

It’s been another long day. BOB’s still having night terrors. It makes everything more difficult, health wise and emotionally, when I don’t sleep well. I kept thinking that once I had a good “bank account” of decent sleep I could work off of it if I had a rough night here or there. NOPE.

Today is leaving me a bit downhearted yet hopeful, just in different areas of my life.

I have another 7 day heart monitor on and, yep, still allergic to whatever adhesive they use. I was really nervous about it all morning but a swift kick in the ass from my amazing stepmom, which was exactly why I contacted her, helped put me at ease by getting me out of my own head. I’m starting to recognize that downward-spiral starting more and more. Whether it’s the seizure medication or the heart medication or what, who knows at this point, but something is helping. Hopefully, once all this “trouble-shooting” is over we’ll know what the root of the issue is. My biggest concern is if/how degenerative the issue may be and if it might be genetic/given to my children.

Another difficult part of the last day and a half, specifically, was the “typical” physical and emotional detoxing ChaosMonkey does when he gets home from his dad’s. Today, it was a bad attitude, negative comment, or straight up mean/overly physical response to everything. After stepping way out of bounds when we got home we had a swift and serious discussion about what his issue was and how, given when and how often it has been occurring, what he, myself, or we needed to do to help him. He is hesitant to do anything progressive… given the range of emotions that went over his face, however, he knows what he doesn’t want to discuss and/or face and, obviously, doesn’t want to discuss and/or face. *Sigh* It’s that “you can lead a horse to water” thing all over again.

On the upside, after speaking with the Hubby, it sounds like the guys he’s under have no idea what they’re doing in relation to time off for Christmas. He might have the opportunity to come home for Christmas! Yay! His mom might even be willing to help fly him home so we could actually spend it with him.

Starlight

Ghosts
Standing at my door
Throwing pebbles at my window
Inform
Inconsistent
There and gone
Come back
Stay away
Remind me
Make me forget

Only in the dark
Peak at me from the past
Whisper to me you’re still here
Tell me you’re not gone
Things I wonder or know
That I feel kisses in the breeze
During nights I’m alone
In my own company

You are my lights
My beautiful night sky
The patterns of chaos
Panning out into order
As understanding dawns
Upon the small and blind
We are immeasurably alone
Yet, somehow, connected
As we shine upon each other.

Literary Lion Writing Prompt: Limerick

Not sure if I’m making the cut off or not, but this last writing prompt from ISmithWord’s is : limerick.


My Limerick

There was a deep, wheezing voice floating over the crowd as our eyes adjusted to the darkness inside the door. Poet’s Den was the oddest bar I think I’d ever dragged my man into. The incense, coffees, and teas mixed in the air, giving each table it’s own aromatic aurora. I felt like I”d crawled out of my skin and into my soul with so many kindred spirits about, my poor date just looked like he was suffocating on all thick vernaculars in the air.

He took up residence in my normal haunt, a corner in the back of the room, pretty much out of sight. I was the social butterfly here, an inversion of our roles beyond these walls. It had been so long since I’d spoken with other writers. We read each other’s pieces, listened to the poets on stage, the musicians wove melodies, discussed what we really meant by what we said. It was thrilling… in a calm, sipping warm spices kind of way.

Then a sort of raucous rose up from the back. There he was, obviously enjoying something a bit bolder than my tea in his glass and being the loud, fun loving sailor I’d fallen in love with.

Excusing myself I walked over to him and whispered an appropriate encouragement to get us out the door without too much disruption. While we were walking out a heard a few sneers and distasteful remarks, a classic case of” who do you think you are to be in our clique” kind of nonsense that drove me mad.

I paid the cashier and said, a little loudly and maybe with a wink, “You’ll have to excuse us for the night. My limerick needs its muse.”.

It was cheesy and silly, but what can I say, my sailor’s rubbed off on me.

Word Count: 306