Sunday, February 21, 2010
Emotional Train
Okay, it is official, I am an emotional train running towards the end of the track with nothing to stop me. I can see the cliff, and the part of me that wants to stop isn't powerful enough, or there isn't enough of the want to stop. Maybe a good crash is what I need. I will keep going on this track, looking for an alternate track, in hope that there is an end without a cliff. With my luck, there will be a wall, a giant wall. The question to asks myself, which is worse? I have to go somewhere because stagnation is eating me alive. I prefer to die trying, in doing, in going forward, regardless of the harm that meets me, regardless of the heart aches others may have over my decisions.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Today is . . .
First Friday, where a local author reads his or her work. I go to this event regular. I will not miss tonight either, regardless of how I feel right now.
I have been seriously moody lately. I was nearly crying walking through WalMart today when came across something that reminded me of how . . . . In the car the country song played, "Turn the lights down low . . . ." I cried. My daughter, thank God, didn't notice. She isn't feeling well, so her mind was wrapped up in getting home after picking up her meds. Now, I'm reading different post: on the blog, on myspace, on facebook, and listening to the quiet in the house that doesn't happen often. I am crying. I don't want to go anywhere tonight, but will. No, I should say, I don't want to take myself anywhere, I want someone else to take me somewhere. Don't ask the difference. If you don't understand that statement, I am not explaining it.
Ginet is sleeping in her room. Will is asleep on the couch. Garry is sleeping in the bedroom with the T.V. blaring, as usual. David and Anna are doing their job of crossing children at busy intersection after school.
I finally gave up on Garry. He refuses to keep cigarettes away from his lips, and he refuses to attempt any physical therapy to help his body. I can't stop him from NOT caring about himself. He is back to smoking three or four cigarettes a day. The pack a day won't be far behind and I will be fighting to keep him from spending money we don't have. It is coming. I am getting closer to walking away. I cannot take this. What else can I say. And don't give me that load of garbage of prayer right now. Not working. Garry doesn't wasn't to listen to any other "will" but his own. I am depressed, but keep it hid from all in my family. I cannot listen to any of them, and I will not have them . . . making excuses, attempting to make me feel better with whatever actions they may think appropriate. I don't think I can explain why my family can't know, other than what they will do will not be the right way, no matter how much love is put into it. Yes, you can all tell me to speak to Garry; if he isn't listening to me about how I care about his health, about us, then whatever I have to say about how I feel right now isn't going to be heard. I guess, it is time to move on however I can. I don't want to do this! I just don't! When I come to my final decision, all will be mad and disgusted with me (well, at least my children will be, and Garry's family). Yes, yes, yes: love and cherish till death parts us. But what if one has decided on his way as . . . . ?
Forgive me.
I have been seriously moody lately. I was nearly crying walking through WalMart today when came across something that reminded me of how . . . . In the car the country song played, "Turn the lights down low . . . ." I cried. My daughter, thank God, didn't notice. She isn't feeling well, so her mind was wrapped up in getting home after picking up her meds. Now, I'm reading different post: on the blog, on myspace, on facebook, and listening to the quiet in the house that doesn't happen often. I am crying. I don't want to go anywhere tonight, but will. No, I should say, I don't want to take myself anywhere, I want someone else to take me somewhere. Don't ask the difference. If you don't understand that statement, I am not explaining it.
Ginet is sleeping in her room. Will is asleep on the couch. Garry is sleeping in the bedroom with the T.V. blaring, as usual. David and Anna are doing their job of crossing children at busy intersection after school.
I finally gave up on Garry. He refuses to keep cigarettes away from his lips, and he refuses to attempt any physical therapy to help his body. I can't stop him from NOT caring about himself. He is back to smoking three or four cigarettes a day. The pack a day won't be far behind and I will be fighting to keep him from spending money we don't have. It is coming. I am getting closer to walking away. I cannot take this. What else can I say. And don't give me that load of garbage of prayer right now. Not working. Garry doesn't wasn't to listen to any other "will" but his own. I am depressed, but keep it hid from all in my family. I cannot listen to any of them, and I will not have them . . . making excuses, attempting to make me feel better with whatever actions they may think appropriate. I don't think I can explain why my family can't know, other than what they will do will not be the right way, no matter how much love is put into it. Yes, you can all tell me to speak to Garry; if he isn't listening to me about how I care about his health, about us, then whatever I have to say about how I feel right now isn't going to be heard. I guess, it is time to move on however I can. I don't want to do this! I just don't! When I come to my final decision, all will be mad and disgusted with me (well, at least my children will be, and Garry's family). Yes, yes, yes: love and cherish till death parts us. But what if one has decided on his way as . . . . ?
Forgive me.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Rambling; what this page was made for. Why am I not party material?
I've been wanting to post many many things, but don't find the time, or I have someone looking over my shoulder that I don't want there. Those that come to this blog I trust enough to share with. This is why my family does not know this site, because they will be pestering me about all types of things, and complaining about what I said. I say things here because I am working through them and because my friends that know about this blogsite give insightful thoughts about whatever it is I say.
Dear friends, I miss you all terribly. It is wonderful when we can get together. I feel badly when I do discuss what is going on, but it feels great to bounce my worries, my WORDS off of you, even if you don't have a reply. Thank you. Right now I should be reading my students' one page papers (about 45 left--they had three due last week), about half of what I received. I don't even have the gumption to focus on Ginet's studies. I have seen the doctor twice for a cyst on my back. The cyst came infected after Ginet tried to squeeze it out because it looked like a blackhead. Last Friday, the doctor cut it open, but it wouldn't drain, thus having to work on it by pressing on its sides, actually squeezing it to force it out the large hole she created. The damn thing didn't want to come out. She left the incision, packed it with gauze, a tail hanging out, hoping for the thing to drain on its own. It didn't. I went back this morning. I had my oldest come with me because I feared that I would need to go to the hospital. The doctor had to push on the cyst more, working the substance out. She was unable to get it all. This means, in time, I'll have to go in for surgery. Probably this summer. The dilemma is . . . . I am not insured. The doctor charged me half last week by paying cash upfront, and nothing today. I really appreciate this! I need a second job just to make ends meet and put food on the table. As it stands, Garry's income coming from SS and Ginet's SSI, then my part time money from IPFW is more than food stamps will allow! Garry and I do not have massive credit card debt: yes I have two, but manageable, both will be paid off shortly and kept for establish good credit again. All other bills deal with day to day living: house, utilities, cars, and insurances. Which do I not pay? Right now, I am on the edge of tears. I do not know where to go from here. I also now I need eye care, and dental care. Garry has some dental care needed that medicaid won't pay for. Ginet will be there soon because she is no longer under the listing of "child," once she is "out-of-school." My tax return will pay for half of my property taxes; thus, meaning, I will need to borrow more (where I took a loan out to get my car fix when Vincent hit someone: the my $1,000 deductible) to pay my property tax: last years! This doesn't include this years! I take care of all the paper work for Garry and Ginet, and have started to take care of some of the issues for my parents that have to be done online--they refuse to learn how to do things on a computer. And then, I look for work. By the time I am done, I don't have much time to work on publication (both books and academic articles). I want to RUN AWAY!
This has felt wonderful! Exactly what I created this blog for: ranting! It didn't solve much, but it has helped relieve some pressure, just a little.
Still can't focus on the papers. My back hurts: burns and itches, and constantly feels as if a knife is stuck in it. I don't know if I'll make it to class to teach tomorrow: my muscles are sore. If I can't find someone to drive me to work and home, and help lug all the papers, I'm not going to be able to. My daughter showed me how much the doctor took out from the area. The substance was the size of a half dollar in width, and at lease an eighth of an inch thick. The doctor showed me the depth of the cyst, which is a little more than from the tip of the pinkie finger to a little past the first knuckle. My daughter has to clean it once a day for me with peroxide on a q-tip, taking the q-tip into the wound in a circular motion. I am not looking forward to this at all! This wound will take a couple of weeks to heal, and it has to heal from the inside out, meaning I must pull the wound open to keep the skin from closing over the top for at least the first week, maybe more. I won't know until after Friday's visit.
I need a fun night out! I need to forget everything for at least a whole night! A night out as my daughter does with friends (without the stumbling drunk, puking activity). I have realized, as growing up, I had friends, but never had friends (except for one or two for a couple of years) where I could go out and goof off, be dumb and silly, be slap happy and down on the floor rolling with laughter at dumb shit fun. People didn't see me that way. Hell, my husband even said he wouldn't ask me to go party with his friends because "You're not the type; you'd be a lost puppy." I remember one good friend, where we had a blast whenever we were together. I loved it. Later, I found out, she enjoyed being with me, but sense I wouldn't get into the drug scene, she never invited me to go along with any of her other friends. I appreciate it, I do, and I'm glad I was never placed in that situation. However, I always felt like an outsider, and was always called "goody" (how is it spelled?) "too shoes." Why does everyone assume that someone who doesn't do drugs, nor drink, and keeps a morale belief while having fun doesn't know how to have fun? I like dark humor at times; I enjoy the good sexual joke occasionally; I like to pull pranks; I'm a Red Skelton fan! What wasn't funny about him?
OHHHH! must not keep going on about this. Tammy, I miss you. June, I miss you. Gran'ma, I miss you. Two of you are far away, and one of you will never be close again. I feel lonely way too often. I'm tired of being alone in a room full of people. Garry, I miss you. I want to touch and cuddle and wrestle, and do all those things we use to do. Damn, I want the end of all that fun as well: might as well say it--sex, making love! I'm tired of faking; I'm tired of being strong; I'm tired, just tired emotionally. The only joy (once getting myself to the classroom) is teaching, and watching my daughter have fun, watching my grandchildren enjoy life. I deserve much much much more!
Yeah, I'm feeling seriously down. I need to, or I am going to burn out. This crying is wonderful. Thank you for reading, if you have found your way here, if you have decided to read through.
See you all on First Friday.
Dear friends, I miss you all terribly. It is wonderful when we can get together. I feel badly when I do discuss what is going on, but it feels great to bounce my worries, my WORDS off of you, even if you don't have a reply. Thank you. Right now I should be reading my students' one page papers (about 45 left--they had three due last week), about half of what I received. I don't even have the gumption to focus on Ginet's studies. I have seen the doctor twice for a cyst on my back. The cyst came infected after Ginet tried to squeeze it out because it looked like a blackhead. Last Friday, the doctor cut it open, but it wouldn't drain, thus having to work on it by pressing on its sides, actually squeezing it to force it out the large hole she created. The damn thing didn't want to come out. She left the incision, packed it with gauze, a tail hanging out, hoping for the thing to drain on its own. It didn't. I went back this morning. I had my oldest come with me because I feared that I would need to go to the hospital. The doctor had to push on the cyst more, working the substance out. She was unable to get it all. This means, in time, I'll have to go in for surgery. Probably this summer. The dilemma is . . . . I am not insured. The doctor charged me half last week by paying cash upfront, and nothing today. I really appreciate this! I need a second job just to make ends meet and put food on the table. As it stands, Garry's income coming from SS and Ginet's SSI, then my part time money from IPFW is more than food stamps will allow! Garry and I do not have massive credit card debt: yes I have two, but manageable, both will be paid off shortly and kept for establish good credit again. All other bills deal with day to day living: house, utilities, cars, and insurances. Which do I not pay? Right now, I am on the edge of tears. I do not know where to go from here. I also now I need eye care, and dental care. Garry has some dental care needed that medicaid won't pay for. Ginet will be there soon because she is no longer under the listing of "child," once she is "out-of-school." My tax return will pay for half of my property taxes; thus, meaning, I will need to borrow more (where I took a loan out to get my car fix when Vincent hit someone: the my $1,000 deductible) to pay my property tax: last years! This doesn't include this years! I take care of all the paper work for Garry and Ginet, and have started to take care of some of the issues for my parents that have to be done online--they refuse to learn how to do things on a computer. And then, I look for work. By the time I am done, I don't have much time to work on publication (both books and academic articles). I want to RUN AWAY!
This has felt wonderful! Exactly what I created this blog for: ranting! It didn't solve much, but it has helped relieve some pressure, just a little.
Still can't focus on the papers. My back hurts: burns and itches, and constantly feels as if a knife is stuck in it. I don't know if I'll make it to class to teach tomorrow: my muscles are sore. If I can't find someone to drive me to work and home, and help lug all the papers, I'm not going to be able to. My daughter showed me how much the doctor took out from the area. The substance was the size of a half dollar in width, and at lease an eighth of an inch thick. The doctor showed me the depth of the cyst, which is a little more than from the tip of the pinkie finger to a little past the first knuckle. My daughter has to clean it once a day for me with peroxide on a q-tip, taking the q-tip into the wound in a circular motion. I am not looking forward to this at all! This wound will take a couple of weeks to heal, and it has to heal from the inside out, meaning I must pull the wound open to keep the skin from closing over the top for at least the first week, maybe more. I won't know until after Friday's visit.
I need a fun night out! I need to forget everything for at least a whole night! A night out as my daughter does with friends (without the stumbling drunk, puking activity). I have realized, as growing up, I had friends, but never had friends (except for one or two for a couple of years) where I could go out and goof off, be dumb and silly, be slap happy and down on the floor rolling with laughter at dumb shit fun. People didn't see me that way. Hell, my husband even said he wouldn't ask me to go party with his friends because "You're not the type; you'd be a lost puppy." I remember one good friend, where we had a blast whenever we were together. I loved it. Later, I found out, she enjoyed being with me, but sense I wouldn't get into the drug scene, she never invited me to go along with any of her other friends. I appreciate it, I do, and I'm glad I was never placed in that situation. However, I always felt like an outsider, and was always called "goody" (how is it spelled?) "too shoes." Why does everyone assume that someone who doesn't do drugs, nor drink, and keeps a morale belief while having fun doesn't know how to have fun? I like dark humor at times; I enjoy the good sexual joke occasionally; I like to pull pranks; I'm a Red Skelton fan! What wasn't funny about him?
OHHHH! must not keep going on about this. Tammy, I miss you. June, I miss you. Gran'ma, I miss you. Two of you are far away, and one of you will never be close again. I feel lonely way too often. I'm tired of being alone in a room full of people. Garry, I miss you. I want to touch and cuddle and wrestle, and do all those things we use to do. Damn, I want the end of all that fun as well: might as well say it--sex, making love! I'm tired of faking; I'm tired of being strong; I'm tired, just tired emotionally. The only joy (once getting myself to the classroom) is teaching, and watching my daughter have fun, watching my grandchildren enjoy life. I deserve much much much more!
Yeah, I'm feeling seriously down. I need to, or I am going to burn out. This crying is wonderful. Thank you for reading, if you have found your way here, if you have decided to read through.
See you all on First Friday.
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