September 01, 2016: Rant, confusion, whatever...

Life.  Amiright?

A Competition of Priorities Part I

No relationship is perfect.  No one single person is perfect.  Both statements are true, and both are also somewhat redundant.  I believe most are intelligent enough to understand the 'given' in this.  Still, I wanted to make it perfectly clear that I'm not one of those individuals who looks for or even strives for perfection as I truly believe that endeavor never ends well for anyone.  Having said that, I do believe that anyone, everyone, can try to be the best they can be.  Honestly, I think we'd have a much better world if people just decided to do and be their best.

In an even imperfect world our only saving grace in most situations, especially the difficult ones, is having our priorities straight.  This doesn't mean my priorities will be exactly like yours, and they may actually be quite different.  And it's not to say if our priorities differ that one of us is right, and the other is wrong.  So what does it mean when someone says "Get your priorities straight"?  Well, for starters, you have to know where your priorities are before you can ever think of making any necessary changes or shifts.

My current relationship is a competition of priorities.  I've been here before in the not-so-distant past, and I recognize what it is I'm dealing with.  I also know all to well that I can't force anyone to change their own priorities.  Even so, there are consequences, both good and bad and on both sides of the situation (relationship) to that hierarchy of priorities.  For example, if you put your love of playing video games above your significant other you'll find, and usually quite quickly, that it has an impact on that other person, and by default.. on you.

There are two outcomes in the above situation.  Firstly, if your significant other has YOU as a priority, there'll be conflict.  While you make your case for your 'game time,' the other person will make their case for 'couple time.'  The other scenario isn't so pleasant, and in that other scenario your significant other may just find enough time on there hands, feeling less important than your game playing.... and open themselves to the availability of someone else.  This, unfortunately, isn't often something they actively do but is more a natural reaction to the situation.  There's just not enough time to explain the psychology in this.

Let's bring this to a more personal place.

I'm one for putting important things first.  Kind of a no-brainer, right?  Well, again, depending on where the person is with their priorities.. what one might see as important may be something they're totally indifferent to.  THIS is where the magic, or the nightmare begins.

My environment is extremely important to me.  My current heath problems mean I'm house-bound most of the time, and this means my immediate surroundings have basically become my entire world.  Here is where my peace, my serenity, my joy, happiness, and motivation is born, and where they also die.  And right now my environment is working against my health, both emotional and physical.

I don't care if it's a girl thing or just an 'Ella' thing, but it really doesn't matter what label it falls under, because this is part of who I am.  Beauty in my world is necessary.  I like a clean house, one that smells good and is comfortable.  Mess, chaos, clutter, and filthy surroundings do NOT sit well with me at all and isn't conducive to comfort or peace.  Under normal circumstances I would be happily cleaning house and making my 'world' a happy and peaceful place.. at least in that sense.  But it's a battle these days as I live with someone who could care less about any of that.  And worse, he's a master of procrastination.

I don't procrastinate and prefer to get things done in a timely manner.  I don't let things go until they're out of control or till the situation deteriorates so badly that I have to pay someone to take care of it for me.  Prevention is still cheaper than a cure.  It's cheaper to mow the lawn and take care of plants and landscaping on a regular basis then it is to allow things to become so out of control you have to hire a landscaper.  It takes a LOT less time to clean a bathroom once a week then it is to let it go for weeks on end... and have to spend a couple of hours trying to scrub away what would've been easily removed weeks before.  It's more cost effective to get a professional roofer to fix a leak right away then it is put it off till it becomes more than a roof repair.

Procrastination is the antithesis of "responsible behavior."

When men are more like boys than men they will let even important things go for weeks, or months, or even years.  For someone like me, this is a nightmare of epic proportion.  I'm not comfortable in filth, clutter, or chaos and decay.  I appreciate the things I have and take care of them.  To be in the same household with someone who's priorities places importance on things that take away from the important things... is literally a nightmare.

This competition of priorities is creating chaos at every turn, except for T... who is all about procrastination and haphazardly barreling through life without any direction or goal in mind.  When human beings in your life are at the bottom of the totem pole beneath meaningless and often mindless activities or inactivity, there's something very very wrong.

Priorities should mean doing the right thing first, whatever that is.  The right thing; what does that even mean?  I guess that's also a subjective choice.  But subjective or not, a human being should always be at the top of the priority list, be it the health, happiness, comfort and well-being of that individual, or their stated or obvious needs.  At what point do you wake up and realize that maybe, the thing you push down to the bottom the list is negatively impacting the other person in your life?

And you can't just tell that person to "Let it go."  When it's a priority, even a necessity, you don't just tell that person to let it go, to 'deal with it,' or go on a rant about why that person should change to meet your needs.  I'm sorry, but not in any universe will that ever work.

Now let's bring this local....

If your staring at a television is more important than helping me get something done that NEEDS doing around the house, your priorities are screwed up.  If my having ONE useful arm at the moment means I can't do x, y, or z... and you choose watching tv or playing on Facebook over helping with those things... you're extremely screwed up and your priorities stink, plain and simple.

I can't help where my health is right now.  I can't change the fact that I have an extremely painful shoulder/arm due to a torn rotator cuff that needs surgery to repair.  I can't help it that I need T's help, nor can I help that it's like pulling teeth to get that help.  All the pleading and begging and explaining in the world doesn't right what's wrong with his priorities.  He's the ultimate "Can't" man, and can't won't get things done.

Now, I do know the difference between literally being unable to do something and choosing to say you 'can't' as a way to get out of doing that something.  If you literally can't, you can't.  I can't buy a yacht, but that doesn't mean I'm making excuses not to.  I can't fish on my front lawn, either.  I also can't be 20 years old again.  So I know the HUGE difference between 'can't' as a fact, and 'can't' as an excuse.  And T... uses 'can't' as an excuse.

Procrastination on this level isn't sexy or attractive.  My knowing and seeing all too well how far down on the priority list I am does absolutely nothing to endear him to me.  Love isn't something you say but something you DO.  Saying it IS very important, but what you do is more important.  And if that person demands the unreasonable from you to 'prove' love, then that person's behavior/deeds aren't fueled by love but by selfishness.  What I'm asking of T isn't unreasonable and is what most people do without being prodded anyway.

Clean up after yourself.  Don't neglect the yard, the house, those things that men normally take care of because it's... the right thing to do!  Gee, where've we heard that before?  You take care of your house because it's the right thing to do.  It's an investment, so why on earth would you not take care of your investment?

And yet, I'm expected to not ever bring those things up, those things that seriously need attention.  Honestly, I don't ask for ANYTHING other than to do the right thing.  Bring on board some compassion to make the job easier.  But don't procrastinate until things fall apart then complain about the aftermath.  Be a self-starter.  Be pro-active.  What's wrong with that?

There's just too much to put into one blog entry.  The competition of priorities is out of hand, out of control, and T's ridiculous and self-serving stubbornness is destroying peace, tranquility, happiness, or any hope for the future.  And worse, it's destroying my motivation to get well.  I'll explain that at another time, as well as CONTINUOUSLY breaking one's word and it's impact on those on the receiving end.

For now.... I simply keep hanging on, hoping to survive this nightmare.

It's About Time.

When I first began blogging it was for one specific reason--venting.  I needed a place where I could get things off my chest that were bothering me so I could get on with life without cumbersome emotions or baggage.  I had ONE blog at that time.  When things got tough, and they often were, I would visit my blog and unload to my heart's content, not giving a single iota to being politically correct or holding back out of some delusion that I somehow had to be 'polite' here.  The venting would ensue, fall upon the screen, and I would be left to bask in the aftermath of some seriously epic purging of thoughts, feelings, and more.  In the end I would usually go back and delete the long-winded and emotionally-charged entries, knowing I could do so now that some time had past.  That blog still exists and I still post in it as often as possible, and I named it "All Things Ephemeral" for a reason, even if that reason no longer exists.  Let me explain....

A few years ago I made the decision to stop deleting the entries.  Being honest with myself I realized that I was deleting so as not to 'hurt feelings' of those I vented about.  No matter that I left off names and details that would give much away to the wrong set of eyes reading, I decided it was somehow 'impolite' to share even my feelings and experiences.  Boy, was that ever stupid.  I'm glad I came to my senses and stopped editing the content over some perceived butthurt it may cause someone else.  But, did I really stop editing my own entries after all?  Well, today I figured it was something worth investigating.

I often come here and stare at the blank screen where bits of my life would fall and wonder... "How can I actually talk about this?"  I know as I write just how much I'm holding back, even when I don't WANT to.  Still, the struggle to set myself free remains just that--a struggle, even today.  Even when I know the healthiest thing I can do for myself is write about it, get it out of my system, it's remains incredibly difficult just the same.

What I want very much to do right now is to take the first step in 'going there,' to talk openly instead of using a string of allusions to piece together a story that, when all is said and done, remains unclear and ill-explained because of that fear below the surface of truth.

A Bold First Step

My next blog entry will be in This Free Spirit, and I tell you this because it will ultimately be the first blog entry in many years where I hold little if nothing back.  With failing health I need all the help I can get to break the bonds of emotional servitude, and the first step is to open myself completely to the idea of 'almost' full disclosure.

Wish me luck....

Life---Glaringly Apparent

There are a ton of people out there who love to use words in a loose and inappropriate way.  I try not to be one of those people.  Am I perfect?  Hell no.  But I really do try to choose my words carefully.  One word that's been in my mind a lot lately is the word "Selfish."  I've witnessed a lot of selfishness over the past few years, and while seeing that makes me a bit sad about humanity as a whole, I realize that not everyone is--selfish.  But I have to say, after 2 years of living with this man I have to admit that T has a selfish nature.  It's not one of hose hateful, malignant things as it can be with so many.  It's more of a childish and immaturity thing.  Either way, it wreaks havoc on my life in major ways.

Again, I don't use words like "Selfish" loosely.  I know what the word means.  There are people who accuse others of being selfish... because those people aren't giving them what they want and are not giving into demands.  I'm not one of those people.  I wouldn't call someone selfish simply because they don't give me what they want... oh, but I've been on the receiving end of that, I can tell you.  But that person had a LOT of issues, so there's that.

T's selfishness doesn't make him sexy, doesn't make him 'dearer' to me, and I don't at all find it attractive on any level.  Duh, I know.  I guess what I'm saying here is that it turns me off in a huge way.  A lack of empathy and compassion combined with selfishness is not something one can brag about, I assure you.

There are too many instances to discuss here, and I wouldn't even try.  But what happened this morning was like a glass of ice-water in the face, which always leaves me to some serious introspection about where I want my life to be.

I've not slept very well in several nights and last night was the crashing point where my body just finally gave out enough to sleep deeply.  T usually wakes me up before he leaves for work so I can take my morning medicine, and since the diagnosis of borderline diabetes I have to check my blood glucose in the mornings.. before taking any medicine or drinking water.  It's important I check morning glucose, so this is one thing I never skip as it can reveal a possible turning point in which pre-diabetes can shift and become something more serious.

So T wakes me up, and having been in a VERY DEEP sleep it wasn't easy.  I struggled to think, to even speak... I was a little confused and disoriented--not fully awake.  As I lay there trying to get my bearings I could see T standing there with this impatient look on his face, and he was using that tone of voice that tells me he's in full-blown passive-aggressive mode.  He stood there with that posture that said he was in a hurry.  Still too sleepy to get my thoughts straight, I leaned up on one arm attempting to clear my head and wake up fully.

Normally, he will wake me up and put the lancet in the device because, honestly... some days my eyes are SO blurry I can't see well enough to (a blood sugar thing, my doctor says).  It takes a few seconds to put the lancet in the device and take the protective cap off.  Today, however, he just stood there as a few seconds passed, standing and half-leaning against the dresser.  My thoughts, as muddled as they were, came together enough to think... 'Arrogant.'  His stance, posture... looked blatantly arrogant.

I was beginning to wake up more at this point as anxiety and stress began to take hold.  Many mornings are like this as T will often barrel through the house, half bent as he RUSHES around... as if that behavior was going to somehow get him from point A to point B faster.  Well, whatever.  Anyway, as the stress began to take hold, as I could feel the anxiety growing in my stomach... he finally turned towards the little table with my glucose monitoring kit, and started to close it.  He picked up the meds laying there and was going to hand them to me..... I was very confused at this point.  But what he did next.... shocked as well as angered me.

He turned to me and said, "You could just skip this today...."

Huh?  What?

I was fully awake at this moment---and oddly speechless.  I sat there for a moment, angry... still sleepy, yet fully feeling the effects of what he just said to me.  The exchange hadn't lasted even a minute, perhaps 30 seconds at the most.  But the impact of what transpired was forceful, and it woke me up in a big way.

Anger wasn't permitting clear thought, I can tell you.  I was simply stunned into silence, left with my anger and trying desperately to calm down.  What I told him was just to go, to go to work.  I'm 100% certain he could tell I was pissed.

Once the initial anxiety and stress subsided I was left weak and achy and beyond fatigued.  I went back to bed and slept another 2.5 hours.

In the aftermath of this morning were a few other surprises, just idiotic stuff I had to clean in the kitchen.  I swear my children when growing up weren't this messy.  So that wasn't fun as a follow up.

I'm not going to explain to him the importance of monitoring my blood sugar as the doctor instructed.  He was there IN the room when she gave me the diagnosis!  He was in the room when she asked if my mom and oldest sister (who both had diabetes) had any diabetic complications, and when I said YES... he also heard her say that it makes my likelihood of having complications that much higher.  He was there when she said I needed medication to hopefully stop the progression, and he was there when she spoke of how serious it is that things be addressed NOW, that pre-diabetes causes damage and raises the risk of heart attack and stroke significantly.  He was there.

I was told that the goal for my morning blood glucose levels should be UNDER 100.  They've been hovering around 115 but have been as high as 123 and as low as 109.  The low of 109 happened only once.  If I get readings that consistently show elevated to 124 or above... that's a big red flag.  So checking every day gives my doctor an average to see where things are going.

T was there for the entire conversation.

He's shown his hand, as he often does, and I see all too clearly where he stands and what he thinks.  He's shown his hand when it comes to everything I'm dealing with, be it Autoimmune Hepatitis, Pre-Diabetes, heart issues, etc.  He spends a lot of time watching tv, and a lot of time on FB.  He knows very little to nothing about what I'm dealing with because he hasn't bothered to read, research, etc.

I belong to a forum for pre-diabetics and diabetics, and I can't even tell you how many spouses, sisters, brothers, etc... seek information, talk about their concerns, ask what they can do to help.  T, in stark contrast... acts as if everything is perfectly normal.

Emotionally, I've been separating myself from T out of necessity.  I recognize this as a protective behavior and one that is actually healthy.  His lack of compassion, empathy, compassion or concern, his indifference especially... have pretty much turned me off at this point and I'm not trying to fix that because it's not my place.  This has happened before, so I recognize where I am in this.  I don't find hatefulness, indifference, nor a lack of compassion attractive in the least.  I also don't find passive/aggressive, or out-right aggression attractive, and I cannot abide control freaks... in which T is one.  At least he knows he's a control freak.  He's not doing anything about it, but at least he's aware.

Still, my life's course can't be set by someone else's map.  I have to set my own course, make my own decisions, and do what's right and necessary for me, for my health, for my happiness, for my life.

For now all I can do is fight like hell not to fall into that pit of despair and dare to dream when I'm able.  I can't allow anyone, not ANYONE to destroy my happiness and health.

This is an ongoing situation, one of which I can only address one day at a time because of my current bad health.

Controlled Crash PART I.

I've not posted in a while, I know.  Some days are just too hard to think, much less talk about what's happening.  Health issues are still unresolved so I'm living in hell for the most part.  Bad thing is, part of that hell, one of the biggest part of that hell isn't my failing health but who I'm with.  Today I'm choosing to be blunt.  It's about time.

I've spent the better part of the morning, to make a long story short as possible, doing a research--a LOT of research.  Doesn't even matter what the subject matter is (not health this time).  What IS important and what absolutely matters in every way is the complete disconnection from T... until I make up my own mind about something and choose to act upon it.  It's part of being a grown-up, so I hear.  You know, making informed decisions on issues that affect one's life. ((sarcasm))

I put in hours worth of research and made my decision after days of talking to people who're experts on the subject, reading, and watching informative videos.  It's not like I made my decision rashly or without forethought.  By the time I put in the footwork and came to my decision---it was with a 100% certainty.  Personally, I have no doubts about my decision at all.

During the stages of research and educating myself on the subject.. T was off in la-la-land, where he seems to spend most of his time (like many average men).  Be it diving headlong into a FB fixation that eats up every spare moment, or staring mindlessly at a screen watching some movie or series or whatever.  Then there's all the other extraneous things and the important things.  When it's all said and done, honestly, I'm left with wondering if I need to make an appointment with him just to have a conversation about important issues.  Thing is--I'm not even remotely the time to do that.  Oh, I USED to be the girl who would wait like an idiot for Mr. Man to have the time for me, but I don't indulge that anymore.

There just isn't any time.  Right?  Not exactly...

It's AFTER I put in the time and effort to research something, AFTER I make my decision based on that research and time... when he decides to be a part of the process and tries to TELL me how things will go, how it will happen (or not happen), and goes on to put time in to finding an alternative to my decision.  What.  The.  Actual.  Hell?

I'm sorry, but if you're too busy to not be a part of the process, you're sure as hell not going to be a part of the decision.  Period.  You can't just waltz in and take over AFTER the fact!

There's a certain intelligence that comes with recognizing and working with your limitations, knowing when to stop or take a different course.  I know my limitations well and am well informed on how to either get around or overcome them.  If you can't identify your limitations they will rule you and your life.

However, there are those who create limitations and full-on embrace them.  The most common, and the ones that irritate the hell out of me the most are the following:

I don't know.
I can't.
We'll see.
Maybe.
AND EVERYONE'S FAVORITE... ((sarcasm again))
If I have time.

Sometimes people don't know or can't do something.  I get that.  But when the question that precedes those answers is "Why"... I start to have a problem with that.  "Why are you being an asshole?"  "I don't know."  You see, the question is what makes those answers so infuriating, not so much the answers themselves.. However, I've always ALWAYS been one to say "I don't know BUT I'LL FIND OUT" if there's any way I can.

So when T attempts to crawl from the shadows and override my decisions and I ask "WHY?"... I honestly don't want to hear "I don't know."  And if I hear "I can't," I would like also to know... "WHY?"

It's not like I want to chat like a couple of old ladies over tea.  I'm talking about important issues that need discussing OR dealing with me having to make the decisions on my own due to lack of participation. Again, you can't just sashay in later after everything's been said and done and a decision's been made!

It's said that control freaks are generally very lazy people, that their own lives are usually badly out of sorts and they seek to control others in order to FEEL "In control."  I'm not talking about those who try to control their own lives, those who will listen to advice from others.  Even if that person doesn't TAKE your advice, they at least listen, and THAT is a fundamental difference between an actual control freak and those who may be a bit OCD in their own lives.  I can be said that the real control freak will be the one RESISTING ANY advice from you and INSISTING you take their advice.. no matter what, even if it's a very bad choice for you.

I'll end this here, but I'll try to compose PART II in a few minutes....

"....You've chosen lessons of pain."

I received a message with this video in it yesterday.  I have no idea who the person is who sent it... but, oddly.. this is one of my favorite songs and one I listen to every night.  Headphones on, dark room, and songs to obliterate the thoughts....

All alone you felt (All alone you felt)

Since the angels brought, you, down

Fly, too, high, now, you, have fallen perfectly

Certainly you'll see (Certainly you'll see)

[You] have a special purpose

To share

All, your, dreams, have, come, together perfectly

Could you open your mind

And see the reason

You've chosen lessons of pain

For a warrior's heart

Truth and inspiration

Reminds us to not be afraid

They don't understand (They don't understand)

Though they call themselves, your, friend

Fate, has, brought, you, back, to find your destiny

Should you travel deep (Should you travel deep)

Hear the voices, light, the, way

Souls, .... and, reveal your destiny

Could you open your mind

And see the reason

You've chosen lessons of pain

For a warrior's heart

Truth and inspiration

Reminds us to not be afraid

*instrumental*

Wipe your tears

It's all right

And revel yourself in the truth

You're the strongest heart

All these tears

All these nights lead down a road that seems like a maze yet

All you encounter will make sense in time

Could you open your mind

And see the reason?

You've chosen lessons of pain

For a warrior's heart

Truth and inspiration

Reminds us to not be afraid

Could you open your mind

And see the reason

You've chosen lessons of pain

For a warrior's heart

Truth and inspiration

Reminds us to not be afraid

Could you open your mind

And see the reason

You've chosen lessons of pain

For a warrior's heart

Truth and inspiration

Reminds us to not be afraid

Home.

One thing I've known for certain for pretty much all of my life is that when I'm ill, I long for home.  When I was little I knew where that place was, and despite its terrible flaws it was still home.  As an adult I was surprised to find that I no longer knew exactly where home was.  So I would spend the majority of my adult life longing for a place that quite possibly, for me anyway, doesn't exist.  I've never been able to reconcile this; not physically, and certainly not emotionally.

The closest I've come to being "Home" once moving out of my mom's house at 18 is Mobile, AL.  I had a tiny little apartment, and though not every moment there was perfect, it felt safe, and it felt like a warn welcome every time I walked through the door--no matter how good or bad things were.  It was a safe place for me to be myself, where I could decompress, where I could dream, wish, hope and feel alive.  This is not the case where I am now.  Not even close.

How did I get here?  I got here the same way I got into every bad situation in my life; By pure blind trust.  It's a flaw of mine and one that's gotten me into more trouble than I can tell you.  I give people the benefit of the doubt, take them on their word, and actually believe what they say.  Well, to a point anyway.  The thing is, that 'point' in which I pivot and see the error of my ways is usually far too late to avoid any damage to my life, and to me.

I'll probably always be this way, a far too trusting person.  I'm okay with that, I guess.  But I really wish I were better at assessing and discerning the heart and motives of people BEFORE I get involved.  We all have our flaws, I suppose.

As I wait for the sluggish process of diagnosis beyond the AIH, I'm left far too vulnerable for my liking.  There are days I can't walk well, verging on not at all, and days where lifting my arms to look at my phone is almost too much.  The weakness grows more each day and the doctors I need to see are weeks out of reach since I'll be a new patient.  The waiting is going to end me in the ER at some point, I'm afraid.  But the worst of this is being this sick and living in a place where I know absolutely no one at all.

T only helps around here bare minimum, and as the chores, etc. pile up... I long for the simplicity of the life I had in Mobile, where I didn't have to clean up after another human who refuses to do what's necessary to not live in a dirty, cluttered house.  I can't live this way, so I struggle to pick up the slack.  And I'll tell you, the slack is far far more than what T actually does.

How the hell did he survive on his own?

I have to somehow find my way home--wherever that is.  I know I can keep struggling a little bit to find my way here, to at least hang in there until I'm better---or at least better enough to survive, to move, to do something to help myself.  At this rate I don't know if I can work, which scares that crap out of me.  Disability requires a definite diagnosis, and at this time I don't have one that explains fully how I'm continuing to weaken and become more and more sick.  What can I do if even typing an entry like this makes me shaky and nauseated with weakness?

I want to be well again, to feel good again, to have energy again.  I want to be in a position where I can find my way back home again.

Home.  I just want to be... home.

The elusive network of support.

I've been told throughout my life it's necessary, even vital to success when fighting against that which challenges.

Those challenges many of us face, be it losing weight, extracting oneself from a bad relationship, dealing with a break up or death of a loved one, financial hardship, health issues--I've been told that you simply can't do it alone.

Despite what I'm told, I'm testing that theory as we speak.

I don't need anyone to hold my hand all of the time, but when my resolve slips, my confidence wanes beneath unrelenting weakness and pain of which there's been no tangible hope of it ending soon, it would be nice to have someone who gives a crap present. And I'm not talking about someone being in the same room, but someone who is  Actually present.  Finding someone who can be actually present is a lot harder than it sounds.  At least in my experience.

I've dealt with people who say they love me but choose to be abusive and/or simply not there emotionally.  Trust me when I say this isn't my first rodeo.  And I can tell the difference between if someone is 'absent' with malice or not.  In my current situation there isn't any malice, but it doesn't feel a lot different from the situations I've been in where this was the case.

If you've not read the post below you probably won't understand what I'm about to say...

I've been so sick over the past week that I've been bedridden until today.  The why's and wherefores of the situation is in the post below.  But I'm going to be very blunt here, and at the risk of sounding like a weakling--which is far different from being physically weak, btw.  Still, my experiences over the past week have both saddened and introduced an anxiety about my vulnerability in the life I'm in at the moment.

Bedridden, for me, means sitting up for any length of time is impossible, that standing and walking are feats that make me feel like I've just done something magical.  Standing means my legs shaking so badly that I'm not sure I'll make to to whatever destination I'm heading towards, even if it's 6-10 ft away.  Sitting up, as well as standing and walking, means I feel a wave of extreme weakness wash over me from the top down, leaving an equally intense aching in its place.  This means that over the past several days I don't eat unless someone can bring me something.

The lack of appetite and early satiety, at least, has helped make this vulnerability easier to bear, though my body does send uncomfortable signals that I need nutrition.  I've also lost my taste for water and have to force myself to drink it.  Even with small sips my stomach revolts with waves of nausea.

T worked from home a couple of days this week and was home, of course, over the weekend.  I've never felt so much like an inconvenience.  But the worst of is is when I really, really needed help with something and he just was indifferent, if he heard me at all.  This isn't going to be easy to say, but I will for clarity here... at one point I was getting a bad headache with nausea which told me I needed to eat something.  I'd had a small container of yogurt and a banana (had to force the yogurt down because I felt full after a couple of bites), but it had been about 10 hours since I'd eaten when the sick filling came over me.  I asked T to please bring me something, anything, a banana... whatever... just to stave off the nausea and headache.  He was too busy, he said.  It was about an hour later when I finally ate something, and I had to eat it sitting on the side of the bed because I didn't have the strength to make it to the dining room.  I spent a few days, up until yesterday, having to take whatever food I could get down in the bedroom where I'm sleeping due to T's snoring.  Can't sleep at all in the same room with him.  Anyway....

In the hour it took to get a banana to eat I laid in bed contemplating what I was going through and wondering what it would be like if I became seriously ill and had to rely on him to take care of me until I recovered.  It didn't take long before I was consumed with homesickness, a longing for my simple life in my little apartment in Mobile.  This isn't the first time I'd had this feeling, btw, but this was by far the most intense.

I learned that I have to find a way to disconnect from my situation while still IN my situation.  I've done it before, but I was a LOT healthier then.  How do I do this?  That's the million dollar question, isn't it?

The last several days have been fraught with a fatigue and weakness unlike anything I've ever known.  Basically, for the last several days I've been pretty much bedridden, only able to sit up for a VERY short period of time.  Painful, tired, and weak, I spent what little time I was awake researching if there was a medication I was taking that could be doing this.  What I found was across the board complaints about every drug I'm on.  Narrowing things down to a time frame when I began getting worse I found that cessation of Prednisone and AZA kicking in were likely the culprits.  Here is where things get tricky...

Prednisone and immunosuppressants are the go-to protocols for nearly all autoimmune diseases.  At the highest dosage of 40mg/day I felt amazingly well, energetic, and somewhat strong again.  It was about as close to 'normal' I've felt in years.  With the first taper I began to feel badly again, but eventually had to come off with a slower taper which ended about a week ago.  AZA (Imuran) was added along the way and is something one is kept on long-term to stave off flares of the disease, in my case autoimmune hepatitis -- don't confuse this with visual hepatitis (hep C for example).  This is an autoimmune situation in which my immune system thinks my liver is a foreign body that needs, well, killed off.  Overlapping AI disease is also suspected here, but symptoms cross over and overlap to the point where it's difficult to tell what else is going on.  Myositis or Sarcoidosis are suspects here given my aldolase was highly elevated more than once, even on the medications.  It is within normal range since taking the imuran in higher doses.

FAST FORWARD...

I don't know which is causing this horrid weakness and fatigue, and other symptoms as well, so I opted to call the doctor to TELL him I'm stopping the AZA for a time to see if that's the culprit.  His response was agreement, BUT he wanted me to restart the Prednisone at 60mg per day!  I told the nurse on the phone, who relayed the message to me, that I wasn't going back on prednisone because the side effects were intolerable and it causes so much weight gain, which I've just now begun to lose.  I'm not going back.  She said she would relay the message to the Dr.  I have an appt with him next week and know I'm going to have to give push-back because I'm UNWILLING to take prednisone again.

I've just stopped the AZA yesterday and am not doing well as I'm still weak, fatigued, and wanting to sleep most of the day.  I have a feeling some of this will improve as the AZA leaves my body.

I know the risks.  I know and accept that I could have a big flare of AIH and my liver could be damaged because of it.  But here's the thing: I have to wage longevity with quality of life, and in doing so have come to the conclusion that I simply can't have both.  I'm choosing quality over quantity.

And hey, for all I know it could take a couple of years before I have a flare again.  But as for any other AI disease going on, be it Myositis or Sarcoidosis, no one has given another diagnosis as of yet so there's little reason for me to worry about those possibilities.  Having been on the treatment protocol for those, because it's the same as AIH, it's going to be tough trying to diagnose either due to my taking prednisone and AZA for this long.  Even so, all I can do is see how it goes moving forward.

I'm actually quite surprised that I can event type, because the last several days I've barely been able to hold up my iPhone while laying in bed due to the weakness.  You've no idea how bad the weakness is.

Another thing I have to deal with, which I'm not sure is a bad thing, is the loss of appetite.  I mean, I've gone back to FEELING that I need to eat, where my body gives physical signals that I may need nutrition but don't have actual HUNGER.  Also, this is the third day where it's not just a lack of hunger but also very early satiety.  I've been taking in less than 1,000 calories a day, which I will pay for dearly if I'm not careful, especially if I'm dealing with Myositis.  But that's another talk show.

So for now just know I have to play it by ear and see how I feel, because I may not be able to post here every day---though I do hope I can because that means I'm either feeling better or one tough chick for posting when I feel like I'm going to fall off the chair any moment. ;p  C'mon.. that was funny.  See?  My sense of humor shows up every now and then.

How am I managing through all of this?.... well, I have to admit that's a whole other talk show....

When Past Experiences Fade.

What I've found is that our past really does change us.  It doesn't change WHO we are, per se, but it certainly changes how we think and how we approach familiar, yet uncomfortable, situations in the future.  Once the damage is done it's done.  We can seek counseling, religion, friends or family to aid in the healing process, but we can't change the scars that remain once the healing is complete.  And this is IF the healing is complete.  Some of us never quite reach that level of healing, unfortunately.

I'm not going to say I'll never heal from my past unfortunate experiences, and I totally accept the fact that the scars are there for a reason; We can't wish or hope or anger them away.  And why would we?

For me, the damage left by awful experiences of past relationships aren't always apparent or noticeable.  With each day's accomplishments and trials the past may be readily in focus or blurred beyond recognition.  My mind only calls up what it needs, or what it believes is relevant.  Is it always actually relevant?  Of course not, so it's up to me to determine what's what and act accordingly.  For example, being disrespected usually brings past experiences readily to the forefront.  It is what it is.  And during those times when the ugly parts of the past fades... I don't question the opacity of the lens I'm viewing through but accept the gift and move through my day.

The past doesn't always color my world, and I'll take the blurry days over the stark reality of the scars left from an emotionally-violent past.  Today is one of those blurry days, and I'm grateful for that little gift.  But it doesn't mean I've forgotten.  There isn't any way I can forget.

I remember because of the scars.  I remember because I'm not lost on the value of the lesson.  I remember because those memories, painful as they are, keep me in-check much like the painful burn of a flame that makes us pull back before too much harm is done.  I remember because I'm supposed to.

The sum of me, all the parts that make up the whole, is only whole when I'm aware.  I can't bury or ignore those dark experiences that hurt and changed me no more than I can bury or ignore those great experiences that made my spirit soar to amazing heights, that inspired me.  Acceptance is healing, and it's a place I can thrive in.

It's time for me to sign off.  I'm cold, tired, and it's time to just heal a little while.....

Out of My Hands.

This isn't the first time someone has sought to control me.  One big difference with the previous experience with a control freak is that, this time, it's not as much abusive as damaging in more insidious ways.  While I strive for better health, reaching for remission of this AIH, striving to lift myself above the miserable effects of illness and its treatments, I find this mountain I have to climb isn't of my own making, and I wonder often... how the hell did I get here?

Point blank--when someone is dealing with health issues that REQUIRE certain dietary changes you just don't go against better judgment, advice, and information.  With everything I'm dealing with, with my BP skyrocketing into stage 4 hypertension (brought about by Prednisone, I'm told), you don't hand that person a bag of salty chips and walk away.  This is basically what T is doing.

How do you "Forget" something so important?  The deep-seated indifference has become a danger to my health now, and given that I can't even so much as walk across a parking lot, much less through a grocery store, I'm completely at T's mercy here.  I can't walk, stand, or do anything without excruciating pain in my back---something they've not gotten to the bottom of.  All we know so far, due to an MRI, is that it's NOT spina-related.  AI or what, then?  Doesn't matter at this point.  What matters is that I do the things I'm supposed to do to get myself well, healed, and healthy again.  And the one person who has most of the control has chosen to disregard even the doctor's advice.  WTH??

Bringing home everything I'm not supposed to eat.  Salt, sugar, junk, processed foods, and deciding that a piece of meat for dinner is somehow healthy... I simply don't understand.  I have to eat more vegetables and fruit, yet I can't stand at a counter long enough to make salad.  Ugh.  It's exhausting even talking about it at this point because I'm weak and having trouble thinking.  Where is this going to leave me in the end?  Destroying my health one meal at a time is what's happening now, and I have no idea what to do about it.

I've been here before, though it was much much worse.  Getting 'sick,' even with the cold or flu, wasn't allowed.  And if I DID get sick, or if something was making me less-than healthy or energetic, I was treated like garbage and made to feel horrible for 'daring' to get sick to begin with.  Back then, just a few short years ago, I had no idea I was dealing with THREE heart arrhythmias AND an autoimmune disease that was trying to destroy my liver.  I didn't have health insurance, and the clinic I went to wasn't aggressive with testing for most things.  All I knew is that I didn't feel well or was very sick and tired and hurting a lot of the time, something that my ex wasn't on board with.

You find out quickly who cares for you when you become sick.  Trust me on this.

This time around I'm with someone who emphatically claims to love me, care for me, and tells me I'm the most important person in his life.  He volunteers this information---I don't ask for it.  My last relationship taught me to not trust people, anyone in fact.  Maybe one day I'll get past that.  Maybe not.  I have no idea.  So when T tells me he loves me then sets out to undermine my attempts at healing and obtaining better health... it makes me not trust him, or his motives.  Echoes of the recent past have come back to haunt me, laying waste to so much I've strived to overcome.

I guess I have to accept the fact that in many regards this whole thing is out of my hands.  As long as I'm too sick, too weak, and too painful (lower back) to fend for myself 100%... I'm vulnerable and at the mercy of another.  And for the second time in my life the people who I'm at the mercy of don't really have my best interests at heart.  Well, T does... but fails to remember what's needed and necessary for me to recover.  I really don't know how to take that.

I'm heading to the other room here in a few minutes, my retreat, my decompression chamber.  The day is somewhat overcast, which will make rest and relaxation a bit easier.  There's something soothing in cloudy days.  While I need and want and love those sunny days, the clouds are still welcomed from time to time.

Life... or Whatever.

NOTE: This particular entry has sat in my drafts for a few days, a couple of days.  There are times when I have to ask myself.. "Do I really want to share this?"and the reason is that wanting to and NEEDING to are two entirely different things.  I have to decide.  I have to know why I'm sharing.  I know it sounds silly to some, but my choice in the matter is for a very good reason.  And today I'm taking the FIDIAW (Fk it, do it anyway) stance.  Why not?

Let's get on with it then, shall we?

There comes a time when you have to make a choice between your health and happiness, and the PROMISE of health and happiness.  Knowing what the difference is between those two things is critical for emotional, and many times physical, survival.  No one, and I mean NO ONE is worth allowing your health to be torn down, your emotional health beaten and battered.  I've been here before, and I recognize what it is, and I'm not going to lay down and let myself be trampled underfoot.

Overt bullying is easy to spot.  Narcissistic behavior, once you know what it is, can be easy to spot.  But there are other delivery methods of delivery when it comes to destructive behavior, so you have to be very careful not to fall prey to the guilting that precedes that behavior.  Those many-times subtle clues can save you a world of stress, anxiety, and damage; heed them, or pay the consequences.

Past experiences with a narcissist has taught me much; not just about what to look for in terms of what's good or bad for me, but also in my own reactions to the information.  I don't always practice what I preach, because I am human and still not healed from the past experiences, but I'm at least aware of the decisions I make and what they can and will most likely do to my ultimate survival.  Being aware is a good thing.

There is nothing worse than being at the mercy of another:

After my last couple of relationships, one that lasted the better part of 11 years, I learned to despise having to depend on a single soul for anything.  And by 'depend' I mean for anything, be it emotional support, love, companionship, or even financial help if the proverbial shit hits the fan.  Many people have loving family, friends, and/or a significant other who is there for them through thick and thin, and in those kinds of relationships all parties on all sides do what they do out of love and compassion, not expecting anything in return for whatever help and/or support they provide.  Bonds like that are truly a blessing, but a blessing I know nothing of myself but for my sons.  Thing is about having kids, even grown kids with kids of their own, is that you do everything in your power to keep them OUTSIDE of the problems and worry.  My sons would worry horribly if they only knew what goes on in my life, and what I've gone through in the past.  They know very little, and that's because I love them and know they would worry themselves sick and make decisions at their own peril just to help me.  No.. I'm not about to do that.

Being at someone's mercy when your chronically sick is worse than any other kind of dependancy.  You find out quickly who gives a shit and who doesn't, and it will usually bring out the very worst in people.  I'm finding this to be the case across the board and have plenty of history as proof.  Not being comfortable to talk to anyone about anything, holding back the truth about how bad I feel, what's really bothering me, that I need someone to talk to, someone to just listen without judgment, just to be gentle at times, kind... is really a hell on earth, I have to admit.  But then, this isn't a new experience for me.

As my health declines, as my energy wanes, as I'm completely anchored to this house by symptoms of both AI disease and the treatments, as I watch life rush past me while I'm unable to participate, as asking for any help requires begging, reminding, and the 'guilt' that's pushed at me for having asked, I long SO VERY MUCH for the freedom of being single, living alone, and answering to NO ONE at all.  You're probably wondering how I could live alone and not ask for help if I'm having to ask for help NOW.. right?  Well, therein is the problem I have, and one that is so much worse than the illness I'm dealing with.

AI disease is forever, but relationships don't have to be:

Wow, yeah.. I actually just said that.  I suppose I've been able to recognize that I SUCK at choosing which men I become involved with.  So it only makes sense that I stop choosing at all.  Oddly, this is the decision I made after my last relationship.  I didn't need or want another relationship because I'd had just about enough of all it entails and found the price (paying with my self-esteem etc) was just too high.  So if there is anything I can actually STOP that's doing me harm, why shouldn't I?  After giving my all in this situation and the last, and still struggling just to maintain, I have to wonder at the insanity of that choice.  Right?  It just doesn't make sense to stay in a situation that is ultimately going to destroy you in the end.

I have absolutely nothing left inside---again.  How did I get here... again?

Well, foregoing the fact that the above is a rhetorical question, let me just say that I don't recognize anything good or uplifting in staying here.  I've developed an unwillingness to sacrifice myself again, and maybe because there's still a tiny part of me that clings to hope about some kind of future.  Whatever it is, it's a loud and urgent voice warning me to beware of who I give my power to.

I feel the need to distance myself.

This is also something quite familiar, a reaction I recognize as an act of necessary self-preservation.  My need to retreat, the need to just sink into some safe place where I can heal, be at peace, and turn my thoughts and energy to the possibility of having a much better life, a healthier life, by finding my way out.  This could just be wishful thinking, too...

What Will it Take?

The daily battle of ripping myself out of the 'homesick' feelings is exhausting.  It's not like every waking minute is filled with dreams of how life was a couple of years ago when I lived in Mobile, when it was just myself and my pets.  And don't for a minute think that was a lonely life.  I mean, sure, it was a little lonely at times, but it was peaceful having only myself to contend with and not another soul to judge, make me feel bad, make me question myself, and the only sources of stress and anxiety were actual NORMAL stressors that most people have to deal with.  Life--was just simpler then.

I don't for a minute regret this life I'm in now.  Well, maybe I have a couple of times.  But I know that there are good things that came from my choices to be with T, to live HERE instead of where I really consider 'home' (Mobile, AL).  I get where I was and where I am and how I got here.  I feel the appreciation for the things that make life better.  I also understand what it is about this life that really isn't at all good for me.  In fact, I'm extremely clear on what's not working for me here.

My hands are tied at the moment by Autoimmune disease(s) and the effects of the medications that are necessary for remission.  There's a reason I'm here, right now, exactly where I am and under what circumstances.  Though I don't pretend to understand it all, I know that whatever my purpose is here is somehow necessary.  It's the only thing I can say on that matter.  In the great scheme of things, as the situation is what it is, a very cautious part of me is watching how much stress my body and spirit can handle and looking for signs that things need to change, and change immediately.  No reason to be blind, because it could cost me everything.  And I mean everything.

When I look at my surroundings now I'm not sure how I feel.  I like the house, the location, and the view is spectacular.  But the biggest influence in my surroundings is T, and he's chronically unplugged, indifferent, and rarely can see, hear, interact or connect with anything outside of his own skin.  That's a big problem for me.  I'm down to disconnecting entirely so I have the freedom to take care of myself above and beyond him.  He's healthy and grown and fully capable of taking care of himself.  He's off in his own world most of the time anyway.

I'm going to have to call it quits here for now.  My body is urging me to step away from the computer,  that it's past time to stop and rest.  Oh, but I've learned the hard way that ignoring those signals is a VERY bad idea.

the invisibility of being.

Throughout my life I've been pretty thin-skinned, listening to others tell me what I should/shouldn't be, what and how I should think, do, say, dream... developed into an art form for me that damn near reached "Spidey Power" status.  No, seriously.  I would take and wear whatever anyone projected upon me like a shiny pair of Jimmy Choo's.  And trust me when I say that two-sizes too small absolutely made a difference in how I felt and carried myself through life.

Barefoot is better.  Know what happens when you go barefoot the majority of the time?  The soles of your feet get pretty damn tough.  Having grown up poor I had only one pair of shoes (cheap) at a time and wasn't really allowed to wear them outside if I were just playing in the yard, etc.  They had to last until my mom decided we could afford more.  I think I had the toughest feet of anyone I've ever known because of this.  The only thing that really hurt me was if I stepped on glass (which I did a few times, once landing me in the ER to have the glass removed), and when that California asphalt and concrete got hot enough to fry an egg on.  Even so, over time walking barefoot didn't bother me one single bit.

But what about the INSIDE?  Oh, but that was a whole different story altogether.  I couldn't walk my way through through the pain to being 'thick-skinned' and pretty much felt the weight of anything and everything that was said to me.  Criticism became truth, a 'reality' handed to me that I willingly took.  My childhood experiences weren't filled with encouragement or praise nor even helpful criticism.  Indifference and criticism, and many times complete withdrawal of love and affection were the tools used to shape the person I would become.

I was to become the child who survived.

In adulthood, that small child I once was is alive, and though not well, that part of me is AWARE.  There is still a disconnection of who 'that little girl' was and who I am now, and I still see photos of when I was little and feel such pity for 'that little girl.'  Yes, I know it's me, of course.  But the disconnection is still there just the same.  I want SO much to apologize to her and say "I'm sorry I didn't protect you!"

I've accepted this disconnection as a part of who I am, but I don't like it one single bit.  C'est la vie.

I remain thin-skinned, but my reaction to criticism, disrespect, and so forth is very different now.  I've allowed history to repeat itself in relationships I've had, and the reality of this has unprecedented tenure, so it would seem.  It will be with me the rest of my life.  Okay.  I'll just have to work around that when possible, right?

So here I am all grown up and stuff.  I can make decisions, change my mind, and walk away from anyone or anything that threatens my happiness; such are the benefits of being an adult.  Right?  Well, not exactly.  At least not for me.  That subconscious, that inner child, the child I actually WAS at one time so long ago, well.. she has a mind of her own and remembers the pain, the isolation, the indifference, the coldness, the invisibility of being... well, me.

Such memories carry over for the long-haul and map the course of life in often undesirable ways.  But it doesn't always have to be like that.  I can do more to help myself in that respect.  And I do.

On bad days, of which I have far too many these days, that inner child is the one who suffers most.  Sure, I feel the physical pain, and I feel the isolation of my situation and all it invokes (depression, anxiety, etc).  But it's what happens INSIDE that changes my world, my life.  All I can do is anesthetize myself with too much coffee, reading, and way too much television.  My physical body simply refuses to allow much more these days.  That's okay, because eventually the AIH and the 'possible' Myositis, both autoimmune, is driving the bus now, and not even my inner child can rebel against that and affect change.

Sitting here in the quiet, drinking coffee, talking about things I've not talked with a single other human being about...well, but for one therapist for a very short time, I can definitely say I recognize my life as it was, and as it still is; The invisibility of being... me.

Finding Me

I'm not lost.  I'm not invisible, though I FEEL that way most of the time.  I know who I am, for the most part.  I can look at my life objectively and see where I've gone terribly wrong.  I have a sense now of protecting my health, my sanity, my life, and I won't allow anyone to derail that.  I've come a very, very long way.

I have a purpose just like any other, and a couple of relationship experiences has taught me that I can't lose sight of the fact that I don't need anyone else telling me I'm worthwhile.  Selfish people will spend a LOT of time telling you you're not worthwhile, not worth their time, effort, love.  And why do we allow this?  The answer to that is different for every person, but the one thing that we all have in common is the TYPE person we chose to bring into our lives.

I'm right here, right now, alive and feeling; I've always been here.  Though a couple of people I had in my life tried frantically to diminish who and what I am, and they nearly succeeded, they FAILED.  I know this because I was able to finally walk away from the situation and felt that terrible, heavy weight lift as I did so.  Even in the absence of real closure I know I saved myself by steering clear.

This situation I'm in now with my health is a big uncertainty in my life and I have to accept that.  I have no idea, going forward, what to expect and have to take things one day at a time, literally.  What little energy I have can't be spent on yet another person who doesn't have my best interests at heart or in mind.  Now, on the surface that may sound selfish, but since my health and life are at stake.. I can't leave anything to chance, nor can I just pour my life and future into someone else the way I had in the past.  There's nothing selfish about taking care of myself, and it's taken me a couple of years to actually believe this.

I don't care if anyone thinks I'm selfish right now.  I do all I can for others as much as my energy and health will allow.  The people who love me understand.  And the people, past and present, who don't love me don't understand at all and stand in judgment.  Thankfully, the numbers in that particular group are ridiculously small.

This is not the time for me to turn my focus away from the very real AI disease(s) I'm dealing with.  Both the one confirmed and the one yet-to-be-confirmed are very serious and require life-long treatment.  No one has given me a prognosis, because there's really no way to at this point.  No one can guarantee me anything, and what they're left with is telling me the possibilities as far as what my life expectancy is WITH and WITHOUT treatment.  I've started treatment, as you guys know.  I've begun that journey, but it's going a lot slower than anticipated.  Still, my odds with treatment are far better than without.  Even knowing THAT I'm given NO guarantees of what will be a year from now, 5 years from now, or even next month.

All I can do is take very good care of myself and avoid stress and anxiety.  And herein lies the biggest problem--my life with T, my past that haunts me... all bring stress and anxiety in like a flood.  Not 24/7.. but enough to make each day just one more opportunity to work my way past that.

Finding myself sounds so damn cliche, and so much so that I cringe just thinking those words.  But it's something I can't ignore.  I'm here, but I don't recognize the person in the mirror, the sick person with the dark circles under the eyes, etc.  It's okay, though.  I know and understand the drill.  That sick person in the mirror needs TLC, patience, understanding, and love.  I'm really pretty much the only one that can provide that.  It's still me in there, looking back...


It's still me in there looking back....

Not Now!

Yesterday was really hard.  Whether it be from the big jump in Azathioprine dosage, the actual AI issues I'm dealing with still, or a combination of that and more, the result is finding myself in bed by about 5pm.  The nausea, the lower back pain when I stand and walk, the weak and achy limbs, and the absolute NEED for peace, comfort, calm... these are the things that made up the entirety of my day yesterday.  I still tried to post in my blogs, but I have to admit I had a very difficult time in doing so.  A VERY difficult time.

Coffee has been the driving force to what all I do on any given day, and many times (like yesterday) it wasn't of much use.  Tastes good, though!  It's one of my few indulgences.  Still, I really wish I didn't have to use caffein to make it through the first half of my day.

I'm having some trouble organizing my thoughts today, so bear with me...

In the midst of the health issues T still fails to recognize the importance of avoiding conflict.  He knows, and only because I've told him, that just being on the prednisone alone lowers my tolerance for stress.  Prednisone suppresses the immune system, and it also suppresses cortisol... the anti-stress hormone.  Yes, the Pred is on board, but both adrenalin and cortisol can't swoop in and save the day now.  What this leaves me with is having to deal directly with the anxiety and stress brought about by, well, to be blunt... absolutely stupid crap.  I'm sorry, but I'm all for picking one's battles, something T doesn't and won't do with any care or forethought.

Not paying attention when I say something, tuning me out, etc... forces me to constantly repeat myself.  It's tiresome, and it drains me to have to do this.  I've taken to just saying "Nevermind" in response most of the time, because it really just isn't worth it to have to constantly repeat things.

Knowing what I face every day does little to help me feel better, positive, upbeat, and hopeful.  I know that the Battle-To-Be-Heard is a daily one, and one that tears me down on a day basis.  I often wonder which is worse--dealing with a narcissist, or dealing with someone who, for all practical purposes, just isn't present most of the time.  I don't think either is a good choice, at least not for me.

The only thing I can do now is minimize my exposure to those situations, the ones where I'm not heard, where IMPORTANT information is forgotten, where I drag myself through most conversations because the other person isn't plugged-in.  I have only one real defense in this case... and that's just to say... "Not now!"

"Not now!"

It will have to do...

Family--Beating My Head Against the Wall

To say I come from a dysfunctional family is putting it mildly.  Further back than my own memory reaches my siblings have hated me.  No, really, I'm not making this up or being dramatic.  I don't talk about this much because it brings a lot of sadness and discomfort, anger and resentment rushing to the surface.  It's a long story, really, and one with gaps and holes and far-reaching voids where many memories have vanished.  It would be oh so much easier had I been adopted, because I know virtually nothing about my family tree, for all the asking I've done over the years, and my parents are both deceased with my having absolutely NO idea where I came from, who my ancestors are, or what my connection is to any of them, if at all.

I was a "Mistake," according to my mother.  Now, my relationship and experience with my mom is a story in and of itself, and honestly... I could write a novel here about that.  But I'm not going to.  Let's just say my mom was disconnected by the time I was born, old enough to be my grandmother, and about as unplugged as a parent could get.  It was easier to micromanage and control everything to a damaging degree, rather than create experiences that may have given me a chance and coming out on the other side with less 'issues.'  Yes, of course I have issues, and in a way it was my mom's only legacy.

How is it that I could know little of nothing, if anything, about anyone in my family tree?  Well, that's easy--when you don't answer questions, share nothing, and ensure that not a single photo, letter, information, etc. gets passed down to you... well, you can't ask a dead person questions.  Point blank, not pretty, but absolute truth just the same.

Everything from health/medical information was shared primarily with ONE of the 6 children, and I wasn't the one who got the information.  My eldest sister was my mother's confidant, her go-to gal, and there was an almost too-close relationship between my mom and my oldest sister (old enough to be my mom).  I spent my entire life on the outside, looking in, and it was that way until my mom passed away (over 20 years ago now).

One sister and I shared a dad, and my other siblings share a father form my mom's 1st and only marriage.  Yep, my other sister and I were illegitimate.  I could really care less about that, to tell you the truth.  My dad was out of the picture when I was 18 months old, and my mother really never spoke of him or his family except for some really scary things, very dark and scary things.  Now, it shouldn't surprise anyone that if you scare a kid like that, they're most likely not ever going to ask too many questions.  This was the case with me.

The siblings who had a different dad hate me.  Just the truth.  I was even told that one reason they despised me was that, because we were very poor, they often didn't get as much milk (the example used by one brother and sister) because when it came down to the wire... "The baby" (me) needed it more than they did.  I can't speak for what happened when I was a baby.  I can't apologize for something that I didn't do on purpose.  Yet that resentment carried right into adulthood for my 3 brothers and one sister.  BTW, I don't really think of them as brothers and sisters because they've not treated me as such throughout my life.  What memories I have of life with them.. isn't good.

I was born very late, with my mom being in her early 40's when she had me.  All my siblings (but for one) was grown and gone and with kids of their own, so I pretty much grew up like an only child from about age 10.. when one of my sisters married and moved out (she was 16).  We lived in a 3 bedroom house that was eventually condemned, and my mother (a hoarder) used all 3 bedrooms as her hoarding rooms.  My sister, the one I share a dad with, had her own room, lots of 'stuff,' decorated walls, record player, records, clothes, and a bike.  I didn't have enough toys to even have a toy box, so even in this respect I would find myself living an entirely different life than my sister... and everyone else, actually.

My mom was absent, indifferent, cold most of the time...and even cruel.  Skipping over more details than will fit here, I will say that my childhood was very, very odd, and the damage done has proven to be long-lasting.  Still, I spent my life longing for a family, a REAL family.  Now, coming from a family with 3 brothers and 2 sisters you would think that a strange thing for me to say.  Aunts, uncles, cousins... really had nothing to do with me, but for one cousin who, I guess, simply took pity on me.  I felt the hostility from them all growing up and didn't understand any of it at all.  I felt it, saw it, heard it, and experienced that hostility until we moved away from California.  We moved to Colorado because my oldest brother wanted my mom to move there so she could babysit while he and my SIL could work.  I was in 8th grade when we moved, and my life didn't get better at all.

Longing for a real family... even to this day....

I would eventually move away from the state of Colorado.  My kids and I, to make a long story short as possible, ended up here in the south along the Gulf Coast, where we settled into that strange place (strange to us because we weren't from there) and would end up calling the south "Home."  It's the only place that ever felt like home to me.  I'm still in the south, but a little further north by a few short hours.  But back to "Family"....

When my mom passed, naturally my eldest sister got everything.  Very important items my mom was holding for me until I could send for them were divided amongst my brothers and sisters and nephews... or just tossed out as garbage.  They did this QUICKLY after my mother died, the day they found out, using the excuse that they were sure that since she was on disability, got a veteran's widow pension, and on Medicare, etc... that the 'government' was going to come in and take her stuff.  Yes, LUDICROUS, but that's the excuse they used.  And when I arrived for her funeral I wasn't even allowed to so much as have a photo of hers.  My eldest sister 'allowed' me to take ONE photo to have it photocopied.  My mom had boxes and boxes of photos, btw.

Few actually had anything to say to me at the funeral, or after.  It was the same shit, different day.. only worse.  A few years later I'd tried once again to make some kind of connection with them, but it ended in a total disaster.  I finally came to my senses and realized that I was the only one putting in any effort and that it just simply wasn't worth it.  I basically told my oldest brother and his bitchy wife to piss off.  And yes, it felt great and was LONG overdue.

In the present....

I know pretty much nothing of my family history, my family tree.  My last living grandparent died when I was 2 weeks old, and everyone else was so much older than me that no one really had anything to do with me.  My mom wasn't really forthcoming with names, histories, etc., though she did incorporate some names and such in a few fun stories she would tell from time to time.  But as a little child I really had no idea if she were making the stuff up/telling fairytales, or if the information was actually true.  And after my mom's death... the information about grandparents and such were simply not given to me, even if I asked.  Photos, etc.... all given to my sister, who claimed some neighbor stole them, were lost.  My brothers, etc. chose badly when they decided to give my sister everything.  One person said they thought my sister pawned or sold the framed antique photos of grandparents etc for money.  Sadly, it sounds exactly like something she would do.

The cruelty extends into adulthood....

When one of my brothers passed away a few years ago I was told about this AFTER the funeral had taken place, and... I was told on Facebook by a distant cousin.  She apparently looked for me on Facebook with ONE purpose in mind, and that was to send me a message that read.. "B**** passed away last week.  Thought you'd like to know."  I asked "How/why?" which lead to her replaying in the same short, blunt fashion. She then disappeared and didn't say a word ever again.  I'd written back a couple of times.. with no response.  I'd written my nephew as well, and have been ignored.  And this nephew I grew up with and was very close to most of our lives.  He's only 2 1/2 years younger than I am.

Cruelty was their favorite weapon, and continues to be so.


The family tree...

As someone who feels completely disconnected from 'family' or blood ties, history... it only stands to reason that I would, eventually, WANT to know something about my own family history.  SOMETHING.  ANYTHING.  So when I decided to look into www.ancestry.com I felt like I was taking a step in the right direction.  Maybe this site could help me put the broken pieces together in such a way that I would at least see my connection within the bloodline.

What I've done...

I created an account at www.ancestry.com over a year ago, but since I wasn't really willing to invest any money into getting a full account, I've only spent the smallest bit of time there.  But that changed for me about a week ago when I saw a commercial online for Ancestry and a DNA test they offered that shows where your bloodline is from, at least in percentages.  A lot of folks have jumped on board for this.  Now, one cool thing about the DNA test and having a real account (which I don't yet) is that you can set your family tree to allow links between matches for DNA, region, etc.  It's a lot more complicated than that, and they have a video that explains it all, but it's a really neat tool and a good place to start.  But what about for someone like me?....

DNA results may be the only thing I really get out of this, and that's okay.  It's something, isn't it?  It would be nice to know for sure what ethnicities are involved in my family tree, even if I don't have any family history to see how the pieces fit.  I sent my kit off today and, from what I understand, it will take about a week for the results to get uploaded online.  Knowing it's not going to give me complete picture of my family tree... I'm still okay, and I'm fairly patient where that's concerned.

So what's my freaking point here?

My point is this: If you have information about family history (names, places, etc) please share them with your kids.  Don't leave them in the dark to spend the rest of their lives wondering who they really are (history wise), where they're from, what their history is, etc.  It's really not a good or easy thing to live with when you have no idea about those things.  Don't do that to your kids, seriously.

My desire to know more about my family history/ancestry runs deeper than the hurt from the disconnection from my actual 'family members.'  I rarely use the word 'family' when speaking about them.  They're blood relatives to me, but nothing more.

I have to wonder if I'm beating my head against the wall trying to piece together a family tree I know nothing about.  Names, birth dates, etc. are required to even do searches or make connections.  What little information I have really just stops at my mom, and my dad I have only a name and birth date.  It's really like hitting a brick wall.  But is it worth it, all of this effort?  I don't know.

I really just don't know.  The one thing I DO know is that I'm left with the question: Will I ever fully understand myself in connection to history and ancestry?

*shrugs*