Tag: drugs

Strange but True Vol. VII

I have been quite emotional lately. Just this last week, I have had two nervous breakdowns. They were two days in a row consecutively. On Tuesday, my mother came over to my house to enlist my help with some social media questions. (i.e. she’s finally getting a facebook) and help with her cell phone.

She has precious videos and pictures of my late cousin Toby on her old phone. It’s falling apart and she needs to switch devices, but the old one won’t allow her to transfer her videos due to it’s damaged state. I have tried everything I can to help her move her photos but I can’t do anything about the videos. I became very anxious with this task because I was quickly realizing I wouldn’t be able to help her. She was frustrated, and I was frustrated.

Then she mentioned my father. She has been DESPERATELY trying to get in touch with him. He is not worthy of her time and energy but what the hell, she says, “You love who you love.”

She has tried multiple methods of communicating with him. She waited 2 years for him to get out of prison, and when he got out, he promptly dropped her. He refused to return her texts and calls. He frequently got new cell phones because he was always losing one or the other. He was able to completely drop off the face of the earth as far as we were concerned for many months after his release. He chose not to contact either of us.

My mother left letters for him at his mother’s house. She begged him to give her closure. When Toby died, she wanted him to know, and even after I was the one that told him- he still didn’t call my mother. I thought that was very cruel of him, for being someone who used to claim to love her. Anybody who knows her knows she lost a son, not just a nephew. It was heartless of him not to call her, especially when he claims to be a Christian man.

I was punishing him for not talking to her. I didn’t want to talk to him. But one day out of the blue, he was back in town and wanted to visit with me. We don’t have very many opportunities to see each other so I said yes. He came and brought me lunch at work one day and we spent 30 minutes together.

I chose not to tell my mother about this encounter. It makes me uncomfortable to discuss my father with her because she immediately needs to know everything we discussed. She won’t take no for an answer and becomes quite belligerent if you’re not willing to divulge details. If I try to be vague, she pesters me for more information. It’s quite stressful, which is why I declined to mention it initially.

I always somehow put my foot in my mouth, though. I accidentally let slip about seeing him and she FLIPPED OUT ON ME. She started crying and told me how could I not mention it. She loves him so much and she doesn’t even know where he is, but I didn’t think to tell her?!?! She was so upset with me, before long, she had me sobbing hysterically.

She can still throw a mean guilt trip after all this time.

***

One day passes without us speaking.

On Wednesday, Jake and I had an unusual shared day off together. They are far and few between. We wasted the entire day lounging, watching TV, and fighting like the dickens. As per usual, it was about marital relations. #snooze #boring #tellmesomethingidontknow #thedword #fml #relationshipissues

Jake infuriates me when he uses the ‘D’ word. He suggests breaking up is a good idea sometimes. I privately agree with him sometimes, but I can’t imagine starting over. Or rather, I have imagined it, and I would rather not. He and I are a good pair. I don’t see the occasional squabble to be worth losing such an important connection. We eventually kissed and made up.

Read this article: These 10 Questions Could Determine if Your Relationship Will Succeed or Fail

***

On Thursday, I decided to give my mother a ring after work on my way home.

Me: Hey Momma, what are you up to?
Mom: I’m just watching TV
Me: Oh, okay. Who are you hanging out with?
Mom: Your dad
Me: …. Which dad? My first dad or my other dad?
Mom: The one you resemble
Me: How long has he been over there?
Mom: Johnny… how long have you been over here? 2 days? 3?
Me: …. I’m surprised you didn’t mention that. It’s only been 1 day since I talked to you. He’s been staying there this whole time and you didn’t think to tell me? You know I’ve been feeling guilty about how I didn’t mention him to you.
Her: *laughs snidely at me* Okayyy…..
Me: Well, I’m glad he’s there.
Mom: Johnny, she’s glad you’re here.
Him, phone background: Hey sweetie!
Me: Hey. I’ve gotta be going. Have a good night.
Mom: Night.

THAT NONCHALANT BITCH

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Stranger and Stranger Still

My mother recently called me and informed me that one of her closest friends had committed suicide. She found out the day after it happened- just after the Fourth of July. We will call my mom’s friend Shirley* to protect her identity. A family friend called my mother and told her what happened.

Shirley and her family went to a party to celebrate the Fourth. Shirley was happily married with a son about to be married. His fiance was a blonde girl with two mixed children, a little girl and a little boy. They all lived together at Shirley’s house and the daughter followed Shirley around like a shadow.

It turned out to be a shadow that haunted her. Shirley lost a child twenty years ago. She had cared for and utterly adored a special needs little girl for eight years of her life before she regrettably passed. They say that she had been speaking about her deceased daughter more often lately. She was going through menopause and her mother said she suffered from depression.

Even so, no one expected what happened from her. There was an altercation between Shirley and another woman and they left the party. Everyone went back home. Shirley said she had to go to the bathroom, and asked the little daughter to stay in the living room with everyone else, she’d be right back.

She went down the hall to their bedroom. She collected a shotgun her son had gifted her and wordlessly carried it with her to the bathroom. No one noticed anything until they heard the shot.

Her body fell against the door. Her son had to hack at the door and break it to get to his mother. There was nothing they could do, no help to get. She was gone. Her mother-in-law and sister-in-law came to clean up the mess. Everyone was shocked and grief stricken.

My mother said it didn’t sound like her, she couldn’t believe it. I caught my mother in the throes of denial. She half way wondered if there could have been foul play. It was so utterly unlike Shirley to do this to her family. Her son was supposed to be wed the very next month. The family friend said that her husband was in shock and that her son was angry beyond belief. Who could blame him? My mother insightfully said, “But you know what? Being mad at her is probably what’s going to be what gets him through this.”

When we went to the Celebration for Her Life, I was touched by the amount of people gathered. There were well over a hundred people there. Her death touched so many people. Suicide robs everyone of you. It is so horrible. I know no one knows the pain she was in, but to see all her loved ones gathered makes you think about how you can’t take them for granted.

That’s what I was thinking as I sat next to my mother and squeezed her hand. But even as tears dripped down my face, they weren’t for Shirley. I was secretly terrified the same thing could happen to my own mother.  She lost her son. What if she broke one day, too?

Afterwards in the card, I even told her, “Don’t you dare ever do this to me.”

My summer has been saturated in death and mortality. So many griefs and shocks. My cousin passed away. We found out my Grandpa has cancer. My mother has been pressuring me to talk to my dad for her and I can’t bear the rejection of him not speaking to me. He can ignore her all he wants, but God forbid I try and he doesn’t. The fear of rejection is strong. I couldn’t find the words to tell her that.

My birthday was an affair to remember. The week leading up to it I was a bundle of raw nerves. All I could anticipate was based on past experience and generally my birthdays include crying at some point. Not Happy Tears. I lived in fear of my husband’s temper and belittling attitude and cried in dread of the day. I cried to my mother that I didn’t want to be alone with him because he’s so insensitive and I can be so fucking fragile.

Doesn’t sound like a happy marriage, does it? I have always struggled to get the respect I deserve. I actually specifically asked my husband to be nice to me on my birthday. I just said he always found a reason to yell at me on that day and it would be nice if he didn’t this year. He miraculously didn’t. He loves me, I know he was trying. I guess he actually listened for once.

After the debacle that was my birthday, we had another hurdle to jump as a family. Or so I thought. Toby’s birthday came so shortly after his passing, but we were all supposed to spend it together. It wouldn’t turn out that way.

On his birthday, I called my uncle and he informed me that my mother wasn’t invited anymore. His wife struggled with drug addiction in the past and now she had been found out again. She relapsed and blamed it on my mother. Yes, my mother had a part in it. But she was to blame also for imploding the family dynamic.

Now relationships are strained and we still haven’t all agreed to be in person yet. My mother and aunt had been healing old wounds before. My mother used to hate my aunt more than anyone and they were becoming friends over my cousin’s illness. Now that has been ruined again. My uncle is barely speaking to my mother. Rightfully so.

In tandem with this secret family drama, there is other family drama afoot. My Grandpa has the misfortune of getting diagnosed with cancer shortly after admitting to a life of lies with his wife.

My Grandpa cheated on her. She was willing to forgive him. Then she found out that some family members such as my mother were involved, and now my mother is a trigger in their relationship and she won’t let my Grandpa speak to my mother. He told my mother not to call or text him, he’d get in touch with her. It is heartbreaking what this woman is doing. He’s fucking dying and she’s cutting him off from his family. Her final, bitter revenge for ruining her life with a faithless man.

She’s right to be upset, but there’s a limit. They are bound to separate, it seems. She has been one of my Grandpa’s longest relationships. But he needs his family, and they need him, too. Everyone hates her even though Grandpa is the one that cheated. We live in a topsy turvy world.

To put the cherry on top, I finally had the courage to call an intervention helpline for my mother’s sake and was immediately discouraged. How could we ever pay for rehab? The answer is we can’t. I have to look harder for the answer but I feel so afraid. What if it doesn’t help? She doesn’t sound willing to go. So much effort in a doomed pursuit. I don’t know if I have it in me, and that makes me feel ashamed.

Welcome to my life.

Goodbye (?)


I was watching this video today and the comments on youtube were kind of thoughtful in some ways. One woman commented how she was 7 months out of a 6 yr abusive relationship and her sister told her it was her theme song. Another person commented that they felt that way about their depression for the song.

It occurred to me when I was watching the video the symbolism that I saw. The video is about transformations. The black fruit in the beginning- drugs. Eating something bad for you. Indulgent behavior. The pins in Christian’s back are what the girls are holding and using to walk with- crutches. Vices.

She was trapped in a box with blackness. Mindlessness. Darkness. Blindness. Refusing to see. She busts out of the box!!! She staggers away, the black billowing around her. The pins stick out of her back, and the more she staggers on, she’s able to pull the pins from her back and throw them away from herself.

I have felt this way about my relationship with weed. It is a relationship. I have been an everyday user for the past NINE (9) YEARS. It is officially the longest relationship that I have ever had. Boyfriends have come and gone, and still yet weed has remained.

I started smoking when I was 18 years old. I was in college and dating my first boyfriend. He had been smoking and hiding it from me and I was not happy about weed being in his life. I thought it made him stupid. I thought only bad people did drugs. I tried to make him stop smoking, and he would not give it up for me. I tried to issue an ultimatum and he would not have it. I didn’t want to break up with him, even though he was doing something I looked down.

I decided I had to give it a try to see why it was so important to him. He wasn’t willing to give it up for me, so I reasoned it must be…. cool. Good in some way. It was certainly important since he wouldn’t give it up for me. I tried it and everything was funny. We started doing it together until it became pretty much the focal point of our relationship.

We would sit out back in his dad’s garage and smoke. It was our main activity eventually. He was the one who started it for me, and I knew when I started that I started for the wrong reason. I felt pressured to do it. I had backed myself into a corner- give it up for me OR….. and I wasn’t willing to leave my boyfriend for not giving it up. I reasoned if it was a part of his life, I didn’t want to be excluded from that part of his life. I felt like I had to do it, try it.

It wasn’t hard for me to start enjoying it rather than resenting it. I came to love and enjoy it. And even when my first boyfriend broke up with me, I still wanted to do it and kept up the usage. I smoked with my next boyfriend after that, too. I don’t necessarily remember it being everyday in that relationship….

Things changed with my relationship with weed when I got with my first older boyfriend. He was an alcoholic. We both liked to smoke. It was then that my relationship with weed became something different. It wasn’t a fun thing to do anymore, it was a necessity. He and I spent our evenings figuring out ways to get high. It wasn’t optional anymore- I took to his addictive behavior like a fish to water. Suddenly, I needed the weed. I didn’t just enjoy it, I was willing to do a lot of things to get it and smoke it.

We would go to his brother’s house and beg him for balls of resin if we couldn’t afford weed. Anything to get that THC. We used to carefully transport it back to his house and he devised clever ways to smoke it and make it last. We’d put just a tiny speck of it on the head of a needle embedded in a piece of cardboard and light it, putting it under a glass and inhaling as much as we could from the trace amounts that we had. I didn’t just want need, I needed it.

I used to criticize him for his drinking problem, and he in turn told me, “You smoke weed like I drink.” I wasn’t willing to admit that I had a problem, that I had an addictive personality as well. I was addicted. I needed it. I threw away all my old friends during this period of my life. I gave up my old friends for drugs and alcohol. I told myself they were boring and lame, liking board games and never wanting to get drunk. I wanted a fun life, high life, drunken stories. My friends were not going down the same path as me, so I left them behind.

I didn’t just want to get drunk or high, I wanted to forget myself. I smoked and drank to excess. I didn’t just drink for a little buzz, I wanted to be black out drunk and not remember anything the next day. I thought I was having fun, but I was running away from my problems.

My granny had passed away and my mother’s depression was deep. I couldn’t face the depth of my mother’s depression. I used to sit in my room and listen to her shuffling cards in the living room and her loneliness was suffocating to me. She needed me in some way I couldn’t provide. My mom needed someone to take care of her, and I resented it and ran away. She was supposed to be taking care of me, but instead at every turn she tried to put me down or make me feel bad about myself. We had a bad relationship that was toxic to me.

Partly why I tossed my hat in with Joshua so much is because I was needing a mother really bad. He lived with his mother, and she was spiritual and nice to me. She only saw good things in me where my mother never wasted an opportunity to try and make me feel stupid or inadequate in some way.

When I met Jake, I still had a bad relationship with my mother. I was mostly living in my car and off the kindness of my exes. I hated going home. I hated being around my mother. Her loneliness killed me, I had to get away. I couldn’t make her better, she only ever got worse. I didn’t like to go home so I would spend nights using wifi in Mcdonald’s parking lots or I would stay the night with Hakim or Joshua, bouncing back and forth between the two. There were nights that were question marks to me, not knowing where I could go but home. I didn’t want to be there.

When I got with Jake, there was FINALLY someone to take care of me. There was finally someone who wanted to possess me and keep me and do right by me. He bought me clothes and he took me away from my mother. He welcomed me into his life and his home and he let me bring my weed with me even though he no longer smoked himself.

Through all those years, I kept on smoking weed. I’ve tried to quit smoking weed in the past and I never felt the way that I do right now. The first time I tried to quit cold turkey and I was a basket case, extremely emotional. I couldn’t quit. My compulsion was too strong. I needed it. I went back on it after only 5 days.

The next time I tried to quit, I actually went over a week without it. I went 12 days. That time I threw away my pipes. I don’t remember why I started back when I did. This time, I believe I have actually hit the 12 day mark and I feel differently about it.

I’m not necessarily quitting cold turkey, I have went like a few days at a time and then had a smoke of resin that I have still laying around. The problem before is I would have that compulsion to smoke and I had to go out and buy a bag of weed, and that was history. Having a bag of weed meant I needed to smoke it all. I couldn’t control myself. I couldn’t sit down and just have a little, or only every once in awhile. If I had weed, the goal was to smoke it all consecutively until it was gone and get more.

My one year wedding anniversary is next month. I got married when I was 26 and part of the reason why is because I recognized I wasn’t getting any younger. I wasn’t 23 anymore, if I waited around I might end up old and alone. I looked at Jacob and I told myself, you know by now if this is going to work out. If you don’t want to marry him, then you need to leave him. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him, so I married him.

This time around smoking feels different because my motivation has been more adult that I could ever have imagined. I’m 27 now and when am I going to have children? When am I going to grow up? I can’t smoke weed forever.

I have had urges to smoke, have romanticized my relationship with weed. I thought I was missing the joy in my life by not smoking. I wasn’t happy not smoking and I thought about how good I feel and how much more I smile when I’m smoking, but I’m not really living. Smoking is the same thing as when I used to want to get drunk all the time. I thought I was having a good time, but I wasn’t— I was trying to forget myself.

You can’t forget yourself, though. Like I said, my motivation for quitting is entirely different this time. I looked at my life and I realized I was not happy. All my friends are fictional and I never see my family. I spent all my nights watching TV and all my days off sitting at home smoking weed. Weed is keeping me from being the person that I need to become.

I decided to go back to school this fall. I quit college almost 4 years ago, and with the decision to go back I started thinking more about my future. Jake says I am not healthy enough to have natural children. I weigh too much. I smoke too much. I’m not responsible enough. Weed has done a lot of things for me over the years, but now I am realizing what I always knew.

Weed keeps me from;

  • cleaning house
  • having meaningful relationships with my family
  • making friends/strengthening friendships
  • working out
  • caring about myself
  • attending to my husband’s needs/a better marriage
  • making more money

I’m sorry weed but I can’t keep doing this. I want all the things I just listed. I don’t want to surrender to mindlessness anymore. I don’t want to not care about myself. I want lungs that are healthy and I want to get healthier, eat better, go to sleep earlier. I want more money in my pocket. I want to be better than I have in the past. I want to do something that my future self will thank me for. Weed, you are keeping me from realizing my full potential. You are holding me back. And when someone holds you back, you either let them go and move on, or you resign yourself to your fate.

I don’t have to resign myself to this fate. I want more for my life. I want to like myself. I want to have friends. I want to have a better marriage and more money. I have to leave you. I can’t be with you anymore. We had a lot of good time together, and there’s nothing wrong with you in small amounts, but this life where you are the only thing that matters is not working anymore. I don’t want you 16 hours of the day anymore. I don’t want you to be my everything. I want a life.

Progress Not Perfection

Lyrics:

I’m so full of love I could barely eat

There’s nothing sweeter than my baby

I’d never want once from the cherry tree

‘Cause my baby’s sweet as can be

She give me toothaches just from kissin’ me

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I’ll crawl home to her

*~*~*

My baby never fret none

About what my hands and my body done

If the lord don’t forgive me

I’d still have my baby and my babe would have me

When I was kissing on my baby

And she put her love down soft and sweet

In the lowland plot I was free

Heaven and hell were words to me

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold dark earth

No grave can hold my body down


I saw a commercial today for Gatorade. Michael Jordan asked, “Do you want to know what the key to victory is? Defeat.”

There is something to be said in rising every time you fail. I was/am trying to quit smoking and I am making slip ups. If my goal was to give up smoking cold turkey, then I have failed my mission.

I feel so much happier when I smoke. I ask myself, “Why am I denying myself this? It feels so good.” It feels so good to not care. But god dammit, not caring is a slippery slope. I feel care-free right now and relieved from smoking some dirty resin. But how quickly care-free turns into a bottomless pit of despair that you’re sitting at the bottom of, smoking to forget where you are.

It’s terrible living in such despair. I have to stay away from it. I did a bad job lately when it comes to my self-reflection. For the past week and a half I have been neglecting to journal in my One Day at a Time journal and it’s fucked me up missing those days.

I have been participating in Al-Anon privately. Unfortunately, I’ve only ever went to one actual meeting and that was years ago for someone else’s problem. I realize I need to go to the meetings, I just haven’t made it a priority since I am trying to be dedicated more so to the literature. I’m on Step 4 right now which is to make a “fearless and searching moral inventory of yourself.”

That is a hard enough step without moving onto the next one. Step 5, “Become willing to admit these faults to another human being.” I made an appointment with a therapist. I could go to free meetings, but I’m too intimidated to go into a room of other people. I feel like I have to start small and admit my secrets to one person. Maybe she’ll be able to help me, but I can’t be sure. Then perhaps I can move onto the group meetings, I just feel not equal to it currently.

It’s hard to care about myself when I’ve spent so much time perfecting not caring. One nice thing about quitting smoking is that my dreams are coming back. I’ve been getting better sleep and feeling more rested. I’m not late to work because I’m smoking. I’ve been showing up to work earlier.

I have had to take more anxiety pills. It’s been 10 days since I’ve smoked actual weed. I have refrained from buying more. Technically, all I am doing is getting rid of the last of my stash. I just have a little resin left. I know I should throw it away. I have considered asking my husband to hide it for emergencies. I can’t bring myself to let him hide it, or throw it away.

Even if I’ve smoked resin a few times since Day 1, my habits are drastically improved. In my past life, I came home at 11:30pm and sat down in front of the computer and I smoked until sun up. Then I would wake and bake before work the next day. About 7 hours of the day is what I was averaging sober before. I am making progress, even if I’ve fucked up and indulged some. I just have to have a stricter resolve.

I have to remember that my discomfort is TEMPORARY. IT WILL PASS.


Steve Carell is known as a funny guy, but he has some excellent romantic roles in him as well. My hubby and I just watched;

Related image

He had some fucking killer lines. My heart broke for them. Some of my favorite lines-

Image result for seeking a friend for the end of the world quotesPenny: I wish I’d met you a long time ago. When we were kids.

Dodge: It couldn’t have happened any other way. It had to happen now.

Penny: But it isn’t enough time.

Dodge: It never would have been.

Penny: I’m scared.

Dodge: I… am madly in love with you, Penny. You’re my favorite, favorite thing.

Penny: I thought that somehow we’d save each other.

Dodge: We did. Penny. I’m really glad I got to know you.

Birthday Reflections

My birthday has come and gone. 26 started as good year for me. It was the year I got married. I should have taken it as a good sign when I went one birthday without bawling my eyes out. 27 was not such a lucky start.

My 27th birthday began horribly. I had to spend it with my angry husband and alienated biological father. My husband and I got into a HUGE HORRENDOUS argument over the fact that my useless father doesn’t have a vehicle. He had a 2 o’clock curfew for the half way house with no ride home.

Jake would not allow us to give him a ride because of the contents of his pockets. He had good reason to deny the request seeing as we never know what he might be carrying- but Jake has been pulled over exactly ONCE in the almost 4 years I’ve known him.  I figured it would be safe enough, so I argued with my husband.

I had a mental breakdown first thing in the morning since we were arguing about it as soon as we woke up. He screamed bloody murder at me in the car and told me he didn’t care about me. On my birthday at some point he inevitably suggests we shouldn’t be together anymore. He has a specialty in fucking the day up, always needing to bring me to hysterical tears.

I was bawling in the walgreens we went to pick a father’s day card from. My birthday was 2 days before Father’s Day. I was already late to my meeting with Johnny. That was traumatic in and of itself, standing in the walgreen’s greeting card aisle tears streaming down my face as my husband disrespects me and cusses me as I frantically search through the cards.

So many wrong cards for Johnny; Best Dad Ever, You’re My Super Hero, Thank You For Always Being There For Me Dad, I Love You. It’s more like-

Dear Biological Father;

I wish my mother had never told me about you. She kept the secret from me for over 20 years, what was the rest of my life? I would have preferred she took her secret to the grave. I don’t want to know you or love you. I wish you were a long-forgotten lover of hers. I wish you had remained a distant memory from her past. I wish you had never reconnected, or ever showed me any love. I regret knowing about you, and wish I could forget she ever told me about you. 

Be Gone.

On the way out of Walgreens, Jake threatened to throw me out of the car and leave me. He screamed more at me, and I bawled uncontrollably because he’s always threatening me with divorce, making me feel like I’m not wanted.

When we got to my mother’s house where Johnny was waiting, Jake went so far as to threaten to leave me alone. He got in the car and started it up. I stayed standing on the porch in front of the front door with my heart in my throat from my nervous breakdown and the stress of seeing my father for the first time in two years, before I collapsed into tears out of sight of the front window and by my mother’s front yard fence.

There were so many feelings mixed with Jake’s hurt he inflicted. I hadn’t seen my dad in two years on purpose. We hadn’t spoken, and I felt wretchedly guilty about shutting him out of my life. I felt ashamed of myself. I was scared to look him in the eyes. I was afraid he’d look at me with an angry or injured expression, and I felt like I couldn’t escape.

Instead he held me non-judgmentally while Jake was making me cry. His embrace was so warm and sincere I definitely felt comforted from my earlier breakdown. I cried in his arms, but I think he thought I was emotionally charged from seeing him again, which I was partly. It felt good to be forgiven without having to ask.

I hate him for loving me the way I want to be loved. No one has loved me like him since my ex Elizabeth and my Grandma. He doesn’t believe I can do anything wrong. I am golden to him, and it’s a fucking crying shame to be so revered by someone you cannot even bare to speak with.

It feels wretched to me, to crave his perception of me and his love, but to not be able to welcome him into my life. I feel like me and my parents are standing on two different sides of a canyon, I can’t love them even when I try.

If I want Johnny’s good, I have to accept his bad, and I won’t. I can’t. So if I can’t stomach his bad, I don’t deserve his good. You can’t pick and choose what you want from a person, you get all of them or nothing. And with Johnny, I find myself wondering how safe nothing is.

Is it worth this empty feeling inside?

 

Addictions and What Like

Image result for shameless season 2

Jake and I have been watching the show Shameless on Netflix lately. At first, I found the show to be entertaining- somehow making light of alcoholism and the myriad of other dysfunctions that are going on in the show. It made it seem funny somehow, when really it is just so fucking overwhelming.

The last episode that we watched together, I found my anxiety spiking. When I talked to my friend Latta about the show he told me the show actually stressed him out to watch and suddenly I felt the same way. The episode hit a little too close to home.

Frank the protagonist’s mother gets out of jail. She has been serving a 12 year stretch for meth and drug charges, been released on medical leave an old mean woman. Frank hates her as much as she bullies him and makes him take care of her personal hygiene and the like when she gets out. She’s old and decrepit and it is stated that she should be in a hospice.

She comes into some money that she exhorts out of her old business partner. Having been missing from her grandchildren’s lives growing up, she starts buying them gifts which wins her their affections. The two youngest children get spoiled and love her for it. She takes the youngest kid Carl and decides “let’s teach you a skill.”

In which she meant she was going to teach him how to make a meth lab. -___- In their attempts to get things started, the lab blows up and Fiona the oldest daughter and caregiver of the family banishes Frank’s mother from their home.

Frank’s mother is dying of pancreatic cancer. Frank responds to this by stealing her pain medication and disappearing. He leaves his mother with his girlfriend, Sheila. Sheila has publicly gone on record stating how much she hates this woman, yet in the face of her disease she starts to soften towards the older lady. With the help of her daughter’s ex, she takes care of Frank’s mom until she expressed the desire to kill herself.

Fiona the caregiver had out Frank’s mother in time out, she said. The kids weren’t allowed to go and see her. The grandma is mad that the children don’t come to see her. It seems like she is shameless like the show suggests because she doesn’t seem to think anything of her behavior; i.e. nearly getting a 10 year old killed in a meth lab explosion.

She doesn’t have any reason to live, no one wants her. Her son (Frank) hates her and doesn’t want to take care of her. Her grandchildren aren’t allowed to see her. She is already in a lot of pain. She asks Sheila to help her end her life, and Sheila obliges.

I had to change to something else to watch after that episode. The way the Grandma felt and the pity I felt for her unsettled me so much. It made me think about my own mother, a guilty feeling curling in my gut.

I never see my mother if I can help it. Her addiction and the people she spends time with make me stay away. I don’t feel safe when I go to her house, my childhood home. She must feel as lonely as the Grandma did, and it hurts me to think. She makes me stay away, she could be different, but she won’t be. I hate having to draw the line and never see her. Our family was never like that, and yet here I am. Alienating myself from her, because it’s easier than watching her suffer.

She suffers and there’s nothing I can do to change her behavior. She has to make the decision, but she hasn’t. She makes me stay away. She doesn’t want me around, or she would change. I know it’s impossible… I couldn’t do anything for Joshua either. They have to make these decisions on their own, and mom isn’t ready to. I can’t make her get a job, I can’t make her stop.

I want to be around her. I want not to be stressed out every time she calls asking for something. I want to be able to talk to her without feeling upset. She makes me feel so guilty, like if I could love her harder it would make a difference. But it wouldn’t, and it’s a hard pill for me to swallow. She keeps me away. I hate her for it. But they do say hate is love twisted, it’s that depth of feeling I can’t escape. I wouldn’t want to escape, I just wish she could make things easier. I wish loving her wasn’t so hard.

Loving my father is complicated, too. I value his love, but I hate his lifestyle. I can’t be around or even talk to him. He’s been living in a half way house and he and my mother have reconnected again. She gets to spend a few hours a day with him. And are they looking for a job for him to maintain his status at the half way house? No sireebob. (Who was surprised by that?)

As much as I dislike my father, I’m happy my mom is happy. They are a stupid couple that makes no sense. They both have too much pride to be together. They’re both too head strong. For their relationship to work properly, they’d both have to be different people. I don’t know how, but they somehow make it work even though they’re fighting all the time. They have a very on-again-off-again kind of relationship. It’s hard for me to keep up.

I am dreading December. My dad will get out of the half way house around then, and come back to live with my mom. They are talking about getting married. I would be thrilled if my mother got married, as much as I don’t like him. He loves me, maybe he’ll grow on me. Then she would be his problem. I never know what to do about them, besides hold them at arm’s length.

Some Dads Don’t Come Home

After all the worrying I have done – after all the dread I felt knowing this day would come….. Fate still has a way of throwing me for a loop. My dad has been in jail, and I have purposefully alienated myself from him. I haven’t been interested to know him, or believe any word he’s said. He would say he’s going to be different, full of the Lord, that he doesn’t want to go back to jail. It’s hard to believe him, maybe he doesn’t right now, but they always forget. Someone who’s a repeat offender like himself.

I lived in dread knowing the day was coming, he would be out and I would have to face him. After months of silence and dejection- see his face, tell him, “I had nothing nice to say to you, so I just didn’t say anything.”

Now I have learned from my mother that he is out- and he is not coming back. I expected my mother would be there for him, and she would bring him home. He would move back in and they would go back to their topsy-turvy stupid relationship. First, they love each other one moment and hate each other the next. Not to mention all the drug use. I was scared of him sucking her back in, or vice versa, him trying to do good and her refusing to follow along, dragging him back down.

Instead, he has bounced from prison to a half way house somewhere in our city and he has not sent word to my mother or myself. He has disappeared without a trace. My mother inquired at the prison one day and found out that he had been released from there, and I cannot imagine her heart break. I worry about the woman all the time, and him not coming back to her has her on my mind more often. I worry about her. I hope she’ll be okay, I feel bad for her that her lover has….. disappeared like this.

I feel guilty. I feel bad. He got the message. I don’t want you. I didn’t, but do I still not? I feel some kind of void in my chest wondering how I have let him go. Have I done the right thing, was I a royal bitch? The man bears my name on his knuckles as a sign of his love, and this woman snubs him, a woman he wants to love. She won’t let him love her because his destructive life hurts too much. It hurts to be near, the love isn’t enough.

Did I miss out on something though? It is always nice to be loved, adored. I was a golden light in his eyes, and it’s hard not to be swayed by such a thing. No one has loved me like that since my Grandma and Elizabeth. Someone who thinks you can do no wrong, turns a blind eye to all your faults. I feel remorseful missing out on that. He just wanted to love me, and I wouldn’t let him. Couldn’t let him. Pushed him away.

Did I mean to push him so far?

Oblivious by Miniature Tigers

Lately I feel like a blown out birthday candle
One look in the mirror and I know the party’s over
And yeah, I want a big house
With a swimming pool
Fuck it, baby, I got you
(Fuck it, baby I got you)

I’m so lost in my head
It’s way too real out there
I’m lost in a day dream
Oh yeah, I don’t care

I’m oblivious, yeah

Spaced out in a daze I couldn’t hear you
The music drowns you out I didn’t care
Oh yeah, I didn’t care
I know you want a quiet house
With a lemon tree
I’m sorry baby, you’re stuck with me
(Sorry baby, you’re stuck with me)

I’m so lost in my head
It’s way too real out there
I’m lost in a day dream
I don’t care

I’m oblivious, yeah
I’m oblivious, oh
I’m oblivious, yeah
I’m oblivious, oh whoa

Your love girl, ain’t no dungeon
So tell me why do I run then?
Tomorrow you can scold me
Tonight, can you just hold me

Read more: Miniature Tigers – Oblivious Lyrics | MetroLyrics