Let's Raze This Dump

You know those people who can't stand the idea of their parent(s) selling the house they grew up in? Who look forward to going home once in awhile? I am not one of those people.

I'm sitting in my dad's living room right now, in the house we moved into when I was in the 5th grade, and I wish I had the money to have this place completely dozed and build him something from scratch. 28 or so years of neglect. The normal wear and tear of kids growing up here, of course. Women who spent most of their time either sleeping or sitting around smoking while their kids and animals destroyed the house. Days upon days of deep cleaning wouldn't touch this place. It's worn out.

This house that should be paid off but isn't thanks to the stepmom who racked up as many bills as she could before abandoning us all. Thanks to the stepsister who got in a car accident because her boyfriend ran a red light driving the car my dad had given them but they hadn't yet put in their name, followed by them suing my dad since the car was still in his name. Thanks to the next woman who moved in with her son after I left - who then went on disability and sat around doing nothing but smoking, collecting first editions of romance novels, using my dad to take care of and help all of her ungrateful children.

I'm angry at the number of people who have taken advantage of my dad. He's a gruff guy - often times downright scary if you don't know him. He made a school nurse cry once. A vice principal cry another time. But underneath that gruffness is a guy who will do almost anything for just about anybody. As much as he complains about doing things for people, he needs to be needed. I think it drives him crazy that I don't ask for anything. Every conversation ends with, "If you need anything, call me. Do you need some money? I don't have much, but I can give you some. Call me if you need anything. You sure you don't need anything?" I just say, "I know, Dad. I promise I'll call if I need anything." But I won't. I'll have to be pretty down and out before I ask my dad for anything. He doesn't have it to give, but he'd try like hell. And people hone right in on this and take full advantage.

But I also realized tonight, my dad has his own role in this story. He continually chooses women who take advantage of him. He doesn't say no enough - to most of the kids he's raised (not even his biological children), to the women he meets, to his customers.  I think of the times he finally had enough and got the moochers out of his house, only to still end up paying bills for them or moving a new one in. The times he's helped one of them by co-signing for something, as if they could be trusted to make the payments.

Looking around the house tonight, I realized it's more than just the structure I want to raze, it's the memories. This place saddens me. It's dirty, stained, chipped, and just plain worn out. Maybe I feel like a new place would help give dad a new outlook on life. Or maybe I just want to be more comfortable when I visit - which isn't often enough at all.  It's about me - because I'm not sure it bothers my dad all that much. Then again, I don't really know. Maybe this will be a chance to talk to him about it. If two people who would rather just do something for someone than talk about it can have that conversation!

3 Cute Policemen & a 3:30 Wake Up

It’s Friday and I’m only working a four hour day – which should be cause for celebration, but this Friday has not gotten off to a great start.

I got to bed at midnight. It seemed I had just fallen asleep when I heard a banging at the door.  My first thought was, “Dammit, the neighbors are at it again” and the noise must be coming from them. It wasn’t. My next thought was “Urchin and her boyfriend got in a fight”, but she still has a key.  After that I thought, “Great, probably some drunk idiot banging on the wrong door” and I dragged my exhausted body out of bed to peer blearily through the peephole.  What to my wondering eyes should appear? Three policemen.

PANIC! Something happened to Urchin. Why else would policemen be at my door at 3:30 in the freaking morning?

Great picture from themetapicture.com

I cautiously opened my door and stared at them. They stared back for a moment before stumbling with what to say. “Is um, do you, um, know a Tonya?”  I told them no, I didn’t know her or another name they mentioned. Yes, I live alone. I’ve lived here since August. To which one replied to the other, “Yah it was before August when we were here last.”  I told them I got a lot of mail for Tonya D****, but I didn’t know her. Then another, who hadn’t come all the way up the stairs yet, finally stepped up and took a good look at me. “Nope, that’s not her. Sorry to wake you up, ma’am. You sure you don’t know her? No relation?” No, no relation. Again, no idea who she is.  And they apologized for waking me and left.  Now I’m super curious what Tonya did that warranted a 3:30 am visit from three cute policemen. Okay, maybe they weren’t cute. I didn’t have my glasses on and I was woken from a lovely sleep. But I’m sticking with they were cute.

Of course it took me awhile to fall back asleep – nothing like loud banging on your door in the middle of the night to get the adrenalin pumping.  Followed by a series of bizarre dreams which I’ll try to analyze later with my newly downloaded dream analysis book.

Up and at ‘em this morning, it turned into such a bad hair day I had to rewash my hair and start over. I needed to get gas and be to work earlier than usual. Bad hair day turned into a not-as-bad, but still not good, hair day. Made it to the gas station to try to use my new Safeway debit card. “See attendant.” No! I didn’t have time to see the attendant. Tried using my Safeway non-debit card. Lost my 28 cent a gallon discount. And? “See attendant.” Stomped inside huffing and being a bitch. Okay, I KNOW it wasn’t their fault. But I was quickly unraveling.  Slid club card. Slid debit card. Entered PIN.  Wouldn’t accept PIN, so I went for the credit option, forgetting Safeway JUST implemented a higher credit price per gallon. “Fuck. This is not my day” tumbled from my mouth as I stormed back out and had a mini tantrum, throwing my wallet into my car. They did get me 20 of my 28 cent discount, but I also had to pay the 8 cents more per gallon credit price.

Gas pumped, tried to start my car. The key wouldn’t go in because it was bent. All I did was pull it out of the ignition enough to stop the beeping, how did it manage to get BENT? Telling myself this is really nothing, it doesn’t even matter that I’m late for work because NOBODY CARES but me, and not to cry, I attempted to bend it back with my hands. No success. So I stuck it as far into the ignition as it would go and bent it. Success! It slid in (there's a lot of sliding in this post and none of it's fun, darnit!), and I made it to work just in time for it to be considered an “acceptable” tardiness (that it doesn't require taking personal time).

Now? The boss brought in donuts. I know I will feel sick if I eat one, so I’m not going to drown my morning woes in sugary goodness. Ahead today I still have a 2.5 hour drive for a meeting. Let’s hope the rest of my Friday goes smoothly!

So, happy Friday readers!

Be Jealous

I'm tired. I want to cry because my shoulder aches. My feet are throbbing. My back is strained. And I started to feel a little sorry for myself. I was also feeling a little jealous of others.  Today I heard or read about the following things:

• A friend's three week trip to Honduras.
• A friend's 10 day meditation retreat along with an upcoming three week trip to France.
• A friend's upcoming trip to India. 
• A friend's shopping spree. 
• A friend's great birthday & all the gifts she either bought herself or received from others.
• A friend who doesn't have to work full-time while going to college.
• A friend who gets to be home with her kids after school.
• A friend who just returned from a fabulous girls weekend. 

So, yah - feeling a little envious. Not that I want to take a three week trip to another country - that's not really my thing. Mostly I'd just like to have the time AND the money to take three weeks off work and do something relaxing and fun. And I'd love to go shopping for some fun stuff - my wardrobe is lacking in clothes that fit well, aren't stained or ripped or just out dated, my bedroom walls are bare, etc. I worked full-time and raised kids while going to college. 

But then I stopped to think about the other things I heard or read today. A relationship is ending & the person is devastated. A friend is raising an autistic son pretty much completely alone while working a full-time job. Someone's family member has cancer.Someone is ill. Someone is having to make a choice between paying bills and taking their child to the doctor. Someone desperately wants kids but is realizing it's probably not going to happen for her.

And I realized that some people are, and maybe other people should be, jealous of me because...

• I'm exhausted and achy because I filled in a shift at the coffee house. Two out of three of the volunteers bailed on their commitment for one reason or another. I'm tired because I got to be of service and help raise funds to end sex trafficking. What better reason is there to be tired than that of helping others? And how fortunate am I to be able to give my time?
• I'm broke partly because I splurged a little this paycheck. I bought Hellion a birthday present (which resulted in a present for me as well - since buying two was a MUCH better deal than buying one). And I rented a jacuzzi suite for a nice relaxing night last weekend. I also donated to two different groups and watched a homeless man's face light up when I stopped traffic at the stop light to give him a few dollars.  I'm broke because my bills are paid and I have groceries and gas. At least I could cover my necessities without having to make a choice between paying my electric bill and taking my child to the doctor.
• I was surprised last weekend with an amazing day of wine tasting in Napa Valley. The weather was perfect and I had a wonderful time.
• Other people say they don't have time for things, but they can't really tell you why that is. I can tell you. I don't have time for much because I volunteer two nights a week and am working on a certain kind of  recovery in my life. I take notes, provide refreshments and serve as a representative for a meeting I attend. I work a full-time job. I spend time with my youngest. And occasionally I sleep. Less occasionally I work out.
• I reached out to others today to remind them that they're beautiful and that they aren't alone. For a few it was just what they needed right when they needed it most.
• Others reached out to me today, listened to me, hugged me, and reminded me that I am beautiful and strong and not alone.
• My kids are healthy and happy. They may make me question my sanity at times, but I am so blessed to have them in my life. 
• I have so many people in my life who love me for who I am, accept me flaws and all, and who forgive me my many mistakes. 

I am a blessed being. And my biggest hope for my life is that I am somehow a blessing to someone every single day of my life. 

One last thing? It's WAY past my bedtime, so excuse the run on sentences, poor grammar, and lack of photos to break things up. Good night, my lovelies, good night.

Just Get Over It said the Moron

My last post came after a day that comes a little too frequently, but at least not nearly as often as it did in the past. It was me trying to explain how I sometimes can't function. It was me, nicely, trying to point out to people that I have a disorder and not just an attitude problem. But today I don't feel so nice. I basically just want to say a big "FUCK OFF" to those people who don't get it but seem to think they do.

It's okay that many of you don't get it - you have no idea what it feels like to have your brain and emotions not work "normally". I'm seriously happy that you don't deal with this shit. I appreciate those who say, "I don't get it, Inelegant. I don't know what bipolar disorder or depression o even sever anxiety are like. I wish I could help you."  But I am really fed up with people who tell me to snap out of it. People who tell me to just say some affirmations each morning. People who feel the need to remind me of what I have in my life to be grateful for and tell me I just need to be more grateful. People who tell me I focus too much on myself and that's why I have these days.

People! I suffer from bipolar disorder and social anxiety. As much as I would love for this to be "just an excuse" that I use to try to get away with things in life, it's just not that simple. I do not want to wake up in the morning feeling paralyzed and overwhelmed. Or so tired even rolling over in bed takes too much energy. I don't want to use every ounce of energy I have that day just trying to seem like a normal person and get through a normal day without freaking out or crying. I'm tired of feeling angry when I should be sad. Or sad when I should be angry. Or angry and/or sad when I should be happy. I rarely feel actual excitement - I usually just say I'm excited because it's what is expected. I don't want to look at people I care about and think, "I hate you! Get away from me!" or "You're such a freaking moron? Do you ever actually use your brain?" And then the energy to keep those thoughts from exploding from my mouth? Because I know they aren't real. I know they'll pass and I'll be so glad I didn't let it out!

Fortunately, I mostly feel better these days. If I sleep well, eat regularly, do at least moderate exercise, and take my medications I can keep these "episodes" to a minimum. But I can tell you that I do say affirmations and I am grateful, and that isn't enough to battle this disorder.

I've led a pretty good life. I get that. Even my illness isn't as bad as many others have it. While it may take all the energy I have to function some days, I still am able to do it most of the time.  I sit behind a computer all day. I don't have to wax people's private parts, stick my hands in mouths, touch people's feet, or wipe butts for my living (kudos to those of you who do these things regularly - I just couldn't do it). I haven't lost anyone really close to me. I wanted children and had no problems having them. I've never been abused in any way. I don't have disabled children. When I talk to people who deal with hardship, I don't get it. I haven't dealt with it before. But I sure as hell won't tell them to buck up, or it's not as bad as they think, or they should be grateful for what they do have... I'll tell them I'm sorry, that I don't know what it's like but that I do want to help in any way I can, even if it's just listening or running an errand or sitting there quietly holding their hand.

And that's what I have to say about THAT!

Petrified

Some mornings, too many mornings, I wake up warm and cozy with my fleece sheets pulled up to my chin. And I feel petrified - emotionally and physically. I feel I can't possibly get myself out of bed for yet another day. My body feels made of stone.The simple acts of shower, make-up, hair, and finding something to wear seem like too much. I curl into a ball thinking about another day behind a computer, wearing headphones to help limit the noise that sets off my anxiety, forcing myself to interact with people for 8 hours, trying not to be irritated by everything around me. The argument with myself begins. Of course I can do this. I can get out of my bed and get the day going. I have a good life. Friends who care, people who love me, a good paying job for a great family friendly company. And yet moving - getting out of my bed - takes so much out of me I wonder what I'll have left for the rest of the day. If it's a good day, there's no pain anywhere. My joints don't hurt. My shoulder doesn't ache. If it's a really good day, once I get myself moving the day doesn't take quite as much energy and I can have a "normal" day.

I suffer from bipolar disorder. For me, the manias are rare but do happen. The depression is frequent. I've tried most medications and had various issues with the majority of them. I can't "snap out of it", as much as I'd like to do just that. I'd love to wake up and say, "Today I won't be depressed or anxious. Today I won't be so tired and achy that a day at work takes everything out of me." In fact I do wake up and say those things. But sometimes it's really not about "mind over matter".

This is my life. Some people can't handle it: the ups and downs and never being quite sure where I'll be at next, the overreactions, the irritability. I can't say I blame them. For those who have managed to stick around, I say thank you. It is because of you I'm still here and making it through another day.

6/2/14 Update:
Turns out I'm not bipolar. I suffer from depression. Although apparently note severe enough for my insurance to pay 50% of my medical bills. It's considered mild, so they pay 30%. Whatever, right? Anyhow, the last two psychiatrists decided I have some anxiety and depression, at times impulse control, but not bipolar disorder. I'm also what's called a Highly Sensitive Person. It explains a lot, actually. But so far knowing that isn't making the fact that I've spent most of the last two days hiding in my room wishing the world would just BE QUIET any easier to deal with. At least now I know I'm not crazy or just a bitch...