Bomb Diggity

Cara - F - 49- Memphis Straight - Taken - Child Free The closer we get to being who we are, the brighter we shine. I track the GPOYW tag and heart the face of total strangers. I track the SST tag and heart the bodies of total strangers.

[my0clonic-jerk]

[iamjustcara]

Proof of life & proof of boyfriend.

[iamjustcara]

Happy to continue my feminist holiday T-shirt schtick.

Think I could go about celebrating Indigenous People’s Day this way?

Wondering if I should get a new one for Halloween this year.

I’m very exciting and interesting. Please like & subscribe.

[iamjustcara]

Mom has turned a corner in her rehab. She’s working hard now.

But her Medicare only lasts until March 17/18. And she won’t be independent by then.

My brothers are trying to decide if they want to price shop for the attorney.

I cry. I break down when I’m alone. And I resent my mom & dad so much. He died with tons of property and no will and that affects mom’s qualification for Medicaid. But let’s see if we can save $50 by starting over with a new lawyer. Sure. What could go wrong?

[iamjustcara]

My exhuz sent me a text, “Happy valentine's to my favorite ex wife!” and that tells me I must be doing something right. When I marinate in self hate or what have you, I remind myself that the person I hurt the most in my lifetime likes me enough to be my friend 14 years post-divorce. My shrink says I shouldn’t have to rely on this test to feel good about myself, but I still think it’s a legitimate evaluative tool. I’ve got doubt weighing heavily on me in several big life categories, but my relationship with the exhuz reminds me I’ve done ok so far despite my missteps. I’m not going to screw things up beyond repair. I’ve got support to help me if I stumble.

[iamjustcara]

Do we still do gratuitous pictures of ourselves?

I like buying feminist holiday shirts off Etsy. I did Halloween and Christmas, and now Valentine’s Day. I’ve started shopping for St Patrick’s day but it’s pretty slim pickings.

[jerseyclown]

you’re not evil girl you’re just lonely and no one has cared for you in a while and its making you crazy can you go get a fucking chai latte or something

[iamjustcara]

So I don’t usually struggle at setting boundaries. I’ve lived alone for over a decade so my tolerance for other people’s bullshit is low and if I don’t set (and enforce) boundaries I’d hate everyone all the time.

But when your (my) mom is hospitalized for a week at a time (or in old people rehab for a month at a time) setting boundaries on visitation expectations is hard but critical work.

When she was in rehab 2 miles from my house I went to see her every day. But the real hospital is 20 minutes away in another town. That requires a whole different kind of psyching myself up. And I don’t like to have to psych myself up in the weekends. So I’ve had to squash expectations and establish my limits.

I’ll come see you on Saturday, but on MY schedule not yours. I’m not going to hop out of bed and haul myself to see you first thing in the afternoon. It will technically be Saturday until midnight. So I’ll “visit you on Saturday” but probably not until after 7:30. (Gotta go by 8 or they’ll lock the main entrance and you have to enter through the ER -I know how to do it but it’s more walking and more maneuvering and I do not like to do it.)

Right now I’m fending off texts from my mom, telling me things she wants me to bring her in the hospital. Yes, I’ll bring you lotion, but it will be tonight. Yes I’ll bring you a scrunchie, but it will be tonight.

Leave me alone until tonight, ok mom? I’m doing important shit like catching up on Tumblr.

[iamjustcara]

Before the bladder infection we did get to take the dogs up to see her. It made her smile. It made me smile. It made the dogs happy. Guess that’s my role in all of this:to wrangle the dogs for visits.

[iamjustcara]

My dad died at 72 on 12/31/19 after his 2nd massive heart attack. It was hard, but as a family we got through it and even moved my mom to Memphis to live in a house right next door to me. She was out of shape and overweight but did fine in her house on her own for 2 years.

Then in Nov 2022, at 74, she fell and broke her femur, requiring intramedullary nail for the fracture and full time rehab. Rehab that isn’t going well. Rehab that has been derailed by a bladder infection that made her throw up and prevented her from eating and required 5 days in a real hospital. Rehab that was derailed further when she got Covid at the ER while waiting for bladder infection treatment. She’s finally back at rehab, free from her 2-weeks of Covid quarantine, but she’s throwing up again. And on it goes. It’s always something.

I whine about all this to say: this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life and it’s not even happening TO me. I’m powerless, I’m helpless, I’ve got no control of her treatment and it feels like I’ve got no control of my own life b/c I spend so much time visiting her and worrying about her comfort and going to her appointments.

People: stay active. Walk your ass down the driveway every day. It will make a difference. Get up, get out, move around and use your body. Sure actual exercise is good for you but movement of any kind will help. My mom will likely never walk unassisted again. My mom can’t come home and live alone and I can’t be her personal home aid. She’s going through this medically but I’m going through something too.

Being a caregiver (really I’m a care supporter) is slowly killing parts of me. And I am mad. I’m mad that my parents never followed instructions after previous surgeries to be active. All they had to do was walk around the block everyday. They never did. I’m mad that nothing seems to go right for my mom since she fell and all the lofty goals of being back to “normal” in 6-8 months have evaporated.

I’m mad that my two brothers and I haven’t met up to discuss things. Even when the older one showed up in town unannounced last week he didn’t tell me his plans so I never even saw him. I’m mad that I can’t focus on critical things in my own life because everything has become dependent on my care obligations. I wash her laundry bc she’s got sensitive skin and needs special detergent. I bought her new clothes so she wouldn’t be in the rehab gym in her ratty old house clothes. I haul shit over from her house to make her more comfortable in the rehab room. I leave work to go to appointments with her, to hold her hand when she cries. I do all this shit but it’s not enough to change any god damn thing.

Nothing is going to be changed. I’m locked into this bullshit until mom finally gives up and dies. There is no fucking escape. The brothers aren’t going to hold her hand and rush up there when she calls scared and crying it for my dead dad. My role in this position was set in motion when I was born the only daughter. And I’m fucking mad.

I love my mom. Living next door to her was a dream come true. But I’m killing myself trying to support her and I’m mad that I can’t let myself step away. I know I don’t have to be the caretaker, but if my dad ever found out I abandoned my mom he’d be so disappointed. As he died in Vanderbilt hospital I held his hand and promised him I’d take care of mom. So I have to keep going. I do my best and I acknowledge that my best changes from day to day.

I’m mad at my mom for being old and out of shape. I’m mad that she had surgery, followed by an infection, followed by Covid. I’m mad at myself for not adjusting into this new role easily. I am not a parent, I have no experience guiding someone to make good decisions and try her hardest. I’m not trained in this at all but now I’m fucking stuck in it.

I’m so mad

[iamjustcara]

Merry Christmas from me & my mom in her hospital bed. Every day is both a gift and a mystery. Hug your people.

[iamjustcara]

Here’s my Halloween costume for 2022

[iamjustcara]

Who knows. Elon Musk might drive me back to Tumblr.

[iamjustcara]

I haven’t had power for over a week. Ice Storm 2022 can kiss my ass.

[iamjustcara]

[iamjustcara]

I don’t generally take selfies anymore. I feel dumb when doing it. Vain I guess. I do take a lot of pics of me with the kids or sometimes me with my mom, but that’s mostly to prove we were together. So I’ll have memories when I get really old and forgetful. The last time I saw my dad before he had his heart attack I just happened to take a group selfie of me, him and my mom. It was an unusual action and the last photo I took of him. I’m grateful to have it even if it’s blurry. After that, every time I saw my mom I’d make us take a selfie in case it was the last time I saw her. Once she moved in next door I stopped, because I get to see her with my own eyes every day and that beats putting our faces on the screen of my phone.

But back to selfies, I used to take them to send to people. Like little advertisements. Here’s me in a car, here’s me in a park, here’s my new shirt. But who do I have to send them to now? So I stopped taking them. Except I took one for my return-to-tumblr post. Figured that was allowed, expected even. Proof of life or some such. But I haven’t done anymore and I just wonder why. Do I think I’m ugly? No. Am I afraid I’m not pretty enough? No. Do I not grok the point of them anymore? Perhaps. I’m legit curious, sometimes, when I look back at years and years of selfies, what changed? Did I change or did the type of people I let into my life change? And now where will my family get recent photos to use in my funeral slideshow? I don’t take my picture often, no one else takes my picture (why would they) and so my death show will taper off with selfies from 2016 or so. Oh well. That’ll be someone else’s problem. My problem is remembering to do a GPOYW on Wednesdays. Because that’s a Tumblr holiday of sorts and surely I shouldn’t feel bad participating in it. You are gonna see my face.

[iamjustcara]

I don’t have a dream. I have very limited goals. I manage my life by running away from what I don’t like. I’m leaving this job because I don’t like how it makes me feel about myself. I’m not leaving for something better, I’m just hoping I don’t get any worse before I get away.

Of course leaving without a new job lined up is dangerous and risky. But to my way of thinking staying in a job that’s breaking me down is the bigger risk. I’ve got enough money to survive for a few months without a paycheck. Of course I’d rather keep those savings for something more “fun” but honestly not being miserable daily will be fun enough for a while. And I’m employable. I will find a job. But it’s a slower process when I’m not looking for a new role so much as looking for a new place to plant myself and do, just, whatever, for a few years.

But I suppose I should have dreams and goals and secret longings. I’m not very good at “should” however and the longer I live the less i give a fuck if others approve of my choices. My dad is dead, so he doesn’t get a vote. My mom loves me and is much too kind to criticize me unless it’s something utterly ridiculous so I’ve always got her support. Who else’s opinion matters to me? My nieces & nephews want me to be happy but they don’t care about the details as long as I still have time for our weekly Just Cara Day. Others that I might listen to: exhuz, puhleez, he doesn’t care as long as I’m not risking death. My little brother probably worries about me but it’s been a long time since I’ve felt very cared for and concerned about from him. I feel a few years ago he accepted I was self sufficient and stopped actively caring for the most part. Sure he cares, but not enough to want to discuss things with me. As long as I do my part to take care of our widowed mom he’s mostly gonna let me be. The secret is I want him to care, to talk, to share, to give advice. With my dad gone my little brother is the smartest man I know. But I know he can’t be my replacement for my dad, so I tend to just not spill anything on him at all. Unfortunately he doesn’t seek me out for much either so instead of a close sibling relationship we have a perfectly pleasant but unfulfilling war of attrition, neither of us wiling to get closer to the other.

My therapist says I’m doing great. She reassures me that I’m not sabotaging myself, that I’m thinking out my decisions and that if I would just be nicer to myself I’d see that I’m doing great too. So good in fact my dad would totally be proud of me. Therapy is weird. I pay $100 to get a real hug from her and for her to look at me with sympathy when I cry “I miss my dad” every session. And she tells me all the ways my dad is still with me and makes me tell her all the ways my dad would be proud of me and I feel better for a little while. Almost all my crying about my dad is done in therapy b/c I don’t want to worry or work up my mom and I don’t want to be that vulnerable with my brother. I don’t cry with the kids if I can help it but I do talk about him with them. Remind them how cool he was and how much he loved them. Help him stay in theirs little memories for as long as I can. He deserves to be remembered.

My dad died and then 3 months later the pandemic came and there’s no telling how many ways my response to either of those crises was distorted by the other. That’s worth a whole post on its own. Now that I’m “back” maybe I’ll write it. Mostly I’ve just been reading and hearting and following along with your lives and realizing how much life actually happened in the year I was gone. I didn’t live so much as exist in the 14 months I avoided tumblr. I’m not sure if I’m living again. Maybe if I am I’ll fucking write about it