Once A Girl...

I'm over 50 and still in shock! And to think I was once a girl...

[mzgivings]

Memorable Call...5 and 6

I had 2 last week...the very first one was really difficult.  It was a woman who lost her sister to suicide over 20 years ago.  There was a lot going on in the conversation, but out of it all I remember the anguish in her voice even after all of the years.

The other was 9 year old whose father was worried about.  This child and 2 siblings lived with their mother who drinks excessively and has a history of drug abuse.  Dad put the 9 year old on the phone and had us speak privately...hearing this child say they didn’t want to stay with their mother was heartbreaking.  Hearing the talk about changing nappies and finding food for the other 2 almost did me in.  Dad came back and told me that he’s involved social services, to no avail.  He’s worried because at least 1 of the children is a girl and he can’t imagine the very worst happening to them. 

I have to say it was difficult last week...I’ve had a lovely long weekend away and the emotion has died down, but it was tough.  I feel almost hazy in the head thinking of Lonnie...I almost feel numb right this moment.

[mzgivings]

Memorable Call 4

Last week I wasn’t at the help center as I attended a lecture about the history of eating disorders...it was a great lecture, but I admit I did miss the phones.

Boy, oh boy, did last night make up for it!  I had 12 calls in just shy of 3 hours and I was absolutely exhausted by the time I left the office.  This morning I’m sitting here with sand filled eyes and a real desire to get home and park in my favorite chair.

Before that...memorable call 4.  It’s a bit of a toss up between the man who called about his son misbehaving then turned the conversation around to his guilt about ‘smacking’ his son.  I was torn between believing this guilt and concern about his comments about his wife being much more comfortable with ‘smacking’ than he was.  But I’ll choose the other caller...a mother with a 15 year old and two others well under 10.  The 15 year old is secretive and Mom believes there are conversations online with random people of the opposite sex which don’t always end well.  School has told her she needs to be trusting of her child, but with self harming and one suicide attempt having already happened she’s a bit beyond trust.  A counsellor at the school actually told her that if she had any emergencies she should call us and we would sort it out for her. 

I think the theme I’m seeing is the lack of support on so many levels from the schools.  She’s supposed to trust a 15 year old child alone with a piece of equipment that allows strangers to enter their world.  How is that justified by the school and why on earth are parents allowing the schools to carry on taking further responsibility for their parents.  This is something I’m really concerned about and it’s a trend I see week after week now...I’m so glad I was a parent when you could actually make choices on how to discipline...

[mzgivings]

Happy Mother’s Day...

It’s Mother’s Day in jolly olde England.  I never understood why the dates are different here and in America.  I used to like it when Mom was alive and Jeremy lived at home.  I got to celebrate it a few times every year...now that she’s gone and he’s in Guildford it’s not so nice.  I feel incredibly sad today...Jeremy and I’ve had a few nice chats and they’ll be home soon for a few days.  But I miss him.  I miss Chels too.  I miss my mother. I miss my grandmother.  I miss my brother.  I miss my brother. 

I had an incredible week last week regarding my studies and where I want to go with them.  I had a workshop with NIWE on Wednesday night and then a lecture by Sharon Cox on Thursday night.  Both completely reinforced me desire to go into weight issues when the time comes.  Yet, yesterday and today I’ve chosen to stay home and close to the things that remind me of Mom, Gram and Jeremy.  I’ve not been alone for much of it, but I’ve stayed close to the things that connect me to them.

When Jeremy, Chels and I were on video call the other night I showed Jeremy the cup in the picture I’ve posted...he and my mother hustled off to the store when he was about 6 or 7 and bought it for me on Mother’s Day.  I hope with all my heart it’s sitting beside me the last day I’m able to drink a hot coffee from it. 

I have a beef stew cooking and looking forward to watching Jeremy’s game against Peterboro tonight on the live stream.  I’m glad I won’t be alone...I have so much good in my life and so little that makes me sad, but it seems that the sadness is beating me this weekend.

I am excited about the things that happened last week...I’m very happy I’ve gotten my big end of year case studies done for college...I’m happy I had an amazing mother and I have an amazing son. 

Mom and Lonnie...I hope with all my heart you’re up there with Eileen, Gram, Grammy Norma, Auntie Arlene, Teri...and having a wonderful Mother’s Day.  I miss you both so much.  I miss you all so much.  Reading those women I’ve had in my life...no wonder I’m so strong. 

Happy Mother’s Day...

Thank you Mom and Jeremy...who knew something you both did out of love would have followed me through 23 years, across the Atlantic, and to a whole new life.  I love you both so very much.

[mzgivings]

Memorable Call...3

A dad called...he was worried about his oldest child who he believes has been emotionally abused and neglected by the mum.  He went through so much of the history between he and his ex wife, and his frustration was aimed more at the system that allowed a woman who had been charged with domestic abuse (to the caller) had actually been given sole custody of the children.  The caller wasn’t allowed to see them, the school refused to allow him to even speak to them about the concerns of abuse he suspected coming from the mother to her oldest child.  The police and social services turned a blind eye.  He’s trying now to find a charity to give him advice...he isn’t able to afford a lawyer because he’s paying for the upkeep of the family - which inccludes a woman who abised him and he believes is doing similar to their child. 

I think the reason this was such a memorable call was because it drove home that the world is a place now where it’s not right to be a white Christian man.  It’s almost a sin and if you’re not an apologist, then you should be. 

All of the cards are stacked against white Christian men.  I’ve actually been thinking and saying this for years...it’s one of the only groups of society that it is almost unanimously accepted to either hate or at the very least ‘blame’. 

So we’re in a politically correct world where the father is being punished for being a man while leaving children in the care of someone with a police record and a rich history of emotional abuse.  The maternal grandparents are worried about the child and the younger siblings...the mother’s sister called social services and was fobbed off as was the father.  What is the world coming to when women are secure enough and protected enough that they literally can cut off every contact, other than economic, between father and children?  What message is this sending to the children facing abuse and feeling abandoned by the people who are trying to protect them? 

It’s all very interestin and incredibly frightening.  Maybe the time we live in now isn’t nearly as different to other times as I tend to believe, but I’ve seen so many frightening changes over the years I honestly think it is.   

[mzgivings]

Memorable Call...2

I’ve decided I probably won’t have a memorable call every shift at Family Lives...maybe I will, but I would imagine that some of what I consider memorable now will seem routine as time goes by.

I’ve also decided that memorable shouldn’t be hung on the severity of the call alone...I’ve decided to make the subject matter, the caller, and the way it touched me all be acceptable ways to judge which calls were actually memorable.

Last night it was a person...it was a very emotional call, but the person I was speaking to was what struck me most.

A teenager who was adopted half his life ago by the caller and their spouse has been the victim of bullying for the last several years.  The teenager has issues from the life led before adoption and there are many things that aren’t able to be comprehended by this child. 

Fear, loneliness, isolation, and desperation are now things understood perfectly.  Classmates have made the environment so these are the feelings this child takes home every day.  From being physically manhandled, having belongings destroyed, and calls from the other students for him to put his head through a noose set up in a classroom while exclaiming it was only a matter of time before that actually happened.  This child hides under a bed wracked in fear every morning.

But Mom and Dad are there.  One of them called last night to discuss the disgust at the handling of the situation and how ineptly the school is handling it.  They have involved the police and are holding the school and the students accountable.  They are throwing a superf Ofsted rating back to the managment of the school because although there are over a thousand children at that school -THEIR CHILD IS NOT SAFE.

In a world teeming with liberals who are crying in the streets for safe spaces, these parents are fighting back.  They are not only doing that, but they are teaching their child to fight for the right to an education and safety.  They are not letting this child sit home and wallow in games, trash TV, and junk food...they are guiding the way to show their precious child that education, safety, place in society, respect from and for others are things worth fighting for.

The parents don’t expect their child to get everything for nothing.  They are taking a child who some would deem broken and creating a responsible adult.  They are so unsure of themselves and so torn that all of these lessons could be at too high a cost to their child.  Are they creating an environment in school that will be increasingly hostile?  Are they putting further emotional turmoil onto the shoulders and into the mind of the child they chose to protect for and from a lifetime?  Are they right?  Are they ruining someone they are trying to teach and love? 

The unexpected tears from the parent tore at my heart.  Someone trying to do everything right and teach life’s lessons...someone doubting their resolve because their love only wants to protect. 

I’ve thought about how much respect I have for those parents and how much hope for that child.  The hardest part of working on this helpline is not knowing the outcome.  I hope all the best for the child and the parents.  I hope someone cares enough for those horrible children who have bullied and tormented and committed assault against this child to teach them some serious lessons.  I hate knowing I’ll never know, but I love knowing I helped - even for a moment.

[mzgivings]

Helpline...

I’ve finished my training and gotten past having my calls monitored at Family Lives...on Thursday I had my first solo calls and it was both exciting and frightening.  I worry that I’ll do something wrong and will end up breaking someone...I’m happy to report that didn’t happen on Thursday.

My biggest and baddest call last week was a woman in her mid 30s who has a 7 year old daughter who started being violent towards her a year ago.  Nothing traumatic happened to the child around that time...I found myself starting to judge her as a bad mother till she told me what she’s done to help her daughter.  She’s consulted with the school and found there is no change, her GP referred her to be tested for ADHD and anything else that might be affiliated, and she has a referral for CAMHS. 

Mom has had to put locks on her doors to keep the daughter out while she’s sleeping...it’s escalated to a point where she no longer feels safe.  Fortunately her parents help to defuse the situation and take the daughter themselves when things are getting further out of hand. 

I have to say I’m shocked at how I jumped to judgement on this woman...it was a great lesson to me regarding judgement.  I had judged her and the reality was she was a caring woman who sought any help available for her daughter.  She had done all of this knowing that social services may have intervened and taken her child from her. 

I hope I helped her as much as she helped me...she allowed me to see a weakness I thought I had under control.

Thank you call number 1.

[mzgivings]

Almost a month later...

and here I am.  Life has pretty much resumed normal service now.  I had a week of no college and no helpline.  The following week I jumped back in...college on Tuesday and a counselling session at Family Lives on Thursday.  I’ve added a math class to it on Wednesdays for the last 2 weeks and probably another 5 or 6 to come.  I feel relatively normal now.  Work hasn’t been too bad...seen all the friends that matter to me...pretty normal.

Until I see a picture of him on Facebook or I think of something that reminds me of him.  Mom’s birthday was last week Saturday and that was tough.  Dad’s in Florida and I’m barely making any attempt to talk to him.  I know it’s not fair, but I think I need that separation from him still. 

Daily life I think I’m probably the picture of normality and all of the awkward greetings have pretty much passed.  I went to Peterboro with Ann and Abi a few weeks ago and was able to spend some time with them and even see Jeremy in a game.  Next weekend I’m off to Dennis and Lynn’s for a Christmas celebration. 

And every so often I go to a dark, cold room with nothing but single chair in the middle.  I know he took the gun to the bathroom and got into the tub before he shot himself, but I still see that room.  I still wonder about his last thoughts and pointlessly wonder what it was that put him right there in that frame of mind in that moment.  I was never close to him, but God I miss having him in the world.

I had some moments when I just wanted to curl in on myself...wanted to stop college and just...well, stop.  Not hurt myself or anything, but to stop reaching and stretching myself.  I just wanted to stop.  Maybe I’d do just what was necessary...work, clean...but stop anything uplifting or enjoyable.  Just stop.  Then my son said that Chels was worried that I’d do just that...he said he told her I wouldn’t and if anything it would make me more determined to carry on with the degree and changing my life.  With stopping in the forefront of my mind I couldn’t help but think how little he knew me in that moment.  Then I had a good cry and realized he actually knew me better than I knew myself.  I’m not a quitter.  I’ve been cheated on, raised a son on my own, moved continents, almost gone bankrupt, been unemployed and never taken any benefits, lost and gained weight, and always...always...I’ve never quit.

So this is me not quitting.  This is me missing my mother and my brother and hating my father to some degree.  This is me letting go of a few toxic people in my life and doing my best to deal with the ones I’m not in a position to move away from at the moment.  This is me pursuing the dream of a degree right before I’m meant to retire and spending the time and giving my heart to helping others.  This is me...Lori-Ann Lynch Lundin...not quitting.  Not by a damned sight.  I may be crying...but I’m not quitting.

[mzgivings]

I made it home.  I have so much in my mind that needs attention and at this point I’m a blank and not looking to attend to any of it.  I’ll be ready one day...the one thing I need to do is write down what happened and when.  I don’t want it to go too far without some documentation of it.

I had breakfast with Ann and Abi, and I’ve gotten pretty much unpacked.  I had about a half hour sleep and I’m hoping for a marathon session tonight. 

That’s it.  I’m home.  Unlike me under normal circumstances, I have nothing to say.

[mzgivings]

Going Home...both Lonnie and I...

Jeremy got here last Thursday night...he was a godsend for me.  I had such a horrible day...another where the tears just wouldn’t abate.  When I had his message that he was on the bus to Portland from Logan I was thrilled and immediately felt just a bit more like I’d be able to get through this weekend.

Jason, Lori and the kids, Shelly and Thelma all came to see him Friday morning...it was lovely of them to do and so good to see them all.  I was doing yet another day of containing Dad so I sent them on their way and remained at the house with him.  We left for the viewing...stopping at Kim’s along the way.  Photos of him everywhere...the urn...an unbelievably beautiful arrangement in an old copper washtub was the centerpiece behind his photo.

My big strong incredible brother...an urn of ashes and a photo.

The night was fine...it was actually very good.  A lot of sadness, but many laughs.  I met people he had worked with and had gone to camp with.  He was kind and caring and funny...how much of his life I was never part of.

When we got back to Dad’s I warmed up spaghetti and garlic bread for he, Jeremy and I. 

The next morning we left for the funeral.  The minister created a lovely service.  I cried through my bits...Mike, Lonnie’s best friend, was funny and worthy of being my brother’s best friend...Brian, Lonnie’s oldest and tallest (so said he by way of introduction) son, was funny and did a great job as well.  I suppose we didn’t overlap on our speeches...I broke down through the whole thing.  I just hope that if he was watching he could see how much I loved him...that I love him.

Sunday the next serious bout of drama began.  Jerry and Ann camre over, as did Kirk, Laura and Brian.  Dad, Jerry and I stayed and the others went to lunch...courtesy of Aunt Ann.  Lonnie had Dad as beneficiary on his 401k and his life insurance.  Wow...all that day and the next I heard how unfair it was on him, that Lonnie did everything wrong...at one point he told Dick and I that Jerry told him ‘all of them’ had taken out credit (loans and cards I presume) in his name.  I was really pissed off...an absolute blatant lie and even with his confusion something I know he would have done years ago.  Just the kind of stand up guy he was.  So on Sunday we were talking about his will...at one point he said that Jeremy deserved less than the other boys because of all of his breaks.  When I asked he said he gets a free house (I explained again that is part of his pay) and he lives in Europe (no explanation on that one) and when he was pissed of cause I questioned him he said he didn’t remember me or my son paying for flights or anything else...that was it.  I bit back that we had indeed paid and we could care less about being paid back (he did give me the money for both trips today) and that I had paid for groceries from the time I got there on Boxing Day till I left, then did the same when I came back the second time.  And that the only time we went to the store for groceries when Jeremy was here it was him who paid for it.  Jerry told me to go and walk the dog...I gladly did...I am so sick of him doing that.  Like I said to Kim at one point...his actions and words are that of Larry at any age - the dementia just has him saying the same horrible things over and over again.

That day came to an end...Jeremy was to leave at about 8.30 am on Monday...Dad’s car wouldn’t start.  Add to that, earlier in the morning I told him I thought there was something wrong with his phone as it kept shutting off and surprise, surprise he got pissed off at me and it was my fault.  When the car wouldn’t start he couldn’t get the phone to work to call Dick and he got pissed off me all over again and almost threw the phone when I suggested he needed to turn it on.  Crisis was averted and Jeremy was off by Joe’s taxi (made it with 5 minutes to spare)...and the day went on.  Jerry talked to him about making payment of the funeral and bits...well as always he was sweetness and light to him on the phone and I got the rest.  That was when he went on the rampage of ‘them all’ racking up credit in his name to Dick and I.  I barely slept Monday night because I ended up with a killer headache.

Yesterday I seemed to do better...I didn’t react.  I remember making the appointment for him (with him finally approving me to do it and sitting there as I did) for the water to be turned off.  An hour later it was my fault I’d done it and he wanted his house back.  I reminded him again Dick needed a key...and he told me to mind my own business and he’d be glad to be alone again.  I snuck around and did some cleaning (cause he gets highly upset that I’m thinking he’s dirty) and sat around all day.  Every time he misplaced something it was my fault and I needed to leave things alone.  I know there is an element of the dementia and fear of losing control of his life, but I have a lifetime of history that I’m not good enough...that I’m not wanted around...that nice Larry is brought out for company and real Larry is left for us.  I decided not to bite...not to give him a platform for his rants.  I did well till today........

I was carrying on as yesterday...no reaction from me and no platform for him.  He was packing and I had done the laundry, the dishes, vaccuumed, and just shrugged off his insults and comments when I offered to help out or made suggestions (silly things like not putting the clothes you need for travelling at the bottom of the case and to not forget his pills).  The rant carried on until he said something to the effect...all you do is sit in that chair.  I started to shoot back, but contained it to ‘oh so you want to go there eh?’.  He again told me he wanted his house back and was sick of never being able to do anything right...blah, blah, blah.  I stayed in the chair and didn’t offer any help or anything...we went to Walmart and he was shitty in there about tshirts.  Then we went to the bank (in fairness Jerry did tell him to give me the cash for the tickets which he did) and he was all s and l (sweetness and light) when the girls offered condolences and were gushing over him.  We got back to the car and he barely spoke.  By the time we got home I calmed down...I made us something to eat and he actually accepted a little help packing.

I read all of this and it sounds so ridiculously stupid.  How on earth could a 54 year old woman be driven to this level of hatred and a 59 year old man kill himself...and I know he was instrumental in both of our states of mind.

I feel even more guilt for hating him so much.  Now that he has dementia (stress related primarily) I see that as some sort of reflective coating...how can I possibly hate him...he has dementia. 

I’m a mess.  I just want to get back to England.  Tomorrow we’re with Jerry and Ann most of the day and then I drop him off around noon at Logan, and I go to my terminal to wait for my flight.  I’m exhausted and I haven’t made one move to tackling the grieving process for my brother.  His pain...my God his pain.  How on earth do you actually reconcile this.

[mzgivings]

Thoughts From Earlier Today...

Hard to believe this time last week I was just about getting on the bus to get back to my life in England.  Hard to believe this time last week I was feeling a bit more optimistic about my brother because we’d had a loving (for us) and sentimental (for us) call the night before.  Hard to believe this time last week I had a brother.  Hard to believe this time last week I was within hours of my world being shattered, and I was obliviously chatting with some random on his way to Brunswick for a weekend with his friends.  I have his number...he told me to call when I came back.  Somehow I think that will never happen.

It’s not quite 8 am...Dad and I were up at about 4 and had coffee.  He went back to bed about an hour ago and I’ve sat here watching everything outside become light.

So many people have been in touch...so many kind sentiments from so many people from so deep in our pasts.  Jeremy is in Dublin right now...he has an hour and a quarter beefore his flight leaves for Boston.  I hate for him to come for this mess...and by mess I mean Dad...but I’m so glad he is.  I need him.  I don’t normally need people and in all honesty I would get through this without him so I probably don’t need him, but it’s very close to it.

Tuesday, when I was having real problems with Dad, I couldn’t stop crying.  Yesterday seemed to be marginally better.  Today I don’t think I could conjure a tear if I tried.  Yet.  I have an idea I won’t get away with it for the whole day.

When Dad was up we were talking about losing Lonnie, Mom and all sorts before.  He looked at the couch and said something to the effect that he could see her lying there and remember all the times she’d been so ‘mean to me’.  It took all my strength to not confront him and scream - AT LEAST SHE HAD ALZHEIMER’S TO BLAME IT ON!!  I didn’t, but I certainly did want to.  How dare he...he treated us all like shit.  He turned me into someone who has always been able to hide the fact she was ‘never enough’, he browbeat and cheated on a wonderful woman, he treated his son - MY BROTHER- like an idiot all his life.  Nobody was good enough or as good as he was or something.  I keep going over how he treated us and how we all walked around him on eggshells.  I remember Mom asking me to stop confronting him because he took it out on her.  I remember my brother saying last week that if he tells someone often enough they’re useless and not wanted they eventually believe it.  Dad’s complained about how Lonnie leaned towards Grampy Guy when he was growing up and I remember he and Kim always leaning to stay with her parents.  I remember Mom bravely saying it was all about Kim wanting to be with her parents, but a few times she confessed what we all knew - Dad was shitty and horrible to be around.  Nobody wanted to be near him and the only reason we were was her.  She also knew that the distances he created between she and us would only get bigger.  It’s really no wonder I decided to move to another continent a whole ocean away.  

And yet here I am.  With him.  

And I know he’s not as bad as many...I know he provided for us and I know life was better for us than for many, but it was ours and sometimes I think there’s more than I remember.  Sometimes I can’t understand the depth and intensity of my feelings for what seems so little that happened.  Having said that, I have no idea what the emotions are with adults after emotional neglect.  Actually it wasn’t neglect...it was ongoing and direct.  The chop and change of who he was with us and with what the world saw.  One moment us being the perfect 1960s family and then when we were alone not being able to do anything right.  When I write it I can’t imagine both of us have been so damaged by him and it all sounds so benign when I write it down.

Again...something for another day.  

[mzgivings]

Wednesday, January 11, 2017

He’s been dead for 5 days now.  It’s been equally an eternity and a mere minute.  I’m so tired and I’m so confused.  I feel incredibly alone at a time when more people are here for me than ever before.

I spent a few nights in England before I headed home and every time I closed my eyes all I could see was him in a room on a chair...nothing in the room and a gun in his hand.  Some of it was really sharp and clear while the rest was shadowy and shifty.  I found out on Monday that he wasn’t in an empty room...he went into the bathroom, climbed into the bathtub, and did it.  I suppose I feel better for his housemate, Dave, as there was less mess...I feel worse for Lonnie because that makes me feel like it was more calculated and controlled.  Like he wanted to do it.  Yes I know...he did want to do it, or he wouldn’t have.  

My brother wanted to kill himself.  Not only is my brother gone...he chose to end his own life.  He killed himself.  Someone made a comment about shooting themselves the other day...completely innocent.  It felt like I’d taken a bullet.  My brother shot himself.

I am so empty at the minute.  I’m trying to keep cheery for Dad and with him being an absolute piece of shit person, that’s not an easy task.  We had quite a screaming match yesterday during which he said that I’d come over on his dime and was giving my son a free vacation thanks to him.  Bearing in mind I’ve paid for my trip, Jeremy has paid for his, and Jeremy is here for 3 days which 1 includes a viewing and another includes a funeral.  I hate him, but that’s for another day.

I’m tired.  I’m emotional.  I’m dreading the viewing on Friday and the funeral on Saturday.  Dad’s upstairs asleep and I’m enjoying the peace.  It’s a shame he hadn’t been such a horrible person to all of us...I’d probably feel some amount of sympathy for him if he hadn’t been.  There’s a fair bit to mull over regarding Dad.  One of the biggest.  Why the fuck is it him I’m left with.  Mom...Lonnie...no.  It’s Dad.  I feel absolutely no guilt and I feel a huge amount of guilt.  And there’s the reason that Lonnie gave me for starting to drink again way back on December 28th...Dad.  And on the 29th when we were talking about how Dad was so horrible to everyone, he said if someone tells you often enough you’re useless and not wanted you eventually believe it.  And when they got in the fight (Lon’s handling of his meds caused issues) on the 31st and I sent Lonnie away in tears and blood in his mouth...he said I can’t stand him and I just can’t take it anymore.  Over and over he said I can’t stand him and I just can’t take it anymore.

I know I can’t second guess what caused my brother to take his life.  I know that it could have been a song or a memory that snuck on him.  It could have been a feeling of embarrassment that he’d started drinking again and that he was letting us all down.  It COULD have been a life with my father that perhaps helped him get to that end...his words don’t confirm it, but the part of me that hates my father and remembers growing up with him won’t dismiss it either.

My brother is gone.  He killed himself.  My incredible, heroic, alcoholic brother is gone.  We say goodbye to him in 3 days.

[mzgivings]

My Heroic Alcoholic Brother Is Dead...

He’s not only dead, he’s dead by his own hand.  I was in Maine for a visit between Christmas and New Years, and he started drinking a few days into the visit.  He came to my father’s house and had snuck a bottle of vodka in.  I saw it - he evidently didn’t do well at sneaking - and his 5 weeks of sobriety came crashing down around him.  By New Years Eve day he had bought more and had forgotten then caught up on various medications...he was ‘doped up’ and as his exwife explained it’s because his liver was working at 60% not able to metabolize the large amounts of liquor and 3 lots of medication he decided to take when he found the wayward pills.

I saw him for the last time on that day...we were at his middle son’s house.  We had a lovely meal I sat beside him.  Dad on one side and Lon on the other.  He went below the radar after that...for 4 days all of us tried to get to him and make sure he was ok.  He skipped a vital doctor’s appointment and he wasn’t at work.  He finally answered the phone to me on the evening of January 4th...it was a Wednesday.  I told him I loved him and was always here for him if he needed me.  I told him he had so many people who wanted him happy and healthy and were rooting him on.  We both cried when the call ended.  The next morning I was on a plane...the morning after, when I finally got home to England, I was told by Uncle Jerry that my brother was dead.  I called his exwife to see if the kids were ok and she told me he shot himself.  I’m still not sure how all of that happened while I was screwing around flying from there to here and bitching about having to take my shoes off at security yet again.  At one of those moments...maybe when I was talking to the woman beside me who owned the Irish pub in California, or maybe when I was teasing a little toddler quite taken with running up and down the aisle with his mum, or maybe when I was nodding off watching Anthropoid.  One moment he made the choice to escape this world...to end the pain or embarrassment or feelings of failure or whatever it may be that brought him to that exact moment.

But he’s gone.  I’ll never sit for a meal with him again.  I’ll never reminisce about times from our childhood again.  I’ll never have someone who understands how crap it was to have our father for a father.  I’ll never have someone who I’m not very close to, but I know would be there for me if I ever needed him.

I’m an only child and the fears I wrote about a month or so ago have come true.  I feel cold and empty and alone.  When my father dies I will be alone. 

As I said to the spirit of Jeremy’s father when Jeremy left home for Guildord all of those years ago...this isn’t how it was supposed to be. 

The spontaneous tears are back.  I have to go and pack my funeral clothes for a flight that leaves tomorrow morning...barely 48 hours from when I landed yesterday. 

Now what do I do.

[mzgivings]

And He’s Home...

My brother is home...he checked himself out against doctor’s orders, but it appears to my relatives that he’s doing ‘ok’.  My uncle said he’s on a recovery high and should hopefully have a few really strong days at the minimum.

I’ve emailed him and had no responses...I called and left a message with no response.  I don’t want to crowd him and I know that his sons are there for him...but he and I are ‘this’ generation and I need him.  When he was ill I had this ridiculously selfish thing going on...my brother’s going to die and my dad’s going to die and I’ll be all alooooonnnneeee.  Yeah, it was silly and selfish...but it was fucking real.  I told one of my friends (through the tears) that I was going to be all alone.  It didn’t take long for her to tell me to shut up and focus on real problems.  I love my friends...

And he’s home.  Personally I think he went so he wouldn’t have to listen to the last of the election stuff.  By the way TRUMP WON!!!!!!!  I voted for Brexit and I voted for Trump...Jeremy said I had the Midas touch going on.  And he’s home.  And I’m over here.

I honestly don’t have a whole lot to say...I’m feeling quite subdued about it and that could be entirely that I’m so tired.  Emails going around in the early hours here...my sleep interrupted and at some points nonexistent. 

So much to say...so much relief...and I’m so tired.

[mzgivings]

My brother, the heroic alcoholic, is in the hospital right now.  He went in last week after his youngest son was alarmed at his skin being yellow...he told his mother he was worried and as she and my brother aren’t married anymore she did the best she could - she rallied their 3 boys, and the wife of the middle one.  They basically shared a vigil over him...becoming a tag team whose sole aim was to make sure he was ok and focus him on getting to a doctor or hospital.

They did a great job and had him committed to going...and then it all fell apart.  His oldest son was with him one night and he was evidently that the next generation of heroes stepped forward...he gave his father the choice of going to the hospital in his car or in an ambulance.

He chose the car.

A bleed in his esophagus, a system all but disintegrated, and a liver functioning at less than 50% all conspired to send him straight to ICU.  For a fair few days now he’s been mercifully sedated as his body is wracked with tremors and the physical manifestation of detox. 

The alcoholic hero is going to have to face life as just a plain old run of the mill hero.  And we’re all going to be here to give him all the encouragement and love he’ll need to get there.  I know he can fail...I know he will never be out of danger...I know the first days out of the hospital will be fraught with emotional and physical pain and frustration.  I know I’m an ocean away and limited.  I just want so desperately for him to live...to truly live.  He’s been a heavy drinker for almost 40 years...life has been going on around him.  He’s been heavily involved in it - both good and bad things.  I just want him to see it clearly.  I want him to realize how loved he is and I want the sun to shine on him a little brighter now...food to taste a little better...laughter and smiles to be a little more meaningful.  I want for him to be the hero in his own life...of course if he wants to dribble over into mine when things are crappy I’m good with that.

I’m crying...sitting here knowing he’ll live...the relief is streaming down my cheeks.  I love that heroic alcoholic and to know he’s ok makes me amazingly happy.

And now...recovery.

[mzgivings]

Here We Are Again...

Yes...it’s past Christmas.  I was very quiet this year...I selfishly remained in England and ‘enjoyed’ the holiday season here.  I decided three trips to Maine in the last year was my limit...I needed some time here and to myself.  Not that it’s necessarily worked out that way, but at least the time has been my own.

The run up to Christmas was lovely I must say...I didn’t stress and I still managed to get everything done that needed to be done.  I pissed Deb off a couple of times, but I’m learning that’s not a difficult thing to do.  Everyone else and everything else was great...I took food and wine and gifts to people who welcomed me into their home.  I welcomed anyone who came to mine.  I had meals out with people.  In general it was a very civilized Christmas indeed...except that Dad lost Skype and the phone lines weren’t connecting.  So he spent Christmas pretty much alone...which is a whole different entry that I may never actually make.  I’m on hiatus from guilt at the moment and hoping that once I return I’ll have forgotten about this incident.

My boy was here and we had our Christmas Eve night...potato soup and a couple of movies.  Yup...A Christmas Story which is our all time favorite, and Legend which is about the Kray brothers and full of murder, torture and general gore.  A good night was had by all.

I did my usual trick of only wrapping presents directly before they needed to be given away.  I still don’t know why I do that now.  I was always one who had them done and ready to put out...I wanted nothing to do with the stress of leaving the wrapping to the final moment.  And now here I am ALWAYS leaving them to the final moment.  So on Christmas morning, while Jeremy was sleeping in, I wrapped the presents for Chelsey’s family, the stocking stuffers for both Jeremy and Chelsey, and the goodies for Jeremy and Chelsey.  I iced the cake (which in all fairness I did make the day before) and did the crumble for the apple crisp.  Jeremy finally got up when I started cooking bacon for the sarnies.  So when all was settled he opened his stocking and we settled down for another sure to become a Christmas classic - Sicario.  Drugs and murder...fab. 

Other than not connecting with Dad all was good and I really don’t have much to say.  I had some very special and emotional presents...one from someone I lost this year and that just about tore me apart.  I missed people who are no longer in my life.  I celebrated with people who are.  Off to London tomorrow and I’ll have time with friends there as well as a little bit with the kids. 

What a lovely relatively stress free holiday season.  What a boring entry!!  I’ll do better to make the next one a bit more comical or angst filled...I can do each equally well! 

Merry Christmas Lori...you deserved this stress free holiday.  Enjoy the boredom.

[mzgivings]

To my friend........

A few weekends ago I stayed at your house...overall it was a lovely visit which turned into a great weekend.  We’ve had our moments over the last few years, but that was a great time.  The only thing I came away uncomfortable with was your comments about how hurt you’ve been by me over a few things.

I honestly don’t remember exactly how that particular conversation started, but at some point you told me how hurt you were because you’d sent a message on a Tuesday afternoon asking simply ‘are you in tonight’.  I responded that sadly I had to work late and then had Aquafit after.  To that I received a response of nothing.  I had assumed you were working near me and wanted a coffee...during this conversation you shed a tear and told me that I should have known it meant you needed me.  You were hurt because I didn’t get that you needed me out of that one line.  You didn’t respond...you didn’t say another word.  The next morning you said something about if it was ‘sadly’ then why are you doing it.  I told you the ‘sadly’ was because it would have been nice to have a coffee with you cause that’s what I assumed you were messaging for. 

You told me that hurt you.  You told me that a few years ago I would have ‘known’ that meant you needed me.  Seriously...I would have ‘known’?  To this comment I told you how hard it is with your cryptic messages and that some of them you send and then there’s never any connection back to them.  You said nothing other than regardless of cryptic messages I would have known.  You shed a tear.

I’ve just finished up a 2 and a half years worth of weight loss struggles.  In that time I lost my mother and struggled with the woes of the legacy she and my father passed to me.  In that 2 and a half years only 1 time did you give me any encouragement and that was almost a week after you’d had your bariatric surgery.  I was a year and a half into losing weight...I was 3 months past losing my mother and it was the first time you said an encouraging word to me about my weight.  After lambasting me about NOT posting something on Facebook about your surgery and having actually dared post something on Facebook about my weight loss, you hugged me when we said goodnight and said you were so proud of me.

Seriously?  So you have 80% of your stomach cut out and are pretty well guaranteed to accomplish in a year what I was slogging away to do at that moment...and you finally say you’re proud of me. 

That hurt...the lack of any encouragement from you cut like a knife for over a year.  I had bus drivers and shop assistants tell me how well I was doing and how wonderful I looked, but you never actually made any  reference to my weight loss until you knew when your surgery was scheduled for and you never told me how proud you were till you’d had it done. 

I told you several times that I’m always hungry and you told me I needed to see someone about it.  I did.  I spoke to my Dr and told her I was afraid of the hunger and that your comment made me feel like maybe there was something physically wrong with me.  We talked and I ended up crying almost the whole time.  I asked her about the exercising too much issue and she was astonished when I told her about your comments about that...she asked me if you would say things like that to try and derail my progress or to make yourself feel ‘better’ than me somehow.  She asked about my relationship with you and she told me what you said was cruel and unnecessary and probably stemmed from issues you have about me rather than any issues I have over physical hunger or understanding that heavy exercise is required for significant weight loss.  She was surprised when I told her you’re a medical professional and my best friend. 

All of that hurts still now.  But do you know something...I’m finally redressing the balance.  I have normally just taken your comments and not bothered to counter them...it’s not worth it.  You tend to dismiss anything said about how you act at times asbeing acceptable because it’s an eccentricity or it just being part of who you are.  I learned long ago when someone can’t see things in themselves it doesn’t do any good to keep pointing them out.  I’m past that now though...this is me pointing it out. 

Today though I’m yet again cut a little.  The picture above is a minor thing that is just one more log on the fire.  I offer you tickets to a film and say I’m not able to go, you ask why, I explain and am obviously excited, and you dismiss it and move on to you.  Do you not know how much that hurts?  Do you not know how difficult it is to sit here and realize the person who calls herself my best friend was the one person who didn’t do anything to support me through what I went through over the last few years?  Do you not see how one sided this is and how everything in your life is all about you, but you expect it to be the same in my life.  You’re happy to acknowledge I’m losing weight when you’re sure you’ll be catching up or surpassing me soon.  You’re dismissive when I do anything that I’m assuming you either don’t approve of or aren’t included in.  You’re rudely vocal about times I’m with people that I’m close to but you aren’t.  You say cutting things to me and treat me the way your mother treats you. 

You have no idea how cruel I find your comments about Ailsa and Sara...how cruel your comments were last spring about a gent you were working with on weight loss and you said cutting down isn’t rocket science.  I’m sorry, but you never conquered your weight.  You had it cut out.  To tell you that you’ve accomplished something would be like saying that someone who had a tumor out accomplished something that was the result of what their surgeon did.  You have done amazingly well recovering and grabbing the opportunity with both hands, but you never conquered your weight so you have no room to criticize anyone else.  As always I am thrilled you’re healthy and happy, but I do not recognize your weight loss as equal to losing it as I have.  You have no strong appetite and you have no cravings.  You seem to forget what that’s like and judge people who still struggle with the hunger, the cravings, the guilt, and the shame. 

You have no idea how many people have asked why I’m still friends with you.  You have no idea how many people I’ve defended you to when you’ve been either incredibly self centered or rude.  I keep telling them because I know you’re in there.  I know the woman that was by my side when we lived so close is still in there.  I can connect the change in you to your depression and when you were out of work.  I can see how that time and then the death of your father changed you.  I just don’t know how to get you back.

I’m writing this as though you’ll see it at some point...maybe you will and maybe you won’t.  Maybe it’ll be a tool I use to show you my frustration and my absolute desire to get my best friend back.  I miss you Deb.  I do want you back in my life and have the friendship we used to have.  With all that I’ve said above, I still adore you and know how loving and kind you can be.  What I see is someone who is only happy for someone else if they’re either on your level or below.  I see someone who is quick to condemn others for actions similar to her own.  I see someone who had a tremendous change 6 or 7 years ago and doesn’t seem to have completely come out of it.  I love you...I love your wit and your laugh...I love the memories we have and the times we’ve shared...I want you back. 

[mzgivings]

Looking Back...

It’s funny how making the decision to say ‘I’m here’, as far as my weight loss goals go, has made me look back at my 2 and a half year journey in quite a bit of detail.

I started by a random accident with a kid on a scooter while I was walking home from the grocery store.  Even then it seemed like an odd wakeup call, but I think sometimes even though you don’t know the language being spoken to you you’re able to completely understand the message.  I got that one and I got it good.  Do something because the road you’re on will lead you to a life where you can’t recover...from anything.

So I did...the juice diet, the clean diet, My Fitness Pal (also known as My Fitness Frenemy), loads of walking, a bicycle set up in my living room, cutting down, burning and avoiding calories is what it all boiled down to.  Almost halfway through my mother died, my father struggled, I wallowed in guilt and confusion, I had amazing support from places I both did and did not expect it, and I had no support from a place I did expect it.  I still feel the pangs of guilt and confusion, but those are things that crescendo and diminuendo throughout my life and probably always will.  The legacy of being human.

Since I declaerd myself ‘here’ a few days ago I’ve been busy.  I’ve had an induction at the gym portion of my leisure center...I’ve walked and swam.  I’ve also adjusted MFP to a higher level with a goal of losing .5 lbs per week.  I don’t expect to lose that, but the number of calories suits me.  The limit is easily lived within and I’m shocked the way the pressure has lifted as far as food is concerned - it’s not an obsession now, I am merely mindful of it so I don’t go backwards.  Throughout my journey I’ve also been tracking my daily weight.  I made some comments in places where I’d struggled or gained...it’s a mini emotional diary of my failures.  To be fair, I have a few celebrations noted as well.  I closed that list down and started another...called ‘Lori’s Healthy Life’.  I made a quick note of my achievement and that this is not a log to assess weight loss, but one to keep myself accountable.  This is my upper area to try and stay near...if I fall below that’s great, but if I go above I know I need to adjust. 

My whole attitude has changed...a huge weight (no pun intended) has been lifted.  Over the last few months I’ve been wearing a few skirts and dresses, but yesterday I wore one that I never dreamed I’d wear, even if I fit into it.  I looked fabulous.  I’m going to a Christmas lunch with a bunch of girls at The Botanist...it’s a trendy restaurant in the middle of Newcastle and I’m looking forward to enjoying the food and a few drinks.  And I lave a stunning blue sparkly dress to wear.  I tried it on the other night and actually shocked myself at not only how much of a departure it is from ‘me’, but how great I looked in it.

I’m kinder to myself now.  I’m smiling now.  In my heart of hearts I’d love to tone up and shape up further, but with me living healthier it may just happen...but I will not berate myself if it doesn’t. 

The other day I was ‘here’...and now I’m so pleased with the settling in to my new life that I’ve done.