Never look for what you don't want to find

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Sarong by lorikarasek

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the older i get

The older I get, the more I wish I was a kid.  That’s odd, because as a kid I wanted to be an adult. I guess I like pining for grass on the other side of the fence.  

I just don’t fit anywhere, other than in the lines of Sylvia Plath’s poetry.

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Overdrive

My mind is always racing..thinking a bazillion things at once.   Freaking me out.  As we approach the one-year anniversary of my mother’s passing I find myself even sadder. It is a hurt unlike no other. A physical ache..it hasn’t gotten any better.  I rarely sleep/ Would’ve..could’ve..should've s occupy my every moment turning minutes into months ruminating.

I want a break..from me..from knowing all that I know..I want a reprieve of silence..peace..just being..but escaping trauma is akin to running outside your skin.  As days go by, I find myself best described in the lines of Sylvia Plath’s poetry.  

On top of the 40+ pills a day I take and the 6-hour a month iVig infusions, I’m now taking Numenda, an Alzheimer’s Med to help with my symptoms. 

My immune system has a new target, thanks to the Lyme Disease, it’s onto my thyroid and I look like the Michelin Man and can only sit up for brief stints. I am tired of being tired. I’m tired of not living. I have very little hope that I’ll get well.  I’ve lost everything about me that was me.

I’ve done what I call the Ronald Reagan...having sequestered myself isolated from others. I want them to remember the vibrant me..not this impaired and miserable person I now find myself locked within.

#earlyonsetalzheimers

#alzheimers

#lymedisease

#encephalitis

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Drinking the Koolaid..

Harting on people is like drinking poison expecting someone else to croak.

With that said, time is also wasted on the other side.  People who love you accept you, forgive you and appreciate you.

Don’t waste time on the haters.  You can’t explain anything to change their minds.

That’s the hardest part. So, I write and write and write.  And lessons learned..I keep everything instead of sending it.  Sending your feelings and experiences to haters is as productive as peeing into the wind.

With that said..it still frustrates me.  I sometimes wonder if anyone else ever feels weird..obtuse or the “odd man out.”  Maybe I just suck at being human.

Normal people are confident, self assured..capable.  I have never been any of those things. 

Years of therapy can’t undo trauma..that I know for sure.  Effort does nothing to displace trauma.  That’s not an excuse.  It is what it is and people who haven’t been severely traumatized over a long period of time without relief are damaged goods..like me.

Positive people are like nails on a chalkboard.  I always wonder if inside maybe those folks are curmudgeons, like me.  I’m wholly consumed with awareness of my inadequacies.

In my life there have been times when I was in a good place:  great job, friends, love life, skinny, attractive...but I still was stuck in this place with the mantra “I am shit..I am shit..I am shit.”  So, I pretended all was  well, and nothing got better because I cannot un-ring that damn bell.

Here’s the lesson..give people the benefit  doubt  x2 because what you say and do can screw up someone’s psyche and then those damaged folks hurt more people and the cycle is vicious and anxiety producing and it overshadows even the best of times.

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If the hole fits

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Pot meet kettle, yet again

Why is it easy for people to see the wrongs of other people’s ways yet be stone ignorant about their own issues.  The truth always catches up..even to the “perfect” people.  Afluenza.

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Before I forget

Minutes go by like days waiting..for the inevitable..I better write before I forget I ever knew anything. 

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Yes, really.

But your head’s too far up your ass to hear what I’ve got to say.

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My shoes

No, you haven’t walked in them. You don’t even know what they look like.

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I want to meet this person

Somebody else.  I’d like to meet the infamous “somebody else.” As in “somebody else’s problem..somebody else’s job..

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Easier

Should have.  Would have. Could have. Easier than dealing with messy parts of your life.

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What size has my ass been?

I’ve been size 00 through size 18 over the course of my 48 years. Luckily, I’ve rarely had my ass crawl up my back much.  

With that said, at size 00 my ass was flatter than any board I’ve ever seen.  Not good.  Luckily they sell realistic looking ass pads on eBay. I wish I would have known that when I was sporting sexy-skinny hampered by no ass.  I looked like someone sliced the back half of me off.  

To boot, ever tried to buy a woman clothing? If you have, then you know why women might ask, “What size is my ass?”

I found that the pricier the clothing, the smaller my size was. People are willing to overpay just to stay in single digits. 

I was one of those people when I was in the over 16 plus size. Then a woman from high school told me her secret to looking fabulous.  She bought her actual size.  

Granted she is drop-dead-gorgeous whether she weighed 350 or 120, but she owned her normal body weight and happily wore a size 10.  She rocked a 10 into looking like a 5. Just sayin’

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying you have to be a twig to be a hottie.  I think the sexiest women are a 10 in confidence.  There is nothing more attractive than a self-confident, gregarious, fun woman..no matter the size.

I’ve always wished I would be able to have that self-assured feeling, but somehow I always land on feeling obtuse, odd and just plain weird. 

So today, my vanity ass is a size 8, which is a laugh-my-ass-off  size. Back in the day, my ass likely would be about a size 18.  I’m 5′7.  When I weigh 145 I look anorexic.  My healthy looking weight is about 155.  I weigh 183, I just checked.

I’m top heavy after two babies.  I credit a good 25 pounds to my rack, which I’d love to downsize.  In my wildest dreams I’m sought after by a top-rate plastic surgeon who pro-bono gifts me a head-to-toe makeover in exchange for using my experience in an ad campaign. Pipe dream.

I actually won a makeover similar to that...cosmetic dentistry makeover, worth over $10,000.  And I tell you, my teeth kick-ass and take names.  

The bottom pic is #barbieknittle #barbiewhitt #akroneasthigh #kenmore #akron #size10hottie

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Best Used Lego Product. Best Price. Best Service

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#nancymcclamroch @nancymcclamroch #flashylulu #lknight711

I Carry Your Heart With Me

Mom,

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) i am never without it (anywhere i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)

i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

ee cummings

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Who...

Who do you browse on the QT?

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Wow..umm..hey!

I started a blog for my English Angora baby bunny.  I forgot my password. When my new password arrived, I was shocked to see that years ago I had started a blog here.  Obviously, I had used a different email address for Little Bunny LuLu’s blog.

I started to sign out and figured, what the heck..I’ll write something to the great big world out there. The world hide from every single day.

It’s been a long time and many things have changed. I wish I could say the changes have been a fun ride, but it’s been an arduous time that I would much rather wake up from and realize it was just a nightmare.

The most difficult has been losing my mother. It’s been nearly a year and I am as twisted and torn as the day I found out she was gone.  I wasn't close to her and often I downright disliked her.

When I became a parent I realized all the good she had done and how tough being a parent really was.  I never got to tell her that.  

I’ve battled Lyme Disease and a resulting encephalitis for many years.  It has taken most all of me. My thoughts are scattered. I’m in pain. I have a relentless ringing in my ears and I’m confused most of the time.

I recall hearing about how people on drugs get an out of body experience where they are separated and floating, as if away from their own being.  Well, that’s pretty much how I feel all the time.  

My husband and children went for Easter with my parents last year.  I stayed home.  I spoke with my mom by phone.  She had been unwell for some time following a stroke that left her cognitively impaired to the point of being almost catatonic.

I was shocked when she asked me how I had been because I cannot recall her ever asking before. I missed the chance to see my mother because she passed away less than a month after that missed Easter visit.

I know everyone laments about things they wish they would've done. It’s an over used adage, but I would give anything to be given a chance to see her one more time.

Since her passing, I've walked back through my childhood.  I’ve picked up books that were childhood favorites and vintage toys I had loved. I guess I was reaching out and grabbing onto anything that would keep me connected to the life I had with her.  A life I spent absent most of the time.

Nothing has consoled me and if I wasn’t angry with and on sabbatical from God for taking my mother’s life and making her last years miserable, I would pray that he would come get me.  

Instead I talk aloud to my mom and every day, as I grow older, I understand the why behind different things about her.

And then, in the darkness, I remembered that she gave birth to me.  I thought about how she carried me inside her for nine months and that it is her blood flowing through my body.

I realized that although I am torn to scraps about her passing that she lives on in me. In a symbiotic way, I touch one hand to the other and imagine that it is her.  And I am so terribly sorry for the tumultuous life I contributed to.

I’m not her, but she is part of me.  Right now, I’ve sequestered myself way from life.  Cut off friendships, family, life in general.

I try to shake off the things I don't want to know, but that’s like shaking off live skin.  It stays until it dries then dies.

I don't want to know that my mom is gone.  I don’t want to know that whether it’s pre-Alzheimer;s or encephalitis, I won’t ever be capable of the things I used to so easily do.  

I don’t want to know that my Brittany Dawn beloved first cat is gone, and that Gingie Bug, sweet as she was, also passed.  And we lost our Drewbie, and my husband lost his job and so many terrible things happened.  

There is nowhere to hide from everything I don't want to know..and as I get sicker and know that one day soon I wont know who I am, I don’t know how to be okay sitting on the doorstep of a spent life where hope would be a pipe dream.

Anyway..that’s the update..and it sucks..and there is nothing left of me to give to anyone..I am a pane of shattered glass, tepidly held together, unable to face even the light of day.

I hope life is better for you,  Really, I do.  Please forgive the typos and grammar errors.  My brain isn't what it once was and I have the SPECT scan to prove it.  

Be well.  I would say God bless, but like I said, I am on the outs with God because him taking my mom’s life was wrong and horrible and left so many people a wreck.

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