Wednesday, August 1, 2007

Might be better off just skipping this...

Right now I should be writing several pages of content for our quarterly newsletter. But really, how many different ways can you write about the same 5 products before you gouge your own eyes out?

And I’m preoccupied. So, lucky internet, you get some bullshit stream of consciousness babbling from your resident crazy pregnant lady.

I woke up feeling mean yesterday. I realized I was feeling mean when my boy kitty followed me into the bathroom for our daily snuggle while I brush my teeth. As he rubbed all over my shins, all I wanted to do was kick that cat across the room. Yeah, not my normal reaction to a lovey kitten. So, I spent as much of the day hiding from people as best I could. No one was mean to me, but someone asking how I’m feeling was more than enough to evoke violent rage. All I could think about was punching them in the face. And those were the people I usually like. So, it was going to be an awesome Tuesday.

Then I talked to my family.

My mom is having some pretty ridiculous surgery next week. I’m going to take a week off work and go be another adult to help while she recovers. In making these plans, I figured I should coordinate with my dad so as to be there when I’m most useful. Dad and I figured out a good schedule, and that was fine.
Then dad mentions that he visited the Neurologist, who looked at all his lab work and test results, ran a few tests of his own, then said, “um, yeah, you DID have a stroke last week.” So, we’re all thrown right into the panic from last week. My 51-year-old father has had a stroke and has a 50/50 shot of having a massive stroke in the near future. So, that’s pleasant.

After that news, the family was all making phone calls to each other making sure we’d all received the news, and had all the information. My older sister was shocked and needed time to process. My mom is already covering her emotions by making jokes about dad either fixing all the house stuff, or at least upping his life insurance so she can pay someone to fix all the stuff. (This may seem cold and uncaring, but since Mom is expected to be in charge, and never show weakness, it’s just the way we do things, right or wrong.)
I can’t decide if it’s easier or harder for my little sister who gets to see dad everyday. Is it easier because she can see that he’s still dad, and nothing really changed? Or is it harder because she was there when the really scary stuff was happening, and the possibility of losing dad is more concrete? Or if she’s just like the rest of us, and doesn’t deal well with emotions like: scared, weak and unsure. We deal fine with “angry” “sad” “happy” but these less concrete emotions; these powerless emotions are not our forte.

After that news was covered I started some conversations with my family about my brother. After I wrote about him here, I needed to say it out loud. So, I talked to my dad. Strangely enough, my dad was probably the most helpful person to talk to. I keep forgetting that he’s been through this battle before with his own brother. He knows about family members’ addictions. He actually was really helpful and had some comforting words for me. I’m looking forward to talking with my dad some more about this as I get more used to the idea that my brother doesn’t exist anymore. In his place is a drug addict. And it’s hard to know what to do with him. Do I talk to my brother? Or do I just do what I can to protect my family and myself by cutting off the ties?

Speaking with him is futile. He does nothing but lie, and worse, he believes his own lies. When people have confronted him about stealing money from his baby sister, his only reply is, “I didn’t do that! How can I make you believe me?” He has completely managed to disassociate with his own actions. Shit is scary, and really the only thing we can do is stop supporting him. Which feels like the worst thing we can do. Doesn’t he need the support of his family? But if our support is enabling him, we aren’t really helping are we?

Damn it, this is reading like a bad after-school movie. Sorry, but I warned you.

So, yeah. Another day, another doctor’s appointment. This is another one where I will be asked to pee into a container the opening of which is less than a half-inch wide. Lovely. Nothing says loving like pissing on your hand. Sorry, that was grosser than it was meant to be. But I’m leaving it there because I can.

This shit ain’t fair. I’m so not in a place where I can deal with normal emotional hurdles. Let alone being a crazy pregnant woman who is moved to demented sobbing at the drop of a cheesy commercial, who gets to deal with her father’s stroke, mom’s surgery and a drug addicted brother. Can everyone just take it easy for a few weeks here? I need some time to recover my emotional health.

In other news, PEOPLE GET TO WRITING! This once a week or less posting schedule? Not doing it for me. I know some people are on summer break, but that shit doesn’t fly with me. I need content! Help a bitch out, would you?

And thus ends our Lifetime Movie of the Week. For now.

No comments: