One quick post and I’m back to my mountain of work. I’m so behind now it’s crazy. I’m down to one day turnaround on assignments. I have to prep two full budgets for each department and then do the monthly finance audit for each as well. I have to have this all done in one day because I just couldn’t get to it yesterday with all the…crap.
The pain today. Well, I’m having trouble sitting upright. Every time I try to smile or laugh it comes out snide and snotty sounding, which I don’t intend, but it’s there. Dayne called this morning to poke me a little. He wondered what he’s done to induce my anger and silence. …. ?! Well, for starters you’re spending your time looking for someone to replace me with…naked someone’s, at that, and you don’t even bother to hide it. You left me upstairs bawling like a child for the entire evening and night without even checking to see if I was okay….
“Okay look, I’m sorry. I know you’re sick (mentally ill – he won’t use those words for anything) and I should have more patience. You’re just being really mean to me and I don’t take that sort of thing well.”
I am? Really? I guess it must be in my posture and facial expression, considering the fact that we didn’t speak last night at all. Ooooh wait. Guilt. That’s Dayne showing guilt. I let it go….we talked for a few moments on the helplessness of it all. Dayne is convinced that Colt doesn’t understand what he is doing or saying. He forgives him for all of it…I am trying to do the same. It’s hellish, feeling things for your children that are not love. I also happen to believe that Colt didn’t actually mean he didn’t want me to be his mom. Those words though, meant or otherwise, will stay with me forever. Rejection is the one thing I cannot do very gracefully, no matter the source.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t want you to be my mom anymore. I’ll still love you, but you aren’t good enough to be my mother.” Were the ones that stuck in my soul.
So what now? Dayne knows his anger has been inherited. He sees himself in his son’s angry eyes. Neither of them react at all now if I cry, and Colt doesn’t see my tears very often (in fact, stopped crying pretty much the same time that M left my life so it’s been a dry spell for a while now, give or take a few incidents.) No one cares though. My father didn’t care, mother didn’t care, ex husband didn’t care, boyfriends didn’t care, girlfriend didn’t care, M didn’t care, Dayne doesn’t care, Colt doesn’t care. No one has ever just given me a hug when I fell to pieces. No one. Well, a stranger once did, but that turned to rape so didn’t work out to be terribly comforting.
I can’t swallow this for some reason. I swallow anything they throw at me….I don’t even fucking bother to chew. I stuff it in, take the horribleness of it all and let it flow through my veins and carry a tiny piece of that brokenness with me, always. When I was little, I could throw it into a dark closet and slam the door, be done with it without feeling a thing. Now, thanks to therapy, I know how to feel these emotions and the only thing I’ve felt since I learned how is pain, rejection, disappointment and worthlessness. Exactly the crap I was avoiding as a child. The worst part is, not only am I now having to walk through life carrying all of these horrible feelings, there are STILL things going on that cause them every single day. It’s not just a childhood trauma when it never seems to stop.
Like I keep saying, I can live in constant physical pain, plan for the next 8 years which may be the last I have to do (some of) the things I want to do in life before the pain gets so great I can no longer function. I realize I won’t even by 50 when I likely need to stop working….the ten year mark puts me at 48. I figure I can squeeze a little extra resolve out of myself and push it to 50, when I can retire on a tiny pension that needs another ten years to mature. I’ll live with that burden though and I won’t let it stop me.
I can live in constant emotional upheaval, floating in and out of depression, anxiety and a mixed bag of PTSD symptoms. I can deal with vicious nightmares every time I close my eyes. Flashbacks. Suicidal thoughts that are so out of my control they don’t even seem to be coming from my head, but from somewhere floating above it. The awkward attachments I will form will have to sustain me through life…I know that too.
I can deal with the meds that make me so tired I need to sleep 16 hours a night and don’t really ever pause my pain. Even the ones that make me twice the size I once was. I’ll be unhappy with my body, and live that way.
I will live each day with blinding headaches until they get so bad I cannot do anything but treat them.
I will raise my disabled son, advocate for him, fight for his rights even when it makes my job at work nearly impossible to maintain.
I will, somehow, work this out with Dayne, work this out with Colt, work this out with teachers and CAS social workers and doctors. I’ll figure out a way to tolerate their behaviour and not let it hurt me when they seem to turn on me. My family is gone. The ones who ‘wanted me’ so they could give me a second chance at life abused me….I still wanted to be a part of them until they left me again, alone with a screaming, miserable baby who had something so wrong with him, alone with an angry partner who gets angrier the sadder I get. My real family is dead. My new family, Dayne and Colt, barely want to be in this with me. I’m feeling burdened, now, overwhelmed and too tired to keep doing this. I mean, if I have to carry all these things with me I would at least like the luxury of thinking that the effort and struggle is worth it. All I’m getting out of life now is pain. Nothing but…there are moments of hope and happiness but those are obliterated as soon as they form. Soap bubbles. I keep trying to catch one and can’t figure out why every one I touch vanishes into thin air.
This is taking me down.
How did this become my life? What have I done wrong?! I’m sorry!! Whatever I did, I’m sorry from the bottom of my soul. Please? Please let me out of this … (Dissolves into messy sobs trying to find a word for ‘everything’).
Everything is falling apart and I don’t understand why. Why is my beautiful child assaulting his peers? He just got suspended for bullying and they note, in the letter, that Colt has physically assaulted this child on more than one occasion. There is a meeting that we cannot miss in order to get him back this time and it was asked that we both attend. I read that, Dayne read it, I felt my body shift inside itself and everything muted. I thought to myself, as Dayne started to raise his voice again:
How did this become my life?
…and I lost it. Fell to pieces. The sounds that came out of me…well, ladylike they were not. Dayne split on cue and Colt sat there as I kind of sank to my knees and bawled. I eventually managed to get to my feet and got a roll of toilet paper and came upstairs to the freezing bedroom to huddle in the corner in the dark. I cried a lot more then. No one came to see if I was okay, but that wasn’t supposed to be the lesson here.
I’m freezing now. I was only wearing a tank top when I ran away to another room.
Sitting here, I paused to listen to what Colt was saying. Dayne kept asking him if he wanted to be taken away?! He asked If wasn’t happy here, with all his toys and things…obviously not from the way he was acting. This prompted the most heart breaking thing I have ever heard in my life.
“Yeah, I’m sorry, but I think I would like to live with another family.”
Dayne explained exactly what he meant and gave Colt the chance to back out if that one but he didn’t. He just repeated what he said. He wanted new parents. He was sorry and loved us but he didn’t want to be here anymore.
Part of me died, hearing that.
Another view into the world that is my son. He doesn’t seem to have any sense of reality. How did I do this to him??! If nothing else … He’s missing the same part of his soul that I am. I swear, I never thought it was even remotely possible to pass than on.
I have never been so without a reason to take my next breath. Even though nothing ever seems to get better, it doesn’t seem possible that it could continue getting worse. I’m a little surprised every single time. I am getting smarter though. Hear that god?! You fucking hear me now?!?
Yeah. I didn’t think so.
Okay guys, this is getting to be too much for me today. I’m not functioning well at this point and will likely be in early tomorrow desperately trying to catch up or whatever semblance of catching up I can manage in this crazy job. I actually have to have two sets of budgets for the next two fiscal years reviewed, revised and approved (from my standpoint) by tomorrow morning. I was given this task on Friday. Friday! God damnit… these people. I mean, they’re very understanding and kind but wow. Nice turnaround time there ladies. (Scowls).
And then the phone rang. My daily chit chat with Colt’s school. On Friday he did a pretty good job although he swore, several times, at students who said hello to him in the morning. He told me that he didn’t like talking to people first thing…which I get, hell, he is ~exactly~ like his father there, but to turn to a lovely little grade fiver girl and return her sweet ‘good morning’ with a “FUCK OFF” is a bit much. I just sat there, jaw slightly agape.
I have a really hard time with aggression, violence, uncontrolled anger etc. My reasons are obvious and are the cause of my complex ptsd.
All I need and want in my life is to have people who love me for who I am, not what I can give them (or take from them). I need someone gentle and loving to walk with me through all of this. I’m currently in gut-churning pain so bad I’m seeing little lights on my peripheral every time I blink or move. The sound of the keys on my keyboard are thundering in my ears…echoing nearly. My everything hurts. Every-fucking-thing. My sciatic nerve is screaming from my ass to my heel, my lower back is on fire with terrible pain, my shoulders are locked and immobile, my neck cramped and all joints and broken bits…grinding like glass being reduced back to sand. My head is pounding in sickening waves and I just threw up the coffee I treated myself to earlier today.
Then the phone rings. I look, see the school, my heart gives one thud then goes dark in preparation of what will come next.
“Grainne, we have some real concerns here….” and on she went to explain that Colt is bullying a kid. (Cue blood turning to ice in veins…..cue panic in the back of my mind…..aaaaand action!)
Michael, this really nice, patient, sweet kid who always volunteers to help Colt both academically and socially, was outside with Colt making snow balls on second break this morning.
Colt made a snowball and said to Michael, “I’m going to throw mine over the fence and you’re going to give me your snowball.”
To which Michael replied, “No Colt, that’s not a fair thing to do. Plus, you can always just make another.”
Of course, (for whatever freaking reason) this prompted Colt to toss his snowball over the fence and then he demanded Michaels. When he said no for the second time, Colt apparently jumped on him and started kicking him while he was down. Several times they reported. She said that it was clearly pre-meditated, clearly thought out and clearly bullying. He’s suspended for tomorrow. I can’t even begin to disagree with them this time. This one is all his fault.
I feel so sick. My sweet, loving, little boy who used to try so hard to make people smile and laugh, is beating up the kids who are the nicest to him for no reason at all.
He was grounded for two weeks after the last incident of suspension (for swearing). We took away all of his favourite toys, his ipad and ipod, computer games, tv and internet…..anything fun that he would miss. It was a long two weeks for him and he counted it down day by day, trying hard to not get into more trouble. Of course, small incidents of swearing and other issues came along but for the most part he was pretty good. The very first day back at school after getting his things back, this happens. Over NOTHING. They were playing nicely; Michael was being good to him; no one was telling him to do anything, bossing him around, not wanting him around…. he just acted like a spoiled brat and a bully. Aggression…kicking his peers? Where the hell is this coming from?! Dayne is a pretty dramatic guy but he has never, once, laid a finger on either of us. He knows that’s the straw that will break me, should he ever think to take that route. I also told him, point blank, if he ever hit Colt for any reason I’d be gone out the door faster than he could count, Colt in arms. The same goes for me…I have never let another man hit me. I divorced my ex husband, in a large part, because he struck me once. We don’t beat people up in my world. That Colt is doing so is triggering the living crap out of me and I don’t know what to do about this. What do I DO? I can’t divorce my kid. I can’t run and hide like my mother did to leave him to face the world on his own. But how can I live like this? The violence is making me panic inside…I’m shaking and frantic just below the surface. My son is the sort of person I have grown to hate. What do you do when that happens? How did I mess him up so much?
I know it’s not all my fault. I realize this on every logical and rational level I have but, I cannot let this slip by as ‘oh well, life is unfair and you’ll just have to suck it up’. I can’t live with someone who is this way but this time, this someone is my child. My disabled, messed up child who I’ve done nothing but love and treat with gentle kindness and constant compassion. My beautiful boy. *Tears at work again. FFS.
I decided to have a baby with a man I loved. We got pregnant and we were so excited. I remember many moments, standing over our soon-to-be child’s crib, smiling down at the cute linens and teddy bears all ready for our little angel to arrive. The baby was born and it wasn’t what we had been expecting, but it didn’t really matter; he was ours and we loved him with every breath we took. We dove in and invested our everything into this child of ours, knowing his life would always be hard; dedicated to taking as much as the burden as we could from him. I argued with Dayne constantly for the first years, demanding to get Colt some help that Dayne didn’t want to admit he needed; he couldn’t face it and called me all sorts of names, chastising me for spending wasted hours on the computer looking for things to be wrong when they weren’t. (Wow those were dismal times. The knot of depression/hopelessness that unfurled as I typed those words was terrible). I fought with daycares and babysitters, the CAS….doctors and nurses. I fought until someone bothered to diagnose him and then I started my fight with the school to accept and accommodate him. It was all worth it…every ounce of energy and love spent, until the day Colt started to flush it all down the drain. I can’t blame him, he’s just a kid. A doubly disabled kid at that… but oh my god what am I going to do now? He’s setting fire to the bridges I’ve built just because he wants to be a dick.
What do I do if/when he turns this anger on me? Please someone, tell me what I’m supposed to do when that happens? What do I do when his anger is setting me off, causing panic and terror to scream through my head?? Right now I’m wired for sound…I can hear/smell/taste/feel/see everything around me including the bits of dust in the air. I can hear people floors away…danger everywhere. I can feel my pulse speeding, my pupils dilating….that old familiar panic calling to me.
All that said, I do realize this isn’t all about me. I just don’t know how much more I can take. Dayne is chatting up naked women on the internet, joining “friend finder” apps so he can ‘hook up’ with local people they find for you by location…. I have tried several times to talk about it but I can’t bring myself to ask about it all. Colt is hurting people, swearing, displaying zero respect for authority, friendship, or people in general. My job is too busy to get done, let alone done well and I’m in so much fucking pain I can hardly stand it.
Desperate to sleep. Escape. I think I’ll get drunk tonight and see what other sources of numb I can find. I’ll take one of anything today to settle some of this down inside me. I don’t want to go home anymore. My one solace. My peace. Gone and replaced by an angry little boy and his angry father.
Why, guys? Why is this happening? Why doesn’t it ever seem to stop? :(
Ahh well now that makes a little more sense. This weekend, starting Friday evening, I was in so much pain I could barely stand to be awake. I managed to get the grocery shopping done on Saturday and then returned home, hit the couch and slept from 4:00 pm until Sunday at 830 am. I got up, got some laundry done, went to get one more errand run and was home by noon. Dayne had to work for a couple of hours and by the time he was done, I was out again. We both tried hard to get me up but I wasn’t able to fight off the exhaustion…just kept passing out on my feet or otherwise. I was afraid I was going to fall and hurt myself so I lay back down and then I was out cold again in mere moments. this is the sort of reaction I get from taking two pain pills or two muscle relaxers in one day but I hadn’t taken more than my usual one of each upon waking. Incredible, how badly these stupid meds affect my body. I’ve grown accustomed to the effects of both first thing in the morning but I still can’t take two or three (like I’m supposed to) if I want to remain conscious for more than a couple of hours per day.
I just ran upstairs for a coffee (green tea wasn’t cutting it today) and there was a lovely silver jewelry booth setting up. I’ve missed those little sales…they have such amazing companies come and sell their wares outside the cafeteria I never go to. :) This one is a great company who guarantee their stuff for life. If you break a chain, replaced; if you scratch or damage a ring, replaced. For life. Pretty amazing deal. I found a lovely white crystal ring with a really cool bridge on it and it looks perfect next to my labrodorite or amber ring (depends on how I’m feeling that morning). It was only $40 so I threw it on my credit card, guiltily. lol…I needed a pick me up though and really, I would have happily spent three times that much so I consider this a victory. ;)
Still really hurting though. My neck/spine/head/jaw/face has such a terrible ache going on I keep wanting to smash my face into the wall to make it dissipate some. Black eyes aren’t my style though so…must find another source of relief. The lovely little ring put a smile on my face anyway. Can’t hurt, well, until Dayne figures out what the charge on the card was for. lol. He doesn’t usually look too close and I’m really good about not spending money so I’ll bet he forgives me this one.
We were chatting last night about how much worse my back is getting. I’m denying it as much as possible but I know it’s true. It’s not just stress anymore…not just a hurdle to jump. I’m not able to live normally anymore and it’s starting to scare Dayne. He watched from across the room as tears slid down my cheeks for a hour….I wasn’t even sad, it was just so painful inside my body I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. Of course, that makes the pain worse, crying. Dayne sat with me and tried hard not to plead, but really thinks I need to get on top of finding a different way to make some money. If I can get something going now I might be able to swing down to part time for my job here at the hospital. I know they’d have little trouble job splitting this one (half and half between two people). I would be able to work out benefits and would continue with my pension contributions and have much reduced hours. One thing this place does very well is accommodate disabled employees. It seems a way out of this mess, if nothing else. Mind you, I need to find that alternate source of income before anything can happen. Writing will likely be the route I will take because it’s something I can do day or night, well or unwell, depressed or elated. If I could just drop the fear and get myself to focus and not be asleep the moment I can be, I might get a bit further ahead. All I know is right now, while I’m in this much pain while mostly medicated, I’m not feeling all that optimistic. :( It hurts my fingers to my jaw when I type, plus, my sciatic nerve is firing off like crazy every time I sit…stand…lie down. God I hate that pain almost more than the headaches. Those are getting out of control too…those damn headaches. I don’t know what to do other than plow through it all. So. Plowing.
Wow I just wasted four hours. I feel like a zombie today. *sigh* Hope you guys are having a better day than I am.
Finally Friday. I had Monday and Tuesday off so it was a super short week but wow, does this ever feel like the opposite. I guess that’s how it work though huh?
It’s snowing here today. That’s all I have to say about that. Only what? 7 months until spring? *sigh*
So Tuesday was a great day. The weather was warm and sunny and I took a nice long drive to a neighbouring town to visit my dearest friend Tiffany (angel, tattoo artist, dearest soul on earth). We had an awesome visit filled with laughs and hugs…I love that girl to no end. She is so beautiful too…long, long blonde dreads, crisp blue eyes and such a beautiful smile…the whole room lights up when she does. Of course, while I was there I got a little more ink. It’s become part of the tradition now, for my annual trip to see her, in fact, we were naming each visit by tat across my body at one point…it’s like I carry my relationship with her on my skin. I kinda love that, in truth.
The greatest part about getting work done is that it’s my own personal form of allowable self-harm. I get to put myself in a lot of pain, force myself through it and, in the end I get this beautiful scar as a reminder of my courage. Its a small thing, in the grand scheme of life, but it means something to me. At first, the ink was a reclaiming, of sorts, of my own skin, but now it’s more of a trophy or a road map…shows where I’ve been and what I’ve seen. I really like that about it too. But the pain…exquisite and sharp….the kind you can’t get away from, like the pain I feel in my bones every moment of every day. It’s like I’m able to pinpoint it…drive it all from my body into the tiny bit of flesh that the needle is piercing over and over as is pushes the ink under my skin. (I gave myself goosebumps writing that. I’m not sure that’s normal …. lololol Surprise Surprise). In the end, the design is magnificent, as always. I’ll post a healed pic here if you guys want to see it. I like to pick the most painful body parts to tattoo so this one is around my ankle an down to the top of my foot. Let me tell you, if you don’t like pain, avoid tattooing your ankle bones. Wowza. I was contorted on the table silently screaming by the time she was almost done.
Oh…a cool kind of thing. Dayne came with and got a little work done too (sexiest tattoo ever. This man is good looking from head to toe to start with but with a little sexy ink? Holy hannah I can barely look at him without my knees starting to shake) but mine was going to take longer than we had to get back to pick Colt up from the sitter after school. So, this man of mine, drove all the way back to home (over an hour drive) and got the boy then turned tail and came back to get me. I was in the last five minutes when they arrived and, of course, I tried to shield Colt from the pain, but he surprised me, again.
“Hi mom! It looks like that is really sore… ” he worried.
“It is baby, but it’s not that bad and I’m so happy I was brave enough to do it! Look at my new tattoo!”
Tiffany stopped working and let him come right up close to see. I don’t bleed at all during tats so it wasn’t messy, just ink smeared a bit and red. She showed him the gun, how she keeps it clean and covered in disposable baggies to ensure safety for her clients, and then she showed him how she mixes her ink in little pots…he was fascinated. She started working again and it was so tender I was hard pressed to keep still. Tiff was soothing (she’s so good at what she does) and kept telling me I was doing an amazing job; was almost there; was doing so great….Colt started to support me along with her.
“Come on mom! You can do this! Deep breaths and it will be over soon my brave mom!”
I love that kid so much. I thanked him and took his hand when he offered it in support. It was just amazing. I mean, I felt a bit odd showing a ten year old the world of tattoos but, Tiff is a close friend, he knows her fairly well (and likes her) and the shop is not your typical tattoo place. There are cabinets of body jewelry and stuff but the tattoo area is clean, tastefully decorated, and very innocuous. There aren’t skulls dripping blood on the walls, in other words. She was honest with Colt and I was too….I’m finding that much better for him…communication works so much better when you’re dead straight and honest with him. (Well, of course, but when your child doesn’t seem to grasp a simple concept you do tend to try to reword it in a way they can digest. Sometimes “It’s a gun with needles that go into the skin to put the ink there. That’s how you make a tattoo” works better than anything else. Plus, he felt super cool, getting to see that stuff. I heard him telling his friends at the sitters about it. lol..yay Colt. I’m glad I could share that experience with him in that limited way.
So, I’m healing up but every time it stings (and it happens a lot lol!) I remember Tiff and the gentle way she talked to Colt; Dayne and his sexy as anything body with it’s tasteful ink; a gorgeous day with blue skies in November; my new car, sunroof open, sailing down the highway in perfect sync with the world. It was a damn good day. I needed that.
Sadly, I don’t really have anything else in life that makes me feel that way. I’m running out of skin though…lol. Going to have to start getting creative for future visits. haha…
Okay. Onto Friday kids. Hope you all have a decent one. I’m running on three hours sleep and I have to hammer payroll in before 10 this morning. *Yawnnnns* Ciao for now. x
Another night full of dreams. I dreamed of M and my father, both following me around outside yelling about how useless I am. I ran from them, down the road to the beach and all the way to the little forest that banks the escarpment; I could hear their voices bouncing off the waves.
“You stupid, selfish, unfeeling whore!” My father called.
I clamped my hands over my ears but it threw me off balance and I kept falling down. M almost caught up to me at one point and was snatching at my ankles with his outstretched hands, trying to trip me.
“You’ve never cared about anyone but yourself!” he spat.
“You’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong I keep TRYING to care but no one wants me!” I half screamed as I tried dive into the protection of the trees.
There is a small swamp inside the forest that I sometimes visit in dreams and I was heading for it, planning on submerging myself in the muck so I couldn’t hear their words anymore. As I rounded a clearing I saw my chance and without a sound, slipped into the underbrush and began crawling on my belly to the swamp that was about 100 feet away. They couldn’t see me anymore and I could hear them conspiring in whispers about 10 feet to my left. They made plans and split up to find me again.
When I reached the swamp they started to call me.
“C’mon now hen, I no gonnae hurt you. You ken I donnae understand yuh, but I can take what I want, when I want…” I involuntarily shuddered at his Glasgow drawl.
I slithered into the muddy water filled with rotting plant and animal materials like an alligator, not a single sound was made. My head went under first and their voices dimmed; my shoulders followed and then the rest of me slid out of sight and I was gone. I felt around the bottom of the shallow murk and touched the slimy rocks, looking for something I knew must be there. Suddenly, my hand touched something that felt like a skull and I pulled my body to it, feeling as frantically as the thick, horrid water would allow.
I found her. My mom, under all that darkness and decay. I used to have this dream as a child and the moment I found her I remembered it all. I moved my body until I felt her bones beside mine, lined up perfectly, femur, spine, skull. I sheltered her bones in my arms and pressed my cheek to her bony jaw, closed my eyes and slept, safe, for a while.