Don't Blink!

Because if you do, you could miss something.  Your life really can change at the blink of an eye.

Have you ever thought about suicide?  I mean seriously thought about it?  Well, I did the other night.  But it was the night before my youngest son's birthday.  I would have hated for him to remember that his whole life.  The next day, on his birthday... I thought about homicide.  Seriously thought about it.  Actually had to call two of my best friends to talk me down.  Calm me down.  I seriously think that if I didn't leave that night, that I could have killed him....

Today, my kids had swimming lessons.  I took them and I watched them swim, smile and laugh.  I helped Ayden with his homework.  He fell off the bleacher and hurt his leg.  I held him, kissed him and wiped his tears.  On the way home, I heard the music in the background of my mind.  I heard the kids chatting and singing in the background also.. But what was so loud was my thoughts.  I lost myself in them.  I thought about, "I wonder if taking a bunch of Lortab with a bunch of my HBP meds would kill me."  I wondered if it would be painful or if I would throw up.  I wondered if I took a bunch of Advil PM's with the other pills if then I would just go to sleep and then die.  I thought about when I could do it.  I thought about where I could do it.  If I did it at home in my bedroom at night after everyone goes to bed, my oldest son would find me in the morning because he is the first one up.  I thought about doing it after everyone went to school and work/golf.  But again, my oldest would come home from school and find me.  I can't do that to him.  I thought about taking a drive to the lake and taking the pills and pushing myself out into the water on a floating device.  Someone would find me.... eventually.  I thought about going out to the desert... Red Rock.  Taking the pills and then hiking up into the hills.  Somebody would find me.... eventually.  So many options.  I then started thinking about my kids' life without me.  Who would go to the Mother's Day Tea with them?  Who would they give Mother's Day flowers to?  Who would kiss them and tell them goodnight or wipe their tears when they were hurt or sad?  Who would pick them up from school and take them to swimming lessons and golf lessons?  Who would help them with their homework?  Who would do my daughter's hair....just right?

I cried all the way home.  Hunter sat in the passenger seat asking me what was wrong and all I could do was shake my head.  He kept looking over at me.  He handed me a tissue.  I saw the look on his face.  It broke my heart.

I've lost my mom to Alzheimer's.  I've lost my brother.  I've lost my Aunt.  I've lost cousins....my entire family.  And now, I've lost my dream home, the security of "family" and my husband.  I am done trying to live.  It's too hard.  Every time I take a step forward, I get pushed back two steps.... therefore never getting ahead.  I started taking a "mood" pill about a month and a half ago.  Greg didn't like the idea because it would take my sex drive away.  But I thought it was more important for me to not be depressed.  I thought it was working.  But I'm not sure.  Because I've never felt so strongly about ending my life.

I don't want to go on.  But I don't want to leave my kids.  I love them and they are what keep my alive.  That brings me to this.  If I move forward with the divorce.  Then I 'could' lose my kids.  He is vicious.  He is ruthless.  He would do ANYTHING to get them from me, include telling people that I'm crazy.  If this happened and I did lose them.  I would die.  Literally.

I am tired of this fight.  I'm tired of every month fighting with him.  Every single month when he KNOWS that I am PMSing, he pokes at me.  I don't know if he knows he does it, and I've brought it up to him (in the midst of the last battle.)  But what I do know is that it happens like clock work.  Something so small has turned into World War 3.  If he had of just walked away like I told him to the first time after he accused me of being the reason Aria lied.  None of this would have happened.  But no.  He couldn't.  He had to keep on and fucking on like he ALWAYS does.  HE always has to be RIGHT.  He made something his business that wasn't.  Then he said that I was treating my children the way my mom treated me.  This is what sent me over the edge.  Those of you who know my childhood story, know that I do not even come close to treating my kids the way I was treated by my mother.  In fact, I pride myself of doing the opposite.  For him to throw that ONE thing at me that he KNEW would hurt me the most was unforgivable.  ESPECIALLY with everything that's happened in the last six months.  And THAT is when I reacted and said those infamous words:  "FUCK OFF".  And this sent HIM over the edge.

I maintain that I REACTED to HIM and that is what started this whole thing.  But he of course... as usual blames me for EVERYTHING.  EVERY TIME.  I'm done.  

From the Pits of Hell

I can't believe I haven't written since May.  I don't even know where to start.  I have so much stuff swirling around inside my head.  My head feels like it's in a vise.  Like it's going to explode.

So, I put my mother into a nursing home in Montana.  I went up to see her, along with my brother, Richard in July.  It was nice to see her.  She was a little worse than the last time I saw her.  Marian said she was the same but Joe said she was worse.  (You may notice that I'm not saying "Auntie M" any more.  I will explain later why that is.)

This was a hard trip for me.  Not only because my mom is withering away, but because of Richard.  It is so blatantly obvious that my "Aunt" dotes over Richard.  She loves him.  She seriously adores him.  I've always known this.  It's no secret.  Yet, I still allow it to bother me.  Richard treated me pretty much like shit while we were there.  For instance, he took my niece to the Harley store and bought everyone a shirt except for me.  Okay, whatever... yeah it bothered me.  But I got over it.  But what I didn't get over was when he would out of the blue scream in my face.  And when I say "IN" my face.. I mean like 2 inches from my face, at the top of his lungs.  He did this in front of our entire family.  Then he acts like he's going to hit me.  And he laughs as he walks away, calling me stupid.  I was scared.  I was humiliated.  All I could do was go into the room I was staying in and cry.  Joe told me to get over it, he didn't mean it.  I couldn't even go out and sit next to my mom and eat dinner because he was there.  He completely ruined 4th of July dinner with my mom for me.  This kind of behavior went on the entire time we were there.

On the Wednesday after the 4th, Richard's friend came into town to ride [motorcycles] back home with him.  That evening, Rich collapsed onto the back patio.  Joe took him to the ER and turns out he had kidney stones again.  They put him on some serious pain meds and some other meds to try to dissolve the stones.  That evening, I was hanging out with my friend Brian and also Rich's friend Dozer.  After Brian left, Marian went to bed.  She asked me to quiet down because she had to work early the next morning.  I was showing "Big D" my facebook page with pictures of Rich when we were younger and also of my tattoos.  We took Marian's laptop and went downstairs so that we could talk without bothering her.  (Rich started to drink beer as soon as we got back from the hospital and also smoke his pot.)  He was in the room next to us "sleeping", so we had the door shut.  I had my back propped up against the headboard with the laptop on my lap.  Richard literally stumbled into the room whilst saying, "You two got your clothes on?"  He grabbed a lighter (so he could smoke some more pot, I'm sure) and stumbled back out.  Yeah, it was haha funny.  I'm telling you this story because it is relevant later.

The next day, we all went back home.

I returned in November to see my mother.  It was the week before Thanksgiving.  Rich was going up on Thanksgiving.  The day I got there was super hard.  Marian and I took mom to Sears to buy her a new bra.  She end up not being able to make it to the bathroom and poops in her pants.  We get her to the bathroom and then she accidentally did it again, all over the floor and wall.  I had to run and buy her a pair of new pants and a package of panties.  We got her cleaned the best we could and changed.  I had to go tell management so they could block off and clean the bathroom.  Horrible first day to see my momma.  I felt so bad for her.  And she seems so oblivious to what had happened.  I felt guilty for being embarrassed.

So, after we get home, I get a text from Richard.  "So what's this shit I hear u've been cashing moms social security checks?  I'll be there next week if I find out thats true, I'll burn u down...  I wont quit til ur in the federal pen..  Ur going to hell..  keep talkn shit... I will start talking too  :)...  U should be ashamed of urself... Stop talkn shit or i will talk..  fucken lien peice of shit.."  (this went on for hours...  He called me a lying slut and my husband a fucken faggot.  Now, remember when I told the story earlier about his friend whom I was talking to downstairs?  Well, sure enough, Richard called my husband and proceeded to tell him that he walked in on us screwing.  (First and foremost, I would NEVER do that!  Second, I was on my period and anyone who KNOWS me... KNOWS that I won't do that!  And third, I would NEVER do that!)  Then he also proceeded to tell my husband that I was sleeping with someone else.  I told my husband exactly what and who Rich was talking about and the circumstances.  I did not, nor would I cheat on my husband.  But I guess I've got to give it to my "brother" for trying his damned best to break us up!  [And when that didn't work, he got our cousin to tell me that my husband has been cheating on me since the day we got married and that he saw it with his own eyes.]

(I started writing this over a month ago and never finished.  Because it is so damn hard.  So, I will try to finish this part up because I need to dive into a new chapter.)

This behavior went on for a long while.  Richard finally stopped with the texts... ummm... because I BLOCKED him from contacting my cell phone.  He did create an account on Facebook and started to harass me there.  I blocked him from there too.  I actually made myself invisible on FB so that anybody that is not my "friend" on there can't see me at all.  I just don't exist.  I have been completely disowned by him, Marian and everyone else on my mother's side, except for my sister Sherry and my cousin Sandy.  They know the truth.

Richard & Marian took my mother out of the home one day and took her to Marian's house.  They had Uncle Bill's granddaughter over to be a Notary Public.  She notarized a revoke of my power of attorney. I KNOW that it wasn't my mother's signature.  It was Marian's.  Then she notarized a new power of attorney making Richard in charge.  And to top it all off, the nursing home actually accepted these documents form a severe Alzheimer's patient!  I am so fucking angry.  I hate them!  And I am so glad that my mom has Alzheimer's and doesn't know what these people are doing and what the really are.  Sad.  Just fucking sad.

Anyway, that's it for now.  Maybe I'll go into more detail later about it.  Thanks for reading!

Truths

Truths.  What are they?  And why are they so hard to get out of people?  I grew up with lies all around me.  I don't think one single person knew what the truth was.  And all these years later, I asked my mom questions and still nothing but lies came pouring out of her mouth.  I tried so hard to tell people in my family how I felt about certain things.  But I was always shunned for it.  I was the bad person for wanting the truth.  I was the bad person for TELLING the truth.  I was asked why I would want to dig up the past when the past cannot be changed.  Are you kidding me?  I cannot even begin to heal without facing the truths of my past.  I have to feel in order to heal.  As hard as some of these truths may be to swallow, I must do what's best for me and that is the HEAR them as they come.

Last weekend I spoke to an old family friend named Helen.  She has known my mother since I was about a year old.  They were best friends.  If anyone knew anything about my mother, it would have been Helen.  I have wonderful memories about Helen and her husband Meril.  I received a letter from Helen right before taking my mother to Montana.  I hadn't had the time to reply to it or call her until now.  We ended up talking for quite a while.  I don't know why I never thought of asking her questions before.  Maybe because I wasn't ready for the answers until now.  Maybe because what I was about to hear was finally the TRUTH.  

I don't even remember how we got onto the subject of my mother and father and Teresa, but we did.  She told me how bad we were treated as kids.  How we were constantly left alone to fend for ourselves.  How my mother hated my sister Teresa from the day she was born.  When I asked Helen why, "Why did my mother hate her so much?"  Her reply was very simple and to the point.  "Because Teresa wasn't Wayne's.   Teresa was also born with olive colored skin and black hair and eyes.  She was a constant reminder that she wasn't Wayne's."  I asked her if she was sure, and she replied, "Yes."  That was all I needed.  With this bit of information, it gave me the strength to keep digging.  I asked Helen if she knew what my dad was doing to Teresa.  She said yes, she knew.  And she had felt guilty all this time for not doing something, really doing something about it.  She told me that she tried to get my mother to 'give her Teresa.'  But she wouldn't do it.  Helen begged her to let Teresa come live with her, so that she could try to give her a better life, a life she deserved to have a chance at.  No.  My mother wouldn't do it.  I then asked Helen if my mom knew what was going on between my dad and Teresa.  She didn't speak for a moment and then she said, "Yes, she knew and she hated Teresa and blamed her for it all.  She was jealous of Teresa.  Teresa was taking Wayne away from your mother.  That's what she saw.  She just could never love her Michelle.  She wouldn't even try."  All I could do was sit on the other end of the phone and listen.  My heart beating hard and breaking at the same time.   My head was swirling.  My anger spiking.  My blood boiling.  Sad.  I was very sad to hear this.  I suspicioned it all along, but to actually hear it just made me dizzy.  That is a hard truth to swallow.  

So, now I'm faced with knowing the truth.  My mom did know what was happening between dad and Teresa.  She chose to ignore it.  She chose to blame her own child.  She turned her back on her own flesh and blood.  And she put me in danger of the same horrible truths.  For some reason my father didn't do those things to me.  I don't know why.  I never will know.  And it doesn't really matter why, because I witnessed things through my childlike eyes that most would think impossible.  My childhood was ripped from me.  I hate my parents for taking that from me.  I hate my dad for doing what he did to my sister.  He tore her soul out and left her an empty shell of a person.  Our mother turned her back and just walked away.  I hate my mother for knowing the truth, but not speaking it.  I was left with the guilt of knowing and not doing anything.  But what could a child do that was scared to death of losing the only family she knew?  And I don't think I will ever know the true path that Teresa ended up taking.  What ever became of her.  Where she is now.  Or how all of this affected her entire existence.  

Now, every time I think of my mom, I have mixed feelings and emotions.  I miss her.  I hate her.  I love her.  I am disgusted by what she did.  I resent her.  I love her.  I have to learn how to forgive her for me.  Now, when I talk to her, I have to remember that the woman who knew about the terrible things happening to her children and never did a thing about it... is gone.  Forever.  I have to come to terms with that.  I can never again question her about my childhood.  That chance is forever gone.  And now I must find a way to move forward.  Forgive and lose the resentments.  I have to rely on God for this one... because I sure can't do it alone. 

And in the end... I'm still glad that I know the TRUTH.  

Home, Where Art Thy Home?

After finding out the diagnosis of my mother's Alzheimer's, I was faced with a very difficult decision.  Do I keep my mother living with me and me taking care of her?  Or do I put her in a nursing home where she can have constant supervision and care.  I faced the guilt of doing this to her.  I prayed.  I talked to many very supportive friends.  My husband was amazingly supportive.  Certain members of my family didn't seem as supportive at first.  I felt like I was giving up....giving in.  But when after I made a few phone calls and things just started falling into place, the answers seemed to be coming from a Higher Power.  And within a few days, plans were made, a room was being readied and tickets were purchased for me to fly my mom to Billings, Montana.  A room was ready and waiting for her at the Eagle Cliff Manor in Billings.  We left arrived in Billings on a Thursday evening in April and the next morning my cousin S came and picked me and mom up and took us to the Medicaid State Office.  I was there a total of about 10 minutes, papers were filed and we were out the door.  Then we went over to the nursing home and had mom into a room within about an hour.  She shares a room with Pam.  Pam suffers from Alzheimer's Disease like mom.  It broke my heart to see my mom sitting there on her bed, looking so sad, so broken and lost.  Hugging her and walking away from her, leaving her behind in that place, was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do.  There was nothing I could do to stop the tears.

It's hard to talk to her on the phone.  I can barely keep her on the line for more than a minute.  She just laughs at whatever I say and doesn't say anything back really.  It's heartbreaking.  I've never lived in another state from my mother.  This is really hard.  I miss her.  But even more, I'm in utter shock as to what this disease is doing to her.  The mother that I knew and loved is gone forever.  And my life has forever changed....again.

Winds of Change

I haven't written in so long, I'm not even sure where to start.  My mom was diagnosed with Dementia in August of 09 and it quickly turned into Alzheimer's Disease.  Yesterday the doctor told me that she is approaching severe Alzheimer's.  The paranoia has set in and she could start to hallucinate soon.  This is a danger to the children and frankly to us too.  I've tried for months to get her some financial help here in LV, but to no avail.  My friend was telling me about a facility in Billings, MT that she used to work at and a thought came to me.  What if I could get her into a home in MT?  So, I made a call to the home she worked at and to my Auntie up there.  Auntie M got me the number for the Medicaid office and I called them.  Turns out that the home has an opening, so they told me to have mom's doctor fax all her medical records to them.  Check!  The Medicaid office told me to print off the forms and get started on filling them out.  Check!  Auntie M also called her friend who works in the VA office and is going to start the ball rolling to get her benefits up there since they are doing nothing for her here.  This has been a very long road.  I'm very sad that mom is going to be so far away, but in the long run it is best for us and for her.  I think she isn't very happy about it, but she will adjust.  I'm looking to be taking her up there with in the next few weeks.  I'll keep you all posted.

Ghosts

I've been doing a LOT of thinking lately about the ghosts of my past and my childhood.  I've been thinking of my dad's father, Henry Thomas M****w.  And my dad's mother Doris.  She is still alive.  My grandfather was murdered like 20 years ago.  I've Googled his name and can't find anything on him.  I don't remember a lot about him.  I was told stories about how he was in many prisons and broke out of most of them, including San Quentin.  I've seen a newspaper clipping of him as a prisoner.  Something to be real proud of huh?  But what do I personally remember about him?  He liked hot sauce on EVERYTHING.  And when I say everything, I really do mean EVERYTHING!!!  Even toast!  I remember one time he made a bet with me that if I could have something other than a cheeseburger for breakfast at a restaurant then he would eat his breakfast without his hot sauce.  We both did it!  I remember when he was at our house visiting, he and my dad would drink a LOT.  They would both run around in their underwear, which was very small and pretty much see through.  I remember a picture of my mom sitting on his lap.   I believe not so good things happened between him and my mother and father in the bedroom.    Then there was the one time when we came home from school and Teresa had said that Grandpa had been at the house.  That he had tied her to a chair and that he had touched her.  No body believed her.  Nobody every believed her.  I didn't want to either.  He was my grandpa.  And Teresa was so mean to me.  I hated her.  But I also knew what she and dad had been doing.  I didn't know any better.  I thought it was normal what they did.  I had no idea that she had been manipulated as a child.  I know better now.  

I would like to now touch on something that me and my Al-anon sponsor discussed the other day.  We were talking about how when we were kids, the people in our lives would make deals with us.  For instance, "I'll do the dishes for you if you don't tell such and such."  Or "I'll buy you a soda if you don't tell this or that."  One time my sister had three boys in the room with her and I walked in on them.  I was innocent.  I didn't know that what they were doing was wrong or bad.  These were things I saw on a daily basis.  One of the boys came out and told me that if I didn't tell anyone what I saw and I went to play outside, he would buy me a whole six pack of soda.  Now coming back to current time, all of the sudden it donned on me that my husband had been repeating my history.  He used to playfully make deals with me.  "If you have sex with me, I'll hang that picture for you."  You get the picture.  This stunned me that I never recognized it before as him repeating my history.  I knew it really bothered me, but I didn't really know why.  He would also call himself "daddy" to me.  Can you imagine that one??  Yeah.  The problem with this is that he didn't know WHY these things bothered me.  There are a lot of people that play around like that and I don't really think that kind of play is abnormal in a healthy marriage.  But when one of the parties is being tortured by the demons of her childhood, it is a problem.  

I want to share another memory with you.  The other day I walking with my youngest child and there was a man walking in front of me with a lit cigarette in his had.  He was just swinging his arms and not paying attention to that cigarette.  It could have easily hit my child.  My mom used to burn me all the time with her cigarettes. The cigarette would sear my skin and the ashes would fly.  It hurt so bad.  There was an awful smell of burnt flesh or hair.   I'd cry.  She'd scream at me.  Wasn't it MY fault that HER cigarette burned me?  Because wasn't it ME who wasn't paying attention or being careful around HER cigarette?  Yeah.  It was.  

Am I derived from Evil?  I feel like I am.  My ancestors on my dad's side are all crazy.  They are!  Literally Psycho!  They don't know how to tell the truth.  They only know how to lie, manipulate and break the law.  They live in filth.   They have sexual relations with each other.  They are or have been in prison.  And none of them will tell me anything about my sister!

I am surrounded by the ghosts of my past.  Will I eventually just go crazy like them?  Or will I be able to crawl out of this dark grave and be the person I know I'm supposed to be?  Will you be attending my funeral or will be witness to the rise of a Phoenix from the ashes of hell?  I choose the latter of both.

Wilting Flower

As you know by now, my mother was diagnosed with Dementia about six months ago.  She has now progressed on to Moderate Alzheimer's Disease.  There are ten stages to this disease and she is between stages five and six.  She is still living with me and it becomes more difficult each day.  She hardly ever talks to anyone.  She "wanders" around the house constantly.  She is extremely confused.  If she runs out of something, she cannot remember what it is called, what it is used for or where you find it in the store.  This can consume a great deal of time for me when trying to figure out what it is she needs.  She used to offer to help a little here and there with cooking and dishes and stuff.. but now she doesn't at all.  I don't think she can even comprehend "helping" anymore.  She used to come unlock the door and open it for me when she would hear me pull up.  Now, she will stand at the window next to the front door and watch me struggle to unlock and open the door with my arms full of groceries.  I feel like I'm being "stalked" all day as she wanders around the house and peeks around the corner at me whether I'm in my room, the kitchen, living room or office.  It creeps me out sometimes, but I guess I'm getting used to it.  I thought at first she was spying on me, but now I realize, she is just "wandering."  This is one of the effects of Alzheimer's Disease.  (Just now I heard her bones cracking and turned around and she was "peeking" out from around the corner.  I asked her what she was doing and she said, "I was watching you."  I told her that she didn't need to "peek" that it kind of creeped me out, I also told her that if she wanted to watch me, she was more than welcome.) 

It's so hard to look at my mom.  I feel bad for saying this.  Guilty.  But it's true.  When I look at her, she just looks so different.  So broken.  Her hair is getting too long and straggly.  I asked her if I could take her to get a haircut and she told me no.  She cut her own bangs and they are way too short and just awful.  She used to color her hair and now she just keeps it silver, which isn't so bad, it's just different than what I'm used to.  I think her personal hygiene is beginning to suffer.  I don't know what to do.  I feel so lost and really alone right now in my feelings.  And very ashamed of my feelings and thoughts. 

I keep having thoughts that I don't want my mother to live very long like this.  How horrible.  I keep thinking that I can't stand to watch her deteriorate at this rapid rate that she would be better off dying.  And then I sit and cry for having such horrible thoughts.  For being such a horrible daughter.  Horrible person.  (The tears are streaming down my face as I type this now.)   But let me explain something.  Would YOU want to watch your mother suffer?  For possibly years?  Would you want to watch her live a life of misery?  Not know who you are or even who she is or who she used to be?  To me, that is the tragedy!  I pray that this disease is quick to release her.  You may think I am a monster for praying for that and that's okay.  I'm the one who has to be at peace with it.  And at peace I am. 

Another side to dealing with my mom's Disease is the anger.  You may think that I'm referring to being angry over her becoming ill and me having to take care of her.  But that's not it.  I'm angry because my mother does not remember all the horrible things she did to me and my siblings.  She doesn't remember what my father did to Teresa.  I'm not even sure if she remembers Teresa at all.  Or even my father.  She knows who Richie is.  She was very happy to see him on Christmas day.  She also knows who Aunt Marian is. 

Speaking of Christmas.  She sent out cards to everyone and I didn't know it.  Aunt Marian called me and told me that she signed all the cards to her nieces and nephews "I Love You, Grandmother."  She also addressed Jim's card "Butch (his old nickname) and Sherry F****w.)  Sherry was not his wife, but his sister.  She also passed away three years ago.  This was quite disturbing to them.  My cousins were calling and asking what was going on with her.  They know, but none of them bother to call me and ask how she is doing or ask if they can help in any way.  (Talk about angry!!  THIS makes me angry!)  All of the sudden they care??  Because of the way she signed her Christmas cards?) 

Well my friends, I'm going to wrap this one for now.  I wanted this blog to be about mom and how it makes me feel to deal with her disease.  You may be wondering why I titled this one "Wilted Flower."  Because my mom used to be a flower, just as we all are, but today I get to watch her wilt away and die.  This terrifies me.  One because I'm not ready to lose my mother as I knew her.  Two I'm not ready for her to die.  And three, I'm scared to death that this will happen to me too.  I don't want to wilt away like she is.