The sads

For quite a while now I have had the same dream on repeat-one way or the other I am unable to get home, for various reasons, and need to call someone for help. I finally looked it up tonight-

"To dream that you cannot find your way home, indicates that you have lost faith and belief in yourself. It may also signify a major transition in your life. "

It makes me sad to realize that so much of myself was wrapped up in a stupid job I hated anyway.

Son of a bitch

Just realized it's 9/11. Why yes, I have been living under a rock, thanks for asking.

It's actually a quite heavy rock, weighed down with things such as "unemployment", "depression", and "am I a good parent?"

I'm bummed that I spaced this day and didn't take part in Project 2,996 like I did last year.

To all we lost, you will never be forgotten.

Need.....pills.......

I've been trying to lay off the prescription/over the counter sleep aids. On the advice of my new awesome doctor, I have been practicing some behavior modification to learn to sleep without them.

1. The bed is for sex and sleep ONLY. If I am lying awake with my head running for more than 15 minutes, I have to get up, go in the other room, and read or watch TV until I think I can sleep. This breaks the cycle of associating bedtime with anxiety.

2. When my head does start running, I need to practice deep breathing, counting my breaths as I go. When an unpleasant thought intrudes, I'm to say "I am not thinking of you right now-you have no benefit when I'm trying to sleep." Then start counting again.

On the one hand, she is right-eventually I do fall asleep. But I feel like it is no where near enough sleep, not to mention the fact that I have bad dreams almost every night.

I am also having an issue with my older son right now, and that is the one thought I am unable to turn off. I finally fell asleep last night, only to wake up to use the bathroom and instantly start obsessing again. It's ridiculous. I am unable to let it go.

So, in the interest of my mental health, I will be asking Dr. the best way to handle this situation. Even if it means totally letting it go. I can't let myself be hurt on a daily basis, I just can't. I'm not that strong.

I'm really looking forward to tomorrow's session.

P.S. How strange is it that I've never been happier, yet I'm getting my heart broken on a daily basis? I have the support of Hubbs and Youngest-what a difference they have made in my life. I'm so thankful.

To 98% of the world.....

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

And what did I learn?

I quit my training as a Crisis Call Center volunteer. The world, to me, is a very scary, very painful place. I have been through so much pain in my life-choosing to listen to it firsthand for 4 hours a week is just to much for me to handle. I had a listening shift yesterday, and I've been basically crying ever since.

So what did I learn? That sometimes strength is in knowing what you can and can't handle.

The fog of grief is lifting

I actually laughed out loud a few moments ago. And I no longer feel like I'm mired in quicksand. Much better. Still sad, but not bone crushingly so.

Something to look forward to-we're meeting Wirecutter in Bodie this weekend-the most well preserved ghost town in Cali! I'm pretty excited about it. You know how when you visit a place, and someone says to you "Oh, did you see such and such?" And you say "No, I had no idea such and such existed?"

Yeah, that won't be happening. Wirecutter has been there so many times he will be an excellent tour guide.

Of course, I'll post pics of our adventures.

Wrecked

I have so many things I want to blog about, but with the passing of Franky I just don't have a lot of motivation. I'll get it back, I just need a few days to mourn.

I've lost several of my loved ones the past 2 years, and it literally feels like there is a hole in the world now. There is a hole, an emptiness, where they used to reside. And no one else can ever fix it-they're just gone.

Franky

Franky and Lula, 1998.

UPDATE:

I just received an email from Franky's daughter. He passed away peacefully August 6th. Rest in peace my friend. You will be missed.

I'm devastated.



I first met Franky in 1984 when I was 16 years old. He was friends with my ex-husbands parents.

He was the first non-relative to hold Oldest when he was born 2 years later.

We kept in touch off and on throughout the years, but our friendship was really cemented when I moved back to Orange County after I had Youngest in 1996.

Youngest called him "Grandpa Franky". We went to Grandpa Franky's house for a meal at least twice a week, just to visit and enjoy each others company.

Things got really crazy for me shortly after that picture was taken. And every once in a while I would just need to get the hell away from the crowd I was running around with, and at those times I'd call Franky and spend the weekend with him, away from the insanity.

He never judged me. He was always there to lend a hand. He would do anything for me, and he did.

Franky has suffered a massive stroke. He can no longer eat or walk, and he is in a hospice care home that is working hard at keeping him comfortable.

I spoke with him this morning, and while he was so excited I called, I could tell it was a bit too much effort to talk on the phone. I told him I loved him and would call him again soon. He asked after the kids and told me this-

"You take good care of your husband and children."

And I promised him I would.

Mother's Day

I'm over it. Missing my mother, combined with some other nonsense from the weekend, has left me not really caring if I ever celebrate another mother's day again. I tried to enjoy it, I really did. Watched a couple of movies, trimmed my rose bush-but the blues have set in, and I just don't care about it anymore.

Or, in the words of Holly Golightly-"The mean reds"

"The mean reds, you mean like the blues?"

"No. The blues are because you're getting fat and maybe it's been raining too long, you're just sad that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?"

Still?

I don't know how long I'm supposed to feel this way before I get outside help. It's been 3 weeks, this actually started before my cat died. But somethings got to give before I break.

Hubbs says we have dealt with worse, that I've had spells that have gone on much longer, but I really don't remember ever feeling quite this bleak inside.

Everything is a fight. I have to make myself-force myself!-to go through the motions in the hopes I will start to feel better. But deep inside, I could care less. About any of it. I feel like I'm stuck in quicksand, and as fast as I fight to pull myself out is as fast as I get sucked back in.

But what outside help do I think I can get? Pills don't work with me, I've tried nearly every one of them. Therapy? I don't care enough to discuss my feelings right now, unfortunately. Besides the fact that my insurance sucks and I probably couldn't afford it if I did care.

Sleep for a few days, and maybe, just maybe, wake up all better? Now that I may try.

Goodbye Newman

I had to put my cat down yesterday. My entire family is totally and utterly devastated.

He was more than just a cat, he was part of my family, and my last link to my mother. It was a very hard decision to make. He was very old, arthritic, diabetic, and losing his sight and hearing. The vet said even if we could get the diabetes under control, he was so old that it was just a matter of time before it was something else.

So we spent the day with Newman, feeding him his favorite treats, taking him outside so he could feel the sunshine and wind. Then we took him to the vet, held him in our arms, and let him go.

I told him what a good cat he was, and how much we will miss him. I also told him to say hello to my sister and mother when he sees them on the other side.

The weird thing? When we were putting him down, the song we played at my sister's funeral was playing.

Goodbye Newman. I'll miss you old man.

Crazy Cat Lady Chronicles

Hubbs and I have had several long cats (I just typed cats instead of talk, it's a typo and I'm leaving it) about Newman, and how far we'll go with this, and what the best thing to do is.

We are not wealthy people, and even if we were, there is a limit to what I am willing to do to keep a cat alive. I hear of people who put their cats on chemo, and feed them through feeding tubes in their necks, and I'm sorry but even to me that seems a little excessive. If I thought Newman was miserable I would put him down in a minute.

I spoke with our Vet today, and he said several things.

1. It is very possible that it is just old age. He is an old cat.

2. It could be something as simple as a bladder infection.

3. It could be a tumor, or some other life threatening problem.

4. If my cat was in pain, I would know it.

Here's what we're going to do. I'm taking him in tomorrow for a urine test. If he has an infection, we will put him on antibiotics, and problem solved. If he doesn't have a bladder infection, that means it's either just old age or something that is going to be painful and drawn out. Which means I will keep him comfortable for as long as I can, then I'm going to have to let him go.

I'm very, very sad over this turn of events. I love that goddamn cat so much, my heart literally hurts just thinking of him suffering, or dying. He has had a wonderful life with us, and we're very lucky we have had him for as long as we had.

I'll either be a complete basket case tomorrow, or I will be able to just get my cat some meds and go on with my life. I don't think that's the case, but we'll see. I'm quite positive it's old age, and I better just be prepared.

I'm also trying to separate the connection between my mother and the cat in my head. All this talk of dying, and sickness, and keeping him comfortable is bringing back all the stuff I went through when my mother was dying. That, and the fact that Mom and Newman were buds-she fed him for years until I brought him in to my home. It feels like my last connection with my mother, and I'm not ready to let it go, no matter how silly it may be.

See?

Even Cleo is worried about Newman-she's watching him sleep.

Make it STOP

I have had a really bad case of the wants lately. I'm not normally like this, and I've been studying myself trying to figure out why.

I think I'm focusing on stupid things instead of focusing on the things that are really bothering me. Clothes, money, whatever. When really-who cares? I have everything I need, and I mean everything. My husband adores me, and there is nothing he wouldn't do for me. My children are healthy, happy, and safe. My home is my own. I love my car. I have a semi well paying job. So why do I suddenly find myself comparing me to everyone around me?

Hubbs taught me a valuable lesson last night-"Run your own race." Instead of worrying about what she has, or how much money he makes, just live your own life. If you waste your time comparing yourself to other people you will go insane. So, run your own race.

I'm trying-I really am. But right now, running my own race means focusing on me, and I just can't.

My cat is on the downhill slide. It happened again, and now I'm sure-he is losing bladder control in his sleep. I know it's just a cat, blah blah blah, but I am severely fucked in the head over this.

My son's (I don't even want to say father, because Hubbs is his father) dna donor didn't even send a card or call on his 13th birthday. He's a teenager now, and that ass couldn't even acknowledge it? It broke my heart when Youngest looked at me and said "Was there anything in the mail for me?" and I had to say "No."

Life is too much for me right now, it really is. It's been a solid week that I've been trapped in this mood, and I just want it to stop. I'm tired. And oh so very sad. Deep down, heart broken sad.

Is it Saturday yet?

This has been one hell of a week. I'm totally ready to stay in bed with a good book and a Xanax or 4.

I've had nightmares every night this week-I go through these spells every now and again-though Hubbs was right this morning when he said "We haven't had to work you out of one of these for a while." So that's good I guess.

When I went to get on the elliptical this morning, I noticed that Newman's (my cat) bed was all wet. Now, I know when cats lose control of their bladders it is not a good sign, so I was freaking pretty hard on the inside. Newman is very old, about 15-17 years old. He's a rescue cat-my mom fed him for years before one day she told me about this sweet old cat with no claws who she didn't want to see spend another winter outdoors. So we adopted him, and as the years have gone by we have noticed age catching up more and more with the poor guy.Seeing his bed wet this morning was the last thing I wanted to see. Part of my deal with Newman is I feel like he's the last link to my mother. And I'm just not quite ready to lose that yet.

Weird thing though-we smelled the bed, and it didn't smell like urine. And you know cat urine is very strong. His haunches were also wet, so I'm not quite sure what is going on.

Anyhow, I washed him and his bed, and we're taking the wait and see attitude. We think he may have thrown up water-which is a symptom of-get this-acid reflux. Newman and I, avoiding spicy foods together.....

If he appears to be sick or in pain at any moment, then we will take him to the vet. But for now, I'm thinking Pepcid and a close eye on the old man.

THEN, after being on the verge of tears all morning, I had to help out with a group of developmentally/physically disabled kids. And this may sound bad, but I just keep thinking "Lula, you're losing your marbles over a cat, can you imagine what the parents of these poor kids go through on a daily basis?" Not that I won't be sad if I do lose Newman, but it kind of put a whole lot of things in perspective in a quick minute.

My Hero

Ellie Nesler, who sparked a national debate about vigilantism after killing her son's accused molester in a courtroom in 1993, has died of cancer. She was 56.

It's sad the way she and her son descended into a pit of drugs of violence-but she's still my hero. I would have done the exact same thing.

More here.

Rest in peace Ellie. You did the right thing.

My Melancholy Baby

Well, he’s not really a baby, though he is my Youngest.

Christmas is no longer just about the gifts and cookies for him-Christmas has now turned in to that time of year when you miss all your distant and lost loved ones. The tears come very easily this time of year, and Youngest learned that on Saturday. He cried and cried like he hasn’t cried in years. He misses his brother, he misses my mother, and he misses his dad.

It was like watching him grow up a little right before my eyes, though I wish he didn’t have to experience that. In a perfect world my Oldest would be right down the street with his wife and children, my mother would still be 5 miles away, and my husband would be his biological father.

In a perfect world.