TWLOHA

To Write Love On Her Arms.  I ran across that web site a long time ago and was really touched by what I saw.  I’m way, way too old for them;  their ministry is for young people who are depressed, who hurt themselves,  not old ladies like me.

TWLOHA  are full of compassion and love and their mission is to reach out in love and get help for those who need it the most.

SI can be so scary, so stigmatizing for a lot of people, they are repelled by what they see when they see the marks, the scars.  So if only someone could write Love on their arms….that they came up with that idea, it just fills me with hope for those people, the ones that they reach.  I have never, ever heard anyone react with compassion to SI. Thank you, TWLOHA, thank you for busting the stigma, for acting with love and compassion, for saving lives.

I want to shout out to the hill tops, to everyone that I see, this is love in action!

Thank you TWLOHA!!!

Check the website out and if you like what you see, consider supporting the ministry.

 

fail…

Yet again I bit off  more than I could chew and I had to rip out the lace.  It’s just too hard, takes more concentration than I can muster now.

I went to the Opera today. Of all places,  I went to the opera.  With my daughters.  My youngest daughter and I got my oldest daughter tickets to see Casanova’s Homecoming for her birthday.  It was pretty funny.   Our tickets were cheap seats, so it was hard to see.  They had the words projected on a small screen above the stage, even though the opera was in English  it was still hard to understand at times, but I couldn’t see a lot of the time because of the seating.

But it was funny.  Lots of plot twists and turns.  The story line was strange.  More than I can describe now.  I got a chance to dress up and get out of the house, which was very good for me.  I’ve been very isolated.

My sisters and kids have joined facebook, like everyone else on the planet it seems.  I have avoided it because it just seems like an exercise in humiliation to me.  I would have no one to “friend” so I just see no point,  and this would embarrass me when my family would see my total lack of friends when they add me to their contacts or “friend” me or however that works.  They have been pressuring me to join anyway because it’s “fun.”

So I decided to set up an account.  Went through the process, declining the offers to find friends/contacts for you because it would be an exercise in futility.  Added my family as friends, etc.  Then got to the part where they suggest friends for you.  That’s when I realized how small my world has become and how rich my families lives are because they suggest you add the friends of those you have added as friends to your facebook page.   And I felt so hopelessly alone and so fucking embarrassed by how I’ve lived.

So I deleted the account, emailed those whom I friended to tell them that I just deleted the account and wished I hadn’t done it to begin with.

One of my sisters isn’t talking to me lately, either and I have no idea what I did to piss her off, I will likely never know. She is a drama queen, used to being the Queen of her Castle and is sometimes very passive aggressive.  I guess she now communicates via facebook.  Oh well.

We were discussing in therapy last session about how little support I’ve gotten over the years from my family.  How that’s made it very difficult for me to trust.   I need to let go at some point, just stop expecting what they cannot give and then I’ll stop getting hurt.  You’d think I’d learn after all these years.

These are the people who I consider my support system, and I’m just now realizing that they are no support, not at all.  I’m afraid that I can’t change, I’m afraid to change.  I can’t live like this anymore, it hurts too damn much.  I’m afraid to trust anyone.

losing it

I’m into the thick of it now. I’m depressed. Thought I could keep it at bay but not this time.

I’m trying to knit some lace for my daughters.  Print O’ The Wave and Swallowtail Shawl’s.  I’ve started and ripped them many, many times over.  I think I have it down now.  I’m using lace weight yarn from Knit Picks in a teal color, can’t remember which one, for the Print O’ The Wave shawl

and Elan’s Silken Kydd in pink for the Swallowtail shawl.

I’m not too sure if I’m going to keep the Swallowtail shawl going, I’m not that pleased with how it’s turning out on the size 6 needles.

Knitting these lace patterns with their fine lace yarn is taking concentration that I don’t have.  But I really want to learn how to do this.  Knitted lace is so beautiful.  If I can put a little of myself, and my love for my daughters into this lace…

(BTW, the pictures are not mine, Print O The Wave if taken from Eunny Jang’s excellent web site, eunnyjang.com, the swallowtail shawl pic is from www.befogged.co.uk) When I get enough done, maybe I’ll take a pic and post my progress.

My goal is to give them something from me that is worthy and beautiful.  I want to give something to my son’s as well, but I haven’t figured out what.  There is a pattern for a knit blanket called “Hemlock Ring” that they might someday appreciate.  Key word, some day.

Youngest son had the flu last week, I’m sure it was H1N1 as DH and both DS’s had the seasonal flu shot earlier this year.  He is still run down and coughing, sore throat, no energy but no more fever.  I’m worried about him.  I think he should see the doc.

As I was waiting for him when he was getting his hair cut last night, I noticed once again that it is impossible for me to read or do anything when there are people around.  The noise and commotion fill my head, it’s impossible for me to tune it out.  I just give up.

Made snickerdoodles tonight from the America’s Test Kitchen Family Cookbook, and it is the best snickerdoodle recipe that I have ever tasted!  I’ll be shocked if they last through tomorrow.

My sister was here a few nights ago.  She married well.  I guess that’s a good way to put it.  As long as she stays married, she wont hurt for money.  We, on the other hand, have struggled in this area most of our married lives.  And now with the downturn in the economy we are struggling yet again.

I have given up my harp and my guitar, two things that have defined me.  We are filing bankruptcy when we can pay the lawyer, isn’t there a certain irony in that?  I don’t talk about this to anyone.  A lot of people are struggling now.  It just IS.

So  anyway, my sister comes over in her new Passat, dressed to the nines and I’m in torn up sweats, she has her new laptop so she can show me this new notation software that she bought for $100 that she can plug into her baby grand electric piano. She doesn’t know that I don’t have my guitar  anymore, that I had to sell it so we could make ends meet…she knows that I had to sell my harp, though…she had just come back from a vacation in Colorado and Wisconsin, and yes, I’m happy for her.  But  I just could not muster up any enthusiasm at all for her.

I’m ashamed to admit that all I could think of were the times that I’ve shown quite a lot of generosity toward her and others, just because I loved them and I could.  Times that I gave them things like sewing machines, good, working, sewing machines, not junk.  Stuff like that, and how it just didn’t matter. I will never, ever bring it up.  I didn’t give them stuff to get anything out of it.  I did it because I wanted to do it. But that generosity has never been reciprocated.

That old saying, what goes around, comes around just isn’t true.  It just isn’t true.

And I think that I’m tired of this life.  I really am tired if this life.  I can’t do this anymore.

my education

I’ve had the Alan Parson’s Project stuck in my brain for 3 days now.  The songs, The System of Dr. Tarr and Professor Fether, and The Raven.  Just what you need to make you feel better, just what you need to make you feel…you’re in need of Dr. Tarr and Professor Fether…Doth Quoth the Raven….Evermore….

It occurred to me that I got my Edgar Allen Poe education via the Alan Parson’s Project and my classical music exposure via Looney Tunes.  Pretty pathetic.

I should update about the school situation but I don’t want to do it right now.  I’m pretty depressed.  Not about the school stuff, that seems to be moving forward in a positive way actually, but I’m drained and depleted and heading into a difficult time of year anyway.

I’m lonely, isolated, stuck, and depressed and see no way out.  I’m not sleeping well.  I don’t want to live like this anymore.

 

I wonder if it’s a “mom” thing, this protective drive we have.  It’s almost primal.  I become Wonder Woman when it comes to my son.

I’ve been working on the follow up letter to send to the district.  I do not appreciate the threat against voicing my concerns about the teacher refusing to implement my son’s IEP.  I don’t appreciate being told not to worry about failing grades, that they are meaningless.  I don’t appreciate being told by the teacher that she knows better than the SPED team what my son needs when he is failing her class.

This also goes against my nature.  I don’t like making waves.  And I’m not looking  forward to fighting her retaliation.  I didn’t go to college and I don’t remember much of anything about composition so I’m having a hard time putting the letter together.  I have good advice, though, from a very good LD/SPED forum, and  I’m very grateful to the kind, experienced and very intelligent people there.

I’m trying not to let my emotions get in the way.  I’m trying to lay out the facts.  I tried to do that at conferences, too, and I actually did OK, even amid the “squeaky wheel” accusations and “shouting’ accusations.  It wasn’t until that story about DS that made me cry that I lost it.  That shook me because I couldn’t stop, and I mean I couldn’t stop for hours.  I have to get a handle on the crying if I’m to fight this, and it looks like this will be a royal battle.

small victory

Man, I was hit out of the blue with an ancient memory accompanied by a deluge of shame tonight.  Shame that weighs you down and makes you want to hide and want to just die.

I chose to rise above that memory and reject that shame.  I had to really think about how to chose not to live in that shame.  How do I reject this shame and rise above it?  I was able to do it.  I don’t know how, but I was able to do it.

I’m not going to go into that memory now.  I’m going to keep it in the past.  Part of what keeps me down, keeps me trapped in my house, afraid of living is living in the past.

I chose to rise above.  I chose life over death.  This is huge.

Battling my demons tonight.   I’ve been battling these demons for awhile actually, but tonight it’s been hard.  That ever present inner critic beating me down.

I begin to think that I can rise above all this, go to school and learn some skills so I can get a job and that damn inner critic starts in: you’re pathetic, a loser, stupid, ugly, inept, worthless…

and I can feel the physical weight of these accusations.  I can’t fight them off anymore.

I ruminate about my recent doctor appointment, feeling shame because the doctor must see me for who I really am, shit the whole world must look at me and see what a worthless piece of junk I am.

I can’t fight these thoughts off tonight.

butterflies

We went to the zoo today.  I specifically wanted to see the butterfly exhibit.  The weather was beautiful, sunny, mid-70’s.  A little crowded, though.  I did ok with the crowd.

It was beautiful.  There were many, many different kinds of butterflies fluttering around, and it was planted with many different flowering plants.  Soft, instrumental music was piped in to add to the atmosphere.

I became overwhelmed with emotion and I started to cry.  I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from all out sobbing.  I have no idea why I had this reaction.  I was so embarrassed.  My two sons were with me and heard me sniffling, asked me if I had allergies.  I just nodded my head and turned away and tried to get a grip.   I don’t understand what’s wrong with me.

the status quo

The Ask Amy advice column in today’s paper struck a chord for me today.

Here it is:

Dear Amy:

I just got back from my family reunion. A situation arose that caused unpleasantness. Some family members suggest that I owe an apology. I would like your opinion. As the day wore on, more and more alcohol was consumed. One of my cousins (age 50) had been seen drinking frequently, and two people voiced concern because he was intending not only to drive home, but also to drive another cousin and his elderly mother.

I chatted with both mother and cousin, who voiced some concern. I offered them sleeping accommodations. I took the drinking cousin aside and said that some were concerned that he was drinking enough to jeopardize his driving. I offered to try to find some sleeping space at my mother’s house, where the reunion was hosted. He said he would be fine. I asked him if he didn’t mind telling me how many beers he had consumed. He said that he had drunk eight or 10 beers, and I said, “That’s a lot.” He then got visibly angry and said he was tired of these games. He told his mother and cousin that he was driving them home “now,” and did so. He drove home without incident.

Some felt that this proved I was wrong to question his drinking. My cousin is now mad at me. Some have suggested that it was none of my business how much my cousin drank and noted that I was the cause of angst when everybody was so happy before.What do you think?

TRYING TO DO RIGHT

Amy says:

Following the reasoning of your family members, your cousin would have had to crash his car for your concerns to be valid — or perhaps his arrest on drunken-driving charges would have sufficed. You don’t owe anyone an apology. When someone is drunk and leaves a gathering where he has consumed alcohol, the people hosting the party can be held responsible for whatever happens once that person leaves. Your cousin’s belligerence when confronted with his drinking is typical and to be expected from someone who has a problem he won’t face.

In dysfunctional family systems, there is the unspoken rule that the dysfunction must be maintained at all cost. This was certainly true in my childhood.

My dad is alcoholic. My mother had binge eating disorder. Her mother came from an alcoholic family. My great grandfather was a violent drunk. My grandmother, who was the oldest of many children, remembers gathering her siblings together and hiding in the closet when her dad came home drunk from the bar. My grandparents did not drink, but the dysfunctional behaviors remained.

I have an aunt, now deceased, who was a severe alcoholic. She never left her house and called people asking them to bring her booze. One of my fears was that I would become like her. I don’t think anyone ever tried to get her any help.

I remember getting beers for my dad and sneaking sips when I was very young. When I found out that my dad was giving my infant daughter sips of wine I knew that I would have to put a stop to that. It was one of the hardest things that I’ve ever had to do, standing up to my dad. I told him to stop and he did.

I’m trying to take a good hard look at my own family now, and see where my blind spots are, where am I trying to stick with the status quo? What dysfunction am I trying to protect?

I try very hard to hide my struggles from my kids. I try to keep my fight very private. I think I’ve been successful in this. They never saw me drink or drunk. I was lucky. I hope this isn’t one of my blind spots.

the mother-in-law

Oooh.  Just checking out this blog of 10 more extremely bizarre phobias tonight and see that I have a name for one of my phobias, something new to add to my list of ailments.

Pentheraphobia: Fear of Mother-in-law.

This is a woman who told me, “Hubby was a good boy, until he met YOU!”  and she wasn’t kidding. This was the final insult.  I had endured multiple digs prior to this but ignored them, not really knowing how to deal with it.  It was then that I made the decision to stop associating with the in-laws.  I am polite.  I don’t visit them.  And I don’t feel bad about it, either.