Here lies George...

Yesterday would have been my daddy's 81st birthday. On that same token, Tuesday marks the 11 year anniversary of his death. Kind of sureal... celebrating your birthday one day and then three days later mourning your passing. And everytime I think about it, I realize, my family history is almost gone. I don't have any living grandparents and only one parent. My son will spend most of his life walking in those same shoes. He has both parents and sets of grandparents but only one half of the equation is functional.

Usually I don't think a lot about my dad. A lot of times when I do think of him it's because Toby has done something that so reminds me of his weird sense of humor, or when I marvel at how much my dad would have liked him and how very much Toby would have loved and adored him. But then every year these two days roll along. And those days I think about when he was dead and I was staring at him lying on the bed with the 911 operator in my ear telling me to do CPR and my refusal to do it... because he was so obviously gone... but also because his dentures weren't in and I knew you have to get a good seal to do it successfully. Then right after that I remember my aunt and I planning a great way to cash in on the accidental death clause that had changed on his 70th birthday, just three days before... throw him down the steps and then it looks like he fell down when he had the heart attack. And I remember my mom calling us sick and morbid.

Then I remember all those years later when I was living in Melvin's grandma's house and I had just gotten home and I had a breakdown in my car in the driveway, just crying and keening for over an hour. I never had taken the time to cry before then. All I know was I heard this Reba song and the next thing I knew, the tears were just flowing. If anyone had ever seen me that night they probably would have thought I had gone totally insane.

I remember the silly things like the stinky stained pillow he laid his head on every night while he watched the news, loudly. The way he sat in the chair staring down between his feet, the vericose veins on his legs and his hammer toes. The government pens and the ugly VA plastic glasses. But I mostly just remember that he was my daddy and he's gone. And I miss him... a whole lot today

hmmmm

Well, I've been on my new medicine for about 3 weeks. Apparently this is one of those that leaves you with that numbish feeling. Don't get me wrong, I am totally stoked that I am not crying at the drop of a hat or wanting to jump of a bridge (and not just for a pleasant wintery swim) but I don't enjoy that part of the medicines that makes you feel numb. I don't like feeling like I have to force laughter, that I have to not cry even if I want to. Every night I look in on my boy and I want to cry. He's so big and grown up and handsome and every day I get this lump in my throat. But the tears don't come.

Toby's father has started emailing me. It's funny cause I feel nothing. Well, to be totally honest I feel like sending him an email back that says "$15000! Then we'll talk" He accuses me of being angry and I laugh. Son, the last thing I am is angry. I have zero caring. I don't care. You are a worm who took a few years of my life but left me with an awesome gift. So thanks for your sperm, have a nice life.

Toby has to have surgery again. Tubes times two. Well, there goes my fantastic birthday vacation I've been planning for months. The doc only does surgery on Wednesdays which means it falls plop center in the middle of my 9 days off. Well damn it, I can still do something fun. I'm going to take the punk to Dinosaur World. Might be lame-o but he's two... he still thinks sticks and leaves are awesome good fun. Then post surgery, I'm going to Tally. We'll play tourist. I found a great deal on a hotel so I will still feel like it's a vacation - minus the flattening of the air mattress slowly as I sleep. Bonus will be if I get a room with two beds so I don't have to have a size 12 (yes that's right... his newly bought 11's are too small) foot in my ribcage all night. And I get to see the cousins and David and Heather and maybe if I ply someone with a steak, they'll watch my kid and let me go out for an hour. It's the little things in life that make me happy.

Oh look, my break time is over. Woo hoo. Back to insanity

Really? Can it ever just be about me?

The title of my post is because something has been bugging me. There are very few people I have any contact with anymore and the ones that I do have a very annoying habit of turning any and every comment into a story about how their life currently sucks. Yeah, I get it. You have problems and issues. But if you would pull your head out of dumping all your issues on me, you might see that I am drowning. Actually, I was drowning PRIOR to you dumping your load on me... your load just made it worse!

When I was getting into my relationship with Mike, I had a couple of very close friends, people who knew all my secrets. Unfortunately what most people don't realize is that abusive relationships have a key linking factor - the abuser HAS to separate his victim from their friends and family. If this requirement is not met, the abusers hold over the victim never reaches that tragic level of complete control. So, I watched my friendships fade... Amy, Cathy, Jen, Greg, Melvin. The people who always had my back got tired of the drama, of me calling them crying about the latest offense. Actually, they were gone before the REAL abuse began.

So once I walked out of my private hell, I was left with only my family. And my family has never been the real listening type. David really tries. He however has three kids, a wife, and a demanding life. Chris has no advice for anyone. And Mom... well, she tends to have the Pollyanna view on life... pretending the problem doesn't exist makes it not exist. So I think I talk to myself which really doesn't help. I need to find an actual counselor to talk to... someone who can help me feel less out of wack. But then I run into the issue of what I do with Toby while I do this.

Life just can't stop throwing curve balls at my head.