* I need to post about Avitaween
* I need to post my room remodel / fall pics
* I need to update my blogroll
* I need to move this buggy to WordPress
* I need to be answering my comments !!
I'll try to get to all of that and more later this week !
Keep checking in !!
Thanks !
Tuesday
Monday
HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM !!!
(Avitaween post will come later, today I am celebrating the woman who graced the world with my presence - my MOMMY!! Yall should celebrate too ! )
Happy Birthday Mom !!! _ _ years of life on this earth and you are still kicking it's butt !
I love you and thank you for being an amazing mother, wife, mentor and friend !!
Happy Birthday Mom !!! _ _ years of life on this earth and you are still kicking it's butt !
I love you and thank you for being an amazing mother, wife, mentor and friend !!
Wednesday
Bullet-Tin...
I haven't been in a writing mode the last few days. Well, I have, but they are gut wrenching and pukealicious ( on my end ) so I said the hell with it and am just taking a bit of a break.
I've been off work all week because of a remodel, and have been keeping myself kind of busy...spending time with my dad, and dealing with mortgage companies, bill collectors, lawyers and all of the other components that make up the Dreaded Bureaucracy of Death.
But very soon, I will be heading to Avitaween. There I will be seeing some of the most awesome people ever.
And then I will blog about it !!
To quote my friend Britt, "I’m going to enjoy the next few days with people I hardly ever see. I’m going to set aside the suck, knowing it will be right where I left it when I’m ready to dive back in, and just not think about that right now."
Yea.
Fun??
I'm gonna GET ME SOME !
I've been off work all week because of a remodel, and have been keeping myself kind of busy...spending time with my dad, and dealing with mortgage companies, bill collectors, lawyers and all of the other components that make up the Dreaded Bureaucracy of Death.
But very soon, I will be heading to Avitaween. There I will be seeing some of the most awesome people ever.
And then I will blog about it !!
To quote my friend Britt, "I’m going to enjoy the next few days with people I hardly ever see. I’m going to set aside the suck, knowing it will be right where I left it when I’m ready to dive back in, and just not think about that right now."
Yea.
Fun??
I'm gonna GET ME SOME !
Monday
Blogging, Integrity and Truth...
The last few days there has been an Internet controversy regarding a series of tweets and a blog post by a very popular mommy blogger. I read this person's blog, follow her on Twitter and called her my "Internet friend."
If you've missed it, you can google catch up here. And here, here, and here. It's been quite the crap storm and puts every type of blogger in an unwelcome position.
I personally have my own opinion on the whole thing, but I'm not going to vilify anyone or spew vitriol out about the situation. My opinion, as well as whether or not I share it, is mine to do with what I want. I hope the person who started this BS gets what she needs to help her and that somehow this whole mess can become a positive in some minute way, because right now it's just a big old negative in blogville.
There are lots of other bloggers that have posted amazing responses to this whole thing on their blogs. Please take a minute and check them out.
I will say that even though I don't have ads on my blog, I don't get paid and I never get chosen to review things I pour as much of my heart and soul into this blog as many way more popular (and sponsored) bloggers do.
I've had this blog for almost two years, but didn't really start posting regularly until Gregory died. It's been my outlet, my pressure vent, and a portal into a virtual world where I have met so many amazing people. many of whom I will call my lifelong friends.
Everything I post here is the truth. The emotions are mine, the feelings are mine, as are the words.
Most days I just sit down in front of the keyboard and the words flow out. Others, I may have an idea for a post and write it a day ahead of time. And some days I just do memes or post a picture or a quote that has touched me that day.
But in the end, it's the truth. I may get over-emotional and weepy and be dramatic, but it never morphs into a lie. As bloggers, we have all stepped back and forth over invisible lines that separate fact and fiction. It's the nature of writing.
But this is my truth.
And to lie about anything involving that would dishonor the person whose name is forever written in stone and on my heart.
If you've missed it, you can google catch up here. And here, here, and here. It's been quite the crap storm and puts every type of blogger in an unwelcome position.
I personally have my own opinion on the whole thing, but I'm not going to vilify anyone or spew vitriol out about the situation. My opinion, as well as whether or not I share it, is mine to do with what I want. I hope the person who started this BS gets what she needs to help her and that somehow this whole mess can become a positive in some minute way, because right now it's just a big old negative in blogville.
There are lots of other bloggers that have posted amazing responses to this whole thing on their blogs. Please take a minute and check them out.
I will say that even though I don't have ads on my blog, I don't get paid and I never get chosen to review things I pour as much of my heart and soul into this blog as many way more popular (and sponsored) bloggers do.
I've had this blog for almost two years, but didn't really start posting regularly until Gregory died. It's been my outlet, my pressure vent, and a portal into a virtual world where I have met so many amazing people. many of whom I will call my lifelong friends.
Everything I post here is the truth. The emotions are mine, the feelings are mine, as are the words.
Most days I just sit down in front of the keyboard and the words flow out. Others, I may have an idea for a post and write it a day ahead of time. And some days I just do memes or post a picture or a quote that has touched me that day.
But in the end, it's the truth. I may get over-emotional and weepy and be dramatic, but it never morphs into a lie. As bloggers, we have all stepped back and forth over invisible lines that separate fact and fiction. It's the nature of writing.
But this is my truth.
And to lie about anything involving that would dishonor the person whose name is forever written in stone and on my heart.
Sunday
You can find me in da club.....
Sometimes while I'm driving around I'll see signs that say "Celebrate Recovery!" and "Divorce Support Groups" and countless other signs for organizations that meet in churches, community centers and in towns all around.
Until recently I never gave these signs much thought. Then I started realizing that I didn't see any "Club W" signs sticking out of the ground, wavering on their thin metal legs like wheat in a breezy field. I see no signs for the club I have been reluctantly indoctrinated into.
Sure, there are grief support systems everywhere. But unlike most clubs, it's not so easy for us to have an uplifting sign or banner telling the world about our group.
If so, it would have to be a big sign.
At the very least, it would have to have images of our club members doing the following:
* wailing
* sitting and staring blankly
* laughing uncontrollably
* racked with silent sobs
* expressing guilt over the earlier laughter
* anger
* denial
* laying in bed all day
And countless other images from the roller-coaster of emotions us club members are treated to.
I tried to go to a grief support group. It didn't quite fit at the time. I'm going to try again in a few months, after I make it through the holidays. I'm afraid I'll be taking my mother at some point by then.
I fit in pretty well in the blog-o-sphere though. I've even found other members of the club and now call them my friends and fellow members. I want to thank them, as well of all of you that read and leave comments here. You've helped me make it these last almost 7 months and even though it's been hell, I am a stronger person because of your help in making me take steps forward.
Thanks.
Until recently I never gave these signs much thought. Then I started realizing that I didn't see any "Club W" signs sticking out of the ground, wavering on their thin metal legs like wheat in a breezy field. I see no signs for the club I have been reluctantly indoctrinated into.
Sure, there are grief support systems everywhere. But unlike most clubs, it's not so easy for us to have an uplifting sign or banner telling the world about our group.
If so, it would have to be a big sign.
At the very least, it would have to have images of our club members doing the following:
* wailing
* sitting and staring blankly
* laughing uncontrollably
* racked with silent sobs
* expressing guilt over the earlier laughter
* anger
* denial
* laying in bed all day
And countless other images from the roller-coaster of emotions us club members are treated to.
I tried to go to a grief support group. It didn't quite fit at the time. I'm going to try again in a few months, after I make it through the holidays. I'm afraid I'll be taking my mother at some point by then.
I fit in pretty well in the blog-o-sphere though. I've even found other members of the club and now call them my friends and fellow members. I want to thank them, as well of all of you that read and leave comments here. You've helped me make it these last almost 7 months and even though it's been hell, I am a stronger person because of your help in making me take steps forward.
Thanks.
Good advice.
“Every day you may make progress. Every step may be fruitful. Yet there will stretch out before you an ever-lengthening, ever-ascending, ever-improving path. You know you will never get to the end of the journey. But this, so far from discouraging, only adds to the joy and glory of the climb.”
Winston Churchill
Winston Churchill
Friday
Double Jeopardy
A year ago today on Oct 16, 2008 is when I found out my dad had cancer. It was the same day my company's new laptops came out. It's weird how I associate these two. It also sucks because every time I see one I literally see the words DADDY HAS CANCER flashing across the screen.
His journey with cancer started off as a misdiagnosis of ACID REFLUX ! Way to go Doc. Last summer he had trouble swallowing and would often get what we call the "vurps" and wasn't feeling too great. The doctor told him to keep taking his Prilosec. Yea. Good call. He then went in for a stress test and numbers were elevated or something so they said HEART ATTACK ...and sent him in an ambulance to the local hospital (which doubles as a building full of no useful info whatsoever). Wherein this building they did no MRI / Cat Scan , nothing but an EKG, and OH MY !! No signs of cardiac arrest.
Gregory and I finally talked him into going to see a different doctor, and that's when they found the esophageal cancer. Stage 3. Invasive. 8 to 18 months with chemo. Today marks a year since I heard those words from my mother, standing in a parking lot where they had come by work to tell me what they didn't want to tell me over the phone. One year since my father's eyes hid behind the same brand of sunglasses that we have both had on while we held each other silently, each one of us fighting off the tears harder than the other. So alike, he and I. I am my father's daughter. One year and my daddy is still alive. Alive, but not well.
I can see where the cancer has taken it's toll. He has lost and gained weight, he has lost hair. He tires easily. I usually find him in his recliner, either reading or sleeping. A week or so ago I went down to do the fall hedge trimming and other assorted chores that Gregory and I would always help him do. Except this year I did it all myself. My mom helped by doing some raking, but she's almost 68 years old and can only do so much herself before tiring. She told me after about 30 minutes of work that my dad was inside crying because he couldn't help his daughter. I don't think I could have pierced my heart with the gas hedge trimmer I was wielding and made it hurt more than knowing that my daddy was crying. I managed to cover up my sobs with the whine of the trimmer and soaked up the tears on my gloves.
Mom, there's some things I don't need to know.
When I found out my dad had cancer, I was stunned. I left work early and went straight home to Gregory , who I told face to face and then we held each other and cried for just a minute until he said "Pops is strong, he will beat this and we have to be strong for him." He was devastated. He loved my dad and felt closer to him than he did his own, who was abusive to him in so many ways. He once told my dad that he never had a father, and asked him to be the one he never had. Sure, they didn't always get along, I mean really?? What daddy get's on with his #1 girl's man 100% of the time? But oh how G loved my daddy, and I was so happy that finally the two men in my life were on the same page.
I did some grieving of my own, but I try to put on a brave happy face when I am around my dad. I go to his doctor's appointments, but sometimes he wants me to leave the room when the doctor comes in to talk to us. I understand, he just wants to protect his baby.
So I kept moving through life, working, taking care of my husband and stepson, helping my parents with things that needed doing, and talking to my mom and dad 2-3 times a day and googling and web-md'ing what I could find about esophageal cancer.
And then my Gregory died.
And the little part of my life that the cancer grief had wedged itself into exploded. Then imploded.
I am grieving the death of my husband. My husband was a recovering / non-recovering alcoholic. The contents of a bottle of vodka were too strong for him to resist. A little fall , a black eye , him walking around laughing and goofing with me as usual? That turned into a slow bleed that killed him after he was fine for several days. The doctors call it "talk and die" syndrome. His liver was so messed up his blood wouldn't clot. Type 2 diabetes didn't help. So he died. And part of me went with him and I will never, ever be the same.
I am grieving the impending death of my father. There is no cure. There is no hope. The man smoked for 50 years. He got cancer. The cigarettes that he loved are coming back in the form of cancerous cells that are killing him. And I am scared to death to lose my daddy.
But I think I'm scared for me too. I'm scared that I have poured so much of myself into grieving for Gregory that I haven't given myself the time or space to deal with the fact that my daddy is going to die.
And then it's just me and my mom. And what is she gonna do? That's gonna leave me as the strong one. The one who handles things. The one.
I don't want to be the one.
I want to be Kim.
I want my husband.
I want my daddy.
I want my life back.
I haven't done anything wrong.
I thought cruel and unusual punishment was against our constitution.
I thought double jeopardy wasn't allowed.
I want my pardon.
I want my happy ending.
His journey with cancer started off as a misdiagnosis of ACID REFLUX ! Way to go Doc. Last summer he had trouble swallowing and would often get what we call the "vurps" and wasn't feeling too great. The doctor told him to keep taking his Prilosec. Yea. Good call. He then went in for a stress test and numbers were elevated or something so they said HEART ATTACK ...and sent him in an ambulance to the local hospital (which doubles as a building full of no useful info whatsoever). Wherein this building they did no MRI / Cat Scan , nothing but an EKG, and OH MY !! No signs of cardiac arrest.
Gregory and I finally talked him into going to see a different doctor, and that's when they found the esophageal cancer. Stage 3. Invasive. 8 to 18 months with chemo. Today marks a year since I heard those words from my mother, standing in a parking lot where they had come by work to tell me what they didn't want to tell me over the phone. One year since my father's eyes hid behind the same brand of sunglasses that we have both had on while we held each other silently, each one of us fighting off the tears harder than the other. So alike, he and I. I am my father's daughter. One year and my daddy is still alive. Alive, but not well.
I can see where the cancer has taken it's toll. He has lost and gained weight, he has lost hair. He tires easily. I usually find him in his recliner, either reading or sleeping. A week or so ago I went down to do the fall hedge trimming and other assorted chores that Gregory and I would always help him do. Except this year I did it all myself. My mom helped by doing some raking, but she's almost 68 years old and can only do so much herself before tiring. She told me after about 30 minutes of work that my dad was inside crying because he couldn't help his daughter. I don't think I could have pierced my heart with the gas hedge trimmer I was wielding and made it hurt more than knowing that my daddy was crying. I managed to cover up my sobs with the whine of the trimmer and soaked up the tears on my gloves.
Mom, there's some things I don't need to know.
When I found out my dad had cancer, I was stunned. I left work early and went straight home to Gregory , who I told face to face and then we held each other and cried for just a minute until he said "Pops is strong, he will beat this and we have to be strong for him." He was devastated. He loved my dad and felt closer to him than he did his own, who was abusive to him in so many ways. He once told my dad that he never had a father, and asked him to be the one he never had. Sure, they didn't always get along, I mean really?? What daddy get's on with his #1 girl's man 100% of the time? But oh how G loved my daddy, and I was so happy that finally the two men in my life were on the same page.
I did some grieving of my own, but I try to put on a brave happy face when I am around my dad. I go to his doctor's appointments, but sometimes he wants me to leave the room when the doctor comes in to talk to us. I understand, he just wants to protect his baby.
So I kept moving through life, working, taking care of my husband and stepson, helping my parents with things that needed doing, and talking to my mom and dad 2-3 times a day and googling and web-md'ing what I could find about esophageal cancer.
And then my Gregory died.
And the little part of my life that the cancer grief had wedged itself into exploded. Then imploded.
I am grieving the death of my husband. My husband was a recovering / non-recovering alcoholic. The contents of a bottle of vodka were too strong for him to resist. A little fall , a black eye , him walking around laughing and goofing with me as usual? That turned into a slow bleed that killed him after he was fine for several days. The doctors call it "talk and die" syndrome. His liver was so messed up his blood wouldn't clot. Type 2 diabetes didn't help. So he died. And part of me went with him and I will never, ever be the same.
I am grieving the impending death of my father. There is no cure. There is no hope. The man smoked for 50 years. He got cancer. The cigarettes that he loved are coming back in the form of cancerous cells that are killing him. And I am scared to death to lose my daddy.
But I think I'm scared for me too. I'm scared that I have poured so much of myself into grieving for Gregory that I haven't given myself the time or space to deal with the fact that my daddy is going to die.
And then it's just me and my mom. And what is she gonna do? That's gonna leave me as the strong one. The one who handles things. The one.
I don't want to be the one.
I want to be Kim.
I want my husband.
I want my daddy.
I want my life back.
I haven't done anything wrong.
I thought cruel and unusual punishment was against our constitution.
I thought double jeopardy wasn't allowed.
I want my pardon.
I want my happy ending.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
