Saturday, March 06, 2004

okay, here they are.

Behold the radiant mother. She sure seemed happy to get those things out of her. The mother instinct has completely taken over...... it's a tribulation to convince to go out for a poo. The "birthing room" reeks! Ahhhhhh..... puppies! Wonderful, no? Just wait till they start getting puppy-ish. More pictures will surely follow.

So..... I went to pick up my brother last night, to take him to my place for the weekend. I was nervous about my stepmom being there so Clark came with me, bless her soul. I was happy to have her. The visit was short and uneventful.... whether it would have been otherwise will never be seen.

Talking to my stepmom was like talking to a different person..... a stranger hidden inside her body, speaking with her voice, but in a tone that belies an impending "episode." I witnessed such an episode at christmas, although I wasn't aware at the time that that's what it was. My personal experience with mental illness has been fairly limited.

My poor dad has been tiptoeing around her, afraid to set her off. He's so unhappy. Pooky is stressed and acting out. How this is gonna work out, I don't know. Who are these so called doctors and what were they thinking?? I don't know.

I've been working really hard these last couple days on what everyone's been telling me. That it's not mine to carry, it's not my responsibility. It's a hard thing to get..... but I'm not bursting into tears at inconvenient times..... so that's progress. I don't feel as panicked as I did before.

And it's nice to see Fuzzy relaxed, having a good time. Not having to be a human buffer zone. I can't believe I haven't had him over before.

Well I think I'm gonna see about getting those pics uploaded. You've all been dying to see newborn pups, I know it.

Wednesday, March 03, 2004

Clark was talking one day.... she said she believes everything happens for a reason, and then she went on to wonder what on earth could be the cosmic purpose for our having adopted a pregnant dog. What were the odds that out of all the dogs at the pound, the dog we adopted would wind up being pregnant, through no fault of our own. Had we known, we might not have adopted her, and besides, that day we were planning on adopting a three legged dog from Petcetera, which just happened to be gone when we got there.

A possible solution to the mystery, albeit a self-centered one, availed itself to me today, and it very nearly brought me to tears.

I mean, here I am. It's my birthday. The last two weeks have been hellish. My family is going nuts. I've been so stressed out that I had to take a day off just so I wouldn't break down in tears at work. Happy Birthday to me, I thought...... just another crappy birthday that revolves around my messed up family and all their stupid problems. It's true, I never make a big deal of my birthday, but even if I spend it alone, I would like it to be my day. My day to do what I want and spend with who I want and think about the things I want to think about.

Yes, part of me feels guilty for wanting my birthday for myself. But I'm not asking anyone else to worry about it, I just want to have the freedom to make it my own day. Instead, I can hardly choke down all the tasty cakes on account of all my concern over my stepmom and the fact that her doctor has sent her home with a brand new bottle of pills. That doesn't seem fair to me. Shouldn't I get just one day? Is that too much?

These are the things that were spinning through my mind yesterday, though it wasn't my birthday quite yet. I was angry because the worries on my mind weren't mine to carry, and I was angry that my stepmom had the nerve to call me and rag on my dad and make me all crazy and then tell me to have a good evening and say goodbye all sweet and psycho sounding.

And then there were puppies. I had been begging Indy for puppies all day. After all, I had the day off. I took her into the room each time she seemed to be going into contractions. When Clark came home I went out and fished some cardboard out of a dumpster and fashioned trashy looking makeshift home for our new additions. The activities were a blessed distraction.

Late last night the first pup came..... and all was forgotten.

Watching puppies be born..... watching instinct take over...... so beautiful and so disgusting at the same time..... I had decided that I was keeping one of the puppies quite some time ago.

So happy birthday to me!!! I get my puppy. No, I don't get to go pick out a puppy on my birthday, but my puppy is born in my home on my birthday.

At the time I just reacted to my life..... one moment devastated, one moment giddy with glee.... but then at work Nancy pointed out the slight detail of timing. "God knows" she said, or something to that effect...... and it got me thinking...... what could possibly take my mind off the trouble with my family..... and what would have to happen to bring a litter of pups right when I needed them most, on my birthday no less.

A lot of details had to come together, as minute as a pup running away from home in the north end, someone deciding they wanted a three legged dog. Everything down to the day Indy got knocked up, and the pups were born this morning.

We were talking at housegroup about that Passion movie, about Christ's sacrifice, about all that He did for us. Right now it means so much to me that God thought so far ahead to orchestrate my puppy.

It's the little things that are big. Though my heart aches for my family and the stress is no less, at least there's the snuggling softness of a little black bundle nuzzling my neck. That is endless comfort to me.

Soon I will learn to leave my burdens with God. Until then it helps to know that amidst all the chaos on this planet, He stops to comfort me in the way He knows will comfort me best.
I took a mental health day. I guess I'm a wuss. I'd just rather be an emotional trainwreck at home, than at work.

So I'm reading blogs and watching the comedy network. The following is something that cracked me up.

Our society is crazy. I think somewhere along the way we got our priorities mixed up. Did you know that in America it only costs 69 cents a day to sponsor a starving child in a third world country? But it costs 2.99 to talk dirty to someone. If we could only get those starving children to talk dirty to us.....

Waiting for puppies. I think that when your dog is about to give birth, you should get maternity leave. Technically, the Clark would be off work staying with the dog, but at least I wouldn't worry.

Now I need to go discuss some things with God.


Tuesday, March 02, 2004

I swear....... insanity is infectious.

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I don't commonly lose my mind and raise my voice on the phone. I'm not a confrontational person. I'd rather quietly spell it out with logic and tact.

But when my stepmom called this evening........ I mean....... I'm only human....... I can only take so much....... she's f@$%& nuts!!

So I had a chemical imbalance of my own. When I was done, she found a reason to get off the phone.

And then I broke down. And then I called Clark. And then I called my Aunt. And then I cried some more.

And now here I am. Completely disoriented. Completely empty. Completely stretched out.

Please pray.

Monday, March 01, 2004


Do you really wanna know?

If not, leave right now, because I have to say it.


They finally did it. They locked her up. They committed my basket case stepmom. She's in Selkirk. She likes to get loopy and call my dad, tell him how everything's great and she doesn't need weed and she's getting therapy and she'll be home by friday. Then she calls her friends and threatens them to convince them to bring her weed. They let her out during the day and she spends my dad's money on nipple piercings and other stupid shit.

Everyone thought I'd be the first one in a rubber room.

Here's the stupid thing. Her doctor hasn't contacted my dad, so my dad doesn't have the foggiest idea what's going on, except that she calls him with her nonsense. It's so retarded. How could they not tell her husband what's going on? Who are these crackheads, anyway??

I'm trying to track down her doctor but the folks down at the mental hospital aren't being overly helpful. Retarded.

Retarded shit.

My stepbrother is coming over for the weekend. To get some time away. Don't know how that's gonna work. We'll see. Maybe Chifunda can take Pooky and then my dad can sleep the weekend away and not have to worry about taking care of anybody.

I'm so glad I'm only working one job this week. I knew if I called home I'd get stressed out...... and I did. I am.

I have to know right now where to draw the line as far as my involvement with my family goes. I need to know exactly how far my responsibilities reach. Boundaries.... boundaries.... where are my boundaries?

And how can I stay on my side of the line when my family is hurting?

Someone had suggested that my dad leave Pooky with some family friends and go stay with his sister for a bit, but he told me that he refused to leave Pooky. He said he couldn't do that to him. A lot of stuff that my dad said on the phone today really illustrated how my dad has changed so much since I was Pooky's age. He's grown a lot as a person, but he's in such a rough place right now. I'm afraid of what this will do to him.

I'm just really at the end of myself, as far as my family is concerned. I'm tired and scared and sad and frustrated and angry. My poor brothers.... they deserve better. They deserve security and warmth and consistency. It's not fair that they don't just automatically get that. It's not fair that they have to spend the rest of their lives getting over the traumatic stuff that happened when they were young.

So stupid. So maddening.

I just don't know where to leave myself. Where to go. What to say. Arg.

Sunday, February 29, 2004

This is why I haven't gone to see that Jesus movie yet.

I'm supposed to be finishing up my support letters but instead I'm watching zoolander and farting around online. I'll do it. I will.

Yesterday I went shopping for a PC headset which turned out to have terrible sound quality. There's a mall not too far from my place on Leila ave, which is decidedly the coolest street in the city. They named it after me 10 years ago when I rescued a rabid kitten from the jaws of a bloodthirsty antelope, and now it's home to chapters, starbucks, future shop, canadian tire, blockbuster, home depot, and a bunch of other handy stores in a little known mall with a movie theatre.

I wandered into the mall to hit the post office, when right there in front of me was an information booth regarding mood disorders. I approached the booth where two really nice (too nice, perhaps) ladies welcomed me and offered free pamphlets.

I guess when you're seeking information about bipolar affective disorder, people assume that you either have it, or know someone who does, and then they feel sorry for you, because either way, bipolar sucks. I picked up some info and then asked them if they run any support groups for friends or family of people with bipolar. They said yes, and pointed at their phone number, and cooed and compassioned until I left. I had nearly burst into tears. I've been doing such a good job of not thinking about my stepmom that I didn't realize how raw I still feel.

I mean, I'm still kinda critical. I think that anyone would think they had bipolar if they were smoking dope while taking all sorts of other medications. Chemically unbalanced, you say? OF COURSE YOU ARE, DIPSHIT! Maybe if you stop pumping chemicals into your brain, you'll see a little improvement!!

I guess I just don't understand.

I was looking over the list of symptoms, and it looks like I have all the symptoms of depression, and most of the symptoms of mania. Coincidentally, last time I checked I had enough symptoms of schizophrenia to warrant a trip to a therapist. I think mental illness is a difficult thing to diagnose, especially nowadays when nearly everybody is somewhat dysfunctional and people would far rather pop a pill to feel normal than work on the core issues. And I'm sure there are cases where there really is a chemical imbalance, but by the sounds of things that can be managed as much by lifestyle and diet as by drugs.

As for my stepmom, I'd like to see her diagnosed AFTER she had all the drugs out of her system, instead of this "oh you must be bipolar" backwoods-doctor-thinks-he's-a-psych-expert.

I'm afraid if I contact a support group I'll get in trouble for my cynicism. But I really would like to know how to be a support for my stepmom.

I was waiting in line at starbucks to get a latte for my future shop trip. Not really paying attention, just standing there reading the menu, or the description of the house blend. When the old lady in front of me was finished with her order, she turned around and said "thank you for your patience." Weird, hey? I mean, I try to be nice to people when I go out, but I certainly don't expect anyone else to be nice.....

And I have to say it. Bam Margera is HOT!! Men are mostly an unattractive species.... and professional skateboarders are almost exclusively ugly, but not Bam.

That's it for today. Go waste your time somewhere else.
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