Tuesday, August 30, 2016

I am Abinadab

I may have spelled that incorrectly, as I don't have access to the notes I took yesterday while reading the scriptures. However, he was in prison with Nephi and Lehi--decendants of Lehi and Sariah. They had been tossed into prison and were about to be seized by the guards to be put to death. Abinidab was a dissenter from the church but when he saw Nephi and Lehi encircled about by fire, actually being in the center of the flames and saw that they were not burned but instead were conversing with messengers from heaven, he repented. He began to call others to repentence. He rediscovered his faith.

I have not seen missionairies encircled by fire. I have not been in prison, except of my own making. I have not lost my faith but I seemed to have put it on pause for a bit. I have allowed the world to shake me and circumstances beyond my control have caused me to pull back. I was tired. Exhausted. Unable to find my footing. And while I am still very tender and brokenhearted, I have at least begun to seek the balm of the spirit through scripture and prayer to bring my spirit back to health.

I heve denied it nourishment for far too long and am seeking ways to feed it once again.

I know He knows me. I know He hears my prayers. I do not know the reasons behind these blocks in my path, but I know that I can overcome them with His help.

I alone hold the key to my prison.

Monday, August 29, 2016

I found my happy

and it's at the beach cabin. Hubby and I spent four glorious days there and came back last night. I felt such peace there. I want to be able to feel that same peace on this side of the water.



These are photos from past trips. It's still as beautiful. I am incredibly blessed to have this man by my side and this beautiful beach cabin for renewal and recharging. I have found my happy once more indeed.

Sunday, August 21, 2016

I has lost my happy

... And I know not how to get it back.

Saturday, August 20, 2016

He left rehab. Refused to stay the required time, much less the added ten day penalty for breaking out to get high the first time. He showed up at our house at one in the morning and scared the day lights out of me. Said he's clean. Said he's going to stay clean. Says he will prove it to us.

The only thing he's proving to us is that he's not ready to admit his addiction is more powerful than he is. I'm preparing myself for the worst, because it's coming. I'm going to lose my son. I lost him a long time ago, because this walking ghost hasn't been my son for a very long time. He's going to die and I have to be ready. Somehow... I have to be ready.

I'm scared.

Thursday, August 18, 2016

Rehab Field Trip

He left rehab with other addicts. They used their drugs. Then he went back. Who does that? I'll tell you: SOMEONE THAT ISN'T READY TO BE CLEAN.

He's not ready to be sober. In light of this news, his grandfather has decided he cannot have my son come to live with him. When I spoke to my son today I told him the news. I also told him that he cannot come home to live with us any longer. He told me that I ruined his day and then hung up on me.

I feel sick. Literally physically ill. I want to curl ino the fetal position and cry for days. My stomach hurts. My head hurts. My heart...continues to break. How can something that has been shattered so many times continue to splinter and crumble? How can there be anything left?

Monday, August 15, 2016

One Door Closes....

...and another one opens, right?

Sometimes not. Sometimes there is a very hard, enormously large brick wall. No doors. No windows.

I didn't get my job. I say 'my' job, but it wasn't really. I don't believe the powers that be, and that goes all the way to the very top, appreciated my vocal, albeit kindly worded, encouragement of more hours added to the position to care for the homeless students. It took them seven years to realize that the person taking care of these most at risk students should be a full time person, not a three hour a day person. Then they let me go.

I'm incredibly sad. And not entirely sure what to do with this gigantic brick wall facing me.

I'm lost.

Sunday, August 14, 2016

Rooting me on

I held my daughters lorazapam in my hands. Ten pills. I wonder if I took them all, would I ever wake up? I could mix them with the last of the vicodine I have left over from my back injury. No. I won't. Sometimes I have these random thoughts. I want to sleep. Sleep and sleep and sleep. There is sometimes too much time in the world. I don't know how to fill it, I don't want to be in it and I feel guilty for this when I know there are so many others out there in this great big world that have little or no time left on this earth and would give anything for another day.

Depression stinks.

It's almost taken my daughter three--no, four--times. Each time we've pulled her back from the brink. Now she walks that high ledge. One misstep and she's gone for good, but still she stays up there, The air is thin, so she doesn't move much, conserving her energy to slide one foot in front of the other, then stopping for long periods again. Looking down, never up. My son has raced at breakneck speed along that ledge, dancing on the edge of death again and again. Heroin will do that. Feeling so good you don't even know that you're dying until you do.

There is church today. I won't go. Again. I know that I should. Add another heavily weighted charm to the golden crown of guilt that I wear. There is a family birthday party today. I do not want to go. I should want to go. I should go. I won't. Another weighty guilt-charm. The burden is cumbersome and makes it even more difficult for me to move from my spot for another outing. Soon I will be unable to move at all, rooted in one spot like a tree, unable to move freely through this world. Safe in my room, in my kitchen, in my bathroom. Protected from prying, judgmental eyes and knowing looks.

There is a kind of death in that, as well as peace.

I glance at the bottle of pills and go back to bed.

Saturday, August 13, 2016

Migraine Auras, ADDHD Brain and Being in the Moment

I've had three episodes of aura this morning. One right after the other. My eyes ache and my head feels odd. I wonder if there are more to come today. As I sat on my bed with my eyes tightly shut and my sunglasses on, I began to question how I would react should I lose my sight. When my eyes go into their spasms I am only able to see colorful jagged lines. I call them Christmas lights and they generally last half an hour. My field of vision is so restricted that I cannot drive nor engage in any meaningful activities. I am forced to wait it out.

I sat on my bed and listened to the television, but I could not surf FB on my phone. Listening to my grandson playing with my Bella, I could not also watch the Dr. Who episode. Hearing was the only sense I was able to fully access during my episodes. It didn't stop me from trying to see around the jagged lights flashing across my eyes. Frustrating. Especially frustrating for someone like me because I never just do one thing at once. My brain won't allow me to. I multi-task on an epic level. When I'm creating jewelry I have netflix playing on my iPad. When I wrote my first novel, I had headphones in with music blasting in my ears. When I'm listening to someone, my mind is often not on what they are saying but is instead drifting off on some tangent that has nothing to do with the present moment. My youngest has the habit of forcing me to look directly into her eyes when we are having mommy-daughter time because she's known from a very young age that if I am not looking at her I am not listening to her.

My ADD brain has shortchanged so many of my experiences. Are my jagged Christmas lights an attempt by my body to slow me down? Show me another way? No, of course not. However, they have shown me that I am hardly ever in the moment. Hardly. Ever. Never. When I'm sitting in a meeting, my mind is elsewhere. Unless I'm giving the presentation, then of course I'm all in. I'm focused and actually quite comfortable speaking in front of groups of any size.

I need to be more in the moment. I don't know how to do that. I've got over fifty years NOT doing that. And no, I don't want to take any drugs to help with my ADD brain. There must be a healthy way to help me become better at focusing and being IN the moment. I know that many of my moments are not something I want to be in, so I deliberately check out by hiding in the fantasy of a novel or hours of Netflix or my latest obsession, plugging headphones in at night to listen to the police scanner in my city. Even sleep does not get my full attention.

So far the jagged blinking lights have left me alone for an hour. I've written this post while I watch/listen to Dr. Who on the television. I wonder if I can write my next blog post in silence. I'll let you know.

Thursday, August 04, 2016

It's Friday!....no, wait it's only Thursday. Ugh

I'm not sure that's even a problem for me, as I'm not currently working. Nor have I heard from the powers that be by email, phone or text. A friend in the office did text me this morning to ask if I'd heard anything and I said no. I asked her if she had. She hasn't. Or perhaps she has and is being kind by not telling me. Either way, I am at peace. If I don't get the job, I don't get the job. I should be panicking. Debt, I'm looking at you. And it's giving me a nice stare back.

Today I'm with my youngest daughter and my grandson. And my tiny doggy, Bella. Enzo adores Bella. Bella has warmed to him and now considers him part of our pack. I know this because when someone Bella didn't know tried to touch Enzo, she growled menacingly. As only an almost-five-pound adorable ball of fur can. It was touching.

Shout out to my only reader, G. Parker. Your comments have been kind and sweet. I do appreciate your continued reading of my blatherings and your nice words. We should meet up sometime :)

This is yet another of my rambling posts. I wrote a lengthy post about taking care of my father but I took it down. It was too much, too personal and so many other things. It's hard. And that's all I'll say today on that matter.

Tomorrow I will be attending the funeral for a three year old boy. Christian is the grandson of one of my friends. He was born with many physical issues, one being in need of a new heart. He got it, but things did not go as planned. His mom kept a facebook page about their daily life in the hospital. It's called Christians Soldiers. Mom Aimee ended each post with New Year, New Heart. If you want to read and be uplifted by someone with immense faith in our Father's plan, then this is the page for you. I have learned so very much from her about grace under fire. About faith in the Lord's timing and about acceptance of God's will. I doubt I will ever be as strong as this amazing woman, but she gives me something to shoot for. Tomorrow will be difficult and painful--and beautiful. Christian was an amazing little soul with such a grin. I'm smiling here as I write this and seeing his little face. His story touched thousands of people across the world.

Saturday I will be visiting my son in rehab. It doesn't even hurt to write those words. Amazing.

Sunday I will try to go to church. This year has been a year where I have had much difficulty in attending on Sundays. So has my husband. We didn't really connect with the ward we moved into and so we asked for a boundary exception and haven't heard a word about it. I think we're somewhere in limbo land. It's not an entirely nice feeling. Perhaps New Year, New Heart should apply to me as well. I need a new heart for I fear the one I have is damaged.

Tuesday, August 02, 2016

Low Expecatations

I'm watching my grandson again today. He's adorable and full of energy and I love spending time with him. He lights up my world, especially as I see him gaining new skills through his therapy. I handed him a chicken nugget today and he said, "Thank you Nana" Not many other people would have recognized those words, but I did. And my entire being smiled.

We've had a month or so without my grandson's father being in the picture. It's been the nicest, smoothest month since the beginning of his entry into our lives. He's coming back on Friday. My daughter, finally standing up for herself, told him to get a cab from the airport because she has plans. That's progress. Hopefully there will be more progress.

Tonight hubby and I will attend a family meeting at a detox center where our son is being treated for heroin addiction. Yea...heroin. It's not something I've been able to talk or write about in the past year, but I can now. What a horrible destructive drug. It's like a cancer that he invited into his life, but that damages everyone in his circle. If he ever gets clean can we call ourselves survivors? I don't know. I don't care. I hope this fifth trip through rehab will be the magic bullet for this awfulness. I do not have the enthusiastic hope I had the first time around. I'm more jaded than before, but I try to kindle what small spark of hope that I have left. If he doesn't get clean he will die. I know this to be truth. A sad and bitter truth, but truth nonetheless. We have even looked into getting life insurance on our son because of the high risk of death by overdose--accidental or otherwise.

I love my son and I miss him. This shadow, this ghost that has been living with us is not my son. He hasn't been my son for quite a long time now. It's like walking death. He's not dead but neither is he alive.

For a time I blamed every sin, every poor decision, every bad behaviour my children engaged in on myself. I didn't do enough. I did too much. I was a bad mother, I was too strict, I was too lenient. Their lives were a reflection of my mothering, of me. It took some very serious awfulness for me to finally come to the realization that I was not responsible for my children's lives. How dare I believe I had that much power? How could I? We taught them to pray, we taught them right from wrong, we took them to church and we walked the talk. We didn't drink or smoke or swear. We taught them about modesty, about virtue, about honesty. From the moment I knew I was pregnant I loved my babies with everything I had.

Train up a child the way that they should go and when they are old they will not depart from it is what the scripture says. Sadly, I have not found that to be the case.

My previously high expecations are extremely low to non-existent right now. Life is easier without expectations, less painful and admittedly a bit more bleak. I do believe that with God, all things are possible. I've been taught that we are an eternal family. My heart wishes and hopes, despite my best attempts at being pragmatic about things.

What has hurt the most has been the judgement from family and ward members. The gossiping, the talking, the looks. On second thought, this hasn't hurt the worst, but it has added to my pain. We spent a great deal of money to fix my father's house so we could move in and help him. He could not have stayed in his home otherwise. He complains and talks about us to my sister constantly. It hurts. I understand on some level, but it still hurts. I am doing my best not to be bitter and let it effect a change in my feelings towards him. He's 83, he's stubborn, unhappy with the changes age has wrought in his body and unwilling to aceept most reccomendations for help. He makes gay jokes that aren't funny, racist joke that are embarrassing and no matter how many times I tell him I'd rather not hear that kind of thing, he continues. I worry about him falling constantly. I've taken him to the ER countless times. I'm weary. My children do not like living with him because he doesn't talk to them as much as at them, telling them they've done something wrong each and every time he comes into contact with them. They are so unhappy. My husband is unhappy. I am doing my best to be a buffer between all of them but it's wearing on me.

I think I shall go play trucks with my sweet grandson and treasure his giggles. His light is helping me through the darkness I've been in. I am blessed to have him.