Not feeling it....

I've always liked decorating early for Christmas.  Dragging everything out of storage, opening boxes and bags, and decorating... takes a minute, so the idea of putting everything up for a couple of weeks after all that works just doesn't make any sense to me.  Plus, my inner child is alive and well and always excited about Christmas, decorating, hot chocolate with marshmallows, Christmas cartoons and movies and every single bit of tradition out there.  I'm all in for Christmas...usually.

The last few years, however, the excitement has dimmed to a dull hue of red and green, to be honest.  I pretty much know the 'why' of this, but I've struggled over the past 6-7 years or so to repair whatever is sucking the joy out of the holidays and restore it to it's former, magical splendor.  If only....

It's not enough to know what's wrong.  Everything I long for when the nostalgia takes hold are those things that are just out of my reach. My attempts to re-create what's lost have failed, and I'm finding myself depressed more and more each year by the holidays.  While this depression doesn't completely isolate itself to Christmas only, that's the one that is the most difficult to navigate.

I really just hate this.

What 'haven't' I tried to breathe life back into the holidays?

This house is decked out big time, and... I'm just not feeling it.  I walk through the house, and I really love what I see.  But something vital is missing, and it's been fading away for years.  Yeah, yeah, I know this sounds like such a downer, but for me it really is in so many ways.

When all the reaching for better, happier, more joyful falls to the wayside.. so do I.  Just a fact.  There isn't any real way for me to work through this by myself, because the problem isn't an unknown.  As weird as that sounds, it's true.  When you don't know what's wrong, your focus shifts to one of discovery.  But when you know what's wrong one of the first things that comes to mind, for me anyway, is "Okay.  Now what?"  And, unfortunately, that's where I'm stuck.

Tomorrow is another day, and I'm planning on digging into my web sites if I have enough energy to do so.  Maybe it will distract me, though I realize it won't solve anything.  I have to do something to fight my way out of this.

For the sake of this particular blog and it's 'intended' theme/focus, I will say that I'm doing well on my diet in the sense that I'm not having any urges to cheat etc., and in fact have been eating under my points (which can backfire on me later and likely will).

Okay, so.. no, I'm not making much sense at the moment.  I'm tired, so so tired.  I didn't sleep well last night which makes this all so much more intense, and in the wrong way.  At the urge of a couple of you, I'm trying, and that's about all I can promise I'll do right now.

Tomorrow is another day.  But today... I'm just not feeling it.

Better late than never, right?

For those of you who said you preferred the audio blog entries.  Was done a couple of days ago, so I will try to make another one sometime Thursday when I have free time. :)

Autumn Whispers To Me: A memory. A book-to-be....

My favorite time of year is here, and I've taken the first steps to re-vamping my sites so I can have them live again.  A story, a memory, and a future-book, "Autumn Whispers to Me" will be live soon.  Until then, there are the audio blogs...

Post-Surgery Pain, and The Cruel Act of Indifference.

This is difficult.  Post-surgery for frozen shoulder and minor rotator cuff tear and I'm feeling like hell.    It will take a long time to recover and regain full use of my left arm, and dammit but it hurts to type.  I almost decided to do an audio blog but not enough privacy the last couple of days to do that.  So I'll make this just a quick check-in.

I'm not sleeping, mostly getting up several times a night to move my arm, elbow... to alleviate what pain I can.  This is often a tearful process.  I don't know when the big crash will come, but it will.  A human being simply can't withstand not sleeping like this.  On Wednesday, then on Saturday... things will change and hopefully for the better.

Sleeping on my side after this kind of surgery isn't the best idea, and it creates a world of pain, swelling to an unhealthy level in my arm.  This became the catalyst for ordering one of those Tempur Pedic beds.  NOT the cheapest thing in the world, but a very necessary one at this point as the healing process is going to take a long time.  So be it.  It's adjustable so I can support the back of my legs and have the back of the bed upright to manage sleeping without being on my side.  Saturday, a Laz-boy chair will arrive, and mostly for the same purpose.  As it stands now my options are to sit straight/upright or lay in a flat bed.  Both options mean pain and swelling.  But hey, those recliners are awesome and it's not like it won't be fully enjoyed way beyond the shoulder healing.

I suppose at this point I'm just rambling, but everything I am is consumed with the pain and trying to work past it without taking the powerful pain killers I was given.  The side effects sucks, and that means I'm making damn sure to take them sparingly.  But either way, my point is basically that I'll be dealing with this for a while and probably not making a lot of sense when I post.

There most likely won't be daily entries for a while, but I will try my best.

Post-surgery with all it's unbelievable pain has opened up a part of me that I really would rather leave closed, shut away, and ignored.  That echo chamber of the past and present merging in unsettling ways rumbles below the surface, always, making itself known at the darkest of hours and experiences.  I find myself unsettled---not just my circumstances or thoughts.  In the wee hours, especially when awakened by the almost ceaseless pain, true anxiety sets in and grips me.  Most of the time I can overcome it and get past it's frightening messages.  But then there are times when it takes hold and I find myself incredibly vulnerable and needing a strong, positive presence to jerk me back into a brighter reality.  Things is... I have no such strong, positive presence.  Yeah.
What to do with that.

As you guys know, indifference has been my companion.  T's indifference rears it's true self amidst the pain that really feels as if it's going to rip me apart.  You see, the first part of knowing how to squash pain naturally is to avoid stress at all costs, because stress destroy's the body's own ability to send much-needed pain killers to it's needed location.  Over time, especially in the presence of AI disease and fibromyalgia.... the breakdown of this mechanism is swift and brutal, leaving me without any natural defenses.  This sucks.

I've been brought to tears by the sheer intensity and duration of this pain, and the fibro is in a massive flare-up now, adding wide-spread, diffuse pain to that of the post-surgical.  While it's nothing to brag about, I will admit that I've been brought to my knees by the force of it all, crying so hard I felt as if my head would explode.  Late at night, when it's at its worst T will simply get up, stand there... and say nothing, do nothing, offer nothing.  I've had to tell him it's best he stay away rather than bring that indifference to the already miserable situation.

It is times like this that I long for "home," whatever and wherever that is.  No one to reach out to, to plead to, or talk to.  Not a parent, sibling, or best friend.  No one.  It's only when either by exhaustion or prescription intervention does the pain lessen a little, just enough for my mind to bring forth an image of a healthy, happy, joyful, fulfilled and pain-free me.  When I fall asleep... it sometimes carries me into dreaming, those thoughts.

My arm is in a lot of pain at the moment, so I'm going to sign off.  I hope that each day with willpower and physical therapy.. and even the weaker moments when I allow myself the prescription help to relieve the pain... maybe I'll get stronger, better.  I have 3 days of PT this coming week... and I pray it's the start to real recovery.

I need this pain to stop.  I really do.

Hopefully I can post tomorrow.

PS... I was amazed at how many page views Where Fireflies Dream received.... gave me a smile.

"You've chosen lessons of pain"

I received a message with this video in it yesterday.  I have no idea who the person is who sent it... but, oddly.. this is one of my favorite songs and one I listen to every night.  Headphones on, dark room, and songs to obliterate the thoughts....

Home.

One thing I've known for certain for pretty much all of my life is that when I'm ill, I long for home.  When I was little I knew where that place was, and despite its terrible flaws it was still home.  As an adult I was surprised to find that I no longer knew exactly where home was.  So I would spend the majority of my adult life longing for a place that quite possibly, for me anyway, doesn't exist.  I've never been able to reconcile this; not physically, and certainly not emotionally.

The closest I've come to being "Home" once moving out of my mom's house at 18 is Mobile, AL.  I had a tiny little apartment, and though not every moment there was perfect, it felt safe, and it felt like a warn welcome every time I walked through the door--no matter how good or bad things were.  It was a safe place for me to be myself, where I could decompress, where I could dream, wish, hope and feel alive.  This is not the case where I am now.  Not even close.

How did I get here?  I got here the same way I got into every bad situation in my life; By pure blind trust.  It's a flaw of mine and one that's gotten me into more trouble than I can tell you.  I give people the benefit of the doubt, take them on their word, and actually believe what they say.  Well, to a point anyway.  The thing is, that 'point' in which I pivot and see the error of my ways is usually far too late to avoid any damage to my life, and to me.

I'll probably always be this way, a far too trusting person.  I'm okay with that, I guess.  But I really wish I were better at assessing and discerning the heart and motives of people BEFORE I get involved.  We all have our flaws, I suppose.

As I wait for the sluggish process of diagnosis beyond the AIH, I'm left far too vulnerable for my liking.  There are days I can't walk well, verging on not at all, and days where lifting my arms to look at my phone is almost too much.  The weakness grows more each day and the doctors I need to see are weeks out of reach since I'll be a new patient.  The waiting is going to end me in the ER at some point, I'm afraid.  But the worst of this is being this sick and living in a place where I know absolutely no one at all.

T only helps around here bare minimum, and as the chores, etc. pile up... I long for the simplicity of the life I had in Mobile, where I didn't have to clean up after another human who refuses to do what's necessary to not live in a dirty, cluttered house.  I can't live this way, so I struggle to pick up the slack.  And I'll tell you, the slack is far far more than what T actually does.

How the hell did he survive on his own?

I have to somehow find my way home--wherever that is.  I know I can keep struggling a little bit to find my way here, to at least hang in there until I'm better---or at least better enough to survive, to move, to do something to help myself.  At this rate I don't know if I can work, which scares that crap out of me.  Disability requires a definite diagnosis, and at this time I don't have one that explains fully how I'm continuing to weaken and become more and more sick.  What can I do if even typing an entry like this makes me shaky and nauseated with weakness?

I want to be well again, to feel good again, to have energy again.  I want to be in a position where I can find my way back home again.

Home.  I just want to be... home.

The Truth.

The world has gone mad.  Or more specifically, America has gone mad.  In all my life I've never seen such division, such bitter hatred on the left, such utter madness.  And it is madness.  I don't watch the news anymore because it's simply the most depressing thing ever, honestly.  We all know the media lies, stretches truth, etc., but recently trusting anything put out by the media is just buying into fiction.  And to that I say--open a book and read, because there's more truth in a Stephen King novel than there is on CNN, MSNBC, FOX, etc.  If you're going to waste time, might as well have fun, and there's nothing fun about what's going on in the media.  And worse, are those buying into the garbage.

Whatever happened to the truth?  What's happened to people that they're SO willing to except, embrace, and repeat lies that have been repeatedly debunked?  Rhetorical question, because we all know that people will ultimately believe what they want to believe and there's nothing anyone can do to change that.  Once sucked into the gaping black abyss of a lie--it takes a tremendous effort to find your way out.

As for me, I choose not to buy into the garbage.

But I'm sad to see how much hatred there is in our country, hatred born of the dirty side of government, of politics, and of greed.

I'm not sure at this point that any one thing or person or event could turn it around.  People are to blame for their own thoughts and actions.  They make the choices, and no one is twisting their arm.

It's just so tiresome.

We don't have to agree with one another to be civil.  We don't have to think alike or look alike to be civil.  We don't even have to like each other in order to respect one another.  All social graces, all levels or morality and decorum can be maintained under almost all circumstances if we make the choice to rise above it all and do the right thing.

I have no idea what the outcome of this election will be, nor do I even pretend to think that we're all going to end up changed by the end of it all.  We're already changed.  All we can do now is dig our heels in and hold our ground despite the odds.  I'm ready to do that, and I know a lot of others are as well.

We'll take things day by day like anyone else, but none of us are willing to be bullied by the 'powers that be' or radical domestic terrorist groups.

They can try like hell to stop us.  But here's the deal: We're not going anywhere.

Deal with it.

The Manly Art of Being a Gentleman.

Sadly, I'm often surprised how many guys think they're a gentleman but lack the characteristics to hold that esteemed title.  Somewhere along the line behaving like a gentleman, acting, dressing, and thinking like a gentleman lost it's appeal in the male population and was replaced mostly by pseudo-manners and a false bravado that clash to expose the afflicted.  Why is this?  Well, I wish I knew.  What I do know is the effect this has on the female population; at least most of us anyway.

What turns me on the most are 3 very specific traits, and if a man possesses all 3... he's definitely a keeper!


1. He knows what a gentleman is and genuinely exhibits those traits.

2. He's intelligent.

Now, the above list isn't all-inclusive, but my point here is: if a man is a gentleman he's going to possess pretty much all of those traits we women admire and wish for in a man.

Where have all the genuine gentlemen gone?

We could speculate all day long and then some about what makes a man a gentleman, but let's suffice it to say that it's a whole lot more than opening doors.  This topic is bigger than you think, because what appears and should be a no-brainer has become complex in today's world due to many factors.

Maybe guys have just lost their way and have no interest in refining themselves to the degree needed. Oh well, I know I for one can spot a true gentleman.  Have I steered clear of those who turned out to be nothing close to gentlemen?  No.  I made huge mistakes all things dating and relationships.  I guess for the ones who put on a good show I allowed myself to ignore the small (at first) warning signs until I was in love and completely lost.  It's not pretty, but it's true.  I gave the benefit of doubt to a couple of guys who honestly didn't deserve it.

I will always believe that there are gentlemen out there, genuine gentleman through and through.  There's no way I'll allow myself to believe any other way and will absolutely refuse to allow such non-gentlemanly guys I've dated in the past ruin this belief.

Weak.

It's been a few days, hasn't it?  Tapering off Prednisone is kicking my ass.  I'm so weak, cold, tired, dealing with nausea.  I'm about to go lay down for a bit, cover with a snuggly blanket and try my best to warm up and feel better; I really don't like that this has become my current 'Norm.'  When, oh when, will this start to improve?  When will I be able to re-join the land of the living again?

No answer...

I just can't sit here anymore...

Cross-Post Rant ahead!... "I'm done"

Trust me when I say... it's taken me from approximately 7:20am to 10:37am JUST to calm down enough to write.  Waking to indifference each day is grating on my nerves and sucking the life out of my life.  I'm not in the greatest of moods at the moment, and I'm not about to pretend I am.  It's been one HELL of a morning... let's just start there, shall we?

Okay, so all of my life I've believed that the old saying "Anything worth doing is worth doing RIGHT" is a damn good foundation for anyone's life.  Half-Assing ANYTHING reveals a lot about a person.  And by 'half-assing" I mean not putting everything you have into what you're doing.  Not to say your "everything" may not be on the same level every day, but putting in 100% of what you can is all anyone can really ask.  And why not?  Why would anyone do anything less than 100%?  When you take shortcuts you leave someone else to make up the difference in distance you weren't willing to go.

NOTE:  As always, unless I'm writing something aimed at someone in particular... the word "You" is used loosely and not meant to point fingers at anyone here.

My health is bad--I've spoken of this a lot in my blogs.  Dealing with one confirmed AI disease (AIH) and going through the paces of confirming a second means.. I'm NOT in remission.  I won't BE in remission for a very long time (I'm told).  The blood work COULD very well improve, the numbers will improve and possibly quickly, but 'remission' is more than numbers.  I won't go into all of that, but suffice it to say every single day is a battle to get through.  So here I am living with someone who, by nature, does ONLY what he can get away with and not a scintilla more.  What does this mean?  It means I have to take up the slack.  I not only have to do what I need and have to do, but I have to take up the slack from what he only does PART-WAY.

Half-Assers are a HUGE pet peeve of mine!

Look, I realize there will be days, times, and situations where you may have to take a short cut or do what you can in that moment.  But I also know that there are things that HAVE to be done correctly, thoroughly.  I mean, you can only short-cut your way through things until you end up with a completely and totally chaotic mess that SOMEONE ELSE will ultimately have to deal with.  Why the hell would you do this to someone, especially someone you claim to "love"?

This morning, like so many mornings (every morning!) I found myself forcing my way through cleaning up after T.  And I mean, cleaning up as in it takes me some 45-hour JUST to pick up the slack of his half-assed whatever.  Have I spoken to him about this?  Of course I have, and 2 years ago, when it really began, I was very calm, loving, and discussed the matter with him in hopes he would see what he was doing.  I mean, he's a grown up, and I'm not his mom.  He can pick up after himself, because he's no Ward Cleaver and doesn't treat me like Joan.  The family of the 1950's and 1960's are GONE.  Marriage and relationships aren't centered around women being in servitude.

Now, women who are treated with respect, treated kindly, appreciated.. will do almost anything for their guys.  It's how we're wired.  We're wired to be caretakers, caregivers, at least most of us.  However, when taken advantage of we often will begin to back off from all those things we once did easily, eagerly, and happily.  When taken for granted... we don't see any reason to continue giving when there's only taking from the other side.

And please, don't confuse this 'give and take' with material things or money, etc.  Because those things don't bring happiness, not ever.  What I'm talking about here is doing one's part in the relationship without placing the blinders on and thinking it's really just all about the other person doing all the work.

I've been in a relationship where everything was dumped solely on my shoulders.  People who know me, who pay attention, find out quickly that I can't be bought.  You can't buy your way out of unhappiness.  You just can't.  Being poor and happy is FAR FAR superior than being well-off and miserable.  Money can't get rid of unhappiness.. I really can't stress that enough.

Doing your part, that's what it's about.  Not placing necessary pressure or expectations on the other person is what it's about.  Respecting the other person's time is what it's about.  And soooooo much more, or course.  But when it comes to half-assing your way through chores because you know the other person will take up the slack for you... that's a sure-fire way to turn that person off, long-term.  And good damn luck getting them to be turned on again.

Being taken advantage of is not good foreplay.
Being taken for granted is not good foreplay.
Doing and not doing things that make the other person's life more difficult.. is not good foreplay.
Being overtly, blatantly lazy isn't sexy.
Indifference isn't sexy.
Ignoring someone isn't sexy.
Not respecting the other person's space, time, and needs isn't sexy, nor is it good foreplay.
Being mean, hateful, abusive.. isn't sexy, and it makes for LOUSY foreplay.

You treat me like shit, I'm going to shut down.
You abuse me, mentally, verbally, or physically.. and I'm going to shut down and NOT be into you.
Take me for granted and I'll stop doing things for you.

It's taken me years to get to this point, and I've been a welcome mat for a couple of people and won't ever allow myself to do that again.  I don't need anyone THAT much.  If I'm treated badly, eventually I won't feel anything at all for you, and you're going to find out that you really just can't un-ring that bell.

You can't buy me or my love.  I'm not for sale.  If you do something you claim is out of kindness or whatever, and you use it against me later.. you've given your true motive away!  Once I SEE you, what and who you REALLY are, I won't be able to see that 'other' person ever again.  Once you blow it, you blow it.

T is lucky in that there's still about 2% hope here.  This morning was just about the final straw, but I fought and worked my way past it, and I'm telling you it was DIFFICULT!  He knew, too.  He knew the moment I pointed out to him what he'd done.  He tried to backpedal, tried to reassure himself that he'd not blown it VIA me.  But what was done was done, and the disingenuous nature of what he did wasn't lost on me at all, and it broke something inside and change, again, the way I see him and feel about him.  Being disingenuous is exactly like lying, and I'm DONE being okay with men who lie to me, either by omission or right-out.  DONE.

That 2% of me that is still open to his finding a solution and fixing the whole disingenuous thing is stretched very thin.  He's running out of time.

Honesty and respect are MORE important than love.  My last relationship taught me that, opened my eyes to the fact that without those first two things.. LOVE CAN'T EXIST!  Love CANNOT exist in the absence of honesty and respect.

Besides struggling through a VERY PAINFUL morning trying to finish half-assed attempts at whatever, I also had to deal with the tuning me out thing, the thing where he pretends to vaguely respond because he knows he didn't hear a thing I just said.  No matter... I don't repeat myself anymore.  I do let him know, however, that I get that he didn't hear me and that all the begging in the world to repeat myself isn't going to make me do so.  After a year or more of this not listening/tuning me out thing.. I've grown intolerant to it.  I've told him that, fine, if he's that disinterested in what I have to say then I'll simply 'tell someone who gives a shit.'  He doesn't like it, but it's no longer about what HE likes and doesn't like anymore.  I've taken the first step in getting MY life back, replacing the disrespect he shows towards me with my own SELF-RESPECT; something I really should've done a long, long time ago.  Better late than never, I say.

So this morning was NOT a good morning.  But I'm going to spend the remainder of my day taking care of myself, focusing on what I can do to help myself heal, and incorporating those things that will protect me from further harm from anyone, especially from the person I'm living with.  Yes, I still have to work through the damage from the past relationship, but that's already underway and will help with my current situation.

Well, that's where I am today.  It will get better, and I will keep persevering... as long as I can.

Family--Beating My Head Against the Wall

To say I come from a dysfunctional family is putting it mildly.  Further back than my own memory reaches my siblings have hated me.  No, really, I'm not making this up or being dramatic.  I don't talk about this much because it brings a lot of sadness and discomfort, anger and resentment rushing to the surface.  It's a long story, really, and one with gaps and holes and far-reaching voids where many memories have vanished.  It would be oh so much easier had I been adopted, because I know virtually nothing about my family tree, for all the asking I've done over the years, and my parents are both deceased with my having absolutely NO idea where I came from, who my ancestors are, or what my connection is to any of them, if at all.

I was a "Mistake," according to my mother.  Now, my relationship and experience with my mom is a story in and of itself, and honestly... I could write a novel here about that.  But I'm not going to.  Let's just say my mom was disconnected by the time I was born, old enough to be my grandmother, and about as unplugged as a parent could get.  It was easier to micromanage and control everything to a damaging degree, rather than create experiences that may have given me a chance and coming out on the other side with less 'issues.'  Yes, of course I have issues, and in a way it was my mom's only legacy.

How is it that I could know little of nothing, if anything, about anyone in my family tree?  Well, that's easy--when you don't answer questions, share nothing, and ensure that not a single photo, letter, information, etc. gets passed down to you... well, you can't ask a dead person questions.  Point blank, not pretty, but absolute truth just the same.

Everything from health/medical information was shared primarily with ONE of the 6 children, and I wasn't the one who got the information.  My eldest sister was my mother's confidant, her go-to gal, and there was an almost too-close relationship between my mom and my oldest sister (old enough to be my mom).  I spent my entire life on the outside, looking in, and it was that way until my mom passed away (over 20 years ago now).

One sister and I shared a dad, and my other siblings share a father form my mom's 1st and only marriage.  Yep, my other sister and I were illegitimate.  I could really care less about that, to tell you the truth.  My dad was out of the picture when I was 18 months old, and my mother really never spoke of him or his family except for some really scary things, very dark and scary things.  Now, it shouldn't surprise anyone that if you scare a kid like that, they're most likely not ever going to ask too many questions.  This was the case with me.

The siblings who had a different dad hate me.  Just the truth.  I was even told that one reason they despised me was that, because we were very poor, they often didn't get as much milk (the example used by one brother and sister) because when it came down to the wire... "The baby" (me) needed it more than they did.  I can't speak for what happened when I was a baby.  I can't apologize for something that I didn't do on purpose.  Yet that resentment carried right into adulthood for my 3 brothers and one sister.  BTW, I don't really think of them as brothers and sisters because they've not treated me as such throughout my life.  What memories I have of life with them.. isn't good.

I was born very late, with my mom being in her early 40's when she had me.  All my siblings (but for one) was grown and gone and with kids of their own, so I pretty much grew up like an only child from about age 10.. when one of my sisters married and moved out (she was 16).  We lived in a 3 bedroom house that was eventually condemned, and my mother (a hoarder) used all 3 bedrooms as her hoarding rooms.  My sister, the one I share a dad with, had her own room, lots of 'stuff,' decorated walls, record player, records, clothes, and a bike.  I didn't have enough toys to even have a toy box, so even in this respect I would find myself living an entirely different life than my sister... and everyone else, actually.

My mom was absent, indifferent, cold most of the time...and even cruel.  Skipping over more details than will fit here, I will say that my childhood was very, very odd, and the damage done has proven to be long-lasting.  Still, I spent my life longing for a family, a REAL family.  Now, coming from a family with 3 brothers and 2 sisters you would think that a strange thing for me to say.  Aunts, uncles, cousins... really had nothing to do with me, but for one cousin who, I guess, simply took pity on me.  I felt the hostility from them all growing up and didn't understand any of it at all.  I felt it, saw it, heard it, and experienced that hostility until we moved away from California.  We moved to Colorado because my oldest brother wanted my mom to move there so she could babysit while he and my SIL could work.  I was in 8th grade when we moved, and my life didn't get better at all.

Longing for a real family... even to this day....

I would eventually move away from the state of Colorado.  My kids and I, to make a long story short as possible, ended up here in the south along the Gulf Coast, where we settled into that strange place (strange to us because we weren't from there) and would end up calling the south "Home."  It's the only place that ever felt like home to me.  I'm still in the south, but a little further north by a few short hours.  But back to "Family"....

When my mom passed, naturally my eldest sister got everything.  Very important items my mom was holding for me until I could send for them were divided amongst my brothers and sisters and nephews... or just tossed out as garbage.  They did this QUICKLY after my mother died, the day they found out, using the excuse that they were sure that since she was on disability, got a veteran's widow pension, and on Medicare, etc... that the 'government' was going to come in and take her stuff.  Yes, LUDICROUS, but that's the excuse they used.  And when I arrived for her funeral I wasn't even allowed to so much as have a photo of hers.  My eldest sister 'allowed' me to take ONE photo to have it photocopied.  My mom had boxes and boxes of photos, btw.

Few actually had anything to say to me at the funeral, or after.  It was the same shit, different day.. only worse.  A few years later I'd tried once again to make some kind of connection with them, but it ended in a total disaster.  I finally came to my senses and realized that I was the only one putting in any effort and that it just simply wasn't worth it.  I basically told my oldest brother and his bitchy wife to piss off.  And yes, it felt great and was LONG overdue.

In the present....

I know pretty much nothing of my family history, my family tree.  My last living grandparent died when I was 2 weeks old, and everyone else was so much older than me that no one really had anything to do with me.  My mom wasn't really forthcoming with names, histories, etc., though she did incorporate some names and such in a few fun stories she would tell from time to time.  But as a little child I really had no idea if she were making the stuff up/telling fairytales, or if the information was actually true.  And after my mom's death... the information about grandparents and such were simply not given to me, even if I asked.  Photos, etc.... all given to my sister, who claimed some neighbor stole them, were lost.  My brothers, etc. chose badly when they decided to give my sister everything.  One person said they thought my sister pawned or sold the framed antique photos of grandparents etc for money.  Sadly, it sounds exactly like something she would do.

The cruelty extends into adulthood....

When one of my brothers passed away a few years ago I was told about this AFTER the funeral had taken place, and... I was told on Facebook by a distant cousin.  She apparently looked for me on Facebook with ONE purpose in mind, and that was to send me a message that read.. "B**** passed away last week.  Thought you'd like to know."  I asked "How/why?" which lead to her replaying in the same short, blunt fashion. She then disappeared and didn't say a word ever again.  I'd written back a couple of times.. with no response.  I'd written my nephew as well, and have been ignored.  And this nephew I grew up with and was very close to most of our lives.  He's only 2 1/2 years younger than I am.

Cruelty was their favorite weapon, and continues to be so.


The family tree...

As someone who feels completely disconnected from 'family' or blood ties, history... it only stands to reason that I would, eventually, WANT to know something about my own family history.  SOMETHING.  ANYTHING.  So when I decided to look into www.ancestry.com I felt like I was taking a step in the right direction.  Maybe this site could help me put the broken pieces together in such a way that I would at least see my connection within the bloodline.

What I've done...

I created an account at www.ancestry.com over a year ago, but since I wasn't really willing to invest any money into getting a full account, I've only spent the smallest bit of time there.  But that changed for me about a week ago when I saw a commercial online for Ancestry and a DNA test they offered that shows where your bloodline is from, at least in percentages.  A lot of folks have jumped on board for this.  Now, one cool thing about the DNA test and having a real account (which I don't yet) is that you can set your family tree to allow links between matches for DNA, region, etc.  It's a lot more complicated than that, and they have a video that explains it all, but it's a really neat tool and a good place to start.  But what about for someone like me?....

DNA results may be the only thing I really get out of this, and that's okay.  It's something, isn't it?  It would be nice to know for sure what ethnicities are involved in my family tree, even if I don't have any family history to see how the pieces fit.  I sent my kit off today and, from what I understand, it will take about a week for the results to get uploaded online.  Knowing it's not going to give me complete picture of my family tree... I'm still okay, and I'm fairly patient where that's concerned.

So what's my freaking point here?

My point is this: If you have information about family history (names, places, etc) please share them with your kids.  Don't leave them in the dark to spend the rest of their lives wondering who they really are (history wise), where they're from, what their history is, etc.  It's really not a good or easy thing to live with when you have no idea about those things.  Don't do that to your kids, seriously.

My desire to know more about my family history/ancestry runs deeper than the hurt from the disconnection from my actual 'family members.'  I rarely use the word 'family' when speaking about them.  They're blood relatives to me, but nothing more.

I have to wonder if I'm beating my head against the wall trying to piece together a family tree I know nothing about.  Names, birth dates, etc. are required to even do searches or make connections.  What little information I have really just stops at my mom, and my dad I have only a name and birth date.  It's really like hitting a brick wall.  But is it worth it, all of this effort?  I don't know.

I really just don't know.  The one thing I DO know is that I'm left with the question: Will I ever fully understand myself in connection to history and ancestry?

*shrugs*

Today

Catchy title, huh?  I'm tired and a little low on the enthusiasm here, so my guess is that things aren't going to be too impressive as far as how I think, feel, or speak.  But it doesn't mean today isn't filled with possibility--because, as it turns out, it is.

The exercise bike is due to be delivered late this afternoon, so that's definitely a positive.  I also have to get blood drawn again and see my hepatologist about tapering the prednisone and increasing the Azathioprine dosages. Today has some promise to it, and I'll take that.  I'll take whatever good comes my way.  Still, I feel the depression trying to take hold, and I'm fairly certain it has a lot to do with the combination of prednisone and just the way things are at the moment in my life.

Today--I have to find a way to rise above it.  I just do.

Have to.