Tag Archives: Isolation


More and more lately I find myself reminiscing about the past. I do this because I am so isolated and feel empty. The only thing that moves me is music. Music then brings back memories. I have not spoken to a human in over 36 hours. It is hard for me to make friends when I think I irritate or annoy people. I always think I have overstayed my welcome in a conversation or even in life. When I remember some of the more fun times of the past I don’t feel that way.

I know I have talked a lot about how bad things were from 16/17 until 36/37. Don’t judge my memory if you had drank as much as I did and had shock therapy you wouldn’t remember either. But not all of it was bad. Some of it was fun. Some of the people I met were actually good people. Some of the bad people I met were actually very ill.

So here are some stories to the best of my recollection some names have been changed and details left out because I either can’t remember them or it would give the person away.

One of the biggest personas I have ever met was man named Ricky. Ricky was probably 38 when I first met him and I think I was 18 or 19. He showed up at J’s house one summer day tan as tan could be, no shirt on, and the shortest cut off jean shorts my best friend W and I had ever seen on a man. They were daisy dukes. W and I looked at one another with wide eyes. He introduced himself, was polite, and sat down across from us. Of course he wasn’t wearing underwear. That pretty much sums up Ricky. He loved wearing women’s perfume. Why? Because he loved everything about women. I should think so because he had 10 children and only 2 had the same mother. He was charming with big sky blue eyes and dark brown hair. He was a fisherman but did it illegally (of course). If you asked any of them why they went to prison they would say “Illegal Shell Fishing”. They could’ve slaughtered an entire family and it would still be “Illegal Shell Fishing”.

Ricky always had a system. Somehow he had it planned so he would be out of jail in the summer and back in for the winter. The guards would take him to lunch at a local sports bar and grille where they would have a few beers and bring him back. He was on work duty. It was the craziest thing. This was still when they could lift weights and smoke inside. So Ricky would come out bigger and a little meaner every summer. I don’t think he realized the toll it was taking on him.

He always tried to feed W and I. His specialty was chicken and succotash. I should really just say succotash. How many times W and I have laughed over succotash I couldn’t count. That man took it seriously. He had the craziest taste in women. I remember one named Amber who frightened everyone including Ricky. She loathed W and I. She was a hardcore alcoholic who slurred her words even when sober. She was also loud. She looked to be in her mid forties but it was hard to tell. She wore too much make up and colored her short hair jet black. She had a harsh look. She was also thin but all muscle.

We could never tell if Ricky liked her or not. When he was supposed to be with her he was usually at J’s with us. One night he came over dressed up. This meant longer shorts and actual shoes. He had a polo shirt on too. He had a 6 pack of Bud with him. I thought to myself “how odd?”. He walked over to what was usually my chair, he bent down and kissed me on the cheek. He then whispered in my ear “These are for you. I would’ve done more but I didn’t have the money. You always give everyone yours, even me so I thought it was time someone gave to you”. He brushed my hair back and smiled at me. W arrived and we all started drinking. It was getting late and down to just me, Ricky, W, and Paul. I was playing John Mellencamp while J was asleep. I was singing and sitting in Ricky’s lap. It wasn’t in a sexual way, I knew he had 10 children and I wasn’t going to be the one to give him number 11. I started to hear something resembling a cat dying and my name. It was a very drunk Amber. As soon as Ricky heard her voice he threw me off his lap and hid.

I was drunk and stupid enough to go looking for a fight. The problem was when I opened the door and she saw me tears rolled down her face. I stepped outside with her. I told her nothing was going on with Ricky. I told her he starts drinking and telling stories and forgets where he’s supposed to be. If I saw him I would tell him to call her. She looked better, said thanks and went home. She would still continue to threaten to kill me but I knew she was hurting because she loved him. The problem was Ricky wasn’t capable of loving anyone. He came from a large dysfunctional family filled with addiction and suicide. I remember J telling me about Ricky’s family and me sitting there crying. He didn’t have much of a chance.

He had an older brother who was a heroin addict. This brother shot up his girlfriend and she overdosed. He couldn’t handle it so he overdosed. Ricky had another brother who hung himself and one more who was also an alcoholic/addict. Towards my later years at J’s I watched Ricky get worse. Going in and out of prison had taken it’s toll. He had starting using heroin while inside.

W’s old boyfriend was the last to see him several years ago in court. Ricky offered to sell him a watch for some drugs. He looked thin and old. I was sorry to hear this. Under different circumstances Ricky could’ve been anything he wanted to be. He was smart, charming, good looking, he could sell ice to an Eskimo. Deep down he was a good man. I hope he’s alive and well. I did try to find out but only found outstanding warrants which isn’t a good sign.

I don’t know if I should have a different blog for my Drinking/Alcoholism/Sobriety or if it goes hand in hand with Bipolar Disorder. I feel it does. Statistics show they usually go together but am I doing a disservice by not separating them?


It’s everywhere you go isn’t it? Alcohol. Everyone on the planet seems to be able to handle a drink or two except you. How many times have you bargained with yourself while out with friends? I used to tell my best friend W that I was “only” going to have 2 beers and 2 shots and then she needed to cut me off. She would always say “OK”. She was taller but I outweighed her by a 100 pounds at the time and could get mean when I drank. She knew this, I knew this. We both knew she wasn’t going to stop me. She would try to make sure I didn’t hurt myself but that’s all she could do.

I can’t tell how many people tried to blame her for my problems over the years. Why didn’t she stop me? Why didn’t she tell my family? It wasn’t her job. And she was the ONLY ONE WHO SAW THE PAIN INSIDE OF ME. No one else did. She knew pretty much all of the things I had been through the last 20 years. She loves me and cares about me but it’s difficult to know someone is destroying themselves but to also know the agony they carry inside.

The first 10 years of my alcoholism were brutal. It isn’t easy hanging around mostly men that are ex-cons and either alcoholics, drug addicts or both. The first guy I was ever with was 6’3″, tan complexion (he was French and Italian), and had 2 teardrop tattoos under his eye. I was 17 and an idiot. He had spent 6 years inside a Florida prison. Yes he was very attractive, no he had no job or money. The first time we were together he played a Metallica song and lit Black candles. I should’ve run immediately. He taught me a lot though. How to get out of a dumpster on my own, how to punch a guy in the jaw and knock out his tooth (him), how to give a false alibi, and how to deal with extreme humiliation. Not to mention he had an ex-wife and a toddler who I paid child support for once or twice.

He wasn’t even the worst of them. But most of you know that story. They were hard years. I drank everyday. I would be driving home at 3 a.m. puking into my sweatshirt. Then wake up at 6 a.m. to be at work for 7 a.m. During this time period my behavior grew worse while I was drinking and I would cut myself or swallow a bottle of pills. Off to the hospital you go! They don’t fix you or help you, they babysit you. After several more years of this my brain decided “You’re not very good at this killing yourself thing so instead your going to date (f*ck) every asshole you meet in the hope he’ll do it for you”. That almost worked on several occasions. Some I don’t remember. Some I thought I could handle and fight back a little bit. I didn’t know how vulnerable I had become. I didn’t realize how empty I was.

I have to say that I had good parents and I love both of them very much. I was born with something wrong inside of me. I felt it at an early age. The loneliness in a room filled with people, an aching feeling in my chest I couldn’t name, a feeling like I didn’t belong here. When I say “here” I mean on this Planet. I’m a twin and I often felt that I was a mistake. My mother didn’t know she was having twins. I still feel I wasn’t meant to be here.

My mother’s death and getting a DUI helped me to seek the resources I needed. I knew there was something more going on than drinking. With the family history of Mental Illness and Alcoholism how could there not be? It took a year to get a diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder. Then I was sent to other specialists because my cognitive skills were questionable. I had just spent the last 20 years pickling my brain I’m not sure what they expected. My liver was also enlarged and towards the end of my drinking I was vomiting blood. One idiot who did the cognitive testing said to me “Congratulations. You have the brain of an 82 alcoholic man.” Why a man? I had no idea. Which he just proved.

The DUI was something I was pissed at. I hadn’t been driving the car. It was stalled in the middle of the road from earlier, the keys weren’t in the ignition, and me being me was trying to push it while it was still in Park. I know driving while under the influence is wrong. That’s why the car was stuck there. I had gotten to the end of W’s street, decided I was too drunk to drive, went to do a U-Turn when the car stalled. The Officer on the scene was not helpful. I’m not saying he should’ve been nice. It was right after my mom had passed away, I was crying outside the vehicle when he pulled up. He patted me down. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t carrying anything in my bra or vagina in one of the richest areas in my state. Took my shoes, coat, and blazer from me so all I had on was a sheer tank top and black jeans. Took the tiny pillow and the toilet paper out of their one cell and sat down to watch me all night. No female officers, no other male officers, just him to watch me pee and shiver in my see through tank top.

When the judge read the report and my lawyer pointed out that I hadn’t been driving, the keys were not in the ignition, and the officer had given me an PARKING TICKET ON TOP OF EVERYTHING he immediately dismissed it. The state had me sign a waiver saying I wouldn’t sue. How can you give someone a Parking Ticket and DUI at the same time? You can’t Park and Drive. The judge didn’t like some of the other things he had heard either.

The one thing the Judge was concerned about was my Breathalyzer Test. I blew a .30 a few hours after the arrest. The judge knew that these were not the numbers of someone who has an occasional drink. He told my lawyer to get me help or therapy because if he saw me again it wouldn’t be the same outcome. I didn’t go to a program. I cut ties with the people I drank with. I only spoke to W on the phone or we went for lunch or the mall. Mostly I stayed home or spent time with my dad and sister.

The Bipolar Diagnosis is harder. There is no cure. You can’t just ignore one thing to make it better. I never know how I will be until I wake up. I still have that aching hole in my soul that never gets better. I am always in a constant state of grief and sorrow. Losing my mom made it worse. When I would get like this she would hold my face in her hands and tell me she loved me. No one does that now. No one touches me at all now.

This is why the Doctors worry anesthesia. When I’m under all that pain is gone and maybe I even see my mom. Who knows? All I know is that my brain doesn’t want to leave where it is. And yet I have to continue to go under anesthesia every 4 to 5 months for the rest of my life. Sometimes I look forward to it. I don’t know where I belong and I don’t where I’ll go if something happens to my dad. I’ve talked myself into depression. lol It’s what I’m good at.100_0463 (4)

This is a drinking picture. I post it so you know. I was 270 pounds at the time I am 135 now. I also no longer have the blond hair. After that beer I’ll probably have 6 shots of Jager or Patron and a few more beers.

Trouble With “Far Behind”

When I was angry and upset I sent the link for my “Far Behind” post to my sister. I honestly didn’t remember doing it until she brought it up this morning. Now we are no longer speaking.

She disputes most of what I remembered and wants her picture taken off anything of mine. She also wants me to “get help” and “put my big girl pants on”. I have only been back from Florida 2 days and have already had arguments with my sister and father. Both of them telling me I need to change and one telling me I’m lucky he put’s up with me.

Here is one of my favorite movie quotes that sums up how I feel most of the time about the people I love. It’s from the movie Gladiator. It’s Commodus talking to his father, Caesar.

One kind word, one full hug while you pressed me to your chest and held me tight, would have been like the sun on my heart for a thousand years. What is it in me you hate so much? All I ever wanted was to live up to you, Caesar, Father. Father, I would butcher the whole world if you would only love me….

I have thought of this scene often since seeing the movie 3 times when it was first released in the theater. I often felt like there was something about me my sister hated and no matter what I did nothing was going to change that. I also felt like I embarrassed her. This was before I was diagnosed as Bipolar and before I started drinking heavily. I’ve said it before, I have always had an idea about how sisters should be. They should spend time together laughing, sharing memories, making new ones, and cherishing the time they have left. It’s what I want, it’s what my mother would’ve wanted.

But I can’t continue to let this rip me to shreds. I hang up the phone with her with a buzzing in my head, a static that I want to make disappear. I want the pain in my chest to go away, I want the hollow feeling in my stomach to stop. I find myself looking around for a way to do this. I have hit my head against the wall several times, I have thrown things, I have picked up knives. I’m lucky I could see through the red in my tears to put the knives down and not hurt myself. I still hurt.

I wish I could say it was just my sister I felt this way about but it isn’t. There are other people I allow to make me feel this way. If I could snap out of it I would. If I could put my big girl pants on I would. If I could be happy I would.mv5bmta0mdewndm0mtveqtjeqwpwz15bbwu3mdq0ndy3mtq__v1_sy1000_cr0015041000_al_

Angry Birds

I know that my father’s love of animals, specifically birds has been since he was very young. I realize it was a coping mechanism for him. He wasn’t outgoing like my mom, he never liked social situations or small talk. He often could use them as an excuse to get out of things he didn’t want to do.

His pigeon hobby came close to costing him his marriage almost more than his alcoholism. What do you do with a man who spends 9 hours a day at work to come home only to spend his evenings and weekends with his birds? The birds came before family vacations. If there were babies about to be hatched forget it. I watched my mom slowly start to withdraw herself. She started sitting at the kitchen table, smoking Winston Light 100’s, staring out the window.

My mother loved my father with all of her heart. She would have died for him. And make no mistake my father loved my mother the same way. She saved his life. He will never love another woman the same.

That being said she admits she became pregnant on purpose. My father had taken off at the news and came back at some point during her pregnancy or right after we were born. I know they were not married until we were at least 5 years old. I was an observant/nosy child and always found out the family secrets. I kept them to myself until drunk and angry when I knew they would hurt the most.

I sometimes doubted my dad ever wanted us. I thought he felt trapped or forced into taking care of us and marrying my mom. My mother was so loud and different than him I wondered why he didn’t leave. She would have weeks of depression where she stayed in her nightgown, locked in her bedroom. We all pretended it wasn’t happening. When we were very young I think we were sent to a relatives house for as long as they could take us. As we got older we took care of ourselves.

When my mom was ok she was more than ok. She made up for the flaws in both of them. I don’t know how she did it sometimes. As I sit here now at the same kitchen table, alone, isolated, watching my father kill himself over pigeons, I can’t help but wonder. Did she give up? Did she have enough of seeing my dad but not really ever being with him? Her bestfriend and sister had just moved away. She was used to either talking to her or seeing her everyday. Now she would have to get on a plane to see her. With one lung and other health problems that probably wasn’t going to happen. My Aunt made her leave the house and keep active. When she left that was it. My father never tried. I did a few times but she refused.

She spent more time in her room and more time sneaking food she wasn’t supposed to have. She was good at talking people into bringing things that were not good for her. She would cry and say how depressed she was and how maybe a candy bar would make her feel better. I would go in her room while she was in the shower and find bags of candy bars! She was an insulin dependent diabetic with 1 lung, that 1 lung also had emphysema, she had fluid around her heart and ate bologna sandwiches 4 at a time. It became harder to watch, I spent more time drinking when I could.

It’s easier to understand looking back years later. I don’t think any of us could’ve done anything for my mom. She would tell me she felt like she was drowning. For someone who had a phobia of drowning this had to be a nightmare. I held her beautiful hands in mine and cried with her when she told me this. She passed away a few days later.

People often ask why I don’t live on my own. First of all I’m scared, second I owe my dad my life and he needs me. No, I don’t owe him because he’s my dad. I owe him because he has been there every time I tried to get sober and failed. He has been here when I got sober and so far have stayed that way. He has been there every time I tried to kill myself and never judged me, he just held me and cried. He sat with me through endless hours of mind numbing movies and TV because he knew I didn’t want to be alone. He did this for years. When I think of my parents I think of one picture. It makes everything clear.DSC01024 (2)

Like a bird in flight I start to feel free from my hostility and glimpse a little bit of solace.

WARNING: Do Not Leave Alone Or Feed After Midnight

13626476_10210547133301435_6524932080955258860_nHello! For those of you that have not read my blog before I am a 43 year old woman, diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder at 36/37, diagnosed with Conversion Disorder, and an alcoholic in remission for over 7 years. I also have Chronic Kidney Disease which has left me with one functioning kidney and Celiac Disease. I have always lived at home with my parents and my mom passed away 8 and 1/2 years ago. I took care of her while she was ill. My father is on dialysis and I now take care of him.

When I stopped drinking for the first year I didn’t go many places. I was trying to deal with why I felt the way I did and going to various Doctors. Years later when I found myself in a stable place I realized how many people no longer wanted to BE in my life. They didn’t want to put in the effort they thought it would take to deal with a “crazy” person. Some of them still drank and didn’t want to put me in an awkward situation. Maybe my erratic behavior was just too much. It wasn’t just friends but family too. It didn’t bother me so much when it was cousins or relatives I hadn’t talked to in long time. What did hurt was when it was a relative I was very close to and loved like my mom. In fact, my mother’s sister. My own twin sister slowly started backing away from me. I have not seen my nephews in a long time when I used to see them at least twice a week.

The isolation can get to me. When you combine that with my medication it can be embarrassing. When I do leave the house I find myself talking too much and too fast to strangers in stores or employees. When I leave the store I sit in my car and cry. I feel humiliated because I was so excited to be talking to another human that I babbled their ear off.

I did this two times already today. A woman called to ask about my dad’s pigeons. I talked to her for 45 minutes. A politician came to the door and I talked to her about everything that’s wrong with our state for a half hour.

I remember when I worked in retail and we had customers that we knew were “talkers”. We all tried to avoid them even me. We would roll our eyes when we would see them coming because we knew it would be a big chunk out of our day. I didn’t mind some of them and actually looked forward to a few of them. Then there were a few with problems that no matter what you said or did wouldn’t understand that they were crossing a boundary. They would stand too close, follow you around the store, try to come behind the counter, or expect special favors. These were the only people that bothered me.

I’ll never forget the day I went to my local drug store. As I approached the counter I saw all three pharmacists roll their eyes. There was no one else around. I left immediately to cry in my car. I know I talk too much sometimes. It’s ironic really.

For most of my life I didn’t talk at all. I looked at the ground while walking, never made eye contact, and tried to hide behind my hair. I only talked when I drank. That was it. Sober I never really did. In school I always tried to sit in the back of the class and go unnoticed. I wore clothes that were too big for me and dark colors. I didn’t even use the bathrooms. Maybe that contributed to my kidney problems. The girl’s bathroom is the last place an awkward obese girl wants to be caught alone. So I never went.

Now I can’t shut up and there isn’t anyone to talk to. I can’t win. I thought I was making progress with my sister. I’ve been trying to be cheery on the phone with her. The second day of this she sounded weird. I found out it was because we were not discussing her. As long as we talk about her problems she’s happy. She also took off on another vacation and said she told me about it but she didn’t. She won’t have phone service so if anything happens to my dad I can’t reach her. This from someone who just gave me shit about taking some time for myself at the end of August. My Doctors suggested it. My kidney function has gotten worse and the stress I’m under is taking a huge toll on my health.

I’m going to book my vacation and let the cards fall where they may. You never know what’s around the corner so I’ve learned not to put things off.

If you feed me after midnight I’ll have a gallbladder attack and I wanted it to sound like Gremlins. lol


Last night, around 11:00 p.m. I started to have incredible pain in my diaphragm. I pretty much knew what it was but it has never been this bad. The been went straight down to my pelvis. I knew it was my Gallbladder. I was also nauseas and sweating. But the pain was unbearable. I tried the fetal position, it would work for about 15 minutes then it was like my entire midsection was having spasms of pain. I wanted to call 911 but honestly I was too tired.

I managed to call my sister at 7:00 a.m. and she asked what I wanted her to do. I don’t know. Say something soothing, offer to come over and just sit with me. She knew I was in the house alone, our dad was in the ICU after his surgery, and I was sick. She sighed and said “Do you want me to come there?”. The way she said it I knew she didn’t want to. Then before I could answer she told me I was on speaker phone because she was on her way to help our ex-sister-in-law because she had surgery on her shoulder. That pretty much summed it up.

I hung up with her and immediately received a call from the Hospital that they were releasing my dad in about a hour. I started to panic. It was too much. The crying started, then came the tremors and stuttering. Talking to myself and repeating every negative thing ever said to me while rocking back and forth. I can’t keep going like this. I have not slept in 2 days. The deep depression in the mornings that do not start to get better until 2:00 p.m. is mentally exhausting. My doctor isn’t much help. My family is sick of it. I had visions of banging my head against the wall to make the dull ache in my head and heart go away for even just a short time.

Running a fever doesn’t help either. Everything is screwed up. I think one of my stents is out of place. I won’t gross you out with the details. My back is killing me, I’m not urinating much and when I do there is blood. The can’t see me until the 27th. I just don’t want to ruin the 79% function in the 1 kidney I have left.

Why couldn’t my sister just come over and hug me? I watch too many movies and too much TV. This is what she tells me. I have unrealistic expectations. Real life sisters don’t act like that. I’m tired of begging people to love me or even like me. I’ve been doing it since I was 5. I don’t even like me. And that there is the problem.

Feeling Alone and Knowing It

I understand that unless you are Bipolar or have a Mental Illness you will never be able to truly comprehend what some of us go through. Something that others would “get over” in time, takes me years or sometimes never to “get over”. I am told almost daily to “stop living in the past”.

Let me ask this. Would you want someone to whip you everyday then pour salt in your wounds? Would you want your head to feel like it’s going to explode with the pressure? Your heart with the pain? I don’t think so. Neither do I. But it’s what it feels like. Often. I can’t pray it away, wish it away, chant it away, think of a stop sign, snap a rubber band, or use any behavioral management. If it’s going to come I can’t stop it. I can only wait it out and hope it leaves me whole and not in pieces.

There was an incident recently where someone said something to me about how I need to get used to being alone. They said my father’s health is failing and once he passes I’ll be alone. It isn’t like I have children like my sister does. Well, thanks for that pep talk! Assholes, everybody has one. I would’ve loved to have children if I hadn’t spent most of my child baring years drunk. I refused to bring a child into this world that I couldn’t afford, to be raised in dysfunction. When I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder I made the decision not to have children because of my family history. I was kind of on the fence. If I had met a man who was kind and stable who knows? Then due to kidney disease and other health issues the choice was taken from me. I went into Menopause at 39/40 years of age. So that was that.

I always thought my twin sister would be there for me. I should have known better. Even when we were younger she didn’t want us to have the same friends. I was not allowed to be at the same parties she was in high school. It got a little better when we got older but we never were as close as I wanted us to be. She thinks we are too close if we talk more than 3 times a week. My mother and her sister talked sometimes 3 times a day! And would see each other almost every other day! They talked and laughed. How I miss hearing them laugh. I miss a lot of things.

Good news is my dad is feeling a little better. He sold all of his chickens and a few pigeons. That’s progress. His mood has improved a little bit but it comes and goes. I still get the brunt of it as usual.


Sad Days & Sadder Nights

The last few days have been really hard. Actually the entire month of February has been difficult for me. Losing another dog, taking my Dad to the ER, my own health, and the anniversary of my mother’s death all in one month. I have no one to talk to about any of these things. Saying I feel alone is an understatement.

Today I tried calling 2 of my aunts, my sister, and even my ex-sister in law. Not one of them answered or returned my phone calls. I miss my mom and wanted to just talk to one of her sisters. I was very close to 2 of them when she was alive. My mom held everyone together. My Dad keeps taking off for hours at a time leaving me alone in the house. He seems to do this whenever I start talking. I know he doesn’t do it on purpose. He just wants to go look at antiques and think about my mom in his own way.

I’m having trouble leaving the house. I don’t want to spend money and there really isn’t anywhere to go in this cold weather. I sit here and obsess about the past and things I should’ve said or did. I then think of all things I did say and do when I was drinking and didn’t know I was Bipolar. The people I hurt, specifically my mom. Then I think I’ll always be alone and I’ll never have a “normal” life. This scares me. At one time my sister or my best friend would say that they would never let me be all alone. They don’t say this anymore. This scares me too. Have I become that bad I’m no longer wanted by family or friends? I can’t blame them. There are days I no longer want to be me.

Being Positive is Overrated

I have been fairly negative lately and it’s hard not to be. There are certain triggers for me, movies, music, or just a bad conversation. I’ve watched several emotional movies over the past couple of days and that’s enough to bring me down. If you add in my health, my family, and lack of support you get the perfect storm. I have not been sleeping well either. My energy is at a zero. There is nothing that interests me.

It’s funny that for someone who doesn’t speak to many people I can’t remember who told me I have to think “positive”. That I have to change my “mindset”. I remember thinking to myself “shut up, shut up, shut up” but can’t remember the person. I probably blocked them out on purpose. It’s the biggest load of crap you can say to me. I also hate it when people ask me to repeat myself. It takes a lot of effort for me to speak in the first place so asking me to repeat myself is torture. I’d rather not talk at all.

My father does this constantly. I know he is hard of hearing in one ear. But most of the time it’s because he isn’t paying attention. Sometimes when he says “What?” I say I was talking to the dogs because it’s easier. I really wanted to have an intelligent conversation about what’s going on in the world but I can’t. I wanted his views on if we really belong in Iraq helping to fight a war that will never end because of what they are fighting for. If we should really be helping South Africa more because what they fight over is tangible and after watching 2 recent films I was so disgusted that we are not doing more there and wanted to know why. But there is no one to talk to about these things so I keep silent. It’s probably why some people are so surprised when I do speak intelligently on a topic other than hair and make up.

I’ve been on some spending sprees too. I feel guilty after. I try to justify my purchases but I really didn’t need a Keurig, a Smart Blue Ray player, a new Smart Phone, or a pair of boots. I do like the Keurig though.

Lately I feel fear constantly. It’s in the pit of my stomach. I feel life is going by and I’m sitting on the couch too tired and too afraid to do anything. I don’t like this feeling. I’m irritable and restless at the same time. I feel I’m doomed to be unhappy forever. I’m so used to being miserable I don’t know how to be anything else. This scares me too.

This wasn’t how my life was supposed to be. I was supposed to get married, buy a house, have children, grow old with my husband. I’ve never been on a real date. Even now I don’t look men in the eye. Unless they are my Doctor. Yes I’m having a pity party and I’ll cry if I want to. I’ve earned that right. In AA they would talk about “pity parties” and it would make me want to scream. Who the hell are you to tell me I can’t grieve the things I’ve lost or will never have? You don’t know me, you only know what I tell you here. A story for another day.

It’s time to check on the puppy from hell and maybe try to sleep. At least he makes me smile sometimes when he’s not pooping on the floor or chewing my new boots.


Christmas Dilemma



Every year I spend hours and hours trying to find the right gifts for the right people. Mostly for my nieces and nephews and my dad. I look at every website having to do with their interests, I research what they are into at the moment. And then I am told with the older ones to just give them money. The younger ones at least get excited but I have not had much access to them lately. They have grown. Their interests are not the same. Texting my sister with questions she won’t answer isn’t going to work.

I’m tired of being the only one to put in any effort at all. I even sneak a present to my sister or brother in law if I see something they would love. My brother in law loves The Ramones and a store had a Ramones lunchbox and thermos. I thought it was pretty cool. He did too. But he never told ME that. He told my sister to tell me he loved it. Of course she didn’t until a few years later. So I thought the entire time that I made an ass out of myself. That it was a stupid gift. This is how I usually feel after giving a gift. That it isn’t good enough. Never mind the fact that it’s never reciprocated. If it is it’s in the form of a Dunkin’ Donuts gift card or something similar. Like these people don’t know me at all.

They don’t. So this year I’m not going crazy. I’m done. I’ll spend the money on myself and my stupid medical bills. Instead of expecting my family to think like me or be something they’re not and setting myself up for disappointment I’ll just stop now. It doesn’t mean the little ones won’t get something, it just means I’m not spending 100 hours to find the right gifts. The older nieces and nephew have not had any contact with me at all despite my efforts to try. They are over 18. This hurts me a lot but I’ve tried numerous times. I’m going to leave it alone. I’m not a Grandparent or Parent I’m not obligated to give them anything. Yes, I’ll feel guilty but I have to stick to my decision. I’m on Disability and do not get much money to begin with. Medicaid insists I make too much to receive any help. Since when is $16,320 a year too much money? I couldn’t afford to live on my own, Gluten Free food is double the price of normal food and I don’t qualify for help with paying for food either. Rent in my state for a one bedroom apartment on average is $750-$800 a month nothing included. That’s in a not so great neighborhood. I forgot the cost of my medications. Viibryd is too new so I pay a hefty co-pay for that one and some of the others I can’t do the Generic because there is Gluten in it. So my insurance won’t cover it and I have to pay out of pocket.

So it should be an interesting Holiday. I think I’ll stock up on pajamas and earplugs and stay in my room until January 2, 2016.

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