Tag Archives: Responsibility


I had surgery to replace my Ureteral Stents on May 14th. My twin sister drove me because my Dad has dialysis on Mondays. As soon as she got in the car I felt the tension. I was already feeling anxious and wasn’t allowed to take any of my Bipolar medications before the surgery. I don’t remember what started it. I think I started crying and it annoyed her. We also got lost on the way to the Hospital and she refused to listen to me. She wanted to drop me off at the door. I told her she had to come in and talk to them so they knew I actually had a ride home.

She wanted to valet park my car and I didn’t understand why when you could park yourself for free. She wasn’t paying for it. I always feel weird about valet parking. It’s a Hospital, you don’t need to valet park. This annoyed her further.

She didn’t want to come back with me while I waited for them to take me into surgery. One of the nurses must have said something to her because she eventually came back to sit with me. It was a mistake.

She was showing me pictures of my nephews. I love them more than anything. I didn’t know the older one spoke in front of the Mayor and 300 people on behalf of the Little League. They looked so grown up. Of course I started to tear up.

My sister said “You know you can come over any time and see them”. I looked at her with my mouth open. I then said “I have to wait for your husband to leave the house first?”. She didn’t answer right away. Then she said “Neither one of us like your behavior or how you don’t take responsibility for anything you say or do”. That was the beginning of the end.

The anesthesiologist came into the room to talk to me while my sister was there. He came back after she left. He asked if I was okay. I told him I was fine. He said he was asking because I have a history of not wanting to come out of the anesthesia.

Nothing went well. They blew a vein in my IV, one of the stents became embedded and encrusted, someone taped my top lip to the breathing tube and didn’t realize it until they pulled it out taking the skin of my lip with it, and they couldn’t wake me.

After 3 hours I woke up. The anesthesiologist came in again. He said that he knew I was upset before going under and that it can’t happen again. He said at some point I’ll stay under because of my Conversion Disorder diagnosis. When I’m stressed, anxious, or sad I don’t always have control of neurological functions. It’s scary.

All of this made me realize the people around me are not going to change. I have to change how I react, my environment, and how I cope. I also need to recognize toxic people and situations.

TO BE CONTINUED…..be5d9e9599909984881e21c7036e306e


No one has to tell me the damage I’ve done with my drinking, erratic behavior, attempts at suicide, abusive environments, and everything else I’ve done. I think about all of it almost daily. At times I use these memories as self punishment to remind myself why I don’t deserve to be happy. I know this isn’t true but I have days where it’s difficult to differentiate between the two.

I never wanted to tell anyone I thought about suicide because I was terrified of being institutionalized. I had seen several places while visiting relatives and they were scary. I didn’t want to be taken from my parents. Even though there is a strong hereditary link in my family my parents did the best they could at the time and I know they loved me. There are days where I do doubt this. They happen a lot more recently.

No one knows what to say someone who has attempted suicide so usually it never gets discussed.

It needs to be talked about specifically in the family. My family never discussed any of my attempts. I would be picked up at the Hospital when I was allowed to leave or if I had to stay in a Psych ward usually it was my Dad who came to visit me until I was released. It’s weird that I just remembered that. My Mom and sister never came. Only my Dad.

After it was like nothing ever happened. How can you have a child who overdoses 4 times and cuts their wrists enough to need stitches and cause nerve damage twice and not talk about it? But that’s how it was.

My sister told me the other day that my actions “scarred her for life”. I wasn’t sure whether I should be angry or sad. She was never around during the worse of it or if she was she never showed up.

When she commented that she had more sympathy for her friend’s son who shot himself in the head because he must have been in “real pain” unlike other people who attempt suicide and fail, I felt a tingling heat and dizziness. I couldn’t help but think she was talking about me.

Never compare someone’s pain to another’s. I replay conversations and comments in my head over and over until I’m cried out and exhausted.

I’m not unaware of the damage I’ve done it’s the opposite. I’m hyper aware which makes everything harder to deal with. c02707c766261aeb5fc516d564ea5b15


I was watching Dr. K’s Exotic Animal ER this morning. I believe she is based in Florida where the laws about owning exotics are less strict. There was something that upset me to the point I found myself crying and swearing at the TV.

A man called ahead to say he was bringing in one of his Marmosets that he found at the bottom of it’s cage not moving. He thought she was having a miscarriage.

When he arrived one of the techs asked for the Marmosets name. His response was “Ten”. The tech was confused and asked him again. He said “Ten like the number”. I could see her facial expression change to one of disgust. This poor animal was just a number to this guy, a way to make money.

It was heartbreaking to watch them try to save that tiny animal when it was already lifeless to begin with. I wasn’t surprised the animal passed if it was being kept by itself in a cage. If the man knew anything about Marmosets he would know that they are highly social and need companionship of other Marmosets to be healthy.

They also can’t be in small enclosures because they are active and need stimulation. Normally they live in family groups of 3 to 15 and love to “scent mark”.

It’s cruel to keep an animal like this in a cage by itself because you see it as a money maker.

Exotic and Wildlife Laws are difficult and vary state to state. I believe some people are qualified to handle exotics for the correct reasons but other people are not.

People like my father who helped Endangered Bird Species with a permit from the Federal Government I understand. I don’t understand how our State can step in and prevent him from helping animals when he has a Federal Permit. That makes no sense to me. If someone calls with an injured Red Tailed Hawk my dad can’t help even though he has the ability to. It’s a state law. But in Florida you can breed Marmosets, Squirrel Monkeys, and Kinkajous. To me this is ridiculous.

We are already losing so many of our animal species why do we allow people without the knowledge or training to breed and sell these beautiful animals that will only end up dying?


On the homepage of my computer was a story today about a 9 year old boy. He was from West Virginia. Normally my eyes would’ve passed right by if it wasn’t for the fact that he resembled my nephew. Because of this I went on to read the story. Part of me wishes I hadn’t.

On September 10, 2016 it was National Suicide Prevention Day. It was also the day this adorable 9 year old boy was found hanging in his room. He was dead when his sister found him.

The boy’s biological grandmother had guardianship of him. She says that he was often bullied at school but handled it with humor or if he really had to he would fight. Recently though he had become more withdrawn than usual. His grandmother tried to get him to open up to her but he wouldn’t.

The school says the family never reported the bullying. They’re still “looking into it”.

His hair is dark blond, he has a too large forced grin on his face and there is something in his eyes that I recognize. There is a look of suppressed anger, despair and resignation.

Society sees bullying with boys in a different way. When my brother was younger and bullied by older kids in the neighborhood he was expected to fight back. If he didn’t he was told that it would just get worse. One day 5 of them came to our house. I remember it was snowing. My brother was about 13 at the time but was already taller and bigger than the children around him. The problem was my mother had taught him to be polite and respectful. Unfortunately other parents had not done the same. It had gotten so bad that to this day I can’t watch Full Metal Jacket without thinking of my brother and what he went through. I feel sick. But on this one day everything changed. Those 5 boys left on their hands and knees wondering what the hell had just happened. They had unleashed a monster that could never be put back. I hate to say it but my father helped. These “boys” were older and bigger and brought sticks, belts, and socks filled with rocks. 5 against 1 mind you. It was because he was so much bigger and older looking but never used his size that they singled him out. It sounds absurd but it was true. It was all downhill for him from there.

Once he realized his new found power he used it constantly to intimidate everyone around him. His teachers were frightened of him and my father felt defensive. My mother always had the attitude ” I brought you into this world I can take you out”. Not helpful. He was difficult to live with. He’s still a bully. 

I was also bullied. In a small way after taking it for so many years I became like my brother. This was only when I drank. I never could’ve done it sober. That’s the sad part. Even now I can’t stand up for myself and I’ve been sober for years. I’ve joked to my bestfriend after someone has hurt me that I was going to the bar to do a couple of shots, then going back to tell them off. She knows I won’t and understands how difficult it is for me. But we can at least laugh about it.

My nephew was bullied last year. He’s the smallest in his class. Another child hit him as hard as he could between his shoulder blades. My nephew threw up and had a bruise in the shape of a hand. He started having stomach problems, nightmares, and didn’t want to go to school at all. The child that hit him has behavioral problems and has an adult that supposedly supervises him in the classroom at all times. This is in addition to the teacher. I would like to know where both of them were. His problems are due to the fact that his parents are in the middle of a divorce, his mother is an alcoholic with mental health issues, and neither spends any actual time with him.

I can’t blame the children. These behaviors are learned. To drive another child into feeling so hopeless that their only choice is to remove themselves from this world is deplorable.

I know there has to be a solution. I just don’t see a solution to a problem that has been happening since the dawn of the time, happening soon. That doesn’t mean we do nothing in the mean time.10153640_10151988208565685_8901309243108819210_n

Caregiving When You Need Care

I have never lived on my own. I’ve always lived with my parents. I didn’t plan it that way. When I was younger I imagined living on my own or with my husband and kids. That wasn’t to be. My alcoholism and undiagnosed Bipolar Disorder often left me with no money and in trouble of some kind. There was a point I was making $40,000 a year. This is a lot if you don’t have to pay rent or utilities. I still had to claim bankruptcy several years ago. My spending sprees were out of control. I never wore the same outfit twice. I had an expensive perfume collection and a ton of high end makeup and hair products. I didn’t blink twice about walking into Nordstrom’s and picking up the largest size bottle of the “new” Chanel perfume, paying $150, and moving on to the next store.

My twin sister moved out for college as fast as she could and never came back. My brother was kicked out at 17 and never moved back. (They wouldn’t let him) My sister would call when she needed something but that was about it. The same went for my brother.

Around the year 2000-2001 my mother was diagnosed with Lung Cancer. I was working 50 hours a week and trying to help her. They decided to operate and remove on of her lungs. The operation was difficult and there were complications. She was in a medically induced coma for a month. I was at the hospital everyday, work or no work. My brother and sister came every once and awhile. My sister’s workplace wasn’t as understanding as mine.

When she woke up and started physical therapy everything started to improve. Her sister even came back to our state to live. My mother thought of her sister as her best friend. They spent almost everyday together. I would sit and talk to them often. I loved to hear them laugh. My father and I spent the most time together. We share a passion for all animals and would go to the movies together.

About 6 years went by. My aunt had gastric bypass and decided to move back to Florida. My mom was devastated. In anger and pain she told my aunt that she “would die soon without her there”. It took almost 2 years to make that true.

My mom gave up on life. She was eating a lot secretly. She had diabetes and would hide bags of candy in her room. She had fluid around her heart and would eat 5 or 6 Bologna sandwiches at a time. She didn’t want to interact with any of us.

One night a scream woke me up. I ran to my mom’s room and she was crying in agony. She said her back hurt. She didn’t want to go to the hospital. I was awake with her the entire night. It would be the first of many long nights.

She started to lose control of her bladder and other bodily functions. I would have to go in to her room in the middle of night to clean her up and change her sheets. I would then have to get up early for my 12 to 14 hour work day. I still found time to drink though. It was the only think keeping me sane at that moment. My mom finally agreed to see a doctor. The doctor said she had broken a bone in her back and needed surgery! Because of the strong doses of chemo and radiation her bones had become weak. Her heart and lung doctors had to sign off on the surgery. I never thought she should’ve had it. I didn’t think she could handle being under anesthesia again and her heart wasn’t strong enough. Her doctors agreed to it anyway.

She needed a lot of help when she came home. My father did what he could and I did the rest. My brother and sister? They called or came over once every couple of months. It was expected of me to take care of my mom because I still lived with her. Working close to 50 hours a week, trying to take care of a chronically ill parent, and keep a house together was taking it’s toll. I drank more and was not the nicest of people to be around.

In 2008 my mother went into the hospital because she couldn’t breathe. Her doctor said she would be out by the next afternoon. She passed away that night.

In 2014 my dad started having problems with his kidneys and other areas. We found out he had gotten a rare virus that destroyed his kidneys and he had to go on dialysis right away. Again I was taking care of a chronically ill parent.

Recently he has had to go on Prednisone. This has changed his entire personality. He has threatened me physically, said horrible things to me and then cried like a baby. Again, my brother and sister are not around. My sister has told me to “just move out”. I wouldn’t leave him. He took care of me at my lowest point and I’ll return the favor no matter what. I know it isn’t him but the medication making him mean. It’s still extremely stressful. My sister doesn’t answer her phone. Yesterday my dad was talking nonsense about something in the Navy that happened in Cuba. He wasn’t making since at all. Of course I couldn’t reach my sister. He also screamed at a telemarketer and told me to get out of his house. My father hates swearing. The “F” word is foul to him. He hates when people use it all the time when speaking. I had to warn people when they came to my house not to swear or bring up alcohol. Alcohol is like the “F” word to him. To hear him say the word in a rage is scary. He has a deep voice that has shaken the windows at times. I walk on egg shells constantly. The other night I was dry heaving in the toilet because I was so anxious about what he was going to do.

I’m not sure how much longer I can put up with all of it. There are people in the family expecting something from my dad when he passes. The house is to be sold and split 3 ways. He has NOTHING IN WRITING! It sounds horrible but I don’t think my brother or sister deserve anything. They have never thanked my dad for the many things he has done for them. They don’t visit or call. They have not been here! They have not held both parents while they cried in pain. They have not changed soiled sheets daily while dealing with their own health problems. They both put their heads in the sand and pretend everything is ok. I’ll be the one left homeless if they have their way. They know nothing about his hobbies and what to do with his collections. I do. I have become so frustrated and disgusted. I tried to talk to my sister this morning but she didn’t like the “tone” of my text. lol She said she was having a “bad” day and couldn’t talk. Shocker! I’m done being nice and agreeing with everyone. I need to have a life.

Reality Check

It’s been a tough few months. I have not been dealing with well. I also have not been honest with myself or seen things clearly. I’ve been irrational and impulsive. Depressed doesn’t even come close to how I feel. Dealing with my dad’s health issues, almost dying myself and not knowing why, losing my dog, my medications not working and physically not feeling well has taken a lot out of me.

I’ve been stubborn and delusional about getting 2 more dogs. I can barely take care of myself most of the time. I know I could probably do it but my dad would have to help. That isn’t fair to him. What my dad and sister don’t understand is my grief. I grieve longer and harder than anyone I know. There was already a giant hole in my chest that couldn’t be filled and aches constantly now it’s bigger.

When I tried to talk to my sister about it today I didn’t even get a complete sentence out. She automatically said “No more dogs!”. I could hear her husband in the background saying the same. They never liked our dogs because when they would visit once a year the dogs would get excited. The Pomeranian nipped my sister’s ankle and she was upset. There was no skin broken, no bruising, nothing. The dogs are used to it just being me and my dad. No one visits us. I made sure they were socialized as puppies and had them around people often. This got harder as my mother became sicker and I was taking care of her by myself. I spent a lot of time with them and so did my dad but I wasn’t taking them places anymore. They were happy though, they had their own little pack. One time my brother in law pushed my Papillon across the floor for begging at the table. I almost punched him in the face. I don’t discipline your kids you don’t discipline my animals.

The other day for the first time in years I wanted to go to the bar. It surprised me. I wanted to be numb. I also wanted to talk to people and not be alone. It scared me. If I drink I’ll die. It’s as simple as that. I won’t have 1 I’ll have 20. My kidneys will shut down or if I do manage to survive I’ll have no place to live. I’m also afraid of what kind of drunk I’ll be. The depression is so bad I don’t know if I would be happy or have the courage to hurt myself. I don’t want to find out. I do want to get better but nothing is working. It’s a circle of “we don’t know if this is causing this or the other way around”.

I’m becoming more and more afraid to leave the house. Then I get agitated and feel trapped. There is no relief. If the doctors don’t figure out something soon I’m going to Boston and letting them use me for a test subject or experiment for everything they’ve got. They can scan me from head to toe and I’ll be their guinea pig. It can’t be worse than this.

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