Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Who’s Your Daddy?
Sometimes I wish I had the guts to ask for what I need. It takes a lot of courage to do that though. It takes even more to express yourself to someone with whom you desire a relationship. For a long time I’ve wanted desperately to have a relationship with my former step-dad. If nothing more than a simple exchanging of stories about our lives together; I finally find him, after years of desire for it, and we seem to be at a stalemate. I’ve sent him several messages on Facebook, in an attempt to spark conversation. He seemed, when I talked to him on the phone to want to talk to me, to know me, to be a part of my life. He seemed interested. Now though I can’t seem to get a response. Today he posted on an old picture of me, my mom, and my Papa, yet hasn’t answered my messages. I know he knows how, and I know he at least has been semi willing to do so in the recent past. Maybe I’m to blame; perhaps I’m behaving like men say women do. Hint dropping, mind reading, expecting my desire for a relationship to be obvious, when in fact he’s just as scared and just as unsure about how to proceed. How do we proceed? The last time I think we saw each other I was probably 6, which was a good 21 years ago. Obviously I’m a woman, I’m married, I watched his ex-wife run her life into the ground, I’ve seen both my Grandparents, the people who raised me pass away as well. I have a relationship with my biological father, though sometimes it is a struggle. I need to be empathetic to his feelings, the confusion, joy, sadness, and anything else he could feel, but how? How can I attempt to be that for him, when I’m so lost as well? What if I’m giving him feelings he really doesn’t have? What if he honestly doesn’t give a flying poo if I am alive and well? What if he just doesn’t know how to tell me? Part of me says, Meg just jump of this bridge, at worst he wants nothing of you. I just don’t know how! I don’t know how to be okay with the possibility of losing the one person alive that can tell me about my life as a child. Where do I go from here?
Sunday, August 29, 2010
A Long Winding Road
So much to say, and also so little…I’ve been married over a year now, and what a year it’s been. Papa’s been gone over a year now, and how much I still miss him.
I’ll start with my Anxiety. Not long after the wedding, which was only a month after Papa died, I had to begin the process of finding a new Psychiatrist. I finally found one, but it wasn’t a pleasant experience. She refused to give me the same meds I’d been on for at least a year, meds that were working for me. In the end she actually didn’t even treat my anxiety and put me on a medication that was causing suicidal thoughts. I left this Psychiatrist treatment and have yet to find another one. For a little over a year now, I haven’t been medicated. My anxiety has at points been so bad that I do not leave the house. Currently I’m on an upswing and am able to get out. At first I attempted to work, and all that lead to was more anxiety and severe panic attacks. I am hoping to be medicated soon, and to finally begin to live my life outside the walls of our house.
School, has been its own bag of drama. When Papa died I was able to get an extension on my semester, however there was some sort of miscommunication that I had 6 weeks to complete my courses when in fact I only had two weeks. There was also a grade policy, anything lower than a C on any coursework I’d fail the class. I got a D on a 10point quiz, and was also unable to complete a very extensive final project in such a short time span. I failed my courses and the school will gladly let me continue, but I have pay for a semester out of pocket without federal aid to up my grades. So for now, I’m not in school. I do some graphic design freelance work, but I’m not sure what I’m going to do about this school. I’m tired of failure, so for now I’m taking a break.
Papa died at such an awful time. We were a month out from my Wedding. I got a phone call from my cousin basically telling me that he was really sick. He had been hiding how badly he was feeling from me, she told me to come home. Standing in my room, I started crying, I think I knew this was the end. He was projectile vomiting, and couldn’t hold any food or fluids down. So I called Chase and packed. We took off immediately and headed to the Hospital in Springfield. The next few days were horrible. Papa was sick, very sick. He had some sort of blockage which was causing the vomiting. They needed to do exploratory surgery, but the doctors didn’t want to. It took them 3 days to tell us that he was dying. I am extremely lucky that I got to see him lucid several times, including just maybe 8 hours before he died. Sitting watching Bonanza and doing a word search from my Papa Hospital Kit. We had issues with the doctors giving him meds that made him hallucinate. I was the only one he’d listen to, and he even told Herb my uncle/brother via adoption to get the hell out while this was going on. We hadn’t left the hospital in days and weren’t really sleeping. I took the opportunity when no one was in the room to climb into bed with him. I laid my head on his tummy and curled up next to him, just like when I was a little girl. I told him everything I felt I needed to say. How much I loved him, how much he’d meant to me, and always would. How I’d never taken him for granted, even though I know he felt like that. That I knew he’d always be with me, and that he could go home and be with Mom, Gran, his parents, all his siblings and friends. At one point I was trying to comfort him, his blood pressure had dropped really low and the nurse thought he might be about to die. I told him, “I love you Papa.” And he reached up and hugged me. After a while the palliative care nurse came in and spoke with us about what would be best for him and most comfortable as he died. She removed the oxygen mask and put Nasal cannulas in, and turned off his IV bag except for the pain meds. The nurse told us he could go at any time, to be prepared. She, my cousins, and Herb went to the nurses’ station. I was on the bed holding his hand and talking to him. In the time it took them to walk to the Nurses Station, just outside the door, I watched him die. I’m not sure what alerted them to him having just passed, I was frozen. My cousin came in and started wailing. The nurse was shocked it happened so fast. The family consensus seems to be that when he hugged me he was saying goodbye and ready to go. The nurse informed us the oxygen which was cranked to the highest setting had been forcing him to breathe even though his body likely didn’t want it, or else he’d not have passed so quickly. The next few days are honestly are a blur. He was buried before I could blink and this man who was my everything was gone. The next 8 months were hell. I had to go to my home and begin going through and trashing his and my grandmothers lives. Herb and I didn’t see eye to eye on anything, per the usual. It led to loud screaming fights, nights in hotels, and general crankiness and unhappiness. Yet through it all Chase supported me, fought for me, and loved me. I found wonderful things, like my Papa’s WWII Uniform, photos, marriage licenses, his Parachute rigging diploma from the War, and a million other amazing things that belonged to them and even my mother. I cleaned out my bedroom, and walked away from the only home I’d ever known. By the end of July the house was sold, and Herb and I received our inheritance. I feel like Herb only wanted the money, and since Papa died he has been basically absent from his side of the family. Our fights were generally over the value of things, like all those amazing things I found. He wanted me to trash them. Honestly though my inheritance is not in the things or any money but, in the woman my grandparents raised me to be; the memories, love, support, and joy that those two people brought into my life. Today I still find it hard to breathe sometimes when I think about Papa. Mostly though I find that my tears of sorrow are starting to become tears of joy at the memory of him, I still have a long road, the grief is still here, but it has begun to ebb.
In August of last year we moved into a trailer on the edge of town. It is really nice and much larger than our apartment. It’s taken me about a year to get up the nerve and will to begin going through boxes of hastily packed possessions of my grandparents. The house is full of open boxes right now, as I actually choose what to keep and what to throw away. It’s been hard, and my house right now is almost a shrine to them. I believe though in the next month I will have finally gotten it all done, at least what isn’t being stored at Chase’s grandparents. It’s a 3 bed 2 full bath home, and we have enough room for everything we own. It’s been a great place to live and we’re staying thankfully!
Marriage has been exciting, scary, and really really hard. In this last year, Chase and I have faced a million challenges, from dishes to death. We’ve had to learn to communicate, how to express anger, love, and many other emotions; how to share money, responsibility, and a bathroom. I’d have to say that I love him more now than I did the day I married him. We’ve overcome more than most couples have to so soon and survived it. He’s had to stand up for me to his family as my anxiety controls our lives. I’ve had to choose to love those certain members of his family as they choose to try and push us apart. Overall though this last year, with all its ups and downs has been the most amazing thing. God gave me a support system just as I lost my Papa. I can’t speak for him but I believe he feels just as strongly about me as I do him…call it a hunch lol.
Overall I’d say this last year has been insane. Though looking back through my entries, it’s not unusual for my life to anything less than a wild ride. In the end I wake up every day and just try to get through it. Some days are good, and I can walk out my front door. I’ve accomplished a Trip to Washington DC, though it wasn’t without its “challenges” with my anxiety. I survived a trip to be with my Sister-in-law in case she went into labor before her family could be with her, while my brother was out to sea. Which was also interesting; had she not been as pregnant as she was, we’ll I’d have died. She liked to leave the house, and I well…don’t. There are things I desire, like life outside the house, but I know what I’m capable of and I try to push that as much as possible. Someday, hopefully soon, I’ll have my life back, until then I’m going to enjoy the amazing man I’m married to, the wonderful friends I have, being an aunt, and being a Child of God. Maybe if I’m lucky, before another year has passed I’ll have amazing news about my job, life anxiety controlled, and perhaps being on the road to motherhood.
Until I write again, this is sporadically blogging Meg signing out.
I’ll start with my Anxiety. Not long after the wedding, which was only a month after Papa died, I had to begin the process of finding a new Psychiatrist. I finally found one, but it wasn’t a pleasant experience. She refused to give me the same meds I’d been on for at least a year, meds that were working for me. In the end she actually didn’t even treat my anxiety and put me on a medication that was causing suicidal thoughts. I left this Psychiatrist treatment and have yet to find another one. For a little over a year now, I haven’t been medicated. My anxiety has at points been so bad that I do not leave the house. Currently I’m on an upswing and am able to get out. At first I attempted to work, and all that lead to was more anxiety and severe panic attacks. I am hoping to be medicated soon, and to finally begin to live my life outside the walls of our house.
School, has been its own bag of drama. When Papa died I was able to get an extension on my semester, however there was some sort of miscommunication that I had 6 weeks to complete my courses when in fact I only had two weeks. There was also a grade policy, anything lower than a C on any coursework I’d fail the class. I got a D on a 10point quiz, and was also unable to complete a very extensive final project in such a short time span. I failed my courses and the school will gladly let me continue, but I have pay for a semester out of pocket without federal aid to up my grades. So for now, I’m not in school. I do some graphic design freelance work, but I’m not sure what I’m going to do about this school. I’m tired of failure, so for now I’m taking a break.
Papa died at such an awful time. We were a month out from my Wedding. I got a phone call from my cousin basically telling me that he was really sick. He had been hiding how badly he was feeling from me, she told me to come home. Standing in my room, I started crying, I think I knew this was the end. He was projectile vomiting, and couldn’t hold any food or fluids down. So I called Chase and packed. We took off immediately and headed to the Hospital in Springfield. The next few days were horrible. Papa was sick, very sick. He had some sort of blockage which was causing the vomiting. They needed to do exploratory surgery, but the doctors didn’t want to. It took them 3 days to tell us that he was dying. I am extremely lucky that I got to see him lucid several times, including just maybe 8 hours before he died. Sitting watching Bonanza and doing a word search from my Papa Hospital Kit. We had issues with the doctors giving him meds that made him hallucinate. I was the only one he’d listen to, and he even told Herb my uncle/brother via adoption to get the hell out while this was going on. We hadn’t left the hospital in days and weren’t really sleeping. I took the opportunity when no one was in the room to climb into bed with him. I laid my head on his tummy and curled up next to him, just like when I was a little girl. I told him everything I felt I needed to say. How much I loved him, how much he’d meant to me, and always would. How I’d never taken him for granted, even though I know he felt like that. That I knew he’d always be with me, and that he could go home and be with Mom, Gran, his parents, all his siblings and friends. At one point I was trying to comfort him, his blood pressure had dropped really low and the nurse thought he might be about to die. I told him, “I love you Papa.” And he reached up and hugged me. After a while the palliative care nurse came in and spoke with us about what would be best for him and most comfortable as he died. She removed the oxygen mask and put Nasal cannulas in, and turned off his IV bag except for the pain meds. The nurse told us he could go at any time, to be prepared. She, my cousins, and Herb went to the nurses’ station. I was on the bed holding his hand and talking to him. In the time it took them to walk to the Nurses Station, just outside the door, I watched him die. I’m not sure what alerted them to him having just passed, I was frozen. My cousin came in and started wailing. The nurse was shocked it happened so fast. The family consensus seems to be that when he hugged me he was saying goodbye and ready to go. The nurse informed us the oxygen which was cranked to the highest setting had been forcing him to breathe even though his body likely didn’t want it, or else he’d not have passed so quickly. The next few days are honestly are a blur. He was buried before I could blink and this man who was my everything was gone. The next 8 months were hell. I had to go to my home and begin going through and trashing his and my grandmothers lives. Herb and I didn’t see eye to eye on anything, per the usual. It led to loud screaming fights, nights in hotels, and general crankiness and unhappiness. Yet through it all Chase supported me, fought for me, and loved me. I found wonderful things, like my Papa’s WWII Uniform, photos, marriage licenses, his Parachute rigging diploma from the War, and a million other amazing things that belonged to them and even my mother. I cleaned out my bedroom, and walked away from the only home I’d ever known. By the end of July the house was sold, and Herb and I received our inheritance. I feel like Herb only wanted the money, and since Papa died he has been basically absent from his side of the family. Our fights were generally over the value of things, like all those amazing things I found. He wanted me to trash them. Honestly though my inheritance is not in the things or any money but, in the woman my grandparents raised me to be; the memories, love, support, and joy that those two people brought into my life. Today I still find it hard to breathe sometimes when I think about Papa. Mostly though I find that my tears of sorrow are starting to become tears of joy at the memory of him, I still have a long road, the grief is still here, but it has begun to ebb.
In August of last year we moved into a trailer on the edge of town. It is really nice and much larger than our apartment. It’s taken me about a year to get up the nerve and will to begin going through boxes of hastily packed possessions of my grandparents. The house is full of open boxes right now, as I actually choose what to keep and what to throw away. It’s been hard, and my house right now is almost a shrine to them. I believe though in the next month I will have finally gotten it all done, at least what isn’t being stored at Chase’s grandparents. It’s a 3 bed 2 full bath home, and we have enough room for everything we own. It’s been a great place to live and we’re staying thankfully!
Marriage has been exciting, scary, and really really hard. In this last year, Chase and I have faced a million challenges, from dishes to death. We’ve had to learn to communicate, how to express anger, love, and many other emotions; how to share money, responsibility, and a bathroom. I’d have to say that I love him more now than I did the day I married him. We’ve overcome more than most couples have to so soon and survived it. He’s had to stand up for me to his family as my anxiety controls our lives. I’ve had to choose to love those certain members of his family as they choose to try and push us apart. Overall though this last year, with all its ups and downs has been the most amazing thing. God gave me a support system just as I lost my Papa. I can’t speak for him but I believe he feels just as strongly about me as I do him…call it a hunch lol.
Overall I’d say this last year has been insane. Though looking back through my entries, it’s not unusual for my life to anything less than a wild ride. In the end I wake up every day and just try to get through it. Some days are good, and I can walk out my front door. I’ve accomplished a Trip to Washington DC, though it wasn’t without its “challenges” with my anxiety. I survived a trip to be with my Sister-in-law in case she went into labor before her family could be with her, while my brother was out to sea. Which was also interesting; had she not been as pregnant as she was, we’ll I’d have died. She liked to leave the house, and I well…don’t. There are things I desire, like life outside the house, but I know what I’m capable of and I try to push that as much as possible. Someday, hopefully soon, I’ll have my life back, until then I’m going to enjoy the amazing man I’m married to, the wonderful friends I have, being an aunt, and being a Child of God. Maybe if I’m lucky, before another year has passed I’ll have amazing news about my job, life anxiety controlled, and perhaps being on the road to motherhood.
Until I write again, this is sporadically blogging Meg signing out.
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