Archive for the 'Family' Category

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You can tranquilize your mind

When they read the email he’ll insinuate that I don’t know what I’m talking about, he’ll say that I’m trying to make it worse and to make it about me. But I’m not and it isn’t. Anyone who knows anything about my family dynamic has at one point asked me if a free trip to Bali every year is really worth putting up with my parents’ constant drama and bullshit. I have always answered with a resounding FUCK YES. When I went to see them in 2009 things were only semi awkward, but because I was in a really good place for a change I gave it a go and about 90% of the trip was good. I even kept my lips zipped right shut when my dad made some witty remark about how the depression in our family had skipped a generation [delusions of grandeur much]. It didn’t take me long to see beneath the mask my father wore while I was there, I left knowing he hadn’t changed a bit. I probably said a lot to the contrary back then but I wanted to believe.

Over the last year the answer to that question has been changing more and more to FUCK NO. The ignorant and racist letters they send when they moved to fucking ASIA are quite shocking. I’m simply not capable of using them for a free trip and last year we didn’t go anyway. The older I get the more I simply can not live with “we’ll just have to agree we remember things differently” being good enough for me. It isn’t. A lot of days my resentment builds, and shit man, I’ve been working on this relationship with an incredible psychiatrist since 2003. I know that I either have to walk away or accept them for who they are.

And I can’t do either. Despite trying and failing at both.

Since they’ve moved to Bali it has been one thing after another. For two people who inflicted the level of abuse and neglect on me that they did, I honestly thought that them moving to Bali would result in us simply drifting further and further a part like we were doing before suddenly they woke up one day and realized they had a daughter well after I realized I’d grown up way short handed and it has been a battle ever since. I’m sorry but you just do not get to neglect me to the disgusting and gross extent you did and suddenly decide we are going to be friends. No, it’s over, it ends here.

And now I’m being accused of trying to get my mother to have another breakdown [again] because that is how my family rolls and he reacted like I said he would in that first sentence I wrote at 2:22 PM looks like he was out of bed for about two minutes before he blasted off his ‘I’m a five year old and it’s all your fault’ message to me.

Right, so my Grandmother is in the hospital and long story short she should have either been put in a home years ago or have a paid nurse who looks in on her weekly, she is 88 years old and is basically left with distant relatives of relatives of friends to look in on her, when she talks to her children she lies to them about how she is doing because she is fucking 88 and last time she was in the hospital having HEART SURGERY instead of her daughter who lives in a suburb of Toronto going to visit her the relatives of the relatives of the friends were left to handle it all AND my Aunt still bitched about the costs.

My father because he has never liked my mother’s mother has refused to do anything to help her, like say having a professional check in on her, which has now lead to my uncle entering her apartment to find it reeking of feces, the bed pot not changed for days, the bed-linens un-save-able and bloody Kleenexes everywhere. I’m fucking furious. I’m livid. Is this for fucking real? No matter how I feel about my parents, even if I’m taken out of their will, I would STILL not allow what has happened to my Grandmother to happen to them.

And his excuse, she at 88 wanting to keep her independence and not telling my Aunt and Uncle how she was actually doing and he knows that under no circumstances can my Aunt or Uncle afford a nurse or a home, to which I reminded him that the elderly don’t always know what they want and what they need and that someone as independent as my Grandmother would NEVER give that up without a fight. There is no excuse for her living like that none. I can not believe these people expect me to have a relationship with them just because THEY are the lonely ones now. I’m not ready, I don’t know when I will be but I’m not and this just makes it SO much worse, so much worse that I may never be ready. I’m pretty sure the admittance forms to whatever home I end up tossing them into can probably be signed without my having to see them, but at least I’d still fucking help.

R.I.P. Gus 1994 ~ 2010

November 5, 2010

It is hard for me to believe that by the time I push publish on this at sometime tomorrow that Gus will already be gone. Adam and I picked the photos for this memorial post a couple weeks ago now, to make it easier to post it. I wasn’t sure if I was going to write anything or not, by my mind is moving at a million miles an hour. How am I going to walk without keeling over to the vet’s office? And how am I supposed to walk back in the apartment with an empty carrier and no kitty to greet me?

It has been incredibly hard trying to figure out exactly when to do this. If this was about us we could probably keep her around for another two or three months, but it is about her. She is in pain and I don’t know how I knew, given that I am not a religious person maybe it is that I do have a spiritual side. In my gut, I knew that I would know when it was time, that she’d let me know in her own way, and when she jumped up onto my lap on Wednesday morning and didn’t purr at all, I knew. No matter how crappy she has been feeling over the past few months she has always kept purring. It took me a couple hours to muster the courage to call but I had to.

I’m not a person who has had to deal with a lot of death in my life. Animal wise, people wise. I have not had to deal with death since 2003. I remember how I felt, parts of it, and I’m dreading it. Especially given that Gus has no say in this. I’m keeping the promise I made to myself and the promise I made to her, that I wouldn’t let her suffer. Part of me feels like I have left it too long but on the other she is still *happy* which has only added to the difficulty.

She led a great life and we went through many a gauntlet together, other than Adam she had never really taken to anyone else very much, but a few were able to win her over. Being the runt of the litter she always had bizarre ways of letting you know you’d made her inner circle, such as drooling on you or giving you a quick chin or nose lick. There are so many things I can’t imagine living without, little things, like the sound of her paws when she’d walk across the hardwood, when she’d purr so hard and drool so much it would soak her nose, so many kisses on my nose and chin I’d have to stop her because it would hurt after a few. Watching her and Adam curled up sleeping together on the couch. All the things that annoyed the shit out of me like her pushing her face under my books all the time so I couldn’t read, I’m going to miss that now.

I’m not sure who is luckier, you all reading this or me that the scanner is broken so the only photos of Gus are ones taken since I started Blogging in 2005. If it were working I’d probably be scanning in kitten photos like mad.

———————————

November 6, 2010

We are home. Today dragged and then it flew. I’m riding the shock wave, hoping it lasts a while I’m not really ready for it to sink in. She was ready but not past ready and even though she is gone, I’m glad she went before she wasn’t recognizable as Gus anymore. I feel completely detached right now so saying anything much else isn’t going to enlighten me to this loss and what it means. I just know for that for a long time that for sixteen years she was the best cat I could have ever asked for. I can’t even imagine how much I’m going to miss her.

You were so loved little buddy R.I.P. Gus.

just being adorable as always

usandgus

should have used Sport mode not Pet mode.

kitty kisses.

Lacoste Kitty.

The Translator & Gus

abc and glc

the toy is hers!

sleeping cuties

greeper drummers

buddy love.

annoyed at you i am stop taking my picture ps. yes i can haz the cutest pawz on earth

love is.

gus.

she stole my reading spot

STOP get your own keyboard

kitty wants attention.

Impromptu Yoda look a-like contest winner! GO GUS!

no vegas, you don't play the guitar better than meow

end of stretch

gus and dr. vegas

gripper

ALL ABOUT HER!

greepy tongue.

famdamily

de monster me

Normally when I use the word demonstrative on my blog I use it very loosely, it is a word I happen to love and on the level that I have written about myself up until now the context in which I have I used it is always simply to mean that I am not an affectionate person. Having exposed some of the things I have about myself in the last couple of posts l’m feeling more comfortable writing of things that make me who I am, but they’re things that I haven’t spoken about on here in detail before.

Regardless of how bad it is, and it’s really fucking bad, it is refreshing to be able to finally say, yes, Adam and I have problems, we’re normal. Of course people know we do, but I get sick of the online facade. Sure we have a fantastic relationship but we are, hands down, going through a tough time right now. Why hide it, when it is affecting so many areas of my life?

A week or two ago I tweeted a line from one of my old poems “how can I feel so alone when you’re sitting right next to me”. This facet of my personality leaves me an excruciatingly lonely person at times. Wanting to reach out so incredibly badly, feeling frozen and not being able to do it.

It is no one’s fault. Neither of my parents grew up in demonstrative families and that wasn’t their fault either. My parents always told me they loved me but until I left home three months after turning nineteen I had never said it back.

In small ways as a teenager I was able to open up physically but back then the problems I had with affection I deemed for the most part normal adolescence stuff. And because of general teenage angst and insecurity I was able to fake being more affectionate than I really was. How I don’t know or remember, because I can’t fake it anymore as an adult, even craving every single person I meet to like me it is still more common for me to use snail mail [you should see my stationary collection] or my fingers on a key board to express affection, to reassure people I care.

I know it is difficult for people first getting to know me to understand how I can open my heart so freely in writing and then presumably close it off in person. I’m not a particularly closed off person, but if you don’t know me, let’s just say I [can] take a while to grow on people. I have friends who ask if it is okay before they hug me and some who just do it. I’ve had friends convinced they could break whatever it was holding me back and would try to force affection on me, mind you, in a caring way; but still not for me.

This runs a lot deeper for me than simply tensing up when someone hugs me. For years I couldn’t look people in the eye when I spoke to them, I know that to most it comes off as being rude, for me it was from feeling insecurity and fear.

Although it was something that always bothered me about myself, when it would come to my girlfriends, I always wanted to be able to be affectionate with them when we’d have sleep overs and give hugs without a back pat or loose arms but for the most part I couldn’t. I’d send them an affectionate note saying how much the weekend meant to me instead.

I think the best of example of just how bad it is would be how I used to treat my cat. In 1999, there was an incident that made me realize that I had an actual problem, I wasn’t just a cold bitch on the outside. Gus has always been a needy cat, she was the runt of the litter and she is spoiled rotten. But she never used to be. When Gus would jump in bed with me and try to snuggle with me I’d push her away, I’ve always been a non cuddle sleeper period, and mostly a non cuddle person in general, so having a cat putting her paws in my eyes and mouth was all fun and games during the day but when I was trying to sleep or read and she’d sit down right in the middle of whatever book I’d be reading, I never really thought anything of it; just pushing her off. I thought she’s a cat they’re supposed be independent why does she even want so much attention.

I was living with someone who also had a cat, this cat hated Gus, this cat wasn’t so much mean as she was just a total fucking terror on four legs. We never got along, myself and that cat, but she had a close relationship with her owner. It wasn’t until I saw how affectionate he was with his cat and how affectionate he was with Gus that I realized that I was depriving my cat of affection. I ignored it at first, it wasn’t as if, except for pushing her off the bed, that I was mean to her. It was years ago so I don’t remember exactly how it happened but Gus must have been trying to get some affection out of me and I wasn’t having it and this person basically yelled at me “Corinna, pet your fucking cat!”.

It didn’t happen overnight but just opening up to my bloody cat changed me, actually letting her jump up on me when I’m upset and comfort me, letting her sleep with me and not tossing her off the bed when she was ready for me to be up and walking all over me. How did I live without that before? With it being eleven years later, I’m glad I changed this behaviour towards her when I did. But then again how do I live with so little human to human contact? I have found being a good three years into my thirties now that it’s something that bothers me, a lot. And it is something that I have for a few months now been working on because I want to learn how to get over this before it’s too late, before people are gone from my life forever and I never got to give them one of those hugs that I’m starting to get better at giving, the ones where I will actually pull you in tight to me. And so far it has felt good every time I have been able to do it.

I Think I’m Paranoid.

I’ve always considered myself to be a paranoid person.

People have always called me a paranoid person.

No matter how well I am doing, of all the variables I face dealing with chronic depression I have some of the most trouble dealing with paranoia. With years of therapy I know that paranoia is actually nothing more than having a negative attentional bias towards something, not allowing myself the observation of any positive feelings to help convince myself that no, everyone does NOT hate me or think I’m stupid or useless and that I shouldn’t even be entertaining these negative thoughts and overwhelming feelings.

It doesn’t matter how much medication I’m on or not on. There is no medication that helps me with this. This is something that to different degrees I have always dealt with, but when you add anxiety into the mix, I feel like my innards are being blown up and twisted into balloon animals and not even cool ones at that. I’m allowed to take an extra clonazepam on really bad days to curb my anxiety but that still leaves me unable to eat because when I’m hit with paranoid anxiety attacks just because I can get my stomach out of the knots with the clonazepam I still can’t force myself to eat as I still feel like I am going to barf all over everything.

Recently something happened where I was bullied, badly, yet again in my life, being a few years into my thirties now just adds to my utter disappointment in myself. And it has unfortunately triggered my negative attentional bias and my anxiety to off the chart levels. Not to mention I’ve had two idiots totally fucking with me on Twitter which hasn’t helped matters.

The last two weeks have had me feeling like there is no reason for me to be here. I despise feeling like this. What happened just reminds me that no matter how much I work on myself, no matter how hard I try to work on my posture and stand up straight, no matter how many people tell me that what happened was not my fault, that it obviously is, there is obviously still something very wrong with me, after now eight years under the same psychiatrist’s care it blows my mind that I am still a target for bullies. It makes me angry it makes me feel like everything my father has ever said about me is true and that I don’t deserve good things. It brings me back to having to have exchange students, who were staying with us when I was in high school, come and get me to keep me from getting beat up. I just don’t want to deal with this anymore.

It hurts really bad.

And speaking of my father, it also makes me resent even more how far away my parents are, I deduce that no one understands my relationship with them, not Adam, not even me, but last week I needed to be able to pick up the phone so badly and just unload to my parents and I couldn’t. They are too secluded for Skype. Getting and holding a clear phone connection is a challenge, not cheap and with the time difference we are up at the same time for a very short period of time. I even know I probably would have just ended up more upset talking to them if I didn’t hear what I needed, but simply not even being able to take the chance just reminded me again yet again that they left me here, that retiring to Asia was more important than their only child and fuck it, everything hurts. I don’t know why I can’t let this illusion of my parents suddenly being ideal parents go, they did the best they could with a problem child.

This will of course pass, just not soon enough, it is hard enough to deal with these two facets of my depression but when they nail me at once I have to hang on for dear life I know that I’m not headed for break down mode, what happened is only going to make me stronger. But it sucks feeling like a loser, that is never good. Worrying constantly that people are out to destroy my reputation, worrying that some people are NEVER going to give me a second chance, worrying that people don’t want me around – what have you – is all petty and idiotic and I wish I could have a new brain.