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Big Scare and Life Lesson Sunday October 11, 2009

Posted by gingerbreadman in Rambles.
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Got an e-mail last Monday from my cousin’s husband, the preacher, saying his mom had been missing for a while now and that it was urgent she was found as her daughter-in-law and grandchild were in a serious auto accident and she (the Mom) was wanted at the hospital for emotional support.  The idea of W. being missing for any length of time was startling enough, she has a big family, lives next door to her brother, and all of her sons live in-state with her in TN or, like Ron, right across the border in KY.  So I was a little concerned.

Ten minutes later, Ron’s daughter sends out another e-mail.  Grandma has been missing for over 24 hours, actually.  She was supposed to come up to KY to a church up in my neck of the woods to attend morning services and never showed up.  No one had seen or heard from her since then and her cell phone calls were going directly to voice mail.  The drive off the interstate to the church is a particularly nasty piece of road, so Mike and I decided to set out and go looking for her car since he knows 90 pretty well and he could tell I was losing it just sitting around doing nothing.  So, we got the particulars of W’s car, let Ron’s family know what we were doing and set off. 

It was about an hour’s drive just to get to the town we were headed for to look for the car and the path W. would have taken.  Plenty of time for me to tell Mike all about what a genuinely warm, sweet, loving person W. is.  I first met her when Ron and Rhonda started courting back when I was just 16 or so, and his family was big- loud, rowdy-5 boys, all looking like they could play professional football as tackles-and all Gospel Music singers who were famous all over the South.  W. made sure to talk to everyone in our family, make us all feel important and special, even though she was the visitor to our hometown.

Later, after Ron and Rhonda got married, I’d often go with them on their ‘singing trips’ when I started dating one of the guys in the group.  W.  remembered me, though it’d been years since the first time we’d met, and she again went out of her way to make me feel welcome, comfortable.  Just a sweet, sweet, woman.  Even after Brian and I broke up and I went on to marry and have kids and would run into W. and her husband and family at holidays over at Ron n’ Rhonda’s, we always took time to catch up on each other’s lives, and W. spread her love down to all my girls, bringing them little gifts when she knew she’d be running in to us all.

Driving down that twisting road with all it’s drop-offs and sharp curves, all I could think of is what kind of outcome is really possible for a woman in her mid-60’s who has been missing over 24 hours and can’t be reached?  All the hospitals had already been called and she wasn’t in them.  The State Police had an A.P.B. on her car, and even after driving the route she would have taken, even getting on the interstate and following it for 13 miles, there was no sign of her car anywhere.  We went back to 90 and stopped at every little service station and restaurant asking if anyone had seen her, seen her car.  Nothing.

I was heartsick.  Worried.  In tears thinking of what her sons must be thinking, especially her youngest son Tim who not only didn’t know where his Momma was, but had a wife in the hospital and a daughter who might lose an eye and had a broken nose and foot that needed surgery. 

We came back home because Emily had a doctor’s appt.  The State Police sent word they’d tracked her phone to Florence, KY.  A long, long way from the little church she never made it to on Sunday.  My fear just mounted and my confusion about all of this went through the roof.

Then the e-mail came, finally late that afternoon–"Mom’s been found.  She’s fine."
WTH?
So I called Ron’s daughter and asked her what had happened, where had she been, what was going on??!
She wouldn’t say, only that Ron would e-mail everyone later and explain, that it was "embarrassing" and they had to figure out how to deal with it first.

Well, me and my dirty mind, I immediately thought W., after 3 years of widowhood had found a boyfriend and didn’t want the boys to know.  But why drive practically two states away for *that*?  Florence, KY is practically on the Ohio border.

Turns out W. has a gambling addiction.  Florence has race tracks and a casino of some kind.  Bless her heart.

I cannot imagine the mortification Ron must be feeling, knowing his Momma he reveres lied about going to church in another state only to head up this way to gamble.  Or how W. feels, knowing she was gambling while her granddaughter and son needed her, that the police had an A.P.B. on her.

How often do we set off to do something, never thinking for a moment that at any time, someone could need us *that minute* and if we simply turned off our cell phones we couldn’t be found if we didn’t want to be?   Even if it’s not something shameful or forbidden or deceitful?  Just hours we’ve decided to go away and take time for us?  I don’t know how I’d ever live with myself if I went off on one of my little excursions I’m always threatening to take and something were to happen and one of the girls needed me.

I feel so badly for W.  I don’t know if she has a gambling addiction or if she just likes playing the slots.  I know she scared the hell out of a lot of people who love her.  I know she lied to people she loved.   I know she would never willingly put anything above being there for her kids and grandkids. 

I know it’s put me off watching those darn Forensic Files shows Mike had me watching with him for so long too.  I had such awful pictures in my head the entire ride up and down highway 90.  But for once we were wrong.  A 60-ish year old woman can vanish for 24 hours and her car be nowhere to be found along the route she was supposed to take and it still turns out okay.  The sweet woman is still here with us.

Blessings.
I’ll write about the birthday from hell in a few days.  LOL

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Good Friends Monday May 26, 2008

Posted by gingerbreadman in Rambles.
12 comments
I’m okay, the girls are okay, even Jack is okay.  It’s just been incredibly hard to get time online because Mike’s been around all weekend….
Get This:  Searching on AdultFriend*Finder "just to see what’s out there, I’m just goofing around, honey."

Yeah, I told him I’d found an apartment and the girls and I are moving out the second week of June.  He’s been unreasonably calm, especially for his temperament.  He’s agreed to everything I’ve asked for about furniture, the car.  I’ve agreed to let him see La pretty much whenever he wants: *as long as he’s sober and will stay that way*.  I’ve told him if I ever find him drinking while taking care of her I’ll have him arrested for neglect and anything else I can think of. 

It’s *very weird* around here.  He’s determined to go back to counseling, take the meds, slow down on the drinking, etc to ‘win me back’.  He’s not accepting that I’m done for good and keeps insisting he’ll make the changes necessary to have me move back.

Except for that whole AdultFriend*Finder, of course.  I can’t decide whether it’s funny, sad for him:  I know it’s insulting to me and the children, but at the same time it illustrates perfectly why I’m done with this.  He’s really immature and small enough to think that I’d take that anyway but as a slap.  Whatever makes his clock tick.

I’m searching for ways to make enough money to cover all the moving expenses, and stock up the shelves to last the first month.   After that, we should be fine.  I may not hook up the cable that first month just to save some cash.  But I’ll be back, regardless.

You are all awesome, wonderful, supportive friends.  I love you all so much.
Til next time he’s back at work!

Blessings!

The End Monday May 19, 2008

Posted by gingerbreadman in Rambles.
15 comments
Well, the disaster that has become my marriage is over.  I’m just incapable, unwilling, unhappy enough to finally leave.

I’ve been waiting for this man to change and it’s just not gonna happen.  I’ve threatened to leave before, even did for a few days, only to come back because he promised to go to counseling.  They diagnosed him with Intermittent Explosive Disorder, and he’s refused to take the medication recommended,  and then refused to see the counselor again because she diagnosed him with something that might need medication.  His temper’s just gotten worse and worse, his drinking has escalated to the point he passed out last weekend on Emily’s bed with her still in it, scaring the hell out of her.  This weekend he drank a case of beer in one night and kept the girls up half the night.  We just can’t take it anymore.

I’m looking for a place for us now, since he won’t give up the house.  It’s going to be an uphill battle the entire way, I guess.  He’s not happy I’m going. 

We found out, the girls and I, this past week that we can all be happy-but only when he’s at work.  Ain’t that sad?  It’s time for me to think about more than just the trimmings in this relationship and look at the realities.  It’s a disaster, and it’s not going to get better.

I’m sad, but I’ve discovered I don’t even love him anymore.  Just too many temper tantrums, too much booze, too many days and nights listening to his paranoid ramblings, his cynical outlook on life, his demands I be the little housewife he expects.  Never mind the effect it’s all had on the girls…even if they were happy with him I’d still have to get out.  I don’t know how much longer I’ll be safe with him.

Sooo…I’m dealing.  Taking it better than I should, the dissolution of a long relationship.  Thank goodness for anti-depressants, huh?

Tales of the La Wednesday May 14, 2008

Posted by gingerbreadman in Rambles.
17 comments
Jeez, I don’t write a single word of personal stuff from May 1st til the 13th,  now all of a sudden I won’t shut up…what’s my problem?  Getting tired of all these new blogs, I know…right?
 
I’ve realized that we should have nicknamed Lala *Lola* instead.  I can just tell she’s going to be a juggernaut of a woman when she grows up…she’s a powerhouse at age 4!
 
Some of her most recent litle activities:
We were in the grocery store yesterday when of course, she decided she needed to use the bathroom.  What is it with litle kids and having to investigate every toilet they come across???
So, as soon as she mentioned she had to go, *I* had to go.  Quick.  Something about carrying twins, having so many pregnancies…something makes me *GOTTA GO* when I’ve got to go.  So we race to the potty, and the demon demands she go first.  She almost knocked me down getting to the john, and then sang a few songs while she waited to finally pee.  I *danced* while she sang.  Finally, she gets up, I struggle to get on when OOPS! It’s too late.
 
Dang.  In a STORE.  Thank goodness I’ve got a long shirt on, I rush her through to the checkout line, where my darling girl announces to the cashier, the bagger and the Amish family behind me…"Mom, you PEED YOUR PANTS!  YOU DID!  You peed in your panties!"
 
Why is there always an Amish person around when she chooses to humiliate me?
 
I assure her with my most Mother Look that I did NOT wet my pants and to hush up.   ha ha ha
"YES YOU DID! YOU PEED YOUR PANTS!  You did a No-No!"
 
I don’t know how we got out of there.  I don’t know why she’s still alive.
 
Katie’s in the bathroom at home the other day, and La really needed to go, she said.  So, she just trots over to the front door and starts to walk out of it, alone.  Mike asks her where she thinks she is going, and she deadpans:  "I gotta go pop a squat outside."
No, she didn’t get that from me!
 
She got a little attitud-ish and sassy lately, so I’ve been warning her about her ‘sassy mouth’.  She’s informed me twice since then that I’ve got a sassy mouth every time I tell her NO about something.  She’s learned not to do that anymore, and has taken to pulling at my lips and pretending to throw them away, then give me ‘new, not sassy lips’ instead.
 
Migraines, cluster headaches from the xanax withdrawal, stress?
I think it is the La and her teachers, Jess, Becca, Emmy. Katie and Libby.  Ya know?

Lots of something and nothing Monday May 12, 2008

Posted by gingerbreadman in Rambles.
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It’s been awhile since I’ve really felt like writing anything.  Things have been in a constant state of flux while still remaining essentially the same;  such a strange paradox for me (did I say that right, Holy and Rose?).

Soon as the business hadn’t done any calls in 2 weeks, good old Luigi decided to take back off home and freeload of one of the sisters.  So while I wanted to slap him sideways for being such a jerkoff, at the same time I was so dang grateful he was finally leaving I was sickeningly sweet to him until his U-Haul pulled out of the backyard.  Then I stood up on a chair with my back to the window and mooned him.

I’ve been in an odd frame of mind.  We’ve had financial issues before, who doesn’t with a ton of kids and only one person working in the home?  But watching Mike go through the seeming knowledge that his business had failed (an idea his jerkoff brother kept pounding into Mike’s head until he actually put the dang truck in gear and took off), even though it isn’t dead, it was just hanging on with life support for a while was breaking my heart.  Having to deal with the fear and worry and anxiety on my own without really talking to Mike about it so he didn’t explode:  not a fun time for my manic-depressive, anxiety prone psyche.  BUT, it was good to be the calm one, the stable one, the cheerleader while Mike sat in his funk was liberating too.

After 2+ weeks of no calls, he finally went job hunting – took two days for this great trucking company to latch onto him for their night shift mechanic, and now he’s in heaven.  He’s NOT a morning person, and this means much less tension between him and the girls because…heh heh heh…he’ll rarely see them!  PLUS, the business is taking off again, most of the calls are during the day and he’s finally looking upward again.

I, however, have been told unequivocally that I am not hireable.  Apparently no company will take on the insurance problems of a seizure-prone stroke patient with migraine issues.  So while I danced around thinking about how lovely it would be, how freeing and just plain life-confirming it would be for me to work outside the home,  I had a hard crash coming back to the reality AGAIN…I can’t work outside the home.   I can  mostly run a house with more kids than the average orphanage, deal with more issues  on a daily basis than all the politicians in the Presidential race put together, and run the administrative/tax side of a self-employed  business, but  I can’t get a job at a mini-mart stocking coolers and ringing up  4 candy bars and a Diet*Coke to grouchy people in a hurry.

And then the cluster migraines came.  Stress, tension, lack of sleep…and BAM!  I spent more time cowering in a dark room hoping the pain pills would work soon than I did dealing with anything else.  Yeah, nice reiteration of just how unemployable I am.

To make it all just perfect, I couldn’t get on Spaces 3/4th of the times I tried.  Error pages galore.  I’ve missed so much of what everyone’s doing, and I’m really sorry.  I haven’t forgotten anyone, I’ve just been locked down in the joy and angst of my life…

Just like everyone else, huh?  I guess this is just my day to whine.  Session over, I promise.

Yeah, Well Sunday April 27, 2008

Posted by gingerbreadman in Rambles.
11 comments
First of all, *grin* let me state clearly so there aren’t any more worried readers out there:  I had a tubal ligation right after La was born, and the chances of my getting pregnant again are slim and none.  I’m sure now I’ll hear stories of women who did get preggers after a TL, and all I can say to that is, "Yeah, well…".

Laura has abandoned day care.  She went the first two days and liked it fine.  The next week she started crying when I left her, wanting me to stay.  That’s gut-wrenching.  The week after that she started crying whenever we mentioned going to day care, saying she didn’t want to go, the kids were monsters, she hated naps, she didn’t like it.  I’d have to fight to get her clothes on her in the morning, carry her to the car and into the building and then wrench her off my arm-even after I’d sit with her half an hour assuring her I’d be back to get her in the afternoon.  It felt like it always does when you take the infants in to get their vaccinations:  you know it’s the best thing for them, but holding them down while someone else makes them scream?  Torture.  So by the third week we’d tried everything to get her to accept it, the teachers had done everything…she just wasn’t ready.  I am now back to dealing with her 24/7, the little Klingon.  The worst part is, as determined as she is to have her own way, she knows she’s won a battle here, and has been a demon to deal with since we told her she didn’t have to go back.  Bossy, demanding, more stubborn than usual.  Oh well, yeah well.

We worked out the Emmy/Dad situation like this:  she brought home a new Progress Report with an 80 for her new grade, TWO DAYS after her 75 (because of that 95 she made on the later test) and we talked to her teacher, who said she was a great student and the problem was just one bad test grade.  Mike still didn’t want to let her loose until Monday, I was sticking to the letter of the law and was for letting it go, after all, she’d brought the grade up as required.  I don’t like breaking my word to my kids, even if it means I get screwed over in the meantime.  Finally, I came up with a compromise, because Emmy really was being a major brat about everything and had been all week.  We let her off the grounding for the grade.  However, she then got grounded for not keeping her room straight for 3 days in a row, screaming and shouting at Mike and me, and not bringing home her study guides or books to study for ANY of her tests, ever.  Of course, I’ve revised the "If you come home with anything below a 77…" too.  Emmy says it’s unfair to ground her for other stuff right after taking her off one restriction, and all I could say was…."Yeah, well…TOUGH!"

Of course I’m unsettled about the fibroids.  My mom had a partial hysterectomy because of them at my age, my mom’s mom needed a full hysterectomy at 37 because of them.  I’m unsettled about that, I am tired of surgeries; but I’m concerned about blood tests, mainly.  I’ll feel better once those come back clean.  I wouldn’t have dreamed of worrying about it, but when they decide to screen you for cancer, dang it, you naturally worry about it, don’t you?  Thank goodness the tests are Tuesday and I only have a few days to wait and find out how it’s gonna go.  Mike, knowing nothing about female plumbing had to have it explained to him completely.  I felt outside myself as I told him that it was either fibroids or something else.  If it was just fibroids all was cool.  If it was C then they’d take my bad plumbing out, give me chemo and I’d live or die.  I couldn’t believe how cold I sounded, but at the same time….I’ve always felt I’m living on borrowed time, too.

Ugh, I think I’ve sunk into one of those nasty depression thingies.  I don’t like this attitude, but it is how I feel right now, and if I can’t say it here, what’s the point of my having a ‘here’? 

Teen Girls+Dads=Hell Wednesday April 23, 2008

Posted by gingerbreadman in Rambles.
5 comments
I am beginning to think I want to move out for the next 5 years; just take La and leave Mike and the girls here to work out their own problems.  I’m tired of refereeing the endless fights, listening to the screeching and the screaming, (I’d add here that the girls are no picnic either, but it’s just not funny anymore, dangit) and watching Mike’s blood pressure rise just through seeing veins pulsate.

This latest round is even somehow my fault.  Emma Jane’s grades are always mid-B’s or borderline C’s.  We try to keep her out of C range because she can do so much more, she just tends to slack off whenever the opportunity arises.  As a freshman now, she’s got to seriously start thinking about what colleges are going to be looking for.
So at the beginning of the school year, we told her anything 77 or below on her Progress Report (mid-terms) or a Report Card and she’d be grounded until she brought up the grade.  All was fine, she tiptoed up to the line a few times but never hit it until yesterday when she brought home a 75 on her Progress Report.  Grounded.

So she throws a fit.  She vows to bring home a better grade the next day and Mike immediately tells her that won’t matter, she can’t magically get ungrounded the next day.  I’m kinda stuck then, because, realistically that’s exactly what we told her we’d do:  unground her when she brought up the grade.  It just never occurred to us she’d be able to do it the next day.  When I mentioned that to him, he went ballistic.  More screaming.

*Sigh*

So I’ve got them both pissed at me, one for being too "mean", one for "always giving in" and I’m questioning my own sanity, such as it is.  I try to always be fair, first.  I don’t think it’s necessarily fair or right that Emily get off grounding in a day…what’s she learned?  How has she gained anything by this 1 day of confinement?  She hasn’t.  Oh yeah, she’s learned she can maneuver the system.  Nice.  But, to "keep them honest" as AC says every few nights, a deal is a deal, and I said bring the grade up and you’re ungrounded.

Damned if the little wench didn’t come home with a test grade, waving it in the air, triumphantly shouting she wasn’t grounded anymore just as I was racing out the door, grabbing Katie on the way to a dentist appointment.  She’d made a 95 from a test on Friday.  Mike was furious, of course.  She was practically dancing with joy, until he started "No, no, hell no-ing" her as I was running from the house to the car.  We could hear them in the street; her wailing shrieks, his low pitched voice telling her to stop shouting at him.

I had a wonderfully restful respite at the dentist office waiting for Katie to get her teeth cleaned.  Then it was back to the fray again:  a storming Mike who wasn’t ready to listen to the argument that she couldn’t be grounded for the rest of the semester, which is what he was talking about, in a way…waiting for her Report Card…5 weeks from now.  Nope, Momma not having that, but nor was Momma caving in and giving Emily her freedom today.  I want her to learn something from this, damn it.  But, since I didn’t want to throw her under the house, I was "on her side" and thus the enemy.  And because I wasn’t giving in and letting her off grounding, I was being an evil Mom, and because I wouldn’t listen to her denigrate her Dad or screech at me, I was the Bitch Queen of the World.

I hate teen girl/Dad fights, I really, really do.  Dad’s bring out the highest pitch of girl scream the hormonal brats have in them, Dad’s grow an extra backbone and just get meaner the louder and screechier a teen girl gets and somehow, some way…the Mom always gets blamed by both sides.

Libby’s no better lately; except she doesn’t do it to Dad, she just randomly screams "Shut UP!" in a feral tone at everyone she sees, yells at us all for no good reason, growls at me!!! and just generally verbally assaults us all.  Except Dad of course, she’s smart enough not to scream in his face.  So I’ve had to jump all over HER lately too.

We won’t even talk about Katie.  At least she keeps her grades up to Principal’s List and doesn’t jump on people every second of the day.  But she’s the Dark Angel of the group.

And you ALL know La.

Yep, I’m moving out.  They make my head hurt.

Singapore Slings, Gone But Not Forgotten Friday April 18, 2008

Posted by gingerbreadman in Rambles.
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That night Jess, Ashley and I went out, all I really wanted out of the experience, besides seeing London/Tristan again, was to wrap my lips around a good, old-fashioned Singapore Sling.  It’d been 10+ years since I’d last had one, I’m loath to say, and by golly, I was ready to renew the auld aquaintance!

We hit a bar before we ever made it to Jess’ house that day, so eager was I to find my old friend and have a sip and chat with it.  The waitress looked at me as if I were insane *hah* when I asked for the drink, the dear, dear drink.  I told her to ask the manager if HE knew it, he said "Nope."  Oh my god, is everyone in this place 26?  So I asked them to go online and FIND the recipe.  I crossed the line there, apparently.  I ended up with some fruity tuity drink I didn’t like so I drank it too fast and we left.

I was sad.

Jess assures me at the bar we’re going to I’ll get my "weird, girlie" drink.  After all, it’s a gay-friendly, cross-dress showcasing, rowdy bar-during-the-week bar…of course they’ll know every drink in the world. 

No.  No.  A thousand times no.  I did end up knowing the manager of the bar because she was a kinky girl I met at the dungeon long ago and far away and we had a college class together my first semester, biology, I think.  But she no could make a Singapore Sling, and didn’t have internet access at the bar. 

So I got drunk on gin and juices.  So sad, was me. 

I’ve got the recipes now, though.  I’m armed and ready for the next time I’m ever out.  I’ve got copies in my purse, I’ve sent copies to Jess.  This travesty will not happen to me again.

Yeah, yeah, I shouldn’t be drinking, and I seldom do.  But when a girl wants a Singapore Sling Fling, I say, LET HER HAVE IT!

“Cause after all, he’s just a man.” Wednesday April 16, 2008

Posted by gingerbreadman in Rambles.
13 comments
I’ll be writing on this entry all day today as I’ve got to duck the Mario Brothers while they wander in and out of my ‘area’, and pop on and off line while I run to the shrink and back, but I couldn’t put off any longer writing about my ugh-ish weekend, why I’m now listening to COUNTRY music…yes, this is Lynn at the keyboard, really.
 
Be back soon…time to feed the men and child.
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Shaddup, Sis.  It’s not you, it’s our Evil Mom…the woman who turned the radio to the blasted country stations on long car rides and made me listen to Tammy, Dolly, Tanya, Loretta, Patsy, et al.  I remember hearing ‘Stand By Your Man’ when I was a little girl and thinking "good grief, what a wimp that woman is"!  But what stood out to me most about that song were the words "Cause after all, he’s just a man". 

It’s a funny song, isn’t it?  Telling women no matter what their man does to forgive him, love him, be proud of him, take it and stand by him….take his shit, another words….be the submissive doormat that seemed to be the woman’s rightful place back in the ‘old days’ and yet, those fateful words "cause he’s just a man" pretty much slap the jerk right where he needs to be…behind the strong woman standing up to him, for him, beside him, behind him propping him up.

Loretta Lynn’s "You Ain’t Woman Enough…" strikes me the same way.  It’s twisted.  "Yeah," she seems to be saying, "he may be sniffing and pawing on you, but he comes HOME to me, whore, and I ain’t giving him up, so SCAT!"  Sure, I can see fighting for your marriage even after finding out there’s been an infidelity…NO, Mike, that’s not permission…you know you’ll end up de-balled…but the message the songs in this time period seem to send just boggle my mind.

He’s a dog, but he’s MY dog, and I love him and you can’t have him, and I’m gonna love him, be proud of him and stand by him.  Cause after all, he’s just a dog.

‘Delta Dawn’ is on the music list because it’s the only song I’ve ever sang well.  I have a Tanya Tucker voice, somehow, and while I can’t carry a tune in a bucket, for some reason I can sing the ever-lovin-heck out of this song.  I’ve always loved it.  Alas, another poor woman pinin’ after a bad man. 

I’ve always loved Garth Brooks and Hank Jr.  I don’t really pay much attention to anyone else in country music, I look for downloads by the people I like and avoid everyone else.  I did like that country cross-over song the woman sang about cutting up the upholstery, taking the baseball bat to the headlights and keying the car of the man who was in the bar cheating on her.  Who would believe I’d like THAT sort of song??  Gee.  I like Toby Keith, Sis, I discovered him after the news played the video of his song about the US kicking ass after 9/11. 

Oh yeah…sucky weekend.  Mike’s got a bad temper, and he just lost it this weekend completely.  Broke the keyboard on the computer and stormed and raged all over the house until I took the kids and left for Mom’s for the weekend and told him I wouldn’t be back until he agreed to counseling.  So, he went to his first meeting Monday and now we’re home again.  He seems to be really aware that he’s got a problem and serious about working on it, which is great, and I’m working on being more aware of listening to his issues with me and what I do to set him off.  All problems are both people’s problem in a relationship, I think, even if it only originates from one of them…it’s a marriage, both of us have to work on it.

I’m still a manic, non-sleeping, cleaning too much wreck, so the shrink took me off the xanax, put me on a new med, took me off the topomax, put me on a new mood stabilizer/anti-seizure med, and if THIS doesn’t stabilize me, I’ll have to go into the hospital for 48 hours to get "maxed out" as she put it so they can find the right dosage and meds to suit me.  At any other point, I’d have freaked at those words:  now, I’m shrugging and thinking, "Whatever it takes, I’m tired of this crap and just want my brain to stop spinning". 

I really hate when I want to listen to country music.  I need my Styx and Kid Rock back.

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Okay, no, I’m not all right with the idea of going into the hospital for 48 hours.  It scares the crap out of me to hear the words "max you out"-wth does THAT mean???  That’s a lot of pressure to put on this new medication to work, especially since I have such a high tolerance for medication dosage, a high incidence of side effects hitting me and don’t generally react well to new meds. 

I am really relieved to be off the Topomax though.  While it has the wonderful side effect of tamping down on the appetite and curtailing any interest in sweets, it has the nickname "Stupidmax" for a really good reason.  People on it for a long time tend to get mush mouth and goo-brained.  My words get all mangled in my mouth and come out sounding nothing like what I meant to say…maybe two words out of a sentence; and I’ll suddenly go blank on saying a simple word like "black".  I couldn’t tell Katie what color my shoes were yesterday.  I couldn’t tell Libby to go get the broom because I couldn’t think of the word, I’m constantly mixing up Laura and Libby’s name lately.  Some people brush that aside and say it’s because I’ve hit my 40’s, but then, they don’t have my brain to deal with-they don’t sit here in tears because they’re trying to dial their kid’s phone number and can’t remember it.  Solaria and I used to call ourselves the "T Twins" because we were both on it before she jumped off the Stupid Wagon and chat about how ditzy we both felt all the time, comparing stupid things we did and couldn’t say, it really helped to have someone else.  It’s so hard with Mike…he really just doesn’t understand mental illness and blames everything on the meds as if they just took me off all my medication I’d be restored to who I was before the aneurysm.  Like the blood that swirled around in my brain pan for 9 days didn’t do any damage, didn’t affect me…
Oh well, after all, he’s just a man.   Have mercy.  He cain’t hep it.
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Well, now I feel stoopid.
Here I was preachin on how women shouldn’t pay any attention to these old country songs about supporting their men, putting up with their crap, how it was all hooey and so ‘back then’…and a few paragraphs later I’m writing about how a marriage with problems is BOTH people’s problems even if the issue is only stemming from one of the spouses.  Yeah, duh, Lynn.  Congrats on working that Stupidmax to the limits and back, girlfriend.

I think it was the incredibly lucky break I got on the way back from the pharmacy (for the second time that day).  First, the radio played Cowboy by Kid Rock and I started to feel like a human for a few moments and then when we got back into the car they’d JUST STARTED Renegade….my favorite Styx song!  All this after I’d written I wanted that music back!!!!

Hey, Spaces…
I need Nickelback’s tour bus to break down right outside our exit, and for them to call the Mario Bros.  I want Mike to bring the band home for some of his "honey’s good home-cooking" as he so cutely puts it to his friends, and I really NEED for them to accept and for Chad to offer to be my sex slave forever.
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And for those of you who are lost, worn out or need medication or a nap after reading all this:  WELCOME TO MY WORLD!!!!!!

I’m a Xan-iac, Xan-iac, That’s for shore! Saturday April 5, 2008

Posted by gingerbreadman in Rambles.
9 comments
Now, apparently I was born born bi-polar.  My Dad and his whole ding-dang family are bi-polar and have been under so many different psychiatrists care they could get together and have a convention and fill a Sheraton.  My family collectively have so many different meds, it’s not even funny, except, of course when you get them around a kitchen table and start asking them which ones are working well for them and you get 6 different people singing the praises of 8 or 9 different treatments and doses.
 
It boggles the mind, it really does.
 
I was fine with my Topomax, until of course the Great Brain Crash of 2004.  THEN my mental illness went all wickety-wack and I became certifiably certifiable.  Now I’m a full-fledged anxiety-ridden, agoraphobic with some handy-dandy anger management issues and personality disorders.  Thank you, bleeding brain vessels!
 
My shrinks of the past 3 years have been trying in vain to find a combo of meds that would "fix" me, while my therapist has worked his poor beleaguered tail off trying to "fix" me and get me off the meds.  Bless his heart.
 
I’ve been on 5 kinds of anti-depressants before they tried Celexa and that finally worked.  The Lorezapam worked for about 20 minutes, then they bumped me up to Diazepam which worked for almost a year, then the therapist FINALLY listened to me three days ago when I marched into her office and declared, "Nancy, the Whisky Ain’t-A Working, Anymore!" 

I also sang her a chorus of a DMX song I’ve been singing to the Luigi Brothers and the kids for the past two weeks…now JUST the chorus, because the lyrics are chock-full of the N word, and I hate that crap, but the chorus is me ALL OVER lately:

"
Y’all gon’ make me lose my mind
up in HERE, up in here
Y’all gon’ make me go all out
up in here, up in here
Y’all gon’ make me act a FOOL
up in HERE, up in here
Y’all gon’ make me lose my cool
up in here, up in here"

The therapist angel followed me in and said I needed a bump up, made the sign of the cross because he’d just gone against all he believes in and walked out, and long story a little shorter….now I’m on Xanax.  1 mg 3 times a day.

 
I took 1 the first day and promptly slept for 12 hours.  Apparently I needed some rest?
I called my brother, who’d been on Xanax before, but only on 0.5 mg and he said at his dosage he sort of went into a zone where he got things accomplished he’d never been able to concentrate on before;  that his focus was improved dramatically and he didn’t get groggy at all, perhaps I should bite the pills in half and try that.
 
Sounds good to me, I thought.  I tried it yesterday and had the house swept and mopped before 8 am.  I gave the huge dinosaur Mike insists is just a puppy a bath, changed all the sheets in the house, supervised getting 5 kids cleansed, packed and out the door to go have ‘surprise’ photos taken for me for Mother’s Day AND made lunch for the Luigi Brothers before noon.
 
Wow.  0.5 mg.  Amazing.  BUT the whole point of my having a sedative is for me TO SLOW DOWN, not do a day’s worth of chores in 4 hours.   So this morning I took the 1 mg tablet.  By 8:30 am  I’d cleaned the bathroom, done 2 loads of laundry, washed the dishes, swept and mopped the kitchen and dining room, downloaded some music and am itching to find something else to do.
 
 
Oh, and the reason for this macarbre music that most of you have probably turned your speakers off to already?  This is the stuff I’ve been driven to listen to lately.  Not just once in a while…like constantly.  There’s much darker, I tried to pick the ‘lighter’ stuff….but the first song, "Possum Kingdom" is my SONG.