Rainey Daze and Crazy Nights

Poetry, Paintings, and Ponderings: Through My Eyes

Life Update February 22, 2014

The good news: mentally, I’m feeling better. The dark cloud didn’t send me too far down the slippery slope, and I am feeling normal again. (What is normal, by the way? I’m not sure, but it is somewhere between “Oh my God, I can’t bear to get out of bed and face the world” and “WOW! THIS-IS-THE-GREATEST-DAY-EVER-I-CAN-DO-ANYTHING!”)

The bad news: many bad things happening around me to people I know and love. I will not dwell on it (as that causes the slippery slope to loom over me) but one family member died yesterday and another got a diagnosis of stage 4 lung cancer (non-smoker). So much sadness around me that I actually feel physical pain.

Work right now is a bitch. No other way to say it. I still love my job, but I feel so stretched thin. I am needed by so many people to do so many things. Most schools have two people who do my job, but I am the only one at my school due to the budget. I usually don’t mind, but at times like this, when so much has to be completed in a short period, it is very hard on me. I will get through it, I just feel like I am not doing my best because I am doing too much.

It’s going to be a beautiful day here today, so I will sit outside in the sun and let it warm my soul. That makes everything more bearable.

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Today June 23, 2013

Filed under: about me,all,death,depression,events,family,grief,journal — rainey46 @ 6:29 pm
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Today was the hardest day since the day Riley died. No particular reason; just a really, really hard day. I’ve cried so much I look like I was beaten in the face.

If you are not a dog person, you don’t get it. He was my little boy, my constant companion. If you averaged the time I spent with humans and the time I spent with my two dogs, I know for a fact I spent much more time with the dogs. He slept beside me at night, curled up under my left arm. If I rolled over, I felt his little fur weight pressed against my back. In the morning, he followed me to the bathroom, waiting patiently until I finished so he could be let out for his turn. If he got scared, he ran to my arms. He greeted me at the door every single day, joyful and happy that I came home again. If I went out-of-town, he moped and refused to eat until I returned. He loved to play ball, and would let me work on the computer for just so long before he insisted that I take a break and play with him.

Dogs have always had my heart. Riley came into my life when my girls went away to college and I felt so lonely. Hubs works 12 hour shifts so I am home alone a lot, especially in the summer. Not long after that was when J started the first downward slide of bipolar, addictions, and disorders. It was a hard time for hubs and I, and it drove us apart for a while. Mental illness is not understood by the general public, as you all know, so I had no one. Except Riley. He was not a trained therapy dog, but he might as well have been. When I cried, he stayed by me, licking my tears as they streamed down my face. When I calmed down, he would gently bring me his favorite ball and look at me with those huge, understanding eyes. God how I miss those eyes.

Hubs called to check on me today. I can hear in his voice how worried he is about me. He knows my tendency toward depression, and that in recent years it has gotten worse each time. He wants to go get a new puppy tomorrow. My first reaction was NO, but it’s not to replace Riley. That will never happen. But our little girl, Soph, is out of sorts and so lonely now. And if we get a puppy, it needs to be in the summer when I can train it. I’m just not sure I’m ready for that. Hubs is just trying to stop my downward slide, I realize that. It is so sweet. I’m just not sure.

 

Love For a Dog February 7, 2013

I am a pet lover. Specifically, I am a dog lover. I got my first dog when I was 3 1/2 years old, and I have never been without one since.

In my house, pets are part of the family. I currently have two dogs, a male and a female. They are both small inside dogs (which hubs said we would never have, but I won THAT round) and they rule. I cannot imagine life without either of them.

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The male dog, Riley, is especially precious to me. He came to me when both of my girls went away to college and I suffered the classic “Empty Nest Syndrome”. This was before J was diagnosed with any problems. I had work, hubs, and….nothing. I felt useless because my identity was so tied in with being a mom. When Riley came into the family, he burrowed that furry little head right into my heart. He was mine, and I was his, right from the start.

Not long after he joined the family was when J was diagnosed with Bipolar. I spent many hours privately crying with only Riley to hold me and comfort me. I have always put on the brave face in public, even with family, and hold my crying sessions all alone. In fact, my favorite place to cry is while in the shower. Riley started the habit of going in the bathroom with me and lying on the rug until I get out. He would watch me with his knowing eyes and wait for me to dress and sit on the rug to hold him. Riley would take all my tears and make me feel better, so that I could make it one more day. He is honestly the reason I don’t break down more often than I do.

Now, here we are, 7 years into Riley’s life. About 8 months ago he started having seizures. He takes an anti-convulsive medication, but it is not working properly. My poor Riley had 20 seizures in a 24-hour period. He is now at the emergency vet’s office at the state college. They are giving him a new drug through an I.V. to see if they can stop the seizures. If it doesn’t stop, they want to do a spinal tap and MRI to look for a cause.

I do not want him to suffer. Hearing him cry between seizures was one of the most difficult things in the world for me. I feel so helpless and broken right now. I know he is in good hands, and they are keeping him sedated. But if they cannot make his life comfortable and of a good quality, then I will have to make a decision I do not want to make.

 

Because I Cannot Cry in the Shower, I Wallow in Self-Pity December 22, 2012

I feel like I have a hangover, but I didn’t drink. Is it possible to have some sort of post traumatic response to difficult life events? I am having difficulty doing even the most simple tasks. I feel like I am in a fog of sorts. What is happening?

Every time J tries to kill herself, or does something equally harmful to herself or those who love her, I react during the event with nerves of steel. Nothing she says or does phases me. I am grace under fire. The first few events, I fell apart as soon as it was determined that she would be okay. I would take a shower and sob until my body ran out of tears and the shower ran out of hot water. Then, after many times of crisis, I stopped crying in the shower. I went into robot mode. I continued going through the motions of showering, working, and living. Inside I was numb and cold. I didn’t mean to stop feeling, it just happened. I still stood in the shower and waited for the tears, even tried to make them happen, but they didn’t. Meanwhile, J made it through the trauma and bounced back to normal life. Inside, I seethed with anger that she was back to normal and I would never know normal again.

Today I feel drugged. Last night, J’s friends came over and they hung out and shared some much needed laughter. They were silly and funny, and I enjoyed hearing them. But I am ice inside.

I have no gifts under the tree. I just don’t care. Everyone depends on me to set the tone, the mood for everything in our lives, but I want to curl up and sleep forever. This life is too hard for me right now.

English: Shower

English: Shower (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Writing and my humor are the only things I have left. Bear with me when I wallow in self-pity, will you?

PS I still cannot find my beloved camera. I fear it is gone forever and I cannot afford another one.

 

Steps Into the New Unknown Day December 21, 2012

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The doctor in the ER told me just how close J came to really dying this time. She took 1/2 bottle of Xanax and washed it down with Tequila. If she hadn’t started vomiting like she did, she would have died.  If she hadn’t panicked and sent us all goodbye texts, she would have died. If she hadn’t been on her side, she would have drowned in her own vomit.

The night she almost died, I never cried. The next day in the ER, I still didn’t cry. I never even felt the urge. I thought it was because I have been through this so many times that I had no tears left. I thought it was because of the antidepressants that I take.

Today, two days after the fact, I had a break down. I began violently shaking and losing focus on the world around me. Breathing became difficult. Thinking rational thoughts was impossible. After ten minutes that felt like a century, it passed. My breathing became normal and my hands stopped trembling.

Every day I wake up and wonder if this will be the day. Is this the day she kills herself? Is this the day my mind finally snaps because it cannot take another moment living like this? Is this the day hubs walks out because he cannot handle life with a bipolar daughter and batshit-crazy wife?

But every morning, as these thoughts pass through my brain, I think about the other what-ifs: What if this is a day of laughter and joy? What if this day finds J happy, but not manic? What if this day is just an average,  normal day in the life of my not-so-normal family?

This thinking allows me to swing my legs over and step into the new, unknown day.
Steps to the Unknown

 

Unsuccessful Suicide December 19, 2012

Various pills

Various pills (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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My daughter tried to kill herself again today. I never thought I would write that statement, but here I am. She took a bottle of pills. Again. She waited until she was at home, alone. Hubs and I were about 20 minutes away having supper at a local Mexican Restaurant. After she took them she got scared, so she started texting “goodbye” messages to all of her best friends. She sent me one, too. “I really love you and dad” it said. My phone was in my car, so I didn’t see her message until I was driving home. Along with her message was about 5 from her friends trying to make sure she was okay and that I was with her. I called her, but she didn’t answer. Next I called the friend who lives closest, Angel. Angel was already on the way over to the house to check on her. I drove like a maniac, running 80-100 all the way home.

Angel and her boyfriend got there right before me. She told them she took some pills. I was about to call 911 when J started vomiting. She was very groggy and could barely lift her head. She vomited over and over, so I felt like enough came up that she was out of danger.

I didn’t cry. I didn’t get upset. But every time this happens, another part of my heart dies.

I am just tired. We have gone through this so many times now, that I hardly feel anything. It’s just another day in my life. My daughter tried to kill herself again. She didn’t succeed. Tomorrow I will go to work. Life goes on.

 

 

 

My Erotic Mistress December 11, 2012

tw-sign6TRIGGER WARNING:  SUICIDE

 

She is a beautiful, erotic mistress

who beckons me with slender fingers.

Her beauty radiates from her eyes

two deep, dark liquid pools

that threaten to swallow me

if I stare too closely, too deeply.

Her voice whispers seductively in my ear

filling my body with a red-hot desire.

“Just take the leap” she moans

“Close your eyes and give in to me.”

I lean over the edge of the cold railing

Gazing at the water that seems miles away.

“Come fly with me,” my mistress whispers

“Take my hand and you will be free

No more pain; no more heartache”.

I long to please her, so I step on the rail

Feeling her moist, warm breathe

on the bare skin of my neck

sending icy chills up and down my spine.

I shiver and almost lose my balance

In that moment, as I teeter on the edge between

life and death…

I choose life.

My mistress sighs, then leaves me

as I step away from the edge.

Life wins, once again,

but my heart knows that my mistress, Suicide,

will soon return for another try.

 

**NOTE: This is just a poem; I am not currently suicidal. When ideas for poems or fiction come to me, I have to get the thoughts out. I have felt this way, more times than I care to admit. But, just like in the poem, so far life wins.