The tears.
The churning tummy.
The overwhelming feelings...
... of inadequacy
... of stupidity
... of hopelessness
... of exhaustion
... of sadness
... of frustration
... of anger
... of being held hostage by this situation.
Enough. I've had enough. I've been dodging these grenades and wading through heaps of shit for SIX MONTHS. Wait... I lied. We didn't have to be ready for the estate sale until 2 WHOLE weeks after David died. Two fucking days after his funeral and only one after his Celebration of Life. True, I was mostly a bystander... my incredible girls Miss Lisa, Miss Helen, Miss Jane, Miss Candyce, Miss KK and Auntie Nut were the ones who made that happen. I certainly did my share in the following 2 weeks though, as it became MY job to clean out his disgusting bachelor pad. I STILL don't know how that happened. Oh... stop the presses... yes I do. His worthless, shitbag family hopped a plane back to Florida without even the suggestion that they would help. No... they just picked through all of David's shit, took what they wanted, and left the rest for me. They took a bunch of things. The one that REALLY bothers me is a journal that he wrote in periodically, beginning in 1989. Yeah. That was the year that we met. God... they are fucking SCUM.
The day started with a bunch of confused looks. I didn't even bother to wear my gym clothes, because I KNEW I wasn't going there. So I took the kids to school in my scrubs. Holy fuckin shitballs.... you'd think I was wearing a Nazi uniform or a KKK imperial wizard robe. These people looked at me like I was a fucking alien. I've been a parent at WES for 8 1/2 years... always a stay-at-home mom. Now it's clear that I work. Just another couple scarlet letters on my shirt.... first they were CF for Cancer Family... then DH for Dead Husband... now WS for Workin Stiff, or maybe Worthless Shan. Who knows? Whatever. Yet one more reason for people I've known all these years to look at me like I'm a green eyed monster. Fuck 'em in the neck. (Thanks for that one To... you can see that it has become one of my faves.)
Then I got to the office and worked my ass off, but it wasn't the same as the past couple of days. The fog surrounding me was ever-present... the funk has descended, and even a busy day in the office couldn't keep it at bay. After picking up the kids I got in my bed... in my scrubs... and I cried. I just laid there. For three HOURS, I laid there... not sleeping, just mired in the shit.
I haven't even called my corporate attorney yet. I don't want to. He suggested in his e-mail that he should accompany me to the shareholder's meeting. Why? I KNOW what's going to happen... it's all been laid out for me. Having him there won't change anything, except that I'll be out ANOTHER thousand bucks for having the pleasure of his company. Oh, and the extra bonus? The meeting is being held on one of my workdays... lovely.
I got a new collection notice today. This one is from one of the doctors that saw David in the hospital right before he died. SERIOUSLY???? The dude is DEAD. They KNOW this, but of course it's all about the mighty dollar.
I'm so fucking sick of all of this bullshit that I could just puke. Once again, I was getting to a place of peace... finally able to pray again and focus on the incredible blessings that have come my way of late... and now this. Every time I start to feel like I'm moving forward... maybe getting myself on solid ground... a tsunami hits and knocks me down again.
Fuckin corporate America...
Fuckin death...
FUCKIN CANCER
Trying to survive and thrive, through the most difficult time in my life.
Welcome!
So here's the Reader's Digest version for those of you who are new to my blog.... My 39 year old husband, David, was diagnosed with a hideous and deadly cancer in April of '08. We were told he'd likely die in less than 4 months. Obviously, that diagnosis turned us inside out and shook us to the core. At the time, our boys were 12 and 4... can you say 'fucking nightmare'??? I spent the next 14 months being his 24/7 caregiver and advocate... never leaving his side unless it was to get the boys to or from therapy or their cancer support groups. Cancer and the hell that it brings became our universe. And yet, I was able to get myself to a place where I was depending on my faith.... existing on a plane of pure gratitude. I focused my energies on recognizing the blessings that cancer had brought to our lives... yes, there ARE blessings that come with such a dire diagnosis.
Things were good. David miraculously entered remission in April of '09. I was looking forward to the next few months being our 'summer of healing' as a family. And then my world stopped. He left me... left US... on 6 June 2009. And FYI... he told me he was ending our 18 year marriage in a note. As if that wasn't bad enough, he had left me for a 'friend' who also happened to be married. Nice. The next few months are a blur... I descended into a deep, dark depression, and David's vicious treatment of me didn't help. He was running as fast as he could from everything associated with cancer, and that included me... our family, our home and the entire life we had built together. Things went from bad to worse when his cancer returned with a vengeance. He began treatment once again, and I had to dig deep to help him and make things as easy on him as possible. I even offered to have him move home so I could care for him through his treatment. As it turns out, it was a good thing he didn't take me up on that. The hateful way that he treated me during that time would have made caregiving for him an unbearable situation. I KNEW he was dying... nobody else did, because he fed them all kinds of bullshit... but I knew. Because of that, I focused on the boys and made sure they were with their daddy as much as possible.
His final months were a living nightmare... a kind of pain and darkness for which there are no words. No human being, no matter who they are or how they lived their lives, should have to suffer the horrific pain and endless indignities that David did. In spite of everything, I was with him constantly, much to the chagrin of his girlfriend and his mother. 'Too fuckin bad' was my theory. I wanted my boys to see that I NEVER turned my back on their dad. And I didn't. I continued to advocate for him in the hospital... fighting to get him the meds and the specialists he needed. I was there during his final moments of consciousness. I took Reilly to say goodbye to his dad, just before he slipped into that state. I was there when he died. I ID'd his body at the funeral home. I planned his funeral and his Celebration of Life. I placed his ashes in the wall of the Columbarium at the Naval Academy. We had spent half of our lives together, and though I was no longer in love with him, I did those things out of respect for the life that we shared and the family that we created.The 6 months since he died have brought more changes. I struggle daily to untangle the financial disaster he left me, and I'm fighting like hell to keep our home. The boys are now 15 and 7 and trying to learn how to move forward in their lives without their daddy. I had to get a part-time job after spending 15 years as a full-time mother, and I'm doing everything I can to trim the fat so we can afford to stay where we are. My boys NEED the stability and comfort that come with remaining in our home and community, and staying in their schools. To that end, I will fight with every fiber of my soul to ensure that those things happen.My greatest blessing is that I now have an incredible man in my life... a man who is thoughtful and loving, strong and sensitive, hilariously funny, and who loves me just the way I am. He is authentic. He knows who he is and is completely comfortable in his own skin. It certainly doesn't hurt that he's 11 years younger than I am and sexy as hell. :0)Yes, my boys are struggling in many ways... the therapy and support groups continue... and I still have MUCHO 'death business' to handle. That said, I am starting to believe that there might be a happy future ahead... for all of us.The past almost 3 years have been quite an emotional roller coaster, to say the least. Writing has been the most important part of my day, every day, since this journey began. I am once again being put in a position where I have to learn to survive... spiritually, emotionally, physically, financially... you get the picture. My hope is that I can hold on to my faith, find a moment of joy in every day, be the best mother I can possibly be, and hopefully... one day... emerge back into the light.December 2010
AMEN SISTA. I am listening to this song by Cee-lo Green called "F*#k You." I don't know why, but it just feels good to sing the words fuck you. Joseph told me the eff word is a moniker(is that the right term?) for " Fornicating Under Concealment of the King." How does he know this shit. Anyway I tried to post twice today from Redwood Shitty, but no go. Was I smokin' crack when I asked if VA had domestic partnership? In fact, most d.p.'s are male/female. That sounded funky. You know what I mean. And I know you REALLY do not want to hear this, but don't let those flying monkeys at SDSI bring you down. To use Finn's term(stuck wit me) they are a bunch of "cum bubbles". I'm going to see if your moms can hook up soon. Can't wait to see her and bullshit. Anyhoo I hope this damn thing posts. Take KK to the meeting. Bet she'll take some names and numbers. L. To
ReplyDeleteThinking of you and wishing I had some wisdom to know what to say :(
ReplyDeleteaot
r~
Shannon;
ReplyDeleteDO NOT take everything that you have gained and flush it with your self loathing. Just stop it! You have been rebuilding your life and your children's lives. It really hurts to see that this shit continues and the people who CAN help WON'T: D's parents; brother; friends. They all suck dirt and they are the ones guilty here. NOT YOU. Yes, this is an attack. These shit bag creditors will go for who ever they can lay their hands on.
Keep being you.
Keep forging ahead.
Focus on being happy.
Keep yourself and those close to you healthy.
This is a troubling avalanche and it is easier to tackle one at a time.
Just don't start robbing banks. Orange is not a good look for you. (I heard in Arizona, prisoners get to wear pink underwear.)
All kidding aside....don't dig that hole and sit in it. Please use that energy to kick butt!
xoxox
Hi, Shannon.
ReplyDeleteI loved Auntie Nut's comments about being able to wear pink underwear in prison . You don't want to go there, because I agree with Auntie Nut. Orange is not a good color on you.
Enjoy having Finn and healthy kids. I know it must be incredibly hard to stay positive, but you have come a long way, so focus on all of that.
Hugs,
Kadi