Hey monkeys. I'm sitting in my 'office'... aka my car. Reilly's teen grief group is meeting tonight... thank GOD... so here I sit. I just told him about the Comfort Zone camp while we were in the car tonight. He was NONE too pleased. He's going to have to miss school on that Friday so we can get there... it's a couple hours away... and these days, missing school on a Friday is NO bueno. Mostly because it's basketball season, and he's ALL about the social scene that goes along with that. He also claimed that it would be "irresponsible" of ME to have him miss school. Nice try, butt plug. I told him that his mental health is the single most important thing right now. Of course, his reply was, "my mental health is fine". Yeah... right. Whatever. I told him that it's like car maintenance... he's going in for a tune-up. And honestly, I don't give a fat fuck what he says... he's going.
Miss To... heeeelarious. Why yes, I DO happen to remember my sophomore year wardrobe... quite vividly, in fact. I'm not sure why, especially since I'm such a fuckin mess these days that I can't remember shit. I live and breathe by my iPhone calendar. Good thing you can have it alert you about an event TWICE. Believe me.. I SO need that. Since I KNOW you're wondering (suuuuuure you are), my favorite outfit that year was a pair of raspberry colored corduroy shorts that I wore with a pink sweatshirt and a raspberry beret. (Insert goofy Prince reference here.) The sweatshirt had some phrase on it written in French. Even back then, I was all about the pink. I did have lots of other colors in my closet back then, while today almost every single thing I own is a shade of pink or purple. I know it looks good on me, so why rock the boat?
Funny you mentioned watching tv. Before this afternoon, I hadn't seen ANY tv since last March. Seriously. And I LOVE tv. I so enjoyed sitting down to watch my favorite tivo'd shows... Project Runway, Top Chef, Hell's Kitchen, Flipping Out, American Idol... those were my faves. But once David's final descent began in earnest, I didn't have the time, energy or attention span to watch anything. And I'm STILL like that. It's just like the reading. I miss reading novels so much... but I just can't. I can't focus and I can't retain anything. I can't even read a fucking magazine anymore. How ridiculous is THAT? Yes, I know I'm as boring as balls, but my favorite Friday nite activity used to be devouring all the new issues of the thrash magazines. I'd make sure to hit Target at some point on Friday to get Star, In Touch and US Weekly to go with my People subscription. I loved 'em... it was my guilty pleasure. But no more.
I DID see some tv today. I finally had time to take down the Christmas tree, so I caught a couple of Oprah's that had been Tivo'd. Damn, I've missed that show! I love Redbox and we rent movies now and then. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to stay awake through a whole movie in recent memory. It's not the movies either... it's me. I continue to wear out my copies of Sex And The City and The New Adventures of Old Christine, but I'll usually pop one in, watch for 10 minutes and then I'm done.
I think I may need therapy. Wait... I KNOW I need therapy. But after my de-Christmasing today, I may very well need some sort of serious intervention.... possibly even a stay in a rubber room for a while. There are NO words to describe the horrors that I saw as I took the tree out of the house and moved the furniture back into place. Sweet Jesus. The things that accumulate under and behind the furniture when there are 4 kids in the house... all I can say is eeeeeeeew. I might even need a Karen Silkwood shower... wire brushes and all.
I'm supposed to meet a few of my support group girls for lunch tomorrow... hope I can make that happen.
Still thinking about and missing my Shyla girl. She had a bunch of nicknames.....
Shy Shy
Shy She
Shysh
She She
Shy
Shysher
Baby Girl
xoxo
S
***Build something from what stands in your way.
***Act with consideration.
***Walk softly, live gently.
-Instant Karma
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
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