Daily Archives: July 9, 2014

Now that I have 24 hours of antibiotics in me and a LOT less pain, I can finally turn my attention back to a more pressing need: a way out of this mess I call my life these days.

No, I am not suicidal or depressed. I was for a short time there, but it’s over and I learned from it. But my life IS a mess, and my big issue nowadays is not knowing where I’m supposed to go from here. I feel irrelevant, lost, confused; I search the job ads daily and find little to inspire me or even bother applying for. It’s already been established that nursing is out, and 99% of what else is out there either requires physical abilities I don’t have, experience I don’t have, or a front-office appearance, which I also don’t have.

It’s tough growing older in a culture which still worships youth and beauty. It’s tougher still when you have disabilities, e.g., being overweight and having a mental illness. The bipolar I can conceal up to a point; but there’s no overlooking my size and shape. And there’s no way you can look at me and not see every year I’ve lived etched across my face.

I wonder sometimes why people who aren’t independently wealthy would want to live into their 80s or 90s and beyond. This country is not kind to its elderly, and even less so to its elderly poor. I’m only 55, but that is right in the middle of No-Man’s Land as far as the social safety net goes: too old to be considered for many jobs, and too young for Social Security. I used to read about this phenomenon and think I was immune to it by virtue of the fact that I was a nurse, and nurses were always in demand. What I never foresaw was becoming unable to continue in my chosen occupation, and now I’m stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place.

Even trying to get a minimum-wage job is fraught with peril. Who do you see at the window of your local Starbucks, handing you your mocha—a frumpy middle-aged grandma, or a perky twenty-something? Who’s checking you in at your dentist’s office—a 300-pound woman in her only “good” outfit, or a slender 35-year-old who could wear a burlap sack and make it look professional? In fact, about the only place that will employ almost anyone is that freak show known as your local Wal-Mart…..and THEY make you work holidays.

It has occurred to me that it might be best to look for a temporary job, something I could do to pay the bills while I keep searching for the Holy Grail. The main disadvantage is I already have a reputation as a job-hopper and it’s becoming tougher to overcome. One employer I interviewed with even mentioned it early in the interview, and I remember how my heart sank as I tried to explain it away. Needless to say, I didn’t get the job.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not hopeless, and I WILL find a job even if it is working at Wally World. It’s the impending loss of my middle-class lifestyle that I’m grieving—the home where my kids did the last of their growing up, the respectability I came to take for granted, the ability to give the family good Christmases and birthdays.

And then I think back to where I was a year ago: working only 8-10 hours a week, AND husband diagnosed with cancer and not expected to live more than a few months. Thank God, he’s still here…..and as long as we’re together, I can get through anything.

I sat in the corner in a chair every single day, ready to spring into action and bring my mother anything she might need at any moment.  Eventually, I began to realize that I had no medical training, and all of the love in the world wasn’t going to be a substitute for that.  She needed to go to the hospital to at least get some fluids.  Little did any of us know that would be the last time my mom ever saw her own room. 

I called an ambulance to take her to the hospital, but the closest hospital couldn’t handle any more patients, so we were directed to one farther away.  It was just me and my mom, no one followed, or even seemed that concerned.  Denial is a very destructive thing. 

I yelled from the front seat, “I am right here, Mom”. 

I got back a meek, “Ok”, and that was one of the last things she ever said.  We got her to the hospital, and a doctor that possesses no bedside manner whatsoever, looked at me, a young woman that was in tears already, “Your mom is a very sick lady” and walked away.  They let me see her one last time before they put that thing down her throat.  The one thing she was most afraid of.  I looked at her, and I was sobbing.  She looked up at me and said, “It’s OK…..it’s OK”.  I never heard my mother speak again after that.  We brought her in on a Thursday and Saturday at 7:00 PM, she was pronounced dead.  Each member of our family stood around her bed, holding on to a small piece of her. 

I will never forget that day.  I relive it like it was yesterday all the time.  That was in 2008 and I still cannot come to terms with it.  Not only was it the end of my beloved mother’s life, but it was the end of life as we all knew it to be.  As a family, we always had ups and downs, and when I consider what I have been through since her death, all I can say is that she was a saint. 

I had no idea that my siblings could be so cruel, callous, and heartless.  It wasn’t long before the mysterious death of my brother took place, ironically on my birthday.  The details are still up in the air, but let’s just say he was a lifelong addict.  I wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping the family together, as I promised my mom that I would on her death bed.  Now I realize it was just too big of a task for me to take on.  These people are not children that need their hand held through everything. 

Am I still angry?  Yes, of course.  It’s only been a month or so, since I severed ties with almost my entire family.  It wasn’t bad enough that they treated me like dirt, but they went to my father without me present to attempt to, I suppose “stage an intervention” because I was a big meanie.  They insinuated I no longer went to the doctor or took my medications.  I see the doctor every 3 months, and I would literally die from withdrawal without my medication every day.  Oh, and by the way, would it kill you to thank me for taking care of mom for 7 months when none of you could find it in your schedule?

It may seem as if I am just writing this to air my dirty laundry.  Believe me, if I wanted to do that, people would not remain nameless, and there would be a lot more detail.  What these people have put me, my husband, and my father through is unforgivable. 

I’m sorry, I try not to be this bitter, and I always try to find the silver lining when I blog, and for now it will just have to be that I no longer have to deal with the pain, sadness, hurt, anger, and the expectations I could never live up to as long as I lived.  I am free of harassing text messages and emails, and I have to say, I haven’t felt like I have been able to relax up until now.  Thanks for listening, and please feel free to share your stories in the comments.  I love to get feedback from my readers. 

Since when is it okay to use your wedding photos with the ex-wife photo-shopped out on an online dating site, or two or three. I mean, who the fuck does that kind of shit!Filed under: aggrevation, anger, disappointment, disrespect, hurt Tagged: Fucked

It got a little painful writing my life’s story and the events that led me to become a very serious substance abuser.  I was trying to mask the feelings I had after being assaulted by my “boyfriend” at the age of barely 16. I did not know at the time that I had developed PTSD, […]