In Sickness And In Health

Ok, here we go...a non PC blog. I'm sure that I'll offend some folks, but hey, its right in my subtitle that I'm non PC, nobody can say they weren't warned.

When you get married, there's the traditional vows which in part say, "...for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, til death us do part."

I have a problem with the 'in sickness' part. Lemme 'splain.

Addictions are considered a disease. Something I completely disagree with, but I'll save that for another blog. Mental illness is an illness.

Both of these issues can have serious serious serious ramifications on a family, a marriage. While there are varying degrees of issues associated with them, I have to say that I get completely enraged when I hear of people talking about how their spouse curses, screams, stomps around, blames everything on either the spouse and/or children, and basically is a threatening presence in the home. Or that they are either bankrupting the family financially, are unsafe to be around the children, become violent...

Its time to leave when that happens, folks. Marriage vows bedamned. When your spouse becomes a threat to you or your children, its time to pack and go. I don't care if its a physical, psychological or emotional threat, its time to hit the road.

Its not about hating illness or addictions. Its about children needing and deserving safety. When I hear of people (lets be honest, I've only ever heard this from women) saying, "He's sick, I can't leave..." it makes me want to smack someone. The children in these circumstances NEED out. They have to be protected. Someone that is a negative in their lives like that is doing them incredible harm. It doesn't matter to the child if Daddy is mentally ill, drunk, or just a violent jerk, getting told he's useless, being thrown to the floor, being cursed at and berated leaves the same scars. As a parent, you do NOT have the right to sacrifice your children to keep your marriage vows. Your first priority is to your children's safety. Period. Your spouse is an adult, able to make choices. Even when mentally ill, an adult has the choice of seeking help. Addicts have the choice to seek sobriety. Children don't have options, they are completely without power and vulnerable to the adults in their lives.

I believe in the sanctity of marriage...but not at all costs. And saying that you can't leave because you took vows is a cop out in this scenario. You're sacrificing your children. They deserve better. And its up to the healthy parent to ensure that it happens.

I'm not saying that someone with mental illness is automatically dangerous, or that a mental illness is in of itself a must leave scenario. What I'm saying is there are behaviours that CAN occur with mental illness that DOES make them a danger to their families...and when that happens, its not to be excused because of the illness, that action MUST be taken.

Abuse is abuse is abuse. Period. Getting the children safe should be the first priority...then anything and everything else.

MRI Today

So, went for the MRI. Let me just say that I'm sooooooooo freakin glad that Wolf and I got some common sense and realized that this was something that I COULD NOT do on my own with the kids. Took 2 freakin hours for starters.

To anyone that has never had the pleasure of an MRI with contrast dye, be grateful. Not a fun time.

The dye was first. Freezing, thank GOD, then the dye needle. That thing is looooooooong. And the lovely sensation of it hitting the bone...*cringe* Thank heavens the folks had a sense of humour though. I was nervous as hell about the whole thing, and kept cracking jokes, and they went right along. I ended up with iodine stains on the front of my gown (One Size Fits Jabba the Hutt) and then, since there was no back way around, ended up paraded through the waiting room. And let me say that dried iodine and dried blood look exactly the freaking same. I told the tech that we probably managed to scare the shit out of several ppl waiting, cause I made eye contact with one woman, and I saw her eyes widen as she stared at my gown, and I thought she was going to pass out.

Then the MRI itself. I confirmed today that I so do not do well in enclosed spaces. Like, at all. I cried the entire half hour I was in there. I did manage to keep from pressing the emergency 'let me the hell out' bell though, by telling myself, "Five more minutes and I'll press it" over and over again until they finally got me out. Closing my eyes didn't help much, cause then I felt even MORE closed in than I actually was, convinced that the top of the tube was almost against my nose. I kept thinking that this is what it felt like to be buried alive...and that this is how it must feel to be rolled into a crematorium. My imagination is sometimes a curse. Ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh.

I'm sore as hell, and sincerely hoping and praying that whatever is wrong with my shoulder shows up with a bright neon arrow pointing to it. The results are being sent both to my PT, so I should know whats up Friday.

If I never go through another MRI, it'll be too soon.

Marriage Is A Psych Experiment

I'm a believer that marriage is a psychology experiment, and Wolf is the cheese eater. There's simply too much fun to be had when you put two adults from different backgrounds under the same roof and expect them to live happily ever after, amidst bill paying, child rearing and the other details of life. That, and I have a twisted sense of humour, and am rather easily bored...but just as easily amused.

Let me give you an example of what I mean...or rather, several examples.

Wolf and I tend to be on the sarcastic side of life (I know, shock, right?!) and tease each other. Every now and then, in hopes of rattling my chain, he'll spout off some sexist remark...and it never ends well for him. The last time he said something like that, I stared at him, and then sadly shook my head.

"Why do you say things like that?" I asked him sadly, "You know I can't let that go, that I'm going to have to get revenge on you."

His eyes widened, and he shifted nervously in his seat.

"And the thing of it is," I continued, "I'm smart enough to do something in such a way that you won't be sure if it was me getting you back, or just one of those moments...so you're not going to know if you can be mad or not"

His left eye started to twitch.

"And..." I said, giving him an evil smile, "Now that I've told you this...I don't actually have to do anything at all, because you'll be wondering and waiting for me to do something...and that's fine too"

Another example: Wolf made some smart remark just before supper. I waited until he'd eaten a bit and casually commented, "You know...when you tick me off, I spit in your food."

Fork froze halfway to his mouth.

"You didn't!"

I arched an eyebrow at him. "Didn't I? Are you sure?"

"Aww, c'mon! You didn't, did you?"

I gave him an innocent smile. He hates that.

Then yesterday, we're sitting in the yard, talking. He grabbed a cup off the table, took a big swallow, and made a horrible face.

The cup he'd grabbed was the cup The Princess had been using in the wading pool...along with dish soap I'd added for bubbly fun. He'd had a huge gulp of soapy pool water. Instead of being a loving wife, rushing to get him a drink of normal water or a beer or one of those exotic mixed drinks like a martini or with the little umbrellas...I sat and laughed like hell.

Poor Wolfie. See what happens when you marry the Non-Stepford Model?


*and before anyone has a hissy, I've never spit in his food. I have, however, spelled out curse words in mustard on his sandwiches.

And Another...Goodbye, Mr. Carlin

Honestly, I'm not a depressing person, and there will be lots more uplifting and humourous entries to come, but somethings just need to be spoken of, not ignored. The passing of George Carlin being one of them.

George, or Mr. Carlin, as I think of him, was a revolutionary. Like him, loathe him, but he had an impact on our world. I mean, how many of us are in law books concerning freedom of speech? I may be a foot note in someone's journal one day, but that's about it.

Funny thing...but that's not what I admire most about Mr. Carlin. Not even close.

I never met the man, but I respected him. I respected that in the turmoil of the life he led of show business, he didn't hesitate to let his views be known. He was well spoken, intelligent, and honest to the point of brash. You may not like his views, but you damn well knew what they were. No mealy mouthed PC crap for that gentleman. He conducted himself in interviews without pandering for a quick sound bite. He didn't 'dumb down' his speaking, and was shown time and again to be thoughtful, intelligent, and given to ponder and weigh his experiences and was also well aware of the absurdity of life. Despite his success, he seemed to be a contradiction of pride and humility. He was careful to choose his words so that he didn't appear the braggart or arrogant in interviews, but he also tested the boundries and pushed the envelope whenever possible, as if daring someone to tell him to stop. I suppose once you've been to the US Supreme Court, there's not much that would intimidate you.

In a world that seems to value intelligence less and less, and celebrate celebrities more and more (Paris Hilton is a prime example of that...what the hell is she famous for?) he didn't conform. He stood proudly, unbowed and unfazed, and continued his comedy, his life, his way. There are many who followed in his footsteps, but none have ever managed to combine the earthy (and sometimes down right rude and crude and vulgar) style with the thoughtful intelligence with which he snuck up on his audience and commented on society.

Goodbye, Sir. Thank you for being you.

Goodbye, Brett

Fair warning...this isn't a humourous blog, so you may want to keep on to the next blog on your list.

I was messing about on google yesterday, googling myself, family...and just for shits and giggles, put in an ex's name.

It came up with his obit.

To say I was shocked is an understatment. Reading that he had died of cancer was even more shocking.

I walked away from my computer, and sat quietly in my dark livingroom, and closed my eyes, remembering.

I adored Brett. Totally, completely, and utterly. The moment we met was like a lightening bolt, on both of our sides. Total shock, total wow, total everything. Ever see a scene in a movie where everyone else fades away except for the man and woman? Yeah, it was one of those.

I won't get into all the nitty gritty details. We broke up at one point, and ended up getting back together, with plans to elope. We missed our time at City Hall by 20 minutes, which is the only reason that we didn't get married that day. We broke up again shortly after, but Brett had a way of turning up again and again.

He wasn't a bad man. He was, however, a manic depressive, who refused to be treated. It made a relationship with him impossible. I never knew if he would show up, when, where...to say trust was an issue is an understatment. When we were together, we were SOOOOOOO together. He made me feel loved and adored in a way I'd never known, like I'd hung the moon and the stars, and everything in between. But when he left...it was like I ceased to exist for him. I couldn't handle that, couldn't handle never knowing what came next.

Up until I met Wolf, I truly believed in my heart of hearts that Brett was The One. A friend of mine describes it as a 'soul tie' and that's exactly right. And I'll admit, in a secret part of my heart that nobody knows but me, part of me has always wondered what if, what might have been, and wished that things had been so different. Even with the pain and heart break, I've never for a moment regretted what we had together.

I close my eyes, and see that grin of his. That slow, sexy, confident grin with the dash of mischief, and I smile to myself, as the tears well up.

Good bye, Brett. I'm glad to have loved and been loved by you, even for a time.

As we had often said, "Maybe in the next life..." but I sure as hell didn't expect you to go there so soon.

Good bye, Brett.