I have Christmas music blaring at top volume from my cruddy puter speakers.
I've successfully corrupted my kids. I'm not talking the usual good stuff either, folks. Sure, we've got TSO blaring, some Anne Murray (I'm Canadian, k?) Brad Paisley, Vince Gill...but how many listen to "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus' done by Twisted Sister? (Video for Come O Ye Faithful by the same, hilarious)
Years from now, just as I listen to the Christmas songs by artists my mother blared forth, Diva, Tazzie and Princess will be hunting for Twisted Sister.
My work here is done.*grin*
I like our cat, as far as cats go. He's huge, runs our small pony/dog and is generally friendly, although absolutely Wolf's pet. Probably cause Wolf does the feeding/litter issues. And I'm good w/that.
Is it wrong then, that the 1 time (we know of) that Jack the Cat caught a mouse...Wolf's indignation that his cat a) didn't eat the darned thing and b) left it in his clean laundry basket, btwn a pair of socks...
I laughed til I cried. Where Wolf couldn't hear me, of course. Diva wasn't that controlled, and laughed in front of Daddy, and was treated to a chorus of, "That's not funny! My socks stink now!" which only fuelled my hurry to leave...like, jet propelled. Upstairs, behind a door, face in a pillow, shrieking with laughter.
And I'm still snickering.
Oh, and a note...on my tag labels, 'humour' and 'husband' are one word apart. Coincidence? I'm thinking not so much...*runs*
Ever have a day when God's love for you was so apparent, so vivid, so overwhelmingly *there* that it left you feeling so filled with light, hope, peace, love?
I'm having that day. I've never before experienced it.
Let me share with you what has happened today. Its incredible.
First, I haven't slept. Not unusual in my life.
However, at 3am, I turned on the tv. It was left on where Diva watched the Cosby Show before bed...a Christian channel. It had a show on...and brought back my most difficult time in my life, when I left my parents abusive home.
You see, a gf of mine's Dad worked for that show at the time. When she found out I'd left home due to the abuse, she turned to her parents and asked them to take me in.
They did. No hesitation. No questions. No doubt from them at all that what I said was real and true.
My mother showed up at their door, screaming and ranting and raving, spewing venom and hatred and threats.
There was no doubt in my mind that my dad was capable of showing up and assaulting my gf's Dad.
They put themselves, their dd, and their younger ds in that jeopardy for me. Me, the child who had been taught from the age of 5 to answer the question, "Who are you?" with, "Nobody. I'm nothing." and believed it with all my heart and soul.
They protected me from my mother at the door. They agreed with the police to provide me with a safe place until CPS decided what to do. CPS didn't want me...I would be turning 16 that summer (this all happened New Year's Eve, my leaving).
They fought CPS to take me in, to do something to protect me.
Anyways...seeing this show brought all that back. And I was compelled to find these parents again. Over 20 yrs later, I *needed* to find them, thank them, tell them how incredible and grateful and amazed I was and am for what they did. They were the first to show me I had worth. I was worth protecting. An impossible concept for me to grasp then.
So, I searched. Immediately, I hit on a listing that I *knew* would be them. I waited until a decent time (7am for me, 9am for them) to call, and did.
It was indeed her Dad that answered the phone. He immediately knew who I was when I told him my name.
I spent almost 2 hrs talking with him. He'd never forgotten me, had prayed for me, worried for me, shared my story with many families over the years, and hoped to hear that I was ok one day. We both cried, he prayed for me and said things that my soul so needed to hear, to the point that I was doing the whole snotty nose, tear dripping, chest heaving sobs.
I've felt so incredibly blessed since then. So enlightened, loved, clean. Worthy, in a way that I've never ever experienced.
I've been blessed today in a way I never could have imagined. Over 20 yrs late in coming, my contacting him, was an incredible blessing for us both.
I just wanted to share this incredible feeling. God is so good. I know He loves me in a part of my heart that was so dark and scared and scarred before that I couldn't embrace or accept it before.
Thank you, God. Thank you.
I don't have a better title for this blog entry. I'll apologize in advance to those who come here looking for a light hearted view of things. They exist, honest...just not posted. That alone tells me that my view of things is/has become skewed, and needs to be adjusted.
Some days, its just so hard. Insomnia has struck again, leaving me vulnerable emotionally.
I spent most of last night sobbing. Pain was rampant, both physically and emotionally. I'm in my 30s, and all I can see stretching out before me is pain. Pain, pain, and more pain. The only 'break' I get is when I manage to sleep, but that's fleeting, broken, and can't be counted on. There's absolutely no rhyme or reason for sleep, or not sleeping. I do the same things, and never know if I'll sleep.
I'm not the woman, wife, or mother that I want to be. I fall so short on what I demand of myself. Everything in my life is dependant upon pain levels, and I loathe it. I want to be able to live, without the uncertainty that RSD brings. I want to turn back time and not ever have gone into that resident's room that grabbed me and started all of this. I wonder, in the darkest recesses of my heart what I did wrong. What I'm being punished for.
There have been times that I've considered leaving my family. Not suicide, just leaving. Clearing out so that a healthy, whole woman can fill the spot of wife and mother. But I don't. I don't because I believe that would damage my children more than having a lesser mother in their lives. I may not be whole and able, but I think that leaving would tell them that they weren't worth staying for. And not for the world would I ever want to wound my babies that way.
That's what I tell myself...But sometimes I wonder if its my selfishness talking. That I need them more than they need me. Because I do need them. They're my reasons why. Why I do anything, everything. Its for them that I put one foot in front of the other.
They don't see me cry. Nor does Wolf. He *knows* I hurt of course, as do the children...but none of them know how badly. I need to protect them as best I can. I believe that if they knew, it would scare them terribly to see Mommy fall apart.
So I do my crying in the wee hours of the morning, when insomnia reigns supreme, leaving me defenceless. I acknowledge the dark thoughts that I bury so deep. I suppose I wallow for a bit might be the best and most honest way to put it. Then I wipe my face, blow my nose, and face the coming day.
Its just so hard sometimes. Wondering what damage I might be doing to my babies. Wondering if I'm doing the right thing for them. Wondering how much is really for them, and how much is my selfishness shining through.
I pray that I'm doing what's right for them. I don't know what else I can do.
As I mentioned on the previous entry, insomnia has been an issue for me this week.
Wednesday eve it continued. I was 72 hrs and counting with less than two hours of sleep.
When Wolf woke up Thursday am and discovered me sleeping, he called in to work and took the day off. I have no real memories of yesterday. Fragmented bits and pieces, nothing really solid. I woke up at 9pm, found Wolf snoozing in the recliner in the living room, and shoo'ed him off to bed. Next thing I know, he's waking *me* up on the couch announcing its 5am.
Its a completely bizarre thing, to lose an entire day. But what an incredible difference it is to actually feel *rested* for a change! I thought I'd been doing well, keeping it together. Now that I'm rested, I wonder how on Earth I stayed standing!
Monday night, I slept not at all. I made it through until after supper, then loaded up on my meds and headed off to bed around 6 pm.
By 830, I was still awake. Took some melatonin.
930, still awake.
I was still awake when Wolf got up to get ready for work. I managed to fall asleep after that, so got a grand total of 90 minutes of sleep.
Its so frustrating. I feel like crying. I take all the meds I'm supposed to to get to sleep. Sometimes they work, other times, nada. I need to get some regular sleep.
Its a vicious cycle. I can't sleep, so my pain levels go up. Because my pain levels are up, I can't sleep. Wash, rinse, repeat.
It takes everything I am to keep on my feet, keep moving. Sitting on the couch, trying to read a book, the type begins to blur, and I start to nod off. My kids need me, so that's not acceptable at all. We have school to do, Diva needs math tests marked, I have history to read aloud to all of them...In short, far too much to do for Mommy to pass out on the couch.
I realize it opens the door for ppl to start banging on the 'Send Them To School' drum, but that's not an option. RSD has stolen so much from me that I won't allow it to negatively impact my children's education.
Wolf continues to be amazed/frustrated/worried about my not sleeping. He can't understand how I can "take enough meds to drop a horse" yet still not sleep. Its ridiculous to the nth degree.
My GP just raised the dose of one med a few wks ago, told me he wanted me to try it for a month before we make any changes. I see him on Friday, and I'm going to be telling him that I can't afford to wait a month. This need to be changed now. Its hit or miss with the meds. The first week or so I took them, they worked beautifully. Fast forward to now, and they're as effective as a Tic Tac.
Quiet time is just 5 hrs away. I can make it til then. I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.
I know I must. Housework can go fly a kite today, but homeschooling...that's not optional for me. It must happen.
I have an hour to gather my wits, to call on what paitence I may have in reserve, and be ready to educate my kids.
I will do this.
Although, I do admit, I can't remember the last time that I was running on 90 minutes sleep in 2 days. Not saying it hasn't happened, just that I can't remember it...Which is likely just as well.
Just got back from taking the kids to the mall. Needed a few groceries, and hit the day olds.
After shopping, I took them to McDs for a treat.
The guy serving me kept looking at me oddly.
Later, he brought over a chocolate milk I'd forgotten. I walked over to meet him, and he said, "You are a very s$xy woman."
I just sort of stared at him, and finally mumbled, "Thank you."
I'm a mom. Short, pudgy. Wearing an old shapeless sweater and fleecy jog pants. Not to mention the whole RSD bit.
I didn't (and still don't) know if I should be flattered or creeped out. He just had this weird sort of intensity to him. I hurried the kids along with their snack and left post haste.
I haven't had a total stranger pay me a compliment in...decades? Probably. And certainly not that boldly, ever.
Maybe I just need Wolf to get better with his compliments, or threaten to run away with the McDs guy.
At least, that's what the calendar tells me. Didn't work out that way at the Non Stepford home. At least not for me.
I haven't been sleeping well again. Weather is shifting to colder (we didn't get the heat wave everyone else on the planet seemed to), and that plays holy Hades with my RSD.
I have a vague memory/impression of Saturday. Took Diva grocery shopping. Came home, and remember Wolf telling me, "Now go to bed for 18 hours."
I went to bed for 20. Yes, 20. Not a typo.
My husband was checking me for breathing, tickling my face to get me to move when he couldn't see my chest rise and fall. He has some weird issue with sleeping beside a dead woman. Probably the safest he'd be in our marriage, if I were dead. No chance of smothering him in his sleep or anything.
I do know I woke up at one point. His cat (yes, *his*) jumped off our window sill and landed directly on my elbow of my bad arm. His cat is about 20 lbs. I cursed the cat and passed back out. If I'd been more aware, the cat would have flown a second time. Cat doesn't belong in our room at any time, let alone when we're sleeping.
Yes, I'm one of those weirdos that loathes animals in my bedroom. Cat hair on my pillow. *gack* Massive dog drool on my sheets. *double gack*
Speaking of which, that's a problem we're having with Wunder Dawg lately. For those not familiar, she's a small pony of a supposed dog. Great Pyrenees x with Akbash. We've had her for just over a year now, and she's developed this lovely drool issue. She shakes her head and its like flying dog snot everywhere. Its drool, but the consistency...
To be totally gross, I did at one point suggest it could be bottled and sold as a lubricant. Replace WD-40...or something like that. All organic. Might pay for her food bill. Maybe.
Wolf's golfing today. I *should* be getting all organized for school tomorrow, but its just not happening...or hasn't happened yet. I had great intentions, does that count?
I blame my inertia on losing 20 hrs this wknd. My brain hasn't figured out that the weekend ends today, and is insisting its tomorrow.
Yeah. That's it.
Tazzie is driving me batty.
He's constantly hungry. 10 minutes or less after a meal, he's asking for something to eat. We don't 'do' junk, except a rare treat, so he's getting whole wheat bread, lots of fruits and veggies, and protein.
I hope my bank account can handle this growth spurt. At least, I *hope* its a growth spurt, and not his new 'normal'.
At 5, he makes our fridge look like we've been invaded by locusts. Heaven help us when he's 15!
I'm in tears.
I talked to Wolf about having another baby. Its something that's been on my heart for a long time. We're far better off financially than when we had Tazzie and Princess.
Wolf admitted that the only reason he doesn't want another baby is because of my disability.
Just one more thing that RSD has stolen from me.
I know all the arguments. I'd have to go off all my meds. The pain would be roaring. But the heart wants what the heart wants, and I'd be willing.
I'm praying that God either takes this longing from my heart, or places it on Wolf's too.
It hurts too da*n much.
Last night, I was in a great deal of pain, and so went to bed at 630 pm.
Or tried to.
My neighbour, a man nearing 50, believes himself to be an up and coming rock star. His band plays in bars....although I'm betting they don't get any return gigs. If they do, it speaks alarmingly of how much booze affects perception.
So, he was practicing. Wolf and I had heard him warming up in a falsetto earlier, and as Wolf put it, "It sounds like he's slamming his male parts in a drawer. Repeatedly." I suggested, even dared Wolf to go bang on his door and ask if he was ok, but Wolf wouldn't. Coward.
My bedroom window was open. So was R's. The room he was practicing in shares a wall with us, and of course the master bedroom is along this wall. It sounded like he was standing on my bed, practicing. At top volume. What he lacks in talent, he makes up for in enthusiasm and volume.
He was singing in the dreadful falsetto. He repeated the same song 3x before I realized that it was supposed to be a Led Zeppelin tune. "Rock 'n Roll"
This alarmed me. First, I was raised on Zeppelin, Eagles, Doors, Steppenwolf, Bob Seger. I could sing the lyrics to Zeppelin and Seger songs long before I knew my ABCs. For me NOT to recognize a Zeppelin tune is an alarming thing, and speaks to how badly he was butchering it. He must have repeated the song 6x altogether, and the only thing that improved was his enthusiasm, and self praise. I'd never known someone that got worse with practice, but he does.
He then moved on to a Rascal Flatts song. I have no idea which one, since I only identified it by the singer in the background. My neighbour was pretty consistent in drowning it out, but I did catch enough bits and pieces to identify the band.
You know how when you're singing along with one of your favourite songs, but don't know all the lyrics quite yet, the way you garble something up, or "mmm" your way through that part? Yeah. Well. R was garbling, at top volume. Not only was he WILDLY off key, but his garbling didn't even match the missing lyrics syllables. Seriously. It was bad. Beyond bad.
I came downstairs, swearing that I was going to go shoot R in the face. With a flame thrower. I know where there are lighters and a can of hairspray in the house.
Thankfully, R gave up his vocal practicing shortly thereafter.
My ears seriously hurt after listening to him. Like having a double ear infection hurt.
Here's a free tip, in case R ever stumbles across the blog: Your band hasn't made it yet. Either give it up, or find a different lead vocalist.
And if you EVER damage a Zeppelin song like that again, I have my hairspray at hand.
Don't say you weren't warned.
And stay the heck away from any Queen songs. You don't want to know what the penalty for killing a Queen song is, but no jury would convict me, cause I'll record you first.
I'm of the suspicion that the latest lidocaine infusion did not go at all well. I had pain at the site, which is a first, and by the time I had Wolf take it out, I was just about in tears from pain/pressure. I felt foggy and just disconnected, with pressure in my chest.
No, I didn't go to the Drs or the ER. Go ahead and smack me if you need to.
I'm going to try the infusion again. If I get a repeat, I will go in.
Anyways...Saturday night. Wolf kept trying to send me to bed. I loathe when he does this, as it makes me feel like a child, and simply doesn't work. He says he does it because he knows I need extra sleep, so it frustrates him when I'm not taking advantage of the situation and heading to bed early.
I went to bed around 2 am. Fell asleep. About 20 minutes later, I woke up, screaming into my pillow. I had a Charley horse. In my bicep. Of my bad arm, of course.
I made it downstairs, and spent about 3 hrs clenching my teeth, biting the blanket, screaming in my throat, praying not to scream out loud and wake up the house. Sitting perfectly still...any involuntary twitch of my fingers set the Charley horse off screaming all over again.
Kids got up at 540 am, followed shortly by Wolf.
First thing he did was yell at me, telling me to go to bed, giving me crap for staying up all night. Yeah, like I did it deliberately. I told him I had a Charley horse in my arm, but he ignored me, and continued to complain that he'd had plans for some 'alone time' that afternoon, and now he couldn't go.
I had no clue he was planning on going out.
Honestly, at that point, I had visions of chucking my coffee at his head. Still in the mug.
Luckily, I'm not a violent person, and really, REALLY like my mug.
I took a moment...several moments...until I was able to speak coherently, and not go into a flying rage.
I went outside, where he was sitting, and in the quietest voice possible, explained exactly what I'd gone through the night before, and that him throwing a tantrum over plans he hadn't even made, let alone told me about, was ridiculous. There was probably more said, but that's what it boiled down to.
Honestly, in seven years, its the first time I could completely visualize him moving out...complete with what I'd say and do to get to that point and beyond. Not good. Not good at all.
I went to bed around 8 am. Yes, he'd apologized several times before I went to bed, but I wasn't caring.
Waking up at 730 pm, I was just in time to put the kids to bed. I was amazed that I hadn't been woken up earlier, like around 4 pm.
I was back in bed by 9.
I feel better about life in general, and my marriage in particular right now. Arm is still not back to normal, but at least the Charley horse isn't in spasm.
I have a picture I keep by my computer, to help me in my anger towards Wolf, to let me let go of it, and get on with my marriage.
Don't blame me for the teal and yellow. MIL did that without our knowledge, and definitely without our consent!
My gf K has been busy getting ready for a vacation, but thank God she had the ability to see me through this past wknd. Unfortunately for her, I fell apart the last day or so before she left...especially the last night when she stopped by. All the ugliness that I had just sort of washed up out of my soul and spewed out my mouth. Not towards her, but all the self loathing I've ever had.
The wknd...I saw my parents and had MIL here all wknd. Its a wknd never, EVER to be repeated. I can't handle both in the same set of days.
Funny enough, my parents behaved, my MIL was...behaved for her (still those moments that you just stared slack jawed at her), but my marriage is what suffered for it. Wolf allowed his anger to be more important to him than I was in terms of being there for me when I needed him.
I did tell him all of this, and the poor man tried to make it up. Including buying me Hagen Daz ice cream. Unfortunately, after 7 yrs of marriage, he's not caught on to the fact I'm strictly a Ben and Jerry's girl. I loathe Hagen Daz. 
I'd been so numb since Saturday that Mon and Tues was just pure anger. Now that that's over, I set about apologizing to those I've lashed out at, and working to put my marriage back together. Not 'back together' in the sense that he's moving out, but to stitch up the tears that have been created in the fabric, if that makes sense. Its hard to deal with someone that says simply, "I don't care." and that's where I've been.
I think the hardest thing has been to discover that there's nothing left btwn my parents and I. I don't have any 'daughter' feelings for them left. My mother gave me a lovely angel figure with a mother-daughter inscription...I immediately put it up in my closet to give to Diva some day. Absolutely no desire to have it up in my house in regards to her and I.
I've been struggling with what it means about me as a person. If I can be so unfeeling to the ppl that raised me, feeling no more emotion towards them than neighbours who had known me as a child, what does that say about me? I still haven't figured that one out yet. Wolf's suggested that perhaps it means I'm stronger than I used to be, that I'm not needing their love or approval. That seems so sad, so cold somehow. I just don't honestly know.
My mother called a week ago. Her and my dad are coming out from the other side of the country, and want to meet up.
To say that we have a strained relationship would be an understatement. A massive understatement.
I almost died before our wedding. I'm not sure my parents even called to check up on me, now that I think about it.
I've had two children since. My mother has yet to meet my youngest, my dad hasn't met either of them.
They didn't even attend my wedding. Only dd, and they certainly had the funds to do so if they choose.
The wedding gift was a cheque...less than my mother spent on her outfit for my cousin's wedding (I know because she told me).
They ignored the birth of my youngest, birthdays, Christmas until this past year. Not so much as a card or even phone call.
Those are just little things. My parents, in particular my mother has betrayed me in ways that most folks wouldn't believe that anyone could do to their child. I'm not comfortable sharing the details of that, but believe me when I say I haven't seen my mother in five years, my dad in 8 or so...and never planned to see them face to face ever again. We talk on the phone, a very superficial relationship.
The idea of seeing them face to face rakes up so much pain...I'm stunned and reeling.
I *have* decided to meet with them. If I can get through that, I'm planning on them meeting my kids.
Wolf hates them. He hates the betrayal, and the pain they caused me.
I've never believed myself capable of suicide, but the night of their betrayal, the only reason I'm still here is I couldn't figure out a way for Diva not to find me. I still shudder at that. My mother knows, she's been told, and she basically shrugged.
She's even more NPD than my MIL. Truly.
I'm doing this for my children. And, my dad's health being what it is, it may be the last chance to see him at all.
The pain is still there. I'm afraid I won't be able to manage this, to pull it off. Tazzie has been asking about them, Diva remembers them, so its important that they meet. Important to the kids to have had that, not to my parents. What they consider important doesn't make my importance scale.
Btwn Wolf and I, I'm afraid someone will explode.
Its the right thing to do. To deny my children this chance would be wrong.
I just pray I can survive it.
Just got a call from my case manager. Amongst other things, they're looking at sending me to a city several hours away for 6-7 wks. She's even suggested that I bring the kids with me. I asked what I'd do with them while I was in program, and she mentioned Diva could babysit. In the hotel. I don't freaking believe this.
All of my Drs have been against this pain clinic. Partly because of my home life, but also because this pain clinic takes you off all.your.meds. I can't imagine how bad things will be or get if I'm completely med free...and this is from someone that resisted being on meds from the start. Case mgr bluntly told me that she doesn't like ppl on the meds I'm on 'forever'. Well, guess what? There's no other freakin option.
I'm to go to an assessment here in the city at some point. If they figure they can't help (and if they're honest, and not just out for the $$, they'll say they won't/can't...I've been through every aspect of their program already, in bits and pieces elsewhere...plus, at 2 yrs + after diagnosis, there's no recovery. It is what it is, period.) If that's the case, case mgr is talking sending me away...because there's also a vocational aspect to that particular pain clinic. I've no doubt that's the big issue here.
I've gone from her talking about leaving me alone for several years to her wanting to send me away AGAIN, something she even admits is NOT supported by ANY of my drs. But Worker's Comp can do whatever the h*ll they please, because they OWN me.
I'm just praying that btwn my drs and my union, she backs the heck off.
Most women (and therefore, most men) have a someone in their past...The 'What Might Have Been Man' is what I think of it as. Unless you married your first love, there's likely at least one WMHB when you look back on your life so far.
Funny enough, my WMHB was my first love. I was all of 14, he was 17. We broke up over a stupid, stupid issue, all my fault. But it didn't end there. Years later we got in touch again, at my instigation. And, believe it or not, I was too stupid to realize that he was dating me again. The man would drive an hour and a half to come 'hang out', and I didn't realize we were dating. D'oh! (Hey, I'm book smart, not life smart...at least not then, and probably not as much as I could be now, despite all of my varied experiences.)
Even after he was married, we kept in touch...again, my doing. Nothing major, a phone call when Diva was born (not his, btw, just a call anyways), an email here and there...last time was over a year, probably two years ago.
So, my WMHB has been a presence in my life, but not recently. We live across country from one another now, so I suppose that's why email was safe.
Here's the worst thing of it: I know, in my heart, that I still love my WMHB. Not with all my heart, but with a part of it...he was the first person in my life to have treated me with any respect, caring. I was important. It was a heady feeling for a girl that grew up as I did.
Problem is...I'm not his wife. Never have been, never will be. I need to let go of my WMHB, and give everything I am to my husband. To do less is robbing him, and our children, of everything our marriage could be.
You'd think that not having had contact with WMHB for a cpl of years would have made this a moot point. Not so much...not when a vivid dream has you in tears the next morning. The realization that a part of my heart was still so wrapped up in WMHB was devastating to me on many levels. Even, if I'm to be completely honest, at the idea of giving it up, letting it go. That feeling of being loved, securely, being safe, protected, unwavering devotion is something that I've never known before WMHB, or since.
But how could I possibly, if I'm measuring unconsciously against WMHB? Yes, he's a real person, but any idea is now a fantasy, if that makes sense.
I'm looking over my shoulder instead of at what's in front of me right now, and to the future.
Here's the really, REALLY ironic part: my husband shows his devotion to me daily. He takes care of me, in such a careFULL manner. Goes out of his way to bring me something special, just cause. Scrubs the walls because it makes me nuts that they're dirty, but I can't manage it on my own. Lets me sleep whenever I need it, encourages me to go out of the house when I don't feel like I can, but need the break...he's an Action/Service kind of person. I've always been a Touch person. Learning to appreciate my husband as he is, rather than what I *think* I need has been an awakening experience. I've been told, time and again from those outside our relationship how lucky I am. Heck, just the RSD issue...many marriages break up within a year of such a diagnosis. Here we are, at two years in, still going strong, probably stronger in many ways than we've been before.
So, here I stand, at the threshold of a decision, one that needs to be made, committed to. Today, I say good-bye to my WMHB, in my mind, my heart. I'm sure I'll find a way to be able to treasure memories from the past instead of daydreaming (or night dreaming) about changing the facts of it. To thank my WMHB for being who he was and is, but to let go, and dedicate myself wholly to my husband.
I don't know why I have a lump in my throat now, or eyes brimming with tears...perhaps because wondering, dreaming, thinking of WMHB has been such a part of me for so long.
I feel as I should apologize to my husband for this...a form of emotional cheating, even though its been just in my head, and any contact with WMHB was with the knowledge of my husband...but I need to let go.
Ridiculous, isn't it? That a single dream can bring all of this out? Some would say that its just a dream, no big deal...until the emotions spilled out, on to my waking life. Sometimes dreams are more than just dreams...and its time to say good bye to this one.
Good bye, WMHB. I loved you. And that teen girl always will. But the adult me needs to say good bye and mean it, and keep it and live it.
Goodbye.
I firmly believe that every day, small unnoticed miracles happen. Today I noticed.
Diva and I were reading her math, when she realized I was missing an earring.
Wolf bought me peridot and diamond studs for our wedding anniversary, to replace the ones that went 'missing' that he'd bought for my 30th birthday. I've been wearing them ever since.
Anyways, I have a mini heart attack. Went to my room, checked everywhere, no earring. My heart sinks as I think of all the places the earring could be, including down the shower drain. I'm always fiddling with my earrings, tightening the backs, turning them...checking to see if they're there...but I couldn't remember the last time I'd noticed them.
So, I'm searching the bathroom, just about in tears...and spot the earring. It was at the base of the sink cupboard.
It sounds like such a silly thing, but I'm so incredibly grateful for it...to me, it *is* a miracle that the earring was found. Of all the places it could have been, including the dog park that my gf K and I were at yesterday...to find it at all...
Yes, I'm giving thanks. Big time.
Word of advice: Just don't. Seriously.
I was feeling a bit out of sorts, so I announced to Tazzie that Mommy had quit smoking this weekend! Isn't that great? Isn't it wonderful? Aren't you proud of Mommy?
He looked at me and said, (I quote), "Meh" and wandered off.
*sigh*
Princess, overhearing this exchange, at least came and stuck her hand out at me for a high five. She then wandered off too.
I need a better cheering section. Maybe if I bribed them with cookies?
Ours was last Saturday.
Hard to believe that its been only seven years in some ways, hard to believe that its been as long as seven years in others, if that makes sense.
Normally we try to follow the traditional gifts, but wool in April just doesn't work 
So, I bought Wolf a watch. Its nice enough to use as a dress watch (assuming we ever go anywhere ) and sturdy enough that he could wear it to work and it would be ok. I had the back engraved: "7 years and still ticking! Love The Wife" Guy looked at me funny for that, lol!
Wolf bought be a lovely pair of Peridot earrings with diamond chips encircling the stone, and a jewelery box. I was very surprised, and I guess it showed.
He looked sheepish and said, "I know you don't like your birthstone, but I wanted to replace the earrings my sister stole."
Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww!
He's right. I hate my birthstone. When he gave me the first pair for my 30th birthday, he said, "I couldn't remember if you loved or hated your birthstone, just that you had a strong reaction to it." So yeah, I do hate Peridot, but love him...so the earrings were precious, and I wore them a lot until they went 'missing', later spotted being worn by my SIL.
The reason I don't like my birthstone is that its the colour or pus. Or snot. Blech.
He's so happy I haven't taken them off, even to the point of prompting me to show the nurse that comes out every Friday.
Yeah. Stuff like this explains a lot of why we've made it seven years. 
Perhaps this entry should be in my 'Chronic Pain and Me' blog, but since it involves so much more, I'm putting it here.
On Friday, we had an incredibly close call. My husband, Wolf, pulled into a McDs to take advantage of the 'free small coffee' deal currently happening. (Americans, don't feel jealous, its McDs way of attempting to compete with the annual Roll Up promo at Timmies). Getting back into the van, he discovered that one of his rear wheels was locked up solid.
Turned out that his rear brake had literally exploded.
Wolf takes the highway straight to work. If he hadn't pulled in for coffee exactly when he did, the locked up wheel would have sent him directly into oncoming traffic.
$700 later, the van is back on the road...and I still tremble when I think how close we came to tragedy.
Then I checked my email on Saturday. I've been offline for a bit, dealing with pain and depression.
Clearing my email, I discovered that a friend I've known since she was nearing the end of her pregnancy with her first dd, and I was finishing my first trimester with Tazzie had lost her 1 yo baby girl this past week.
She'd put her down for a nap, and found her dead when she went to wake her.
Her husband has been able to make it home from Afghanistan, and the funeral is tomorrow.
My heart breaks for her. I've wept so many times since finding out, reading her posts in the group we're in together.
Yes, that's right. She's an 'online' friend...but as real a friend as someone I'd go for coffee with.
I can't imagine her pain. I hurt for her, her eldest dd, her husband...but nowhere the reality of the Hell they're going through, that I know.
And right now, for me, the litany of, 'Don't scream. Don't scream. Don't scream.' is racing through my mind as I count down the minutes to Wolf getting home. The arm is flared all the heck up to the point where even typing this solely with my good hand is still reverberating through my arm, making me grit my teeth and bathing my body in the cold, greasy sweat that accompanies pain flare ups.
The weather is stunningly gorgeous. I haven't bumped myself, or any of the other 'known' issues that would cause a flare.
Good old fashioned emotional stress perhaps. PMS perhaps. Or perhaps nothing at all, just having RSD.
I feel tears brimming, and I couldn't tell you who they're for. My friend, mourning her baby, or just physical pain.
RSD even robs me of that. When I want most to be praying for my friend and her family, focusing on offering whatever support I can on THEM, RSD takes me down, making me self centred, driving me into a ball of pain.
So, I'm asking readers of my blog to please do what I can't right now. Please pray for J, her dh M, and their dd E. I don't use my name on my blog, so I won't post theirs...I've no doubt God will know who the prayers are for. Pray for their strength as they say goodbye to baby M, for love, healing for them...whatever, anything that you are moved to do.
Please.
My boss from work called this afternoon. She asks me how I'm doing, says that she'd heard there was no change and that she was so sorry about that. Then she tells me that she wanted me to know that I have until Dec 2010 to have my skills assessed and approved or bring them up to the new standardized levels.
Her : I really don't know what to do in your case.
Me: Well, if I hadn't been hurt on the job, ensuring that my skills were up to standard wouldn't be an issue.
Her: Yes, they give you lots of time to get it done, and I don't doubt that you would.
Me: Uh...But I *was* hurt on the job. There's no way that I can lift, push, pull, or anything else that would be required on a skills assessment.
Her: Yes, that's true. But everyone needs to have this done.
Me: I was hurt on the job. I don't have use of my dominant hand and arm. I couldn't even write a test, let alone do a full skills assessment.
Her: Yes, I know. I just don't know what to do, so I'll send out the package to you, notifying you of the need to get your skills assessed and re-certified.
Me: I think I'll call my union, see what they say.
Her (panicky sounding): Why would you call them?
Me: Well, since I *can't* do any sort of assessment to re-certify my skills, since I WAS HURT ON THE JOB, I don't know who else to ask about this.
Her: I don't know either...Maybe I should ask HR about what to do in your case.
The conversation was out of the Twilight Zone. One of those, "You know in the dictionary, under redundant, it says, 'See 'redundant'?" moments.
That was a few hours ago. I'm kinda snickering a bit now. I felt like I was in a Who's On First skit! I swear, the stuff in my life...I just couldn't make it up. 
Wolf and I were talking earlier, and my ectopic pregnancy came up. I started crying.
Then, my mother sent me a daily calendar, "To My Daughter With Love, Caring Thoughts" so I opened it today. It has a picture of a pretty young woman in a wedding dress, and the saying is, "Mother still knows best, even when that means taking her daughter's advice."
I started crying again. Why? Because my parents didn't attend my wedding. Yes, it was in another province, but I'm their only daughter, and the excuse that they couldn't afford it just doesn't ring true. My parents have no mortgage, and always brag about the size of their bank account.
I didn't realize that I still hurt over that, until this picture and saying. I was married, surrounded by people I didn't know. Nobody in my family came. Heck, I didn't even know I had family in the city til a cpl of years later when my mother did come to visit, after I'd had Tazzie. She told her rich uncle and aunt that we'd just gotten married 
When my aunt found out we'd been married for two years, she was aghast, and told me that they, and their kids, would have come. My mother was ashamed that I was a single mom, so didn't bother to tell them that I'd moved to their city, nor tell me that I had family here.
I'm back to no family again, because my rich uncle got po'd that we'd pulled Diva from the Christian school he was paying for (she was being bullied, had a kid threaten to slit her throat on the bus, etc, plus we moved across the city).
All of this is old news. So why am I crying over it today?!
D
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