Life, dammit.

Still behind---hope to catch up this week...

Autumn Whispers to Me: An experience. A book-to-be.....

My favorite time of year is here, and I've taken the first steps to re-vamping my sites so I can have them live again.  A story, a memory, and a future-book, "Autumn Whispers to Me" will be live soon.  Until then, there are the audio blogs...

"You've chosen lessons of pain"

I received a message with this video in it yesterday.  I have no idea who the person is who sent it... but, oddly.. this is one of my favorite songs and one I listen to every night.  Headphones on, dark room, and songs to obliterate the thoughts....

When I'm without my voice, music...

When I'm without my voice, music...

Home.

One thing I've known for certain for pretty much all of my life is that when I'm ill, I long for home.  When I was little I knew where that place was, and despite its terrible flaws it was still home.  As an adult I was surprised to find that I no longer knew exactly where home was.  So I would spend the majority of my adult life longing for a place that quite possibly, for me anyway, doesn't exist.  I've never been able to reconcile this; not physically, and certainly not emotionally.

The closest I've come to being "Home" once moving out of my mom's house at 18 is Mobile, AL.  I had a tiny little apartment, and though not every moment there was perfect, it felt safe, and it felt like a warn welcome every time I walked through the door--no matter how good or bad things were.  It was a safe place for me to be myself, where I could decompress, where I could dream, wish, hope and feel alive.  This is not the case where I am now.  Not even close.

How did I get here?  I got here the same way I got into every bad situation in my life; By pure blind trust.  It's a flaw of mine and one that's gotten me into more trouble than I can tell you.  I give people the benefit of the doubt, take them on their word, and actually believe what they say.  Well, to a point anyway.  The thing is, that 'point' in which I pivot and see the error of my ways is usually far too late to avoid any damage to my life, and to me.

I'll probably always be this way, a far too trusting person.  I'm okay with that, I guess.  But I really wish I were better at assessing and discerning the heart and motives of people BEFORE I get involved.  We all have our flaws, I suppose.

As I wait for the sluggish process of diagnosis beyond the AIH, I'm left far too vulnerable for my liking.  There are days I can't walk well, verging on not at all, and days where lifting my arms to look at my phone is almost too much.  The weakness grows more each day and the doctors I need to see are weeks out of reach since I'll be a new patient.  The waiting is going to end me in the ER at some point, I'm afraid.  But the worst of this is being this sick and living in a place where I know absolutely no one at all.

T only helps around here bare minimum, and as the chores, etc. pile up... I long for the simplicity of the life I had in Mobile, where I didn't have to clean up after another human who refuses to do what's necessary to not live in a dirty, cluttered house.  I can't live this way, so I struggle to pick up the slack.  And I'll tell you, the slack is far far more than what T actually does.

How the hell did he survive on his own?

I have to somehow find my way home--wherever that is.  I know I can keep struggling a little bit to find my way here, to at least hang in there until I'm better---or at least better enough to survive, to move, to do something to help myself.  At this rate I don't know if I can work, which scares that crap out of me.  Disability requires a definite diagnosis, and at this time I don't have one that explains fully how I'm continuing to weaken and become more and more sick.  What can I do if even typing an entry like this makes me shaky and nauseated with weakness?

I want to be well again, to feel good again, to have energy again.  I want to be in a position where I can find my way back home again.

Home.  I just want to be... home.

Family--Beating My Head Against the Wall

To say I come from a dysfunctional family is putting it mildly.  Further back than my own memory reaches my siblings have hated me.  No, really, I'm not making this up or being dramatic.  I don't talk about this much because it brings a lot of sadness and discomfort, anger and resentment rushing to the surface.  It's a long story, really, and one with gaps and holes and far-reaching voids where many memories have vanished.  It would be oh so much easier had I been adopted, because I know virtually nothing about my family tree, for all the asking I've done over the years, and my parents are both deceased with my having absolutely NO idea where I came from, who my ancestors are, or what my connection is to any of them, if at all.

I was a "Mistake," according to my mother.  Now, my relationship and experience with my mom is a story in and of itself, and honestly... I could write a novel here about that.  But I'm not going to.  Let's just say my mom was disconnected by the time I was born, old enough to be my grandmother, and about as unplugged as a parent could get.  It was easier to micromanage and control everything to a damaging degree, rather than create experiences that may have given me a chance and coming out on the other side with less 'issues.'  Yes, of course I have issues, and in a way it was my mom's only legacy.

How is it that I could know little of nothing, if anything, about anyone in my family tree?  Well, that's easy--when you don't answer questions, share nothing, and ensure that not a single photo, letter, information, etc. gets passed down to you... well, you can't ask a dead person questions.  Point blank, not pretty, but absolute truth just the same.

Everything from health/medical information was shared primarily with ONE of the 6 children, and I wasn't the one who got the information.  My eldest sister was my mother's confidant, her go-to gal, and there was an almost too-close relationship between my mom and my oldest sister (old enough to be my mom).  I spent my entire life on the outside, looking in, and it was that way until my mom passed away (over 20 years ago now).

One sister and I shared a dad, and my other siblings share a father form my mom's 1st and only marriage.  Yep, my other sister and I were illegitimate.  I could really care less about that, to tell you the truth.  My dad was out of the picture when I was 18 months old, and my mother really never spoke of him or his family except for some really scary things, very dark and scary things.  Now, it shouldn't surprise anyone that if you scare a kid like that, they're most likely not ever going to ask too many questions.  This was the case with me.

The siblings who had a different dad hate me.  Just the truth.  I was even told that one reason they despised me was that, because we were very poor, they often didn't get as much milk (the example used by one brother and sister) because when it came down to the wire... "The baby" (me) needed it more than they did.  I can't speak for what happened when I was a baby.  I can't apologize for something that I didn't do on purpose.  Yet that resentment carried right into adulthood for my 3 brothers and one sister.  BTW, I don't really think of them as brothers and sisters because they've not treated me as such throughout my life.  What memories I have of life with them.. isn't good.

I was born very late, with my mom being in her early 40's when she had me.  All my siblings (but for one) was grown and gone and with kids of their own, so I pretty much grew up like an only child from about age 10.. when one of my sisters married and moved out (she was 16).  We lived in a 3 bedroom house that was eventually condemned, and my mother (a hoarder) used all 3 bedrooms as her hoarding rooms.  My sister, the one I share a dad with, had her own room, lots of 'stuff,' decorated walls, record player, records, clothes, and a bike.  I didn't have enough toys to even have a toy box, so even in this respect I would find myself living an entirely different life than my sister... and everyone else, actually.

My mom was absent, indifferent, cold most of the time...and even cruel.  Skipping over more details than will fit here, I will say that my childhood was very, very odd, and the damage done has proven to be long-lasting.  Still, I spent my life longing for a family, a REAL family.  Now, coming from a family with 3 brothers and 2 sisters you would think that a strange thing for me to say.  Aunts, uncles, cousins... really had nothing to do with me, but for one cousin who, I guess, simply took pity on me.  I felt the hostility from them all growing up and didn't understand any of it at all.  I felt it, saw it, heard it, and experienced that hostility until we moved away from California.  We moved to Colorado because my oldest brother wanted my mom to move there so she could babysit while he and my SIL could work.  I was in 8th grade when we moved, and my life didn't get better at all.

Longing for a real family... even to this day....

I would eventually move away from the state of Colorado.  My kids and I, to make a long story short as possible, ended up here in the south along the Gulf Coast, where we settled into that strange place (strange to us because we weren't from there) and would end up calling the south "Home."  It's the only place that ever felt like home to me.  I'm still in the south, but a little further north by a few short hours.  But back to "Family"....

When my mom passed, naturally my eldest sister got everything.  Very important items my mom was holding for me until I could send for them were divided amongst my brothers and sisters and nephews... or just tossed out as garbage.  They did this QUICKLY after my mother died, the day they found out, using the excuse that they were sure that since she was on disability, got a veteran's widow pension, and on Medicare, etc... that the 'government' was going to come in and take her stuff.  Yes, LUDICROUS, but that's the excuse they used.  And when I arrived for her funeral I wasn't even allowed to so much as have a photo of hers.  My eldest sister 'allowed' me to take ONE photo to have it photocopied.  My mom had boxes and boxes of photos, btw.

Few actually had anything to say to me at the funeral, or after.  It was the same shit, different day.. only worse.  A few years later I'd tried once again to make some kind of connection with them, but it ended in a total disaster.  I finally came to my senses and realized that I was the only one putting in any effort and that it just simply wasn't worth it.  I basically told my oldest brother and his bitchy wife to piss off.  And yes, it felt great and was LONG overdue.

In the present....

I know pretty much nothing of my family history, my family tree.  My last living grandparent died when I was 2 weeks old, and everyone else was so much older than me that no one really had anything to do with me.  My mom wasn't really forthcoming with names, histories, etc., though she did incorporate some names and such in a few fun stories she would tell from time to time.  But as a little child I really had no idea if she were making the stuff up/telling fairytales, or if the information was actually true.  And after my mom's death... the information about grandparents and such were simply not given to me, even if I asked.  Photos, etc.... all given to my sister, who claimed some neighbor stole them, were lost.  My brothers, etc. chose badly when they decided to give my sister everything.  One person said they thought my sister pawned or sold the framed antique photos of grandparents etc for money.  Sadly, it sounds exactly like something she would do.

The cruelty extends into adulthood....

When one of my brothers passed away a few years ago I was told about this AFTER the funeral had taken place, and... I was told on Facebook by a distant cousin.  She apparently looked for me on Facebook with ONE purpose in mind, and that was to send me a message that read.. "B**** passed away last week.  Thought you'd like to know."  I asked "How/why?" which lead to her replaying in the same short, blunt fashion. She then disappeared and didn't say a word ever again.  I'd written back a couple of times.. with no response.  I'd written my nephew as well, and have been ignored.  And this nephew I grew up with and was very close to most of our lives.  He's only 2 1/2 years younger than I am.

Cruelty was their favorite weapon, and continues to be so.


The family tree...

As someone who feels completely disconnected from 'family' or blood ties, history... it only stands to reason that I would, eventually, WANT to know something about my own family history.  SOMETHING.  ANYTHING.  So when I decided to look into www.ancestry.com I felt like I was taking a step in the right direction.  Maybe this site could help me put the broken pieces together in such a way that I would at least see my connection within the bloodline.

What I've done...

I created an account at www.ancestry.com over a year ago, but since I wasn't really willing to invest any money into getting a full account, I've only spent the smallest bit of time there.  But that changed for me about a week ago when I saw a commercial online for Ancestry and a DNA test they offered that shows where your bloodline is from, at least in percentages.  A lot of folks have jumped on board for this.  Now, one cool thing about the DNA test and having a real account (which I don't yet) is that you can set your family tree to allow links between matches for DNA, region, etc.  It's a lot more complicated than that, and they have a video that explains it all, but it's a really neat tool and a good place to start.  But what about for someone like me?....

DNA results may be the only thing I really get out of this, and that's okay.  It's something, isn't it?  It would be nice to know for sure what ethnicities are involved in my family tree, even if I don't have any family history to see how the pieces fit.  I sent my kit off today and, from what I understand, it will take about a week for the results to get uploaded online.  Knowing it's not going to give me complete picture of my family tree... I'm still okay, and I'm fairly patient where that's concerned.

So what's my freaking point here?

My point is this: If you have information about family history (names, places, etc) please share them with your kids.  Don't leave them in the dark to spend the rest of their lives wondering who they really are (history wise), where they're from, what their history is, etc.  It's really not a good or easy thing to live with when you have no idea about those things.  Don't do that to your kids, seriously.

My desire to know more about my family history/ancestry runs deeper than the hurt from the disconnection from my actual 'family members.'  I rarely use the word 'family' when speaking about them.  They're blood relatives to me, but nothing more.

I have to wonder if I'm beating my head against the wall trying to piece together a family tree I know nothing about.  Names, birth dates, etc. are required to even do searches or make connections.  What little information I have really just stops at my mom, and my dad I have only a name and birth date.  It's really like hitting a brick wall.  But is it worth it, all of this effort?  I don't know.

I really just don't know.  The one thing I DO know is that I'm left with the question: Will I ever fully understand myself in connection to history and ancestry?

*shrugs*

Holidays, the Non-Gift Giver, and the Joy of Giving Gifts

Sounds so cliche, doesn't it?  In a time where 'black friday' means people literally trampling each other, sometimes to death (yes, this has happened) to get to the 'best deal,' I can only shake my head and wonder what things have come to, why people are focusing SO heavily on 'stuff.'  I have no problem with the whole 'Christmas package,' meaning the tree, the trimming, the gift giving, the music, and all the little traditions most of us remember from childhood.  I LOVE this stuff.  And for the record, this isn't a religious discussion (I'm Catholic), so I won't be touching on THAT aspect of the season.  Just so you know.

Gifts.  Depending on the person gifts can hold different meanings, different associations, and have very different affects.  Some people are very hard to please and require expensive gifts, while others are quite content with small items with big meaning.  I fall into the latter category.  To me, a well-thought-out gift is worth more than all the jewelry, diamonds, or money in the world.  If someone where to give me a crazy, unique, or spooky stuffed toy... then they've given me gold.  I'm not that hard to please.  Having said that, what about those who live with someone who isn't a gift-giver?  How does that work?  Well, that depends too....

Know who you're with.  Sounds easy, doesn't it?  Well first off let me say that for the sake of this conversation we're going to talk about men--men who aren't gift-givers and what it means.  DO know that I fully understand and am aware that there are women like this out there, but the majority tend to be men.  Women are rather hard-wired for being people-pleasers.

Know who you're with.  You can't really choose a meaningful gift if you don't know who it is you're buying for.  Well, you can sometimes come close by focusing on trends for particular age groups and gender.  But that's outside of the scope of this conversation.  If you know who you're with, then choosing (or making!) a meaningful gift is a no-brainer.  All it requires, really, is for you to actually give a crap.  Blunt?  Yes.  And there's no reason not to be blunt.

Respect who you're with.  THIS is the key, folks.  THIS is what makes or breaks relationships.  It's more than an ideal, it's a necessity.  If you don't respect WHO you're with, you're doomed, dude.  Plain and simple.  Might as well give up right now, because that relationship isn't going to last.   And if it does, it will be one miserable time for all.

Respect is the foundation for every single relationship in your life.  It doesn't matter if it's home, work, family, friends, or enemies.  If you have genuine respect for someone you're going to be pretty damn close to being on-target with just about every situation with them.  I promise.  The only time respect on YOUR part won't work.. is if that person doesn't respect YOU.  But that's another talk show.

Respecting someone for WHO they are, and this is very important, means you KNOW who they are and ACCEPT them for who they are.  If you don't get this, you're screwed.  But getting back to the point--when it comes to gift-giving it's not about YOU, the giver, it's about THEM, the receiver.  A gift isn't something you do for yourself, but something you do for another.  And it's utterly shocking how many people don't really get this.  Now, is there something in it for you, the giver?  Of course! And that, my friend, is a very personal thing, so I'm not going to go into that here.  But giving a gift is NOT about you. Know this first and foremost.

It's okay to make a mistake.  For lack of a better word, I'm using "Mistake" for clarity and understanding.  Even if you know someone well, you can choose the wrong gift in some people's eyes.  Get that?  In SOME people's eyes.  I'm also not talking about people who don't APPRECIATE a gift, so let's not focus on that, because it too is another talk show.

You get the wrong size, wrong color, a music cd of a band you think she liked.. only to find out.. she hates them.  It CAN and DOES happen!  But the difference is.. how many times does it happen?  A couple?  And is it really an honest mistake on your part--because she's going to know.

If it's an honest mistake, a good woman is going to know.  If it's carelessness, she's going to know.  If you put NO thought into it (here's where knowing and respecting that person comes in), she's definitely going to know.

But if it's truly an honest mistake... it's okay.  Either she'll be sentimental and suck it up and keep the gift, or she will exchange it.  So.. how you react to those things are up to you.  Just know that it's REALLY not a big deal.

I can't say I see any gift as a mistake.  Well, if you buy me men's cologne.. then yeah, that's a huge mistake. lol  But for the most part, the effort speaks for itself.

The guys who aren't gift-givers.  Now this is a big one.  And a complex issue.  So I'm going to attempt to not make even more so.  Some guys aren't big gift-givers, but they show love in meaningful ways.  I mean, how can you fault that?  You can't.  Tenderness, care, compassion, friendship, being a good listener, being a strong support system for whatever is needed, and being her biggest cheerleader.  Oh yeah, those things... are worth more than gold.  And if you have that, CHERISH it with all you have!

The flip-side to this whole gift-giving thing is what's often lost on some guys.  YOU may not be into it, but if SHE is, then why not participate in something that brings her joy?  I can't speak for the situations where 'she' wants excessively expensive things, but I can say that for women like me, who are happy with the little things, it really wouldn't take much effort to make Christmas 'super cool.'

I'm with someone who isn't a gift-giver, and there are other issues that overshadow that.  BUT, it would take very little to make Christmas an absolutely lovely affair.  But T doesn't really feel ANYTHING about the holidays, outside of a religious nature that is, and so I'm left to putting up a tree and decorating by myself.  This wouldn't be such a big deal if T appreciated any of it.  Last year the tree was decorated, as well as a couple of rooms, and he walked through the door and noticed not a single bit of it.  It was a surreal and strange experience, and one I'm not willing to go through again.  So this year, I'm decorating for ME.  What this means is I'm decorating the tree and house the way I want to.  Well, given my health isn't kicking me in the ass too much to actually decorate.  Just know this, guys, when things get to this point, when she's creating all the experiences and memories by herself... she's literally living 'by herself' in your presence.

When she's creating all the experiences and memories by herself... she's literally living 'by herself' in your presence.

I'll let that sink in a moment...

There are men out there that literally have no appreciation of the gifts given to them, the time, effort, money, etc. put into choosing just the right thing.  Seriously, guys. even if it's inexpensive, it should still be meaningful and memorable by you.  Some guys show their utter lack of appreciation for gifts given to them by actually FORGETTING WHO GAVE THEM THE GIFT!  And oh yes, this happens.  In my own experience... I gave a gift to my ex, a bear, and he GAVE IT BACK to me a year later.. as a gift!  He 'thought' he'd bought it.  But I actually had/have photos of when I chose it, purchased it, and took it home.  I hand-delivered this gift to him, and he didn't even remember who gave it to him to begin with.  And to make matters worse is---his 'shopping' in the stuff he had around the house to find me a Valentine's Day gift.  Wow.  A hand-written love letter would have blown me away, and it would've cost nothing but a few minutes of his time.  *sigh*  Guys... don't do this to your wife or GF.

If you're a guy who isn't a gift-giver, consider trying to do that for her.  Maybe it doesn't come natural to do that, but it can become a sweet habit if you simply... practice.  Don't have the money to buy her a bouquet of flowers... buy ONE!  Buy a rosebush and plant it for her (the gift that keeps on giving).  Whatever it is you do, put thought into your choice, make it say "I know you," "I see who you are and I love that about you."

Thoughtful gift givers put actual thought into the process, don't overly focus on cost (staying within budget, though) but on choosing something that fits that person, watch for clues as to what might be the perfect gift for that person, plans ahead--doesn't rush out at the last second and choose whatever's easiest, and makes their choice from the heart.

Not a gift-giver and unwilling to try?  If you simply can't be a gift-giver, then at least get out of the way and let her buy her own gifts.

It's really simple when you think about it.