Three Deaths

I hate everything today.

The past 2 to 3 weeks has culminated in a series of events that have put me over the edge. I am angry, restless, tired and bitter. I want destroy everything. I would say i just don’t care anymore. But it’s actually the opposite. I care so much that I just want to turn it off and make it stop.

Event #1) An old friend from high school had asked me to donate some of my hand made jewelry items to a fund raising event she was doing for her mom. Her mother had been diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. She was mid chemo. The bills were too much and she needed help. So a ziti dinner with an auction was created. We talked back and forth. I did my best to give her advice to help her through the experience. I donated a bunch of items and sent gifts for both her and her mother to keep. I followed up with her often to see how her mom was holding up. Her Mom didn’t make it through treatment and passed away. I missed the wake due to an event I was suppose to be vending at. I wasn’t part of the process or anything but it still saddened me to hear. I still haven’t reached out to my friend privately.

Event #2) A few days later Robin Williams killed himself. Normally celebrity deaths don’t mean much to me. Usually an Oh really, that’s too bad. Then life goes on. This one struck me. When I was a kid growing up, my mom was a bipolar (manic) depressive. It was a struggle. She was a wreck more often then not. I was a big fan of escapism. I watched tv, hid out up in my room. I lost myself in music and comedy. Especially stand up comedy. Even from about age 7 my Mom would allow to watch things that were rated R. Robin Williams was my very favorite.I use to do his routines on the playground. He was very public about his manic episodes. It gave me hope. He gave me hope. His loss felt unreal and tremendous. Someone I so looked up to had just thrown in the towel. What the fuck man. I feel stupid even saying it. I felt stupid for mourning it. I never thought I could be so effected by someone I did not know personally. But I was and still am. It was like losing a hero. I don’t know why I said like – it WAS losing a hero.

Event #3) Back in June two of my cousins graduated from college. We had a picnic to celebrate. Their maternal grandmother was there. She was at many of our family events. Even though their Mom and Dad had divorced Grama Jane always came to our events and stayed close with my uncle. She always felt like her daughter had wronged him.Their relationship stayed in tact despite the divorce. At this picnic she asked me questions about my Cancer, chemo and radiation. She told me she was sick. She hadn’t told anyone else yet, and wasn’t sure if she wanted to. She said it made just make her daughters fight. That she didn’t think those treatments would be options for her. If I were her, and I thought I could pass away, what would I do? I thought for a few minutes and gave her my most honest answers. I said in my experience, sometimes people fear what they don’t understand. When you say I am sick, or I have Cancer, sometimes people retreat. They think about their own mortality and freak out. On a few occasions you will find wonderful folks who do think of you first. I told her she should go out and live. Do all the things she wants to do with her time left. Celebrate every minute. And FIGHT! Fight like a mother fucker. Don’t take no as an answer. Look into other doctors. Other therapies. But as far as telling her family, kids, etc. I told her that is her choice. If she thinks it will give her more grief then good, then go out the way SHE wanted to. She told me there was a will, that she just didn’t know where it was. That she planned on spending her last days doing all the legalities. I told her if that isn’t how she wanted it to end, don’t do it that way. Please go and enjoy every moment you have left. I literally said let someone else deal with that. Just take care of yourself and live.

I have serious guilt over what I said. I didn’t tell anyone what I knew at her request. Even though the whole way home I thought to myself, I should call my Uncle and tell him. I didn’t. I rationalized it as it’s her choice, not mine.

On Monday of last week my cousins called me from the airport in NYC saying they were stuck there. They flew in with no plan. It was 6 am. I happened to wake up and see the message. I scrambled to get some cash together, fought with The Smoker to wake up and drive. We zoomed through commuter traffic, picked them up and brought them to the hospital. Five hours later Grama Jane died. 

I was the only one from my mothers side of the family besides my cousins that showed up to her memorial service. My heart was heavy. I quickly learned that NO ONE knew she was that sick. NO ONE. Except me. A week ago she told everyone she had a few weeks left, then it became she has 72 hours left. Then she was just gone. She never got the Will or insurance stuff together. No one knew why she was so stubborn and didn’t say or do anything more then she did…. I knew why.

Yesterday I had a dinner for my family. An impromptu goodbye party for my cousins. Low key and fun. Pizza, wine, video games for the kids. More people then i expected showed up. My cousin Dan started talking about her Grama’s passing. I started to tell her that she was asking me about Cancer therapies back at the end of June. I didn’t tell her the full extent of the conversation. Just made mention. She burst into tears and said that she was so angry. I panicked. I don’t know why i had even opened my mouth so soon after the passing of G.J.. Dan said why was she so stubborn! That means she knew she was sick! She fucking knew and she didn’t tell anybody! I would have come home sooner! I would have spent more time with her! I am so mad at her! I immediately shut my mouth. Saying more would have only caused her more pain. I apologized over and over.

Dan left last night. Today I have spent all day with my heart heavier then ever. I have such guilt. Guilt for not speaking up as soon as I knew. Guilt for still being alive. Guilt for surviving. Guilt for not doing more for Grama Jane. I had her contact info. I should have called or emailed SOMETHING to check in!

All of these events have just rocked me. I am a grumpy angry mess. And I hate myself even more for knowing how much pain my cousins are in and that I could have eased it. Instead I made it worse. 

Ever since my own Cancer, I have felt like this weird messenger to other Cancer patients. I meet people and they tell me their secrets. They cry. In many cases I have never even met them before. I think getting to the brink of death and coming back sends people a message. Other Cancer patients and survivors maybe sometimes need that. But when they don’t survive. When they aren’t here anymore it fucking devistates me. All I can think is why am I still here and you aren’t. 

I can’t even talk about it anymore.

The Cycle

I quit smoking pot. It’s been about 3 weeks now. I don’t necessarily feel as great as I thought I should. Not remembering things better or feeling that much clearer to be honest. But I felt good about my decision. After a friend came and stayed for the weekend and smoked constantly, I started feeling kind of pathetic. Like this is what I am doing with the middle of my life? Just smoking and stuffing my face until I feel worse?

The Smoker quit with me. He had been selling, that didn’t go so great as he was the only dealer I’ve ever known that didn’t seem to be able to deal. No one was buying. So we both agreed to say done with this. We both agreed maybe we are so out of shape because we smoke a bunch and then eat a bunch. And we’re never picking healthy things. Just whatever seems to be the closest and quickest. 

Since quitting we’ve been eating better, working out. We started the diet thing about 2 months ago. Now we are hiking almost daily for hours. I have never been a nature person, but lately I LOVE it! He’s lost about 30 – 40 pounds. I’ve lost about 20 – 30. It started really coming off once we stopped smoking. I just feel better knowing I am making the right choices for my body. 

The downside, I have been sick for about three weeks now as well. A coldy flu thing that just never seemed to go away. Even with pills and his mom doctor trying to help. This has worried me a bit. My immune system isn’t fighting this thing off. My wheels turn and I fear, what if the Cancer has come back? I’m tired all of the time. Sweaty all the time. Stuffy, coughing. It doesn’t seem right.

Today was a big blow in our relationship. The Smoker’s mother called him. She wanted pot. Which he said he is no longer messing with. And just like that he turned on a dime. Didn’t even consider what I had to say and ran right out to help mommy. He’s been gone for 3 hours. 

My honest reaction is FUCK. I know once it comes back into the house, he’ll start smoking. I am kind of weak to things like this. I know once he starts, I’ll start. I am so mad. His mom had quit because of the Smokers brother. He had some serious addiction issues over the past few years. It started with weed and progressed until he was eventually smoking fucking crack. He has been sober for about a year now. He gets sober and is successful. Then his mom starts smoking weed and he does. It always progresses to harder shit. The same cycle every fucking time for like 10 years now. And now she’s pulling them both down with her.

I hate this about his family. It was one of the huge things that broke us up the last time. She should know better. She’s not some white trash junkie. She is a prominent doctor with two successful practices. And two grown ass men children that are completely dependent on her and turn to drugs every time she does. It makes me mad. How does no one else see this!?! Why did my boyfriend give in so quickly! Why couldn’t he have been stronger. 

If I am being brutally honest, I would leave right now if I could. But ever since i got sick, i have been way to dependent on him. He has a car, I don’t. There is NO form of public transportation around here. And Cancer left me with thousands of dollars of debt. And I was double insured at the time. I also now work for his mom. Which is going to make things so much worse. I see trouble on the horizon. I am already disgusted and desperate to pull away. That trapped feeling, it’s back. I am fighting myself to stop myself from emotionally indulging in crap to feel better.

That Good Bad Place

I don’t really know what i have to say with this entry. It just seemed time to write again. Where to begin….

Moving back to my hometown has been both blessing and curse. While I finally feel that I now have some amazing resolution to my past with my father, I feel that I have moved physically the closest to my mother but emotionally – further than ever. I get the feeling that part of living her life as an adult for the first time requires her to remove herself from her past. Considering that I very much so look and act like my father, I believe I am part of her cathartic removal. Am I ok with this, for now, yes. Will I always be, absolutely not. 

IN my current resolution with my father, I spend a lot more of my time with that side of the family. It feels good to feel a part of a real family life. I think it’s the first time I can successfully say that. I spend a lot of time with my kid sister. (I can’t remember what her alias is here, so for the sake of easy we’ll call her Posie.) Posie is 15. She doesn’t really know about my past or my fathers. She was here over this past weekend. We got to talking and in her typical fashion, she had a lot of questions. Why didn’t I see our Dad for so many years, what happened? I told her about being the product of teen pregnancy. YEARS of not knowing who I was or where I came from. What it was like to find Dad. To talk to him for the first time when I was her age, 15. How he was completely open and honest with me about who he had been and who he wanted to be. How he wasn’t always a good person. A sober person. She had no idea. 

What I knew had been told to me in strict confidence by my father. When I was first diagnosed with Cancer and reached out to him in hopes of finding closure in case I didn’t survive it, he answered some questions for me I’d always needed to know. That he didn’t really get sober until I was about 19 or 20. That if I had known I wouldn’t have had a relationship with him. The weekends where he disappeared for entire days or didn’t show up to get me at all were spent getting high. That things were a lot darker then I thought. That before he got sober he was doing heroin. In family pictures I started to recognize the difference between him high and him sober. That during the years I didn’t know him he was drug trafficking for some names in the game. He went to prison for a few years. He was not a nice man. And the biggest blow of all, there was a time where he beat the shit out of every woman in his life, including our two other sisters. 

When it came to Posie, I wasn’t quite as graphic. I told her this gently with love and honesty. I always seem to be the person in her life to tell her the straight story on things. This was a big turning point for her. She had no idea, but said so many things now made sense to her that never did before. How he could never chaperone her school trips, our state does background checks on all parents before trips. How when in elementary school our Dads friend had given her a tour of the police station where he worked, finger printed her, and through her dna pulled up our fathers mug shots and arrest record. And how she was then quickly taken to another room when she said why is Dad’s face on the screen? Why he so strongly believed in God. 

My stepmom is Posie’s mother. She and Posie have a very strained relationship. But I think she found more respect for her mom knowing how she was such a big force in our fathers final sobriety. That what got him sober for good was the fear of losing her, she never did drugs and didn’t stand for it. Eventually Posie’s birth was the thing that motivated him to get it right. How our sisters and I admire him for finally getting it right, getting it right for her.

It was an emotional day. I love my sister so much. I worry Posie will blurt out something like she knows this stuff. But at the same time I have zero regrets for telling her about what we really come from. Why things have been so complicated for so long. It’s a weird place to be in with her. That good bad place where the truth makes things suddenly bearable in a bittersweet way. I think that is my way of protecting her in a sense, to arm her with the truth.

“You have to take care of them now. You have to take care of each other. You have to be strong. ..the hardest thing to do in this world… is to live in it. Be brave. Live….”