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Experiences and thoughts based on my everyday life |
| This book will contain my daily thoughts. |
| Tomorrow will be one week since I turned fifty. Last weekend was a whirlwind of celebratory activities. We started the weekend doing community service at a spiritual center here in Los Angeles. Agape Spiritual Center was founded by a man name Michael Bernard Beckwith, and I came to know of him through the book, The Secret, which featured many notable spiritual leaders and writers at the time. I have followed Michael's teachings for well over fifteen years. So when I saw an Instagram post seeking volunteers for the center's annual Sacred Service Saturdays, I jumped at the opportunity to do something for my community. I had to get over my nerves and anxiety about working with people I do not know. But Rick came along, and was happy to help. I met a new friend, Stella, while there, and it was a great day. The next evening, we got dressed up and Rick took me on a surprise date. I did not know where we were going, just told what to wear. We ended up at a VERY hip and cool speakeasy called the Obscure. It is part immersive experience, part distillery, part tasting room. You're seated in a large room I can only compare to the Blue Bayou restaurant inside the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland. It was a lovely time! Monday, my actual birthday, I opened my present from Rick- a brand new Brother sewing machine! After opening presents, we went shopping for sewing supplies. We had a lovely day out together. Then the evening was spent eating street vendor al pastor burritos, and after, dark chocolate raspberry cake and strawberry sorbet that Rick had made in our ice cream maker. Yesterday, my brother and his boyfriend came out to do something fun to celebrate. We went to a tea house in South Pasadena, and sat outside in the sun together, enjoying green tea and fruit slushies. Then we walked over to an art gallery which had a theme based on the animated series Over the Garden Wall. During the gallery visit, I started to feel pretty intense abdominal pain. We decided to go to our favorite sit down Chinese restaurant. We all ordered, and before the first course arrived at our table, I had to make a few trips to the restroom, and did not even attempt to take more than a couple of bites of my chicken curry, before I thought it best to just pack it up and eat it later. Then we went to an escape room I had been wanting to experience called the Bunker. We beat the room with only 3 minutes to spare, and after, we came back to our apartment for hang time with my brother and Brent. There was something hanging about in the air, and I knew something big was coming, then my brother decided to drop a few bombs. He is planning on finally moving out of the house he shared with my parents before their deaths. I knew that was coming, and we offered to help however we could. I said Rick and I would be coming out for a few days at a time to retrieve my own belongings that have been stored there for over seven years, and also to help clean, pack, and either sell or donate any items from my parents that we don't want. But here's the "NON- NEGOITABLE" from my brother. Because there has been a rat problem in the past, that my brother let get COMPLETELY out of control, he claims that EVERYTHING in the garage is destroyed and MUST be trashed. I was just there a few months ago, and went through MY belongings that were at the front of the garage, bags and boxes FILLED with THOUSANDS of dollars of clothing, shoes and purses that were to be listed on Ebay. At that time, my items were okay, and my brother assured me that the rat problem was under control. Now he claims that EVERYTHING is destroyed. He held EVERYTHING hostage for five years after my mom passed. We were not allowed to touch anything in the house. And now he is in control of how it will be distributed. MY BELONGINGS. Things that were promised to me. Momentos from my childhood that my mom saved for me. Antique furniture that I collected from historic places. And he plans on going scorched earth on everything. That I am just not allowed to lay eyes on. Even saying that he wants to go through photo albums that were made for each of us. That no one gets to take any photos just because it's a photo of that person. There are deep seeded issues from our childhood and family dynamics that were nothing short of dysfunctional. I get that. But his way of dealing with things was to always be the martyr. Painting a picture for anyone on the outside that HE was the only one caring for my parents, HE was saddled with the house the shared after they died. This was a hell of his own making, and then he gets to light a match, walk away and STILL be the victim. But his beloved items are safe and intact. I have sat here and tried my damnedest to try to get Rick to understand the neverending grief. Grief over losing my parents and grandmother within 18 months. The grief of a miscarriage that NO ONE knew about because my mom was diagnosed with cancer, and I HAD TO shove my own heartache to the backburner to be the main caretaker. The countless friends who have past. The fact that I have been in a transient state for FIVE years, moving from place to place, each move meaning having to leave pieces of me behind. This is the last major piece to be dealt with. And I am being robbed of the ability to deal with MY belongings in my own way. We are just at a point as a family that we were mending fences, even with me forgiving my youngest brother, whose addiction to pills and mental health issues took a monumental toll on all of us. Setting everything aside and being expected to be the bigger person. I want to burn it all to the ground. I was told years ago that I should have gotten a lawyer involved to handle my parent's estate. I backed off the idea of lawyering up to save whatever was left of our family. Even after he took control of bank accounts and my parent's life insurance. Divvying out a mere three thousand dollars to me and my daughter, after my mother had told me she set aside enough money for me to put a hefty down payment on a house. Now it is affecting me in terms of my relationship with Rick, because that's about the only good thing I have in my life. And even we are having heated discussions about this now. Grief on grief on grief. I get ahead and start feeling happy and stable and someone or something comes along and has to punch me back down. Everything in me longs to move away to Seattle. To cut contact. My mom would be broken hearted. |
| I am struggling. Between everything going on here in Los Angeles, and really the whole world, combined my own personal issues, I am not doing great. ICE agents have repeatedly raided our neighborhood NUMEROUS times, and the difference is more than noticeable. Street food vendors who had been a daily sight on our street, enough that we memorized what stands would be in specific spots, are now just GONE. They have raided our parks, arresting nannies, and taking small children into federal custody. There was the juxtaposition of the demonstrations for No Kings Day, which I thought would cause severe anxiety due the fear of the ICE agents, the National Guard and the Marines causing a violent outburst, but actually managed to be a source of tremendous HOPE, which is something that has been in short supply since the election. We had Rick's sister and her son here. That was a little stressful, having to keep a sane face on. Wanting to participate in outings and family dinners, while managing chemo day. Having to attend Rick's son's final high school performance while pushing through the foggy head and fatigue that chemo brings. I cracked. I was emotional, exhausted, and felt completely invisible. I sat through the performance feeling like I was engaged in an internal game of tug-o-war, vacillating between feeling pride for his son, and reminding myself that he is not MY child, and I have been reminded of this repeatedly. At the end of the show, once the students were released, his son did not even acknowledge my presence. I had a bit of an internal struggle going on. I insisted on taking a Lyft home, alone, because a family dinner out, when I felt SO terrible, was just too much for me physically and mentally. I walked out of the school alone. Truly NEEDING assistance, but Rick was busy hob knobbing, and did not even look for me until I had been standing at the curb, trying to navigate the LYFT app not accepting my debit card info for ten minutes. I came home and went to bed. Too exhausted to make myself something to eat. I only had crackers in the car on the way to the performance. That's it. All day. At lunch time, Rick had made lunch for everyone, but did not offer me anything, and sat on the couch with his sister and nephew, chomping away, not thinking about me. Rick COULD have texted from the restaurant to ask if I wanted him to bring something back for me when they returned, KNOWING it was chemo day, and I can't function without help, but he didn't. I am still reconciling that- namely his promise to care for me on chemo days before the decision to undergo treatment was made, together, juggled with his responsibilities to his son. I know I have to accept this perceived abandonment as an oversight on his part due to HIS own ADHD. The day after that, I asked Rick about his son's graduation, as he had not told me a date and time yet, and was informed that it was just a few days away and we had not planned anything yet. I got the feeling that I was not invited, but when I asked Rick about it, he said he was not sure what was going on. My intuition told me I would not be attending. I masked all of the blooming negative emotions for the sake of keeping up appearances with his sister and nephew. I stayed engaged, and made a nice pasta meal with salad and garlic bread for their final night here, and we played a few board and card games together. His sister and nephew left the next morning, and IMMEDIATELY Rick asked me to sit down and I KNEW then... I was not invited to the graduation. His son thought that if I attended, his mother and her sisters would cause drama, so it was just "easier" to not include me. This hurt more than I can express. I felt like I was being punished for a crime I did not commit. I put a lot of time and energy into building a positive relationship with his kids. Most days, it feels like I am forcing it, and trying too hard. Sometimes, my efforts are rebuffed. Like the time his daughter was in town from New York with her girlfriend. I sent her fifty dollars on Venmo as a surprise and told her to take her girlfriend out on my dime. I did not receive a thank you. Instead, his daughter sent a message to Rick, saying she had donated the money to a charity, instead. If I had known she would just donate that money, to one of Rick's co-workers, a cause WE had just donated HUNDREDS of dollars to, I might not have offered it, as we could have used that money. Most days that his son visits, I feel unincluded, like a third wheel. The constant inside jokes that I am not privy to. The closeness of their relationship that is so sacred to Rick, feels impenetrable. Don't get me wrong, I think it is great that they are so close, but my efforts to be included so far have brought very little progress. I know it takes time, but I also recognize that they are both adults, and off beginning their own journeys, so my efforts are likely futile. Truthfully, getting the news that I was not invited to his son's high school graduation, after I had not been included AT ALL in the trip to see his daughter graduate from college in New York, really stung. I finally let my mask slip, and all of the disappointment, feelings of rejection, and sadness came to the surface, and I reacted like an injured bird, having been THROWN out of the nest. We had our first really bad argument. There was yelling. Then isolating myself in our room in the dark. I understand Rick's point of view. He had twenty plus YEARS of dealing with the mother of his children, whose entire family of five sisters all show signs of narcissistic tendencies. He understood that my being there would cause his ex and her sisters to cause unnecessary strife FOR EVERYONE, most importantly his son, who just wanted to feel celebrated. My question was why she and her sisters have not been put in their place before now? I wondered out loud if Rick was just too embarrassed of me to have me be in the same room as his beautiful, thin baby momma. I told him that for my own mental wellbeing, I would cease ALL efforts with his children. I told him how his treatment of me during his son's visits made me feel. Why was I, who had done NOTHING to deserve her anger, being thrown under the bus? We both cried, a lot. He has spent YEARS, JUST WAITING for this era to begin. His children both reaching adulthood, so he could finally be free of HAVING to interact with his ex because of their children. I also know that he is dealing with his own feelings of not being and doing enough for his kids, even though he was a fantastic dad. This is also bringing up empty nest feelings for him. I did not handle the news well, admittedly. I took time to pull myself out of a rejection sensitive spiral, after taking space from Rick, calming myself, and eventually, apologizing for my reactions. We were "okay" by dinnertime, though I stayed quiet throughout the evening, still processing. Sunday- Father's day, and Rick's birthday rolled around. I had planned on us just having a chill day. I wanted to make Rick a really nice dinner, and would then bake a cake for him. At the last minute, which is pretty typical thing for his son, he called. He wanted to spend time with Rick. But he also needed Rick to take him to a craft store to get items he needed for a project he wanted to do at school the next day. So plans changed. That's a bit of a point of contention for me when it comes to his kids. They never make plans for more than a few days out, which makes it very difficult to plan ANYTHING for the weekends, while we wait for them to make decisions on THEIR schedule. I have learned to not push back about this, knowing that once his son is in New York for college, all of our time will be free to do whatever we want. I told Rick that I felt awkward about tagging along on their excursion, after the news about the graduation invite. Like how do I pretend like everything is fine, when I am clearly not wanted? I initially told Rick to go without me, and he seemed fine with that, which also caused even more feelings of rejection, because why did he not ask me to reconsider? I realized then that Rick felt stuck squarely in the middle, afraid to do the wrong thing with me AND his son. I asked if he even WANTED me to go, and he said, "Of course I want you there! You are THE most important person in my life. Please come. I assure you, he WANTS to hang out with US." Just as I decided to push my own feelings of rejection and hurt aside, and concrete plans were made, his ex told the son that he had to install a part in the bathtub before he could leave with us. Yet another interruption from her... I got upset again. I told him that once his son left for college, there was NO need for them to remain friends on social media, and having access to whatever we post on Facebook, and I told, not asked, him to removed her from his friend's list and block her on social media. If they NEEDED to communicate, it could be done via text. I also asked him to tell his children that any communication should be handled directly between them and himself, not telling his ex and having her communicate with him. I told him it was a very firm boundary. He agreed to my compromise. And I decided to keep his birthday and father's day a happy occasion. I got dressed and we headed out. We picked his son up and headed to Chinatown, where we had a lovely lunch, and went shopping. His daughter had texted a few days earlier to tell Rick that she had forgotten a few cherished rings, and he had said we could look for replacements based on pictures of the lost items. I carefully perused so many rings, found almost exact copies in her size, and after we told the woman we would take the rings, his daughter texted, again, rebuffing my efforts. She would rather pick her own. I think that was sue to him telling her that *I* was picking the rings out. If he had worded it like HE was doing the chooding, it would have gone differently. I tried to tell myself that it was understandable. But he and his ex raised their children to be honest, and not always polite. Whereas, I was brought up to accept a gift and to send a prompt thank you. I don't give gifts or my energy or efforts with the expectation of a thank you. But I was brought up with the expectation that if I received a gift, I accepted it and offered a message of gratitude, regardless of whether or not I wanted or needed the gift. I have been shown many instances of his ex's influence with their kids, and it sometimes feels like Rick just ACCEPTS it, not wanting to ruffle his ex's feathers. It also feels as if his ex has poisoned the well, so to speak, when it comes to me. This day, he tried very hard to rectify any issues with us that I had brought up in previous days. He was more affectionate with me in the presence of his son. Telling me he loved me with his son well within earshot. He was trying. After lunch and our failed attempt at shopping in Chinatown, we stopped by the apartment so I could change into more comfortable shoes. His son came into the apartment to wait. Rick made a point to show his son my art, which we had recently had printed on canvas and had hung on our living room walls. Rick told me to explain my process to B*, and his son seemed interested in the art. We then went to the Goodwill Outlet to search for a clothing item that his son needed for his project. While there, Rick offered to buy me whatever I found that I could use for my sewing and reselling projects. That gave me something to do while his son dug through dozens of bins. That was a very generous offering, and on HIS birthday and Father's Day, no less. I made sure to express my gratitude a few times. After a fruitful shopping trip for his son and I, we headed to Michael's for fabric paint. I found an adorable coffee mug while there and Rick gave me the money for it. We dropped his son off after that. We spent the rest of the night quietly hanging out, watching tv and movies of Rick's choosing. I was ok until the day of the graduation. I pushed my feelings aside and pretended to be happy and well, while Rick headed out for the ceremony in the late morning. Everything was cool until he called after the ceremony. He told me that he sat next to his ex and her sister, and it went REALLY well. They all took pics together, and pretended, for a couple of hours, to be one big happy family. Should they be civil for the sake of their son and his big day? OF COURSE. But to regale me with all of the stories about HOW TERRIBLE she and her family are, then to push me to accept not being invited, and then making it seem like it would've been drama if I had come just reopened wounds. Why am *I* being made to feel like *I* am the problem? The very few interactions I have had with his ex have always been civil. I have ALWAYS greeted her warmly. Even sent messages of support and condolences to her when her own mother died. But I am the bad guy in this story. I know it's the ADHD, and rejection sensitivity talking. I am just having the toughest time reconciling this. I have never been one to take things like this lying down. So having to acquiesce without sticking up for myself, or others being hurt, is something very difficult for me to accept. Thank goodness for therapy, a meeting with my psych, and also a meeting with my therapy case manager this week, back to back, will help. I have therapy at 4:00 this afternoon. I will have plenty to say. So this is where I have been hiding. Under the covers. I need to write more, and my case manager came up with a daily schedule for me, to help me manage my days and anything that may pop up. She stressed the importance of MAKING time for writing, so I will try hard to be here more often in the coming weeks. |
| I am fairly open about my mental health struggles. Long ago, around the time that I broke out on my own with Zoe after the divorce, into our own apartment, away from my mother's crushing expectations and judgements, I dropped almost every iota of concern of what others thought of me. But it was not until 2023 that I finally had concrete answers to questions I had given up hope of finding. I had a team of doctors, a therapist, and a psych nurse practitioner. The therapist and psych suggested I get tested for ADHD. I had to see a specialist that could do the specific test I needed, but that came with the requirement of two video visits with an unaffiliated psych medical group. I had one session, then the test, then a session to discuss the results. I was not quite expecting the depth and the breadth of the information this doctor would lay in my lap. I very much do have ADHD. That alone was earth shattering. But then came the rest of the news. Complex PTSD. Anxiety. Depression. And the doozy of them all; Borderline Personality Disorder traits minus the aggressive outbursts and rage. It was a lot to take in. I reported back to my established care team. Their reactions were basically, "Yup. Knew it. Didn't want to alarm you without knowing for sure, but we know how to proceed, now." It has been about a year and a half since I got the results and started treatments. I feel as though I have come a long way since then. But I find something new out about myself every single day. Self acceptance takes time. I am working on that. Everyday, it seems I have yet another a-ha moment of clarity. "Well now, that explains why I do this." I had never been in a stable relationship before Rick. Our relationship is sacred to me. And it is for him as well. He has a past with a painful relationship with his children's mother. They never married, and that was a good thing. She was as close to being a narcissist as one without a psych degree could say. She made his life a living hell. So we both know dysfunction. We treat each other with the utmost care and respect. But I would be lying if I didn't compare myself to her. She's beautiful, thin. My issues with her began when Rick went to New York with his mother to see his daughter graduate from Bard College. Of course his ex was there. I was not. I felt left behind. I had a house sitting gig that overlapped with the trip, and we didn't exactly have the money for another plane ticket. After Rick got home he mentioned it was for the best that I didn't go anyway, as he didn't want to expose me to her nasty energy. But then I happened upon pictures of them- Rick, his son Bix, his daughter Scarlet, and his ex. Together. On an outing to a farm. It tugged at the places in me that have faced betrayal before. But this was different. This time, I know that my relationship is stable. But I still found myself battling the same demons I have in the past. Jealousy and envy are a bitch. Now it is time for his son's senior class activities. Rick was very stressed about attending one event on a day that his ex and her sisters would be attending. I wondered out loud to him if he was so worried about this because he is embarrassed of ME. He swears that it is more about her bad energy and not wanting to expose me to them, but it FEELS like he does not want me around them because he is worried about what they will say and do. Borderline personality disorder is a bitch. It will lie to you. Make you feel inferior to everyone. It causes you to leap to conclusions that aren't necessarily true. It tells to to pick up and run. And this is the point in the cycle, where in the past, I would've done just that. Run. But I am not running this time. I am digging down into the trenches and working on my own issues. I am loving on him extra hard, and trying so hard to stand firm in the commitment he made when we got engaged. I have to accept that I am the one with the issues. Rick is the greatest, most kind and gently human I have ever known. This is all on me. Some days, that's okay. But some days, it's tough. I am hopeful that today will be one of the days that I feel okay. |
| Chemo is kicking my ass. |
| I had planned on writing a more lengthy journal entry, UNTIL I came upon a news story about a Palestinian official at a hearing, SOBBING as he delivered this statistic- 930,000 CHILDREN have been MURDERED by Israel. Let that sink in. 930,000 CHILDREN whose blood is on the hands of Israel and everyone who has supported this genocide. f*** politics. This goes far beyond politics. Whole families burned alive. There is ZERO justification for this. If I let my mind settle on this, I find myself in the depths of despair. |
| We went to my psych evaluation appointment for my social security determination on Wednesday morning. Rick drove me to the appointment, and because his mom had to be at the airport around one p.m., she came along and waited in the car while we were in the office. I was quite anxious about this appointment, but I needn't have worried. We arrived right on time, to the minute. It was an office with the smallest waiting room I think I have ever seen. There was a note on the reception window that stated, "Have a seat, I'll be right with you!" There was no sign in sheet. I asked the other patients if we are required to check in, they nodded. I peeked into the window, and the young woman sitting about six feet from the desk looked at me with annoyance when I asked where I could check in. "They'll be with you in a few minutes. What doctor are you here for?" I told her I was there for a psych eval for social security. "They'll be with you shortly." Twenty minutes passed and NOTHING. Someone came to the door to call a patient back, and Rick jumped into action. He asked the person if we could please get checked in so I would not be marked down as arriving late to this appointment, which would be a mark against me with social security. This person apologized profusely and ducked her head into the reception area, and I heard her calmly correct the office staff and tell them to get it together. Thirty seconds later, I had a clipboard in hand with paperwork to fill out. It took about an hour to be called back, and in the meantime, I noticed a well dressed woman with an official looking badge sit across from us. She seemed to be observing us, as I sat there, tears in my eyes from anxiety, bouncing my my foot nervously. She stayed for about fifteen minutes, before abruptly standing, going to the window and announcing her departure to the office staff. "See you guys next time!" I told Rick that at my last evaluation, something similar had happened. I told him that the determination workers do sometimes show up to evaluations to observe the people whose cases they are tasked with determining disability for. I told him I was pretty sure that's why she was there. I know I sounded paranoid, but my spidey senses were tingling. Finally, over an hour after my scheduled appointment, the same woman who had come to the door before, opened the door and called my name. I stood and walked through the door and she ushered me into the office and shut the door. SHE was the psych! She again apologized and told me to have a seat. We went through a series of tests and questions, a lot of which were very difficult, and the emotions could not be kept in check. She was VERY kind, offering tissues and reassurance. She said that many people have memory issues with depression, anxiety, and adhd. I told her that my most recent brain scan showed evidence of moderate stage white matter disease. She looked at me with pity, and said, "Well that is something different entirely, I am so sorry." We ceased the tests and questions and she said, "Okay, I am supposed to be an unbiased source of opinion for social security, so they can approve or deny your case. I am going to tell you that given everything I have seen here, if this information matches what your practitioners have reported, you will be approved. No one with a case like yours should be forced to work." This was a breath of fresh air compared to my last exam for social security, which was completed by an older male doctor, who dragged my trauma out and insisted I speak on it, even though my most current trauma, a sexual assault, had occurred just a couple of months before the evaluation. That appointment left me feeling very low. In any case, I should have a decision within four to six weeks. I am guardedly optimistic about the outcome. |
| Rick will be home late this evening. I cannot wait to be able to sleep next to him again. While he was gone, we only texted, so I haven't heard his voice since last week. I am going to tidy the apartment and get the sofa bed ready for his mom. We have to get up early to be at an appointment for a psych evaluation for my social security determination. We have to stop by my friend, Kirk's to pick up my mail that had not been forwarded here to the apartment. Rick's mom will be dropped off at the airport, to return to her home in Sacramento, tomorrow at 2. It'll be good to be able to settle back in at home with my love. I just want to snuggle on the couch, watch tv, have a nice meal. I feel like I cannot move forward in my mind until the psych evaluation is completed. It is a daunting thing to experience. When they go through my medical records and note that I experienced a sexual assault in November of 2023, they dig in. They drag the trauma out of you, and if they do this like the psych did in a previous exam, they just cut you off from expressing how it affected you, and then just dismiss you. The last time, I kept my composure until I reached the car, then I was able to let go. I was highly emotional, shaking, and felt faint. If only the doctor could've seen THAT, they wouldn't have denied my claim. I am not sure what to expect tomorrow, as my lawyers have added diagnoses and I am sure the testing will be more extensive than it was two years ago. I am a bit more calm and less anxious about this evaluation. Since the last evaluation, I feel like I have found my voice. I have learned HOW to speak to people in a way that effectively gets my point across, while being VERY polite. People want to help if you make yourself HUMAN to them. Anyway, I am going to start tidying up, and maybe bake something for Rick and mom to munch on when they get home around 10:30 tonight. Banana bread sounds really good right now. |
| I came home to our apartment on Saturday. I chose to take a Lyft home prior to Ben getting back from the airport. I didn't want to bother him with having to help me with all of my stuff. I asked him if I could store some of my stuff, like pillows and a blanket in his office. I made sure to add a note to my Lyft driver, letting him know that I would need assistance with a few bags. In my area, there is a large concentration of Armenian folks, and every time I have had to use Lyft, it seems like I have older Armenian men as drivers. I have found them to be very respectful and polite. This trip, Lyft routed us through a particularly beautiful area of Pasadena. We passed Rick's Alma Mater, Art Center, and through neighborhoods of gorgeous large houses with meticulously landscaped yards. It was only a fifteen minute ride, but I was thankful that the driver was quiet. I prefer quiet rides. The entrance to my apartment complex is a bit complicated. The driveway is set at an odd angle that is almost parallel to a very busy street just before a street light, and an intersection that leads to the freeway. Having to explain this to drivers is always a bit anxiety inducing. But this driver handled it with ease, and INSISTED on carry all but one small bag all the way to the apartment lobby. He offered to carry it all to my door, but I begged off. I asked if he was cool with a cash tip. He said, "Sure". I handed him a twenty dollar bill. He shook his head and "pshaw'd" me. He begrudgingly took the bill, and held my hand for a few seconds. I could SWEAR that he was tearing up. I told him to have a great weekend. He nodded and said, "Same to you." I was so very glad to step foot in my doorway. All the traveling stress, even though it was a short trip, all just melted away as I sat on MY sofa. Back in our cozy little home. I rested for most of the day. I rallied later that night, and decided to make spaghetti bolognese. A big batch that I could eat for the next few days. I carefully chopped carrots, onion and garlic. I sauteed ground beef until it was brown, then used the grease left from the beef to cook the veggies down, slowly. I added the beef back into the pan, and added tomato paste, then a canned pasta sauce. I added various spices from my cabinet, then chiffonade of fresh basil I picked from our window plant. I boiled twenty four ounces of spaghetti in water as salty as the sea. When everything was done cooking, I tossed it all together, then served myself a large bowl, topped with tons of parmesan. It was GREAT. I have had the same meal a few times over the weekend. I have rested a lot. Caught up on my new favorite show, Mobland. If you like anything that Guy Ritchie directs, you will LOVE this. Did I mention that Pierce Brosnan, Helen Mirren, and Tom Hardy are in the cast? Now, I am enjoying a coffee, watching true crime videos on Facebook while I write this. Rick is at a cafe in Upstate New York with his mom, daughter, and her girlfriend. They have presented her with cards and gifts, celebrating her graduation. He has sent pictures all weekend, in an attempt to help me feel included. I am surprised at my own resilience and acceptance while I battle my own abandonment issues. I basically checked out of my emotions. Now, I am trying to mentally prepare for a comprehensive psych evaluation for social security. I have tried to contact my attorney to help prepare for the interview, but to no avail. I will just do my best, on my own, I guess. I hope you all have had a restful weekend. |
| Rick made it to upstate New York, safe and sound. I was relieved to get the "We've landed" text. I spent the entire day doing everything I could to veg out. I spent entirely too much time watching videos on Facebook. I also watched a new true crime series called "Toxic". The presenter is Elizabeth Chambers, who was a well respected investigative journalist here in Los Angeles. She was also a victim of abuse at the hands of the actor, Armie Hammer. It is a VERY good show, told from the perspectives of the victims themselves, investigators, and family and friends. So far, most of the women featured in the stories survived abuse and brutal attacks, and the outcome of trials are included. Sometimes, justice is blind. But there were triumphant conclusions. I will likely continue watching later. Today is my last full day here at the Canyon House. Later this afternoon, I will clean the house, and start packing up. Tomorrow, I will just have to throw the bedding in the washer and pack up my refrigerated food. Ben will drive me home. Then I am back at the apartment, hopefully for at least a few weeks. If Ben needs us again, I won't turn him down, but I am hoping for a break. Rick has had a couple of well paying gigs, with another on the horizon. I would love to have the space to work on my own crafty projects, and my reselling. Rick is texting pictures of their adventures at an ice cream parlor, and just now, a farm, where there are donkeys, mini horses, baby goats, and bunnies. I know he is just trying to include me by sending pics, but it just makes me feel more isolated. I am keeping my feelings to myself. I feel like with his kids entering adulthood and doing their own thing, I am never going to really develop relationships with them. It sucks to feel like you just don't fit in with a family. And never will. Whenever I bring up not being included, he says things akin to, "Well, I want to spend as much time with them as possible before they fly the coop." Cool. I will just be over here, by myself. If I am being honest, it hurts a lot. I try to not compare my relationship with my own adult daughter to the relationships he has with his kids, but it is tough. My relationship with Zoe is virtually nonexistent. I rarely get replies to texts. I have not seen her since the day after Thanksgiving 2023. There have been numerous invitations extended, and every single time, they beg off, saying her boyfriend has work. I know she is dealing with SEVERE anxiety and does not leave the house much. When we do manage to have a conversation, it goes well, and then I just don't hear from her again. We have had long talks about her life growing up, and while I was never a perfect mother, she has never once complained about anything I ever did or said to cause the silence. Life was been entirely unfair to her. Father not involved in her life, I had to rely on my parents and brother to help me raise her. She traveled all over the United States with my parents, and even went to Tokyo with my brother. But times were tough. I sometimes worked three jobs to put food on the table, and she was with my parents a lot. Everything came crashing down in 2017. First, my dad died. Her only grandfather. Then eighteen months later, my grandmother, her great grandmother died. Then just SEVEN days later, my mom passed. Her only grandmother. No one experiencing that depth of grief would come out unscathed. I don't feel guilt about the grief, because there was nothing I could do to change that. But man. I tried to get her help. Took her to a therapist, but Zoe simply refused to speak. The therapist tried and tried. Multiple appointments. Zoe would go mute. So the therapist ceased further appointments. I feel like I lost her, too. I have my middle brother now, and that is it. My father's brothers and sisters, who SWORE they'd step in to try to fill the void, went silent years ago. When I tried to connect with them again, I was met with excuses and silence. Even when I was in desperate need of help, they turned their backs on me. I never asked for financial assistance. Just guidance. They tried to throw money at me, and I refused it. I just needed a little care. I feel very alone in terms of family. |
| I am feeling a little crappy this morning. I did not get to sleep until the wee hours of the morning, and awoke at six in terrible pain. The pain was in the right side chest area and felt like it was burrowing a hole through my back. I took 1200 mgs. of ibuprofen and went back to bed. I laid there thinking that even if I had to go to the hospital, I would hold off telling Rick, so as to not ruin his trip with his mom to go see his daughter graduate from college in New York. I fell heavily back into sleep at woke again at nine. But I feel like I have been drugged. Heavy. Exhausted. I am hoping coffee will help. Thursdays are my recovery day after Wednesday's methotrexate dosage. Wednesdays, I usually take it easy on Wednesdays. I stay home and usually sleep most of the day. Yesterday, there was no opportunity for rest. We had to pick his mom up from the airport and spend some time with her before she and Rick fly out to NY today. I learned a valuable lesson. Don't go out on chemo meds day. I will be forced to rest today. Today feels heavy. I have phone calls to my disability lawyer and my social security determination worker to handle. I called both before I even had a cup of coffee in my hand. Left messages. I despise waiting for return calls. It takes A LOT of gumption to make calls like that, I have to write a script of what I want to say, and I go over it like a million times in my head. So to prepare for a conversation, just to be sent to voicemail does absolutely NOTHING for my anxiety. I had thought about taking my friend's dog, Frida for a walk to the coolest little cafe that sits catty corner to the house I am staying at. But to get there I have to descend down a winding brick staircase that runs parallel to the VERY steep driveway. Going down those stairs would probably be no big deal, but coming back would be tough. I think I will plan for that to happen tomorrow, after I rest today. It was nice to spend a little time with my mother in law yesterday. She is so much like my own mother, which can be good, and maybe a little frustrating at times, but I love her dearly, and I know she loves me too. We had a nice Chinese meal after showing her the apartment. It was nice to have her there. We gave her the Mother's day present we had made- a cute coffee mug with our picture in the O portion of the word MOM, the word was a floral font. When she opened it, she cried. That made me happy that we could do something small, and it still had an impact. I think I may just eat the leftovers from dinner and watch some tv while I relax and wait for return calls from my lawyer and social security. |
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