In the last few days, I've found myself a new friend: Apathy.
MS and Mini are out of town right now and with nothing or no one really checking on me, I'm finding myself a little apathetic.
It's not depression. I've already been through that bit and overwhelmed by it to the need for saving and being pulled out of my rut. I'm feeding myself and my cat and keeping the apartment (while still in progress) in order and clean.
But twice in as many weeks, I've opted to sleep for over twelve hours. When I got up, I wasn't sad or angry, just despondent. Who cares? What do I really have to do? I made it up to 15 hours this past weekend.
But I suppose because I recognize it, I'll be okay.
My focus for the next few days is to put together a schedule that includes some sort of activity, a little working out as it were, whether in the apartment gym or just rolling around on my bike.
I think if I can get into that window, I can start truly feeling better about myself, and, hence, truly learning how to love myself.
Because that's still on the "to do" list.
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Thursday, August 1, 2013
My Daughter Almost Died
[Mini was supposed to be sleeping over best friend Lee's house Tuesday night. Instead, Mini, Lee, and Lee's boyfriend, Kid, cross the river into KY and Kid's got some land by the river and they get some Mike's Hard and vodka and, well...]
9:15 Lee's mom got a call. 9:20 Lee called me. 9:25 I called Lee's mom and told her I'd take lead on this since it was my daughter being the drunken mess - and bring both of their asses home. And thank God I did.
I had texted MS after work about calling her to no response, so whatever, texted her again "Running to KY to pick up our drunk daughter."
Thank goodness for GPS, but to hell with country backroads. I was on the phone with Lee for ten minutes back-and-forthing and if she hadn't come to the road proper with her flashlight, I never would've found it. Lee hopped in the car and said "Let's get your daughter." I drove into weeds with gravel to show me the way (down the sharp decline, over the railroad tracks, past the gravel mound and the scary trailer). There were no lights but mine, and I lit on Kid's truck under the high-tension power line tower, my daughter in the passenger seat, door open.
I handed Lee a bottle of water and said "makes sure she drinks half of this," and started getting out of the car. As I walked towards Kid's truck, I confirmed she was sitting in the passenger side with the door open. Lee waved me over. "C'mon, she doesn't believe you're here."
I was not prepared for what I walked into. Mini was manic, paranoid, delusional. She sat barefoot in her bathing suit, a loose shirt over the top. She coddled the bottle she'd been given and looked right through me until I was right in front of her, until I put my hand on hers and she saw me. Her pupils were more dialated than should be for dark, but that might have been my headlights beaming at her from behind me. And aside from my reassurances that she was okay and we were going home to the apartment, her non-stop ramble came out something like:
I love you Daddy, I love you so much. Can we go home? I want to go home. Can we go to the house? No, not the apartment, the house. Why not? No, Daddy, the house, please please come back to the house. I hate that you and Mom live in different places. Please come back to the house, just tonight. I hate that you're not together and I want you back together and I hate that you live in different places. Please come back and be with Mom. Just come back to the house, just tonight. I'll sleep on the couch and you can sleep in my bed. Why not? Okay, let's get in the car. Will you hold me over to it? When we get in will you hold my hand all the way home, Daddy? Will you? Promise?
One of the most vivid images I have is my arm around Ariel, helping her walk, barefoot, towards the car, watching her feet hit gravel again and again and hoping there was no glass, hoping she wouldn’t cut up her feet.
And then it got bad. Once we got out of the Death Party Palace (past the gravel mound, over the tracks, up the incline), Mini still on about going back to the house and holding my hand, she quickly changed from chattering to complaining about it being cold and then a full-blown, animated, blackout drunk panic attack. She started swerving in her seat, saying "Oh no, no, no." I tried to hand her a bag in case she needed to get sick, asked her if she needed some of the water she was holding and she was kind of bobbing in her seat and said "Remember that time I was allergic to vicodin? Remember that time I was allergic to vicodin? God, it's like that, it's like that!"
--and then SNAP, she flat-backed into her seat and was comatose. She wouldn't answer me or Lee yelling, would not respond to my grasping her hand or Lee's pulling her hair or hitting her in the shoulder. Nothing. She was breathing, though backwoods KY driving I had nowhere to pull over to take a proper pulse and Lee didn't know how to and even if we found something wrong, neither of us were professionals. The only thing I could do was keep driving, keep squeezing Mini's hand, keep loudly pronouncing her name. And keep driving.
She's never had vicodin.
The hospital was off the highway about twelve minutes away, though time in that place felt like six hours. I parked in front and finding a safe haven, let myself weep a little as I unbuckled Mini and wandered into the emergency room. Lee couldn't get her to respond besides a few random blinks and was not getting any traction getting her to move, let alone walk. I asked the check-in lady - over someone else checking in - if there were paramedics or nurses to help. I sure I yelled. God damn it why does everything take so long?! Again it was probably less than a minute, but when you daughter's sitting unresponsive in a vehicle and help is right damn there, argh!
They got her in a wheelchair and took her back while I played musical check-in ladies and cringed deeply as I uttered the word: uninsured. I called MS 5 times and she didn't pick up.
It was about twenty minutes later when they called me back to the room, and it was as bad as it looked. They'd cath'ed her, she was on a fluid drip, and while her eyes and mouth were partially open, she could only respond with the slightest of nods or shakes. She couldn't hold up either arm or leg for more than a second or two, and the hand squeeze was barely detectable. She could comprehend, she could answer yes/no with her head, but my beautiful chatterbox could not speak. Could not speak, her tongue limp in her mouth. They ordered up a CAT scan.
MS called a little later, having trouble with the GPS, wandering around Newport and, well, she had decided to give up smoking about 24 hours earlier, so the conversation wasn't nice. I had Lee run out to get the address so MS could get the coordinates.
MS had just arrived when they were taking her up for the CAT scan, and at this point Mini was showing emotion in line with constant weeping. And MS wanted to go, one parent could go, and Mini's bloodshot, tear-sopped eyes locked on me in such a haunting way, something that I still can't shake. Somehow she wanted me to go instead. But MS had just gotten there, so I hung back and gave the nurse some information and she came up with a "High CO2" hypothesis based on the hyperventilating panic attack bit that gave me a little solace. Not much, but a little.
When they returned, the doc wanted to see if he could ply words out of Mini sans parents, so we took our leave and put together the story, or at least the story as it was put together for us (amended for later information):
Mini outright lied to us that she was sleeping at Lee's, and apparently lied to Lee and said it was okay with us. Kid is Lee's boyfriend. Sometime between 4:30 and 6, they started drinking with two shots of vodka and some Mike's Hard. After a couple Mike's Hard, Lee and Kid eased off but Mini kept at the vodka. This is where Mini was having a conversation with a friend on the phone, and the last she remembers. Some time between 7:30 and 8:30, Mini was visibly really drunk, and passed out. She peed herself. Waking up, she took off her pants and underwear because they were wet. Passed out again. Waking up again, she removed the rest of her clothes and passed out again. Much vomiting was involved, and since Lee can't deal with that, Kid was the one tending to her, making sure she was on her side, and they were able to get her into a bathing suit before making the call.
9:15 Lee's mom got a call. 9:20 Lee called me. 9:25 I called Lee's mom and told her I'd take lead on this ...
An hour after MS's arrival, Mini was two bags of fluid in, sleeping, and they had to transfer to a local Children's hospital for observation. BAC was only .140%, and even with an inexperienced drinker, that's not enough to explain the lack of muscle control and ability to speak. Waiting for the ambulance crew mostly, but all that night I don't think I've touched my daughter's hair more in the last thirteen years I've known her. I kept wondering how the hell I let this happen, and hoping I'd have a whole person to bring home.
Finally, the ambulance crew arrived. They moved her over to the cart, all the while nurses and the medics trying to coax a few words out of her. Nothing. Barely awake, and what was was zoned out.
And in the twenty minute ride from hospital to hospital, while we followed in our cars (no one could ride next to her, we'd have to sit up front, so we just followed), something changed. She came out of the ambulance dazed, but her eyes wider than we've seen, a recognition of something happening about her face. I wanted to weep. It was small, but so damn big.
Once they got her into the standby room and started transfer to an observation room, MS pressed "You going to tell us a little about what's going on?" and DAMN YES that was important, but I hadn't heard her speak a word in hours. I leaned in, "More importantly right now - can you speak?" She nodded her head. Smart ass. "Can you say 'yes?'"
"Yes."
And in the next two hours, we went from sputtering a few words to full-on chatterbox to crying and being pissed at me because I told her there would be consequences. That's "back" enough for me. After the wait that is hospital everything, we left with our fully-intact Mini, though a little worse for wear (and holy hell the shitstorm to come).
We racked up two emergency rooms linked with an ambulance ride and an observation room endcap sprinkled with three fluid drips, two blood screens, one urine drug test, and a catheter to round it all out! - without a drop of insurance.
This is going to hurt. But if it had been worse initially, or Lee didn't have a signal or the warewithall to call, or her mother didn't tell her to get off the phone with her and call me, or if they'd all been blackout wasted, well I'd sign up for ten thousand times that price to go back in time - because I wouldn't be writing this little bit about how everything went really shitty; I'd be planning a funeral. But tonight I get to know my daughter is safely sleeping in her own bed, and she is very very alive.
9:15 Lee's mom got a call. 9:20 Lee called me. 9:25 I called Lee's mom and told her I'd take lead on this since it was my daughter being the drunken mess - and bring both of their asses home. And thank God I did.
I had texted MS after work about calling her to no response, so whatever, texted her again "Running to KY to pick up our drunk daughter."
Thank goodness for GPS, but to hell with country backroads. I was on the phone with Lee for ten minutes back-and-forthing and if she hadn't come to the road proper with her flashlight, I never would've found it. Lee hopped in the car and said "Let's get your daughter." I drove into weeds with gravel to show me the way (down the sharp decline, over the railroad tracks, past the gravel mound and the scary trailer). There were no lights but mine, and I lit on Kid's truck under the high-tension power line tower, my daughter in the passenger seat, door open.
I handed Lee a bottle of water and said "makes sure she drinks half of this," and started getting out of the car. As I walked towards Kid's truck, I confirmed she was sitting in the passenger side with the door open. Lee waved me over. "C'mon, she doesn't believe you're here."
I was not prepared for what I walked into. Mini was manic, paranoid, delusional. She sat barefoot in her bathing suit, a loose shirt over the top. She coddled the bottle she'd been given and looked right through me until I was right in front of her, until I put my hand on hers and she saw me. Her pupils were more dialated than should be for dark, but that might have been my headlights beaming at her from behind me. And aside from my reassurances that she was okay and we were going home to the apartment, her non-stop ramble came out something like:
I love you Daddy, I love you so much. Can we go home? I want to go home. Can we go to the house? No, not the apartment, the house. Why not? No, Daddy, the house, please please come back to the house. I hate that you and Mom live in different places. Please come back to the house, just tonight. I hate that you're not together and I want you back together and I hate that you live in different places. Please come back and be with Mom. Just come back to the house, just tonight. I'll sleep on the couch and you can sleep in my bed. Why not? Okay, let's get in the car. Will you hold me over to it? When we get in will you hold my hand all the way home, Daddy? Will you? Promise?
One of the most vivid images I have is my arm around Ariel, helping her walk, barefoot, towards the car, watching her feet hit gravel again and again and hoping there was no glass, hoping she wouldn’t cut up her feet.
And then it got bad. Once we got out of the Death Party Palace (past the gravel mound, over the tracks, up the incline), Mini still on about going back to the house and holding my hand, she quickly changed from chattering to complaining about it being cold and then a full-blown, animated, blackout drunk panic attack. She started swerving in her seat, saying "Oh no, no, no." I tried to hand her a bag in case she needed to get sick, asked her if she needed some of the water she was holding and she was kind of bobbing in her seat and said "Remember that time I was allergic to vicodin? Remember that time I was allergic to vicodin? God, it's like that, it's like that!"
--and then SNAP, she flat-backed into her seat and was comatose. She wouldn't answer me or Lee yelling, would not respond to my grasping her hand or Lee's pulling her hair or hitting her in the shoulder. Nothing. She was breathing, though backwoods KY driving I had nowhere to pull over to take a proper pulse and Lee didn't know how to and even if we found something wrong, neither of us were professionals. The only thing I could do was keep driving, keep squeezing Mini's hand, keep loudly pronouncing her name. And keep driving.
She's never had vicodin.
The hospital was off the highway about twelve minutes away, though time in that place felt like six hours. I parked in front and finding a safe haven, let myself weep a little as I unbuckled Mini and wandered into the emergency room. Lee couldn't get her to respond besides a few random blinks and was not getting any traction getting her to move, let alone walk. I asked the check-in lady - over someone else checking in - if there were paramedics or nurses to help. I sure I yelled. God damn it why does everything take so long?! Again it was probably less than a minute, but when you daughter's sitting unresponsive in a vehicle and help is right damn there, argh!
They got her in a wheelchair and took her back while I played musical check-in ladies and cringed deeply as I uttered the word: uninsured. I called MS 5 times and she didn't pick up.
It was about twenty minutes later when they called me back to the room, and it was as bad as it looked. They'd cath'ed her, she was on a fluid drip, and while her eyes and mouth were partially open, she could only respond with the slightest of nods or shakes. She couldn't hold up either arm or leg for more than a second or two, and the hand squeeze was barely detectable. She could comprehend, she could answer yes/no with her head, but my beautiful chatterbox could not speak. Could not speak, her tongue limp in her mouth. They ordered up a CAT scan.
MS called a little later, having trouble with the GPS, wandering around Newport and, well, she had decided to give up smoking about 24 hours earlier, so the conversation wasn't nice. I had Lee run out to get the address so MS could get the coordinates.
MS had just arrived when they were taking her up for the CAT scan, and at this point Mini was showing emotion in line with constant weeping. And MS wanted to go, one parent could go, and Mini's bloodshot, tear-sopped eyes locked on me in such a haunting way, something that I still can't shake. Somehow she wanted me to go instead. But MS had just gotten there, so I hung back and gave the nurse some information and she came up with a "High CO2" hypothesis based on the hyperventilating panic attack bit that gave me a little solace. Not much, but a little.
When they returned, the doc wanted to see if he could ply words out of Mini sans parents, so we took our leave and put together the story, or at least the story as it was put together for us (amended for later information):
Mini outright lied to us that she was sleeping at Lee's, and apparently lied to Lee and said it was okay with us. Kid is Lee's boyfriend. Sometime between 4:30 and 6, they started drinking with two shots of vodka and some Mike's Hard. After a couple Mike's Hard, Lee and Kid eased off but Mini kept at the vodka. This is where Mini was having a conversation with a friend on the phone, and the last she remembers. Some time between 7:30 and 8:30, Mini was visibly really drunk, and passed out. She peed herself. Waking up, she took off her pants and underwear because they were wet. Passed out again. Waking up again, she removed the rest of her clothes and passed out again. Much vomiting was involved, and since Lee can't deal with that, Kid was the one tending to her, making sure she was on her side, and they were able to get her into a bathing suit before making the call.
9:15 Lee's mom got a call. 9:20 Lee called me. 9:25 I called Lee's mom and told her I'd take lead on this ...
An hour after MS's arrival, Mini was two bags of fluid in, sleeping, and they had to transfer to a local Children's hospital for observation. BAC was only .140%, and even with an inexperienced drinker, that's not enough to explain the lack of muscle control and ability to speak. Waiting for the ambulance crew mostly, but all that night I don't think I've touched my daughter's hair more in the last thirteen years I've known her. I kept wondering how the hell I let this happen, and hoping I'd have a whole person to bring home.
Finally, the ambulance crew arrived. They moved her over to the cart, all the while nurses and the medics trying to coax a few words out of her. Nothing. Barely awake, and what was was zoned out.
And in the twenty minute ride from hospital to hospital, while we followed in our cars (no one could ride next to her, we'd have to sit up front, so we just followed), something changed. She came out of the ambulance dazed, but her eyes wider than we've seen, a recognition of something happening about her face. I wanted to weep. It was small, but so damn big.
Once they got her into the standby room and started transfer to an observation room, MS pressed "You going to tell us a little about what's going on?" and DAMN YES that was important, but I hadn't heard her speak a word in hours. I leaned in, "More importantly right now - can you speak?" She nodded her head. Smart ass. "Can you say 'yes?'"
"Yes."
And in the next two hours, we went from sputtering a few words to full-on chatterbox to crying and being pissed at me because I told her there would be consequences. That's "back" enough for me. After the wait that is hospital everything, we left with our fully-intact Mini, though a little worse for wear (and holy hell the shitstorm to come).
We racked up two emergency rooms linked with an ambulance ride and an observation room endcap sprinkled with three fluid drips, two blood screens, one urine drug test, and a catheter to round it all out! - without a drop of insurance.
This is going to hurt. But if it had been worse initially, or Lee didn't have a signal or the warewithall to call, or her mother didn't tell her to get off the phone with her and call me, or if they'd all been blackout wasted, well I'd sign up for ten thousand times that price to go back in time - because I wouldn't be writing this little bit about how everything went really shitty; I'd be planning a funeral. But tonight I get to know my daughter is safely sleeping in her own bed, and she is very very alive.
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Abandonment
And at some point, you feel abandonment.
I don't have many friends in general (because I'm generally introverted), but this isn't about being secluded or excluded, this is about being ignored.
For the last week, I've been trying to get MS on the phone with me. A whole week. And she either ignores my texts or says she'll call but then gets too busy. All I'm trying to do is look at our list of things we need to accomplish to move on and discuss the different aspects of our daughter's life. And...nothing.
She told me to call her this evening. I just left her a voicemail.
And MiniShambles isn't any better, doing her own thing, not necessarily replying to anything.
I feel abandoned. The only people I'm directly linked to in this end-of-marriage and I can't get a steady line of communication going.
I know everything'll work out, but it borders on disrespect--
Okay, sorry, but to hell with that post. Much better story next one as I spent last night in the hospital.
(spoiler: everyone's alive, but almost wasn't)
I don't have many friends in general (because I'm generally introverted), but this isn't about being secluded or excluded, this is about being ignored.
For the last week, I've been trying to get MS on the phone with me. A whole week. And she either ignores my texts or says she'll call but then gets too busy. All I'm trying to do is look at our list of things we need to accomplish to move on and discuss the different aspects of our daughter's life. And...nothing.
She told me to call her this evening. I just left her a voicemail.
And MiniShambles isn't any better, doing her own thing, not necessarily replying to anything.
I feel abandoned. The only people I'm directly linked to in this end-of-marriage and I can't get a steady line of communication going.
I know everything'll work out, but it borders on disrespect--
Okay, sorry, but to hell with that post. Much better story next one as I spent last night in the hospital.
(spoiler: everyone's alive, but almost wasn't)
Saturday, July 20, 2013
Car Trouble: Finding Normal Roadblock
On June 23rd, my Honda (the one I bought two months ago) shitted out on me. Turns out it was the timing chain going, stretching as it were. $1100 or so.
On June 24th, I had it towed to my usual shop. They got right on it and said - oops - looks like the timing chain and a little deeper into the engine than they go, let's tow it to this second place. On the 25th, it was towed to New Place. This was 4 days before I moved residences; I rolled a rental during the shift.
Friday was July 20th. They have had my car for 20+ business days. I love that they gave me a loaner for free, even if it is a dirty Odyssey, but DAMN! Every conversation has been initiated by me and just to see if it would happen, I didn't call and officially have not heard from anyone all week. Good people, good rep, good work, but slow as shit with crap for communication skills. I can't in good conscience recommend them to anyone else.
And there's the hard part as it relates to the relationship and moving.
Shitty business practices aside, I just want my car back. I want to live in my new place with my own car, not walking out every day to a Honda van. That's not mine. That's not me.
Can't wait to get it back. It's not me, but it is a representation of my life. Hoping this will be a good week.
On June 24th, I had it towed to my usual shop. They got right on it and said - oops - looks like the timing chain and a little deeper into the engine than they go, let's tow it to this second place. On the 25th, it was towed to New Place. This was 4 days before I moved residences; I rolled a rental during the shift.
Friday was July 20th. They have had my car for 20+ business days. I love that they gave me a loaner for free, even if it is a dirty Odyssey, but DAMN! Every conversation has been initiated by me and just to see if it would happen, I didn't call and officially have not heard from anyone all week. Good people, good rep, good work, but slow as shit with crap for communication skills. I can't in good conscience recommend them to anyone else.
And there's the hard part as it relates to the relationship and moving.
Shitty business practices aside, I just want my car back. I want to live in my new place with my own car, not walking out every day to a Honda van. That's not mine. That's not me.
Can't wait to get it back. It's not me, but it is a representation of my life. Hoping this will be a good week.
Friday, July 19, 2013
MiniShambles Explodes: The Teen in the Mix
I spent the first half of Thursday last week frantically jumping between phone and computer, trying to keep my head on as MS and I tried to rein in our daughter like a rogue missile in movie climax. She was ballistic.
Little background please?
Of course. A couple months ago MiniShambles had the luck (read: poor judgement) of catching two speeding tickets within forty minutes. A couple weeks ago, her license was suspended by a not-very impressed magistrate for 90 days, giving her only home(s) and work privileges.
But MiniShambles didn't think the law was suited to her proclivities, and within 24 hours was playing fast and loose with running out to Starbucks or stopping by her friend's house or picking up her boyfriend before work. It didn't take us long to catch wind of this and we nailed it down quickly; having already had to eat the ticket, we were not looking forward to another infraction, which would inevitably kill her license and her job - and with it any chance of getting paid back.
But on the horizon, we saw trouble. MiniShambles was dropping hints of a planned trip four hours away to Cedar Point. How was she going to get there? Her friend would drive her car. Yeah, NO. Okay, her friend would drive. Really? Okay.
And then the night before the road trip happened and MiniShambles's friend went to the house to sleep over so they could leave in the morning and MS brought up friend's driving. What? She couldn't drive - her parents would kill her. So MS and Mini went at it via text until 2am ending with the mantra "HELL NO."
MS woke up the next morning and when she looked outside, her jaw dropped: Mini and friend had awakened early, quietly left the house, moved MS's car, and drove away north.
Here's where we become NORAD and call and text and Mini won't answer for a couple hours but I've got her pinged on the Family Locator phone program, so we know exactly where she is and MS finally gets her on the phone and Mini distills it down to "I don't care - do whatever you want when I get home!" But that's not going to fly; we're way past that. So MS says "Dad's going to ping you in 15 minutes. If you are not back on the highway coming south at that point, we will call the police and the next person you speak with will be a State Trooper.
She turned around, and a couple hours later, she was home. We took the car away for at least a month. And now it's up to her to find a way to work This coming Tuesday - and I don't know if she'll make it.
We know she's pushing. Things are in turmoil right now. Things are chaotic, in flux, and if MiniShambles can farm out a little more territory in this split, she's going to take advantage of it. It's a new room and she's testing the doors, windows, every crack she can.
But we never saw it going as far as "stealing" the car. It messed us up for a few days, scared the hell out of us, then made us angry.
And the thing that makes me livid is that we made the decision to help Mini keep her job. She works some 5 days a week and we said we'd pick her up every shift, but she would have to work with us and figure out a way to work. She can pick up the bus and with one transfer be up at King's Island. But no, she won't ride the bus. It's gross and icky and she might get a staph infection. This young woman who has never ridden the bus is playing Posh Veruca about how shitty that bus is and is literally willing to lose her job over not taking the bus.
I swear we raised her better than that.
Really.
Little background please?
Of course. A couple months ago MiniShambles had the luck (read: poor judgement) of catching two speeding tickets within forty minutes. A couple weeks ago, her license was suspended by a not-very impressed magistrate for 90 days, giving her only home(s) and work privileges.
But MiniShambles didn't think the law was suited to her proclivities, and within 24 hours was playing fast and loose with running out to Starbucks or stopping by her friend's house or picking up her boyfriend before work. It didn't take us long to catch wind of this and we nailed it down quickly; having already had to eat the ticket, we were not looking forward to another infraction, which would inevitably kill her license and her job - and with it any chance of getting paid back.
But on the horizon, we saw trouble. MiniShambles was dropping hints of a planned trip four hours away to Cedar Point. How was she going to get there? Her friend would drive her car. Yeah, NO. Okay, her friend would drive. Really? Okay.
And then the night before the road trip happened and MiniShambles's friend went to the house to sleep over so they could leave in the morning and MS brought up friend's driving. What? She couldn't drive - her parents would kill her. So MS and Mini went at it via text until 2am ending with the mantra "HELL NO."
MS woke up the next morning and when she looked outside, her jaw dropped: Mini and friend had awakened early, quietly left the house, moved MS's car, and drove away north.
Here's where we become NORAD and call and text and Mini won't answer for a couple hours but I've got her pinged on the Family Locator phone program, so we know exactly where she is and MS finally gets her on the phone and Mini distills it down to "I don't care - do whatever you want when I get home!" But that's not going to fly; we're way past that. So MS says "Dad's going to ping you in 15 minutes. If you are not back on the highway coming south at that point, we will call the police and the next person you speak with will be a State Trooper.
She turned around, and a couple hours later, she was home. We took the car away for at least a month. And now it's up to her to find a way to work This coming Tuesday - and I don't know if she'll make it.
We know she's pushing. Things are in turmoil right now. Things are chaotic, in flux, and if MiniShambles can farm out a little more territory in this split, she's going to take advantage of it. It's a new room and she's testing the doors, windows, every crack she can.
But we never saw it going as far as "stealing" the car. It messed us up for a few days, scared the hell out of us, then made us angry.
And the thing that makes me livid is that we made the decision to help Mini keep her job. She works some 5 days a week and we said we'd pick her up every shift, but she would have to work with us and figure out a way to work. She can pick up the bus and with one transfer be up at King's Island. But no, she won't ride the bus. It's gross and icky and she might get a staph infection. This young woman who has never ridden the bus is playing Posh Veruca about how shitty that bus is and is literally willing to lose her job over not taking the bus.
I swear we raised her better than that.
Really.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Shopping: The Bane and Joy
In my last post, I made note of how frightening it is for me moving out on my own, specifically because of turning around every few minutes to find something missing. I'm a typical man in some ways and sometimes it's "Eh, what date was that birthday? -- oh, yeah," or it's losing the immediacy of that quick wit or share an in-joke with MiniShambles. And sometimes it's grabbing that can of black beans from the cabinet and almost losing your shit because it suddenly dawns on you that YOU NO LONGER OWN A CAN OPENER. Fuck.
So you go shopping to get that can opener. And it's miserable. I've been 4 times "catch-up" shopping since I moved in: 2 Targets, one Kroger (many more of those to come - do you know how many spices I had?), and one Home Depot. And in every one of those instances, I was flooded with the absence, and each time I got near the end of my list and that last item was simply not where should be - or I was just getting frantic - and the anxiety meter welled up along with my eyes and I just wanted to push my cart into the nearest end-cap, scream at the top of my lungs, drop to my knees, and sob quietly for a while. Reality as it is, I held it together, checked out, and held the sobbing for home.
Shopping when you're trying to reconstruct a life can be overwhelming because you're surrounded by absence, every piece is a hole in your life, a reminder of how intertwined you once were with another person, of the emptiness that exists now. But it's not without redemption. Every item you pick up, little things that will allow you to function, is a regeneration, a work towards completion. Granted, you may not realize that until after an in-store near-meltdown and some back-home sobbing, but it's better. And with those trips, as hard as they were, I got a little bit better. I know it's just stuff and "good" is a ways off, but for right now, I can deal with better.
I have to.
Oh, and I did get that can opener, and because it was never allowed in the house due to a solid, lingering aversion tied to MS's morning sickness years ago, it was the best can of Spaghetti-O's I've ever had.
So you go shopping to get that can opener. And it's miserable. I've been 4 times "catch-up" shopping since I moved in: 2 Targets, one Kroger (many more of those to come - do you know how many spices I had?), and one Home Depot. And in every one of those instances, I was flooded with the absence, and each time I got near the end of my list and that last item was simply not where should be - or I was just getting frantic - and the anxiety meter welled up along with my eyes and I just wanted to push my cart into the nearest end-cap, scream at the top of my lungs, drop to my knees, and sob quietly for a while. Reality as it is, I held it together, checked out, and held the sobbing for home.
Shopping when you're trying to reconstruct a life can be overwhelming because you're surrounded by absence, every piece is a hole in your life, a reminder of how intertwined you once were with another person, of the emptiness that exists now. But it's not without redemption. Every item you pick up, little things that will allow you to function, is a regeneration, a work towards completion. Granted, you may not realize that until after an in-store near-meltdown and some back-home sobbing, but it's better. And with those trips, as hard as they were, I got a little bit better. I know it's just stuff and "good" is a ways off, but for right now, I can deal with better.
I have to.
Oh, and I did get that can opener, and because it was never allowed in the house due to a solid, lingering aversion tied to MS's morning sickness years ago, it was the best can of Spaghetti-O's I've ever had.
Monday, July 8, 2013
Weekend of the 4th: Gathering Myself
I didn't do much of anything the weekend of the 4th, mostly because MS stuck me with the dog, but also because I was desperate for alone time. And I got it - with a dog who had reverted to paranoid puppyhood: she's be howling and barking even during a brief trip down to the dumpster. At the house, she's become very chill.
But the time I did get I enjoyed; it was just quiet "me" time, watching some TV, goofing off on the internet, catching up on some books.
I also had off today, just me and the cat, doing some final unpacking (though still books to figure out), so tomorrow's challenge: getting back to work.
I keep using the phrase "finding the new normal," but I don't think there is one, and that's frightening. Everywhere I look, there's something missing, and that's terrifying -- but more on that tomorrow.
I made it through the holiday and the worst I got was numb apathy / disconnection - not a hint of depression. And that's a step in the right direction.
Right?
But the time I did get I enjoyed; it was just quiet "me" time, watching some TV, goofing off on the internet, catching up on some books.
I also had off today, just me and the cat, doing some final unpacking (though still books to figure out), so tomorrow's challenge: getting back to work.
I keep using the phrase "finding the new normal," but I don't think there is one, and that's frightening. Everywhere I look, there's something missing, and that's terrifying -- but more on that tomorrow.
I made it through the holiday and the worst I got was numb apathy / disconnection - not a hint of depression. And that's a step in the right direction.
Right?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)