Come on in...I've got nothing to hide...I'm here for the reading.

Saturday, December 30, 2017

Almost didn't make it

I was locked out of my account.  In fact, I couldn't find my blog at all and started to panic that I had, possibly, lost my online diary all together.  But, I persevered and low and behold, here I am.

There is no way to write everything that I've been up to since I stopped blogging regularly, but let me just say that I've discovered that I can tend to be more of a verbal story teller.  I performed stand-up comedy in 2017...just one time, after an 8 week class on the subject, and I did quite well.  I want to do it again, but am scared to death, so I tend to just entertain new people I've met, with stories that most people who know me well have heard before.  I love getting laughs at the ridiculousness that is my life.

I read, quickly, my last post before typing this.  My son is still finding life difficult and recently finished up his fourth visit to a detox centre that his father and I send him to.  It's very complicated, but as I mentioned, my son doesn't live with me any more...he lives four provinces away.  If you know anything about Canada at all, that's quite a distance...about 2910 kms.  They have court-ordered detox out there for teenagers up to the age of 17.  We figured he needed to go there again before he turns 18, now in 6 days.  He had been living under the care of the gov't, as he doesn't want to live with me or his father, but he was abusing that privilege and is now in a youth shelter, which is exactly the type of housing he had this time last year, in Fredericton, New Brunswick after running away from a treatment facility (I wouldn't take him back into my home having not completed his program).  Tough-love, I tell ya.  It had to be done, though.  And this time, his being picked up for detox resulted in him disowning his father and me all together.  It has been a horrible Christmas, not hearing from my boy for over two weeks, but thankfully he emailed me two days ago and apologized for all the nasty things he said to me and has a new plan for his life.  My poor boy.  I love him so.

Monday, April 11, 2016


You know that little strip of paper that is over the top of the cap on a new bottle of vodka?  Have you ever heard the sound it makes when it rips on either side of the cap as you twist it off?  That sound transported me for a moment just now.  This happens from time to time...the transportation, but mostly after I've smoked some pot, as is the case tonight. 

The transportation can only be explained by saying it's like I leave my body...but I don't want to say that because it sounds way too spiritual than what I mean.  When someone says it felt like they left their body, I always think 'death'.  This thing that happens to me is not like death, but more like I become the camera-woman to my own personal movie, where I am the star, so-to-speak.  So the moment of 'action' was the sound the paper on the cap made.  Then, it was a movie, where a lonesome, over anxious, high-energy, low-maintenance, 40-something woman is cranking on a new bottle of vodka on a Monday.  She'd been taking it easy on the drinking since the turn of the year, a little over four months ago.  She figured it would be the right thing to do, since her weekly drinking habit had turned into 1.5 litres of wine a week.  That's over a $100 a month drinking habit.  "Other's have it worse", she reassured herself as two-fingers of vodka settled into her glass, "I could be drinking twice that much...I don't have a problem."

You see, Tammy is an empty-nester, of sorts.  Her 16 year old son moved away 1.5 years ago, and he's had some troubles since then.  A week ago was his last day of a two week visit, and it had been a very good visit.  Tammy misses him now.  But that's not all...her boyfriend flew out west to work a day before her son arrived for his visit, so this is the first week she's been completely on her own since her son was born, 16 years ago.  This could explain the excessive self-medicating she's been doing for those 7 days.  Every night she starts by going into her back shed and taking a few hits off a joint she has hidden in there (now the second joint), not unlike this night, but tonight there is vodka too.  Have things gotten so bad?  Why, just last night she realized that the only reason she smokes some pot, and/or drinks is just so that she'd stop moving.  There can't be anything wrong with that, right?

You get the idea. So, as you can tell, I smoked some pot, and now having a drink...priming myself for a chow-down of almost anything in the fridge or cupboard that is, possibly, only a couple days past the expiration date.  NO!  That's not true, I made that up.  Most everything is pretty fresh and there is leftover supper in there, consisting of grilled asparagus  (wait, saddest thing ever...a neighbor and client of mine just lost her husband last week after a long bout of cancer, but not only that, he dog got hit and killed by a can on New Year's Day, and before that, on December 18th, her mother died...well, she just walked the dog past my house...something I've not seen her do before.  Man, good for her for getting outside of a lonely house to take the dog for a walk.  How hard must it be for her to get out of bed in the morning?  Strong people...that's the largest inspiration anyone can have...I can't continue with this writing now.  It seems too trivial.

Friday, January 01, 2016

A bit better day...

It is so repetitive, every year, to wish Happy New Year.  I mean, it is a new year and I do wish that everyone has a good one, but how can anyone have a 'good' 365 days in a row?  Impossible.

My last couple days of 2015 were spent laying around in bed.  I have not felt so unmotivated, blue, hopeless, confused, and just plain depressed in a very long time.  I kept telling myself I should get up and do something, see someone, or just speak, even if it was just to the dog.  I couldn't.  I texted a couple girlfriends for a while.  I chose them because they understand me.  Both are in their own little funks right now too, so we were comforting to one another.  I'm weird like that...I would rather text someone than talk on the phone or even see someone in person, when I'm feeling antisocial.

Today was a bit better.  I crawled out of bed at about 11:30am, after watching a few shows on my laptop.  I even had a shower.  I even puttered around the house doing various chores and organizing a few things.  I even posted my empty wine bottles for sale and sold them (getting picked up tomorrow).  Oh, and my food intake for the day, before I started puttering, was two pieces of heavily frosted pound cake I bought especially for the new year.  Later I had some chips and dip, accompanied by a huge mug of vodka and fruit juice.  The mug I used is very large and on it reads:  A Giant Cup of Who Gives a Fuck!  Exactly.

The bf is speaking to me again.  Not sure if he will sleep on the couch again.  He sleeps out there because he's afraid, not because he's angry.  If he's not speaking to me it's usually because he's afraid and doesn't know what to say.  He's a man of few words as it is and he would rather say nothing so that I don't rant and carry on about the stupidity of what he's said.  Sometimes I'm not nice to be around...I know this.

Tomorrow.  Tomorrow I'm going to get some stuff done.  I need to do some work-work and the bf has offered to help me, so that's good.  It's no-brainer work and I enjoy the help.

Life is strange.  Life is ever evolving.  Life is mostly good.  I know I'll crawl out of this hole soon.  Maybe tomorrow I'll turn on my sun-light lamp thingy while I'm working...maybe that will help.

Tuesday, December 29, 2015

Anxiety disorder

Years ago, when I was a regular blog poster, I found it therapeutic.  I suffer from anxiety and it seemed that my writing released some of my pend up angst.  Perhaps, to others who lived with or around me, they didn't see that it was helping because I was still yelling, cursing and ranting at regular intervals, but I knew it was helping, as my regular mood could have been so much worse.  Some days, when I think back, I remember feeling as though I was just teetering on the line between keeping my life in order and just checking myself into the mental ward.  I remember just needing a rest, and because I couldn't afford an expensive holiday, and wouldn't know who to take with me because most of the people I surrounded myself with were part of my problem, I figured the hospital would be the best place for me to relax.  That line I speak of was so real to me...I felt as though I was a ballerina on my very tip toes right on that line and sometimes, I just wanted to cross seemed calmer over there.  However, it was the disappointment I would feel, the responsibilities I would be giving over to others, and my very young son that kept me from giving up.

These days I haven't been close to the line.  Not at all, really.  I have, though, for the past year and four months, been on a downward spiral.  As I may have written before, my son left to live with his father at the end of August, 2014...3000 miles away.  At that time I was thankful that my business picked up and I was steadily working and if I wasn't working at my job, I found myself in my yard working, in my house working, just working, working, working so I wouldn't be crying, crying, crying all the time.  I was heart broken about my son leaving...leaving me.  Then, a year ago, I had the opportunity to purchase another business which I'd been wanting for a year before.  Between my two businesses going, I really am swamped, and the crying I do for my boy has become less, however, the fear, frustration, and hopelessness I've been feeling toward my boy has increased immensely.

Fast forward to yesterday.  I called my son.  Lately when I do call him I try not to talk about school, his slutty girl friend, his drop-out, pot smoking friends, or anyone he may know that's in a gang, has gotten arrested, has gotten stabbed, or has tried to commit suicide.  I just try and discuss what I've been up to and keep things light, but yesterday I couldn't do it.  Yesterday I was calm as I explained to him that if he doesn't give a shit about the things his parents give a shit about then how can he expect his parents to give a shit about the things that he gives a shit getting his driver's license.  I mean,  why should his father sign him up for driver's ed when my son can't go more than 10 days at school without some major incident where he tells a person of authority to fuck off.  Why should we do anything for him when he cannot get his ass out of bed in time for his first class, or make his own lunch, or be home when he's supposed to?  He doesn't understand what one thing has to do with the other.  By mid conversation I believe he dropped his phone so that he could scream, and curse and swear and break some dishes and punch the walls.  Not to mention calling me a fucking bitch over and over.  I asked him to tell me what he really thought of me, because while I'd visited him last month he told me that it was ME that was the reason he moved out to live with his dad anyway.  Apparently I bitch at him too much.  The thing about my apparent bitching is that I am simply giving him advice or life lessons and asking him to be safe and telling stories of things I have seen, so that maybe he is more prepared.  Yesterday I was asking him if he can't abide by the simple rule to not vape (vapour cigarette) in his father's house (because he doesn't see the harm that it's doing within the house), then how can we believe that he won't decide, after stopping and a stop sign six different times and never seeing another car, person, or dog, that he won't decide, as he often does with everything else, that the rule of stopping at that particular stop sign is stupid, so therefore he's not going to do it anymore.  My rational was met with more yelling and screaming and being told I was stupid and that I was insinuating that he's stupid and not responsible, blah, blah, blah. 

I also told my son that in my life I have been yelled at, cursed at, ridiculed, called names, disappointed, belittled, sexually assaulted, and taken advantage of many, many men...including ones related to me in some of those cases, and aside from my father, who I've decided to forgive, I have written-off all the rest...never speaking to them again.  My son told me that I should just do that with him then, and I told him that I couldn't.  I told him, through tears, that as much as I would feel some sort of relief from doing such a thing, that in the end, it would haunt me and it wasn't something I could do.  I told him that he is stuck with me, and I with him.  At some point during the conversation, he hung up on me several times...I think it was the third time when I didn't call him back.

Coupled with this situation is a situation with my sister.  She is 55, she's been divorced three times, the most recent being about 1.5 months ago.  All of her husbands were verbally abusive.  This last one may have been physically abusive to a point, but I believe my sister was just as physically and verbally abusive back to him.  Both of them were difficult to take when they were together.  Sort of like teenagers and not very emotionally mature.  Neither of them have ever been emotionally mature.  Think of something you'd watch on Jerry Springer and you've got my sister's entire life in a nut shell.  I discovered, due to my own sister's ways of being, that she is seeing someone.  I was discouraged to feel this was going on so soon after the break up of her marriage.  I called my mother to verify, only to be further disappointed that my sister is 'dating' her most recent ex-husband.  It makes no sense.  Especially since only a couple of weeks ago she was telling me how her husband allegedly came-on to her 18 year old friend (yes, my sister hangs around with an 18 year old's ridiculous). 

Now, to top things off, my bf is acting weirdly toward me.  I think it's all my yelling, ranting, and crying.  Not to mention he wasn't very helpful today...his last day of vacation and we were away for most of it so there is a lot to do around here. 

I'm feeling very alone, frustrated, and sad.  I was put back on medication for the first time in 5 years because of my constant morbid thoughts (at least once per day I imagine my son's father calling me to tell me my son is dead).  I'm really not doing very well.

Monday, March 16, 2015

The worst anger of my life

This post will not likely capture the emotion that I have felt over the past week.  It won't because I can't let it, because I don't want to feel like that again.  The feels I had are subsiding, and I'm glad for it.  They will likely resurface, and be just as intense, but I think it might be dangerous.

What am I talking about?  I'm speaking of my son, returning here to live with me, and how happy I am about it...feeling like I can care for him, comfort him, teach him, and be here for him when he needs me, and then, and then...  A week ago today he started his first day at a new school...high school here.  At least he knew most of the kids so it wasn't as bad as not knowing anyone.  But then one of the worse things happened.  Two older boys, boys with no moral compass, no compassion, or empathy...boys with only insecurity and anger who carry grudges for exactly one year, came up behind my boy as he was walking with three of his friends to go for lunch, and sucker punched him in his temple.  The boy who did this, is little, but is in grade 11, and his friend, who is big and also in grade 11, was walking behind, and another boy was behind the big boy, videoing that whole thing!!  It was all premeditated and horrific!

My boy didn't know that it was coming, yet somehow managed to get the little guy in a headlock, and with the other hand, had the back of his shirt.  The shirt was going over the little guy's head, and that's when the big guy knew his little friend couldn't take my boy alone and grabbed my son from behind and pulled him to the ground and proceeded to punch and punch him.  My boy, smart enough to cover his head, endured the blows.  His friends?  Well they were apparently in shock, and didn't make a move to help (I think they will know better next time).  The big guy then dragged my son across the sidewalk and threw him on top of a snowbank (about 3 feet off the sidewalk), meanwhile, the little guy who had been completely jerseyed, managed to get his shirt back on, and walked over to where the big kid had my boy and said, "That will teach you to mess with our women, Bitch!" 

Yes, this was all because my son spoke to these boy's girlfriends.  The little guy's girlfriend used to be my boy's girlfriend two years ago (they were just young and in middle school), but they were still friends and speak regularly.  The other guy's girlfriend knew my boy since grade 6 and complained to him about her boyfriend treating her boy said she should break up with him then.  These exchanges  are what lead to the beating my boy got last Monday. 

I've seen the video, I watched it, and perhaps shouldn't have.  Watching your own child go thru something like that is very upsetting.  It makes you see RED.  It makes you want to go out for blood.  My boy had a mild concussion and had taken himself to the hospital after the incident.  He had called a friend of mine, because he didn't want to upset me.  I went to sit with him at the hospital and immediately called the school...they didn't know it happened.  Then I called the cops, and we went to see them so my boy could give a statement.  The two goons have been suspended, but will be back in school tomorrow.  They are also facing charges, as they confessed to the crime.  Who are the parents that raise children like this??  Boys so insecure with who they are that they get so angry about their girlfriends talking to another boy?  Yes, my boy is good looking, charming, and funny.  Girls like him.  He also has a big mouth...but that doesn't give anyone the right to sneak up behind him and beat him up!

The little fucking redneck cocksuckers deserve all the shit that comes their way in life.  Karma is a bitch, mother-fuckers...what goes around, comes around.  You will get yours!

Monday, March 02, 2015

Compelled to write

Do you remember your first love?  The heart flutters, the butterfly wings in your stomach, the longing, the jealousy, the crying, the laughing, the music that reminded you (and still does) of those times spent together.  Do you remember the break ups?  The back-togethers?  The feelings that you just cannot go on without them?  Do you remember the intimacy?  The first time you kissed, held hands, hugged, touched places that had never been touched?  I'm remembering similar feelings like that tonight because my son is leaving his first-love tomorrow to move back to live with me.  He has made this decision on his own, and he is brave and strong...and so is she.  These two beautiful 15 year olds have experienced one another's completeness (if we look at it romantically).  It must be so hard for each of them.  I just want to cry. 

Monday, February 09, 2015


I think the reason why I may have stopped blogging so much is because life just got to a point where I kept everything inside.  Like now, I'm having a hard time with quite a few things (always relational), and just feel so tired of thinking about them, or talking about them, and having nothing change, or perhaps, get worse, that typing about them is exhausting.

The newest episode is that my son is suffering from depression.  I got an email from his counselor on Friday, after my boy's appointment, and it was recommended that he see a doctor...likely to get some medication.  How am I to navigate this from 4000 kms away?  I've spoken at length to my son, and while he continually lists the things he hates about where he's at, and crys when he gets to the parts that upset him the most, he didn't stay here when he came to visit at Christmas.  I just wish he'd get on a plane next week and come home. 

More conversations revealed that he feels 'trapped'.  Then I hit the nail on the head, as I was kind of 'onto it' when he was here visiting at Christmas.  It's the girlfriend.  Now, I don't know her at all, and I don't know what she says to him when she's alone with him, but my son is feeling like he owes her something.  You see, when he first moved there, he knew no one.  My boy has charisma, and good looks, so he usually has no problem making friends, but it takes a while to weed through the ones he wants to hang out with, and along came a cute girl who wanted to spend time with him.  So, as far as I can see, he went along with her, because at least he'd have someone to hang out with a know, instead of no one.  Now it's been quite a few months and I know he likes her, but it's to his detriment, admittedly, because he doesn't want to be where he is.  I would pay for a flight over his break next week to get him here because I believe this is where he would like to be.  With his old friends, snowboarding every week, likely 3x per week, having a room that he thinks is the best room in the world, and not having to clean a house every single day (his dad makes him do that).

I just want my fucking kid to get his ass home to his Momma...where he belongs!  Is that so hard to do??!!  Christ!