2016 was pretty awful. 2017 is shaping up to be just about as bad if not worse. The positives, I did finally graduate college, I even kept my 4.0 despite my father passing away in the middle of everything. I’m still with my fiance so I haven’t managed to fuck that up completely. We’re supposed to be getting new floors this summer, we’ve even paid for part of them.
Then there’s the bads. My grandma is going to die, she has liver cancer and may only have a few months to live. My mom has thickening of her intestines, which could mean cancer again. Kane is not going to be around much longer if we can’t get his IBD under control. I fell and royally forked up my knee at the beginning of December, it’s still not back to normal and I just started physical therapy a week ago.
I feel like I am drowning in no good stuff. I feel like there’s never going to be a time again where I think things are ok. I can’t relate to anyone at work, I can’t relate to anyone at home. I feel isolated and alone and like it’s always going to be this way. I don’t even know why I’m writing, it’s not like anyone reads it.
A little over a month ago my dad had a stroke, things were getting better then all the sudden they weren’t. He went into congestive heart failure and was building up water. They moved him to the cardiac unit because in the rehab unit they can’t really give him IV drugs to combat that water buildup. After about a week in the cardiac unit I called my mom to see how things were going, she told me she thought I should come over as soon as possible. I’d been out shopping, thinking things were just holding steady, they weren’t. I got to the hospital and my dad informed me he was done, he was tired and he no longer wanted any treatments, he just wanted to die. I was sad but I also didn’t blame him. We called my brother, who was on the slope at the time, he started the process of getting home, we just hoped it’d be in time. During the time between when we stopped treatment and my brother got back, my dad asked me several times to kill him, that request will probably haunt me forever. I tried explaining that I couldn’t, that it’s illegal, that it’s not something he’d want me to do, but he just got angry and turned away from me.
My brother got back and barged in and insisted my dad reconsider, told him it was ok if he’d changed his mind. Shortly after that conversation, the doctor came to talk to us, he told us there was no getting better for my dad, it was just making him comfortable until he passed. They’d tried every drug combination possible to fix his congestive heart failure, but none of them worked, his heart was just too weak. I guess my brother accepted that, we did take the doctors recommendation and put him on a morphine pump to make him more comfortable. I never saw my dad conscious again after they put him on that pump. There’s so much I wish I had the guts to say before that, that I’ll never have the chance to say now. My dad died on March 31, 2015, I don’t know exactly what time, but it was around 7pm. I didn’t want to ever watch someone die, I can’t get the image out of my head, but I wouldn’t have wanted to not be there either. I don’t want to remember my mom crying, saying she just wasn’t ready to let him go, or the stone cold look on my brother’s face, but it’s all there in my head, forever. I wanted to be a coward, to run and hide and deny it was happening and when it was done, I just wanted to go home and sleep forever. My mom made me call my fiance’ and he came home, but I really just wanted to be alone.
My dad was pretty modest, he didn’t want a funeral, he and my mom both want to be cremated and thier ashes spread back in Gakona, where they had built thier home and lived the majority of thier life. So that’s what we did, the three of us took him up there and spread his ashes. A handful of people from the community showed up, people I haven’t seen in probably 10-15 years. I’m not surprised though, there wasn’t anyone who met my dad that he didn’t ultimately end up being friends with. And a lot of those people in the community had been helped out by my dad in some way. The things my dad did in life were really amazing, from being a hunting guide, to building his own cabin in the middle of the wilderness so marrying my mom and them building a home in Gakona out of basically nothing. I guess having known him for so long I take for granted these things aren’t just things “normal” people do, he was an extraordinary man and did amazing things that touched many people’s lives.
So now he’s gone, his ashes have been spread, and I just feel numb, or at least until recently I’ve just felt numb. Tuesday I spent the day sobbing and angry, to the point that I called in sick to work. At night I’m kinda prone to break down and cry, especially when I’m alone which is a lot now that my fiance’ has a different job working nights. I also get VERY angry. My friend broke her ankle the other day, 87 people offered to help, my dad died, 28 people said something about it, and some of the people who I thought I was the closest to, never said a word. I guess finding out that I really don’t have any friends and I’m really that alone in the world hurts, a lot. To top everything off my ex-best friend, who hasn’t spoken to me since October, finally un-friended me on Facebook. Am I surprised? not really, am I hurt, I’m not even sure, It’s just weird. It’s like everything in the past year has changed so much that I no longer know what life is really supposed to look like. I’m not sure if I will feel like this forever, I hope not because I feel like I’m a mix between heartless and insane most the time.
My fiance’ has been going a bit insane lately too, staying out late after work, not answering phone calls, not answering texts. I don’t know what’s up with him and I feel like it’s all my fault. I want to ask him what he’d think if I just didn’t come home from work one day, didn’t answer my phone, didn’t answer my texts, then rolled in 4-5 hours later acting like it was no big thing. I actually went out looking for him last Saturday night, he laughed at me, which just made me angrier. He said maybe the solution is him moving out, but I don’t want that, but I also can’t live wondering. Why is it so hard to pick up a phone? Why is it so hard to tell me he’s ok? Or do I just not matter enough to bother?
I’m angry a lot and maybe that’s wrong… I was going to write a post on the things I wished I had said to my father before he died, I think I’ll save that for later because I’m already weepy.
they get worse. On March 5th my dad was flown to the hospital where I live, with what was initially described to me as a brain bleed. My dad’s been “losing” blood for going on 3 years, no one knows where it went, we’ve asked the doctors several times about if he could possibly be bleeding in his head, since this is the only place they’ve never checked. The doctors assured us that if someone was losing that much blood in their head, we’d know it. Well, guess what? We didn’t. And he was. So I met the helicopter at the hospital so he wouldn’t be alone while my mom drove the hour into town. After 5 hours in the emergency room waiting for a bed so he could be admitted, someone mentioned he’d had a stroke. Talk about shock, why didn’t they call it that in the first place? I guess he stopped using his right hand to eat a few days prior, and was dragging his right foot while walking, my mom took him to the dr. and they thought he was low on blood again so set him up for a transfusion. Why didn’t the dr. catch this then? Isn’t it something they’re trained to recognize? I can and am angry about that fact, but being angry isn’t going to change the fact that he’s now had a stroke. The weird thing is, I guess someone with that much blood on thier brain doesn’t act like my dad did, normally it’d be incapacitating. In him it wasn’t, at least not right away. When I met him at the emergency room he mostly seemed normal, by the following Saturday, he could no longer talk and wasn’t using his right side at all. Sunday they did surgery to relieve the pressure on his brain, they waited up until that point because he was having problems with his clotting factors, meaning if they did surgery prior, the likelihood he would bleed to death during was too great of a risk.
After surgery he was able to feel his right hand, I stupidly hoped that the minute he came out of surgery he’d be back to my dad again, he wasn’t. I drove home that night sobbing, angry and sad. But things have gotten better, the next day he could actually talk, not in sentences, but he could say words that actually made sense. He got frustrated and would babble and he didn’t always remember what words he was going to say but it was an improvement. The doctors talked about moving him into the rehab unit but we were told there was a waiting list. Two days later he was moved in there, he has to do physical therapy, occupational therapy and speech therapy. It’s hard for him, I know it is, It’s hard for my mom too, she’s left the hospital for one night since he was admitted. She won’t leave him and he doesn’t want her to leave. But it’s hard on her, it’s expensive too, so I’ve been trying to help out as much as I can… but it’s not a lot. I worry about her too because she’s JUST had surgery for colon cancer and has been plagued by symptoms of it for over 8 months now. This kind of living and stress can’t be good on her either, but she does it anyways, because she loves him. She loves him even when he gets made and accuses her of wanting to be rid of him, and even when he breaks down and cries because he thinks she’s mad at him because he had a stroke and can’t do the things he used to.
He’s almost my dad again, but there’s little things, he gets confused easily if too many people talk, it overwhelms him. He used to be great at math, now just the mention of numbers sends him into utter confusion. He’s still not walking on his own, he can’t go home until he’s able to do that. He’s just different. I think we all are. I am tired, I spend all day at work, most nights at the hospital until at least 7 or 8, and I’m going to school part time. I’m snappy, I’ve not told any of my friends save for one about my dad, or my mom either for that matter, because I don’t think they’d care or understand. And I just don’t want to hear it sometimes. I’m angry at people who have “normal” lives, who aren’t faced with all this. My brother and I fight, more than normal, because he’s “always been the one who had to deal with this” and I haven’t, at least not until this time. I work full time, he works 2-3 weeks on, 2-3 weeks off, it just wasn’t feasible for me to not work to help out if he’s home, but I guess I’m the only one who sees it that way. Early on, in a moment of frustration, I sent him a text, thinking he, if anyone, would understand. I got told basically that I’m selfish and I need to suck it up, and that he’s given up his whole life to care for them. Except well, you know… that whole vacation you were on when this happened. And don’t get me wrong, I don’t blame him for being on vacation when this happened. Just don’t make yourself out to be a martyr when you’re not. You haven’t given up everything, you go on vacations, you post on facebook about your booty calls, you act most the time like none of this is even happening. Do I mind helping out? no. But sometimes it gets a bit much, I’m dead tired. I worry about both of them, and I feel guilty leaving the hospital so I stay longer. My dogs, my fiance, they’ve all been ignored, it’s not fair to them, but I can’t leave. I feel like this is all my fault for not being there sooner. And I know it’s not, but it’s still hard to leave.
Friday is my mom’s birthday, she’ll spend it in the hospital with him. I got him a card to give to her, but he can’t even write, so I don’t know how that will work out at all. I guess we’ll try… that’s all we can do anymore.
since I last wrote, which is horrible. This year has been busy, weird and confusing. I’m still going to school. The pups are still mostly doing alright, we’ve had ups and downs and calm times but it really just feels like life is moving too fast most of the time.
I don’t really have an excuse on why I haven’t written, mainly because I know no ones reading I guess.
I want to write more but I don’t know where to start.
My mom has cancer, which makes me scared and sad and lost.
I lost my best friend a few months ago, he didn’t die but he hasn’t spoken a word to me in going on 3 months. I’m not sure how I feel about that.
I may be losing my fiance’ because of my own stupidity, I screwed up big time and it’s my own fault if he leaves but it doesn’t make it any easier.
Mostly I feel lost, it’s the holidays again and maybe that’s why but it feels like nothing is ok…
So I haven’t written since before Christmas, oops. Christmas was ok, the dogs were way better behaved than I ever imagined they could be. However, my mom had the flu, and didn’t tell anyone, so we both got sick. And being sick drug on and on and on it feels like. I’m still not sure I’m really “well”. I am tired ALL the time, I want to kill people most of the time. So maybe it’s not being sick that’s the problem, maybe it’s me.
Things that have happened:
-coworker is once again supposedly pregnant, which she probably is this time since she has ultrasounds and shit.
-Stormie has urinary incontinence, or something worse, we don’t really know until she’s been on meds longer, if they don’t work they’ll do an ultrasound and make sure she’s put together right, I guess something could not be hooked up to other thing and blah. All because she pees in her crate daily.
– Kane has surgery on his lump in February, on February 19th to be exact, which is his birthday, way to go Mom! Also, he’s having his teeth cleaned, and his toenails chopped off because I’m a horrible mom and they’ve just gotten way too long.
– An acquaintance of mine died, was murdered to be exact. My boyfriend knew him a lot better than me. I had only met him a couple of times, I didn’t really think it’d affect me as much as it has, I keep coming back to the thought that a person could get killed in a busy parking lot, be there dead for 24 hours and no one gave a shit enough to notice? That really bothers me. It doesn’t surprise me that people are that selfish, but it does bother me, a lot.
– I started class again, 1 class this semester again, it’s kinda boring thus far. The syllabus was terrifying, but it really doesn’t seem all that bad now. I’m a bit afraid now that I no longer want to be a paralegal when I grow up. I guess for today that’s what I’ll focus on, since the rest there isn’t much more I can say about.
So, I’m going to school to get my Associates in Paralegal Studies, ironically I’ve worked at a law office for going on 11 years. When I started I was a receptionist, then I took over small claims filings and the money/accounting part of our biggest client. Then one of the ladies working here left, so I took over what she did (service and defaulting hearings). Anyways, over the years we’ve went from a staff of 6 to a staff of 3.
Last April the actual paralegal left, with two weeks notice, to take a job at a native corporation. Do I blame her? Not really, it has to be killer money. What I do blame her for is fucking off the past oh, I don’t know 3-4 years before she actually left. Prior to leaving she tried to file a bunch of stuff which in turn all came down on me after she was gone. Also she sucked at getting anything done on time, ever. So most everything was past due, should of been dealt with long ago, etc. She also left anything that wasn’t easy, so I have all these problem files that I’m not really experienced with that I need help with, that the attorney I work for is too busy to deal with.
I have no experience preparing for trials, it’s the one thing the other paralegal always did, that I had no part of. Granted she always did them at the last minute, but she did do them and I never had to. But when she left no one showed me or told me how to do them, also, because of all the problem files, we’ve got like 8 or 9 trials coming up. Now deadlines are coming up, and I really have no clue what I’m supposed to be doing yet the attorney is still too busy or just doesn’t care anymore.
I’m at the point where coming to work no longer really interests me, if no one cares but me, why should I care? If the other supposed paralegal (who is supposedly one class short of her degree but when my boss offered to pay for schooling didn’t jump on that) can show up at noon or after, talk all day, be annoying and then get pregnant the boss is going to let her work from home…. why should I show up everyday on time and do my work and care? I mean really, I’ve been here 11 years, 11! She’s been here uh.. 1? 2? I guess being a fuck up has it’s perks. Plus what the hell is he going to do when she actually has supposed baby? Let her bring it to work? Just let her “work” from home all the time?
I’m stressed out with the amount of work I have now, I need help, yet one person I work with is incapable of helping, like really isn’t smart enough and the other is too busy with her baby drama to even do her own work, let alone actually help anyone else. So yeah no help for me, not even the attorney cares enough to bother not making me work what’s now equivalent to 3-4 people’s jobs. Oh and going to school, which means missing 4 hours of work a week, which I’m not paid for even though I’m going to school to benefit this stupid job! So yeah I’m eating 8 hours a paycheck to go to school, to become better educated, so I can do my job better, for……. what exactly? To be treated like I don’t matter and never will? awesome, so why am I doing this again? I don’t know either anymore. Mostly I want to tell him to shove his job and go work elsewhere, but unfortunately I need to get paid what I make now and there’s not a whole lot of jobs out there that pay this. So yeah in the end I don’t know what I’m going to do…. keep looking and jump ship the minute I can is what I feel like doing. I don’t want to work at a place where the person who’s been here the longest matters the least because they’re the least drama. I also don’t want to work at a place where I’m the only one who cares.
For as long as I can remember, I hate the holidays, they’re a stress filled time where sanity always feels too far away to reach. Maybe my family isn’t normal, well not maybe, they aren’t normal, nor am I, but we’ve never had the picture perfect Christmas they show on tv where everyone loves everyone and sings Christmas carols around the fire. We’re more likely to end up in the emergency room because someone got pissed and decided to stab someone else, but really that’s when the holidays include the extended family. When it’s just our family, mom, dad and my brother, things are generally calm. Yet, I still hate the holidays. I’m not poor but… I really can’t afford to get people anything that I want to get them, or anything that’d really matter in the long run. Plus no one wants anything but gift cards anyway, which is the equivalent of exchanging cash. So why not just keep the money, get yourself something, and then tell everyone about it? seems more reasonable. Further, at best, my family tolerates me; they don’t get me, I’m an annoyance, I always have been, always will be. At least, that’s how I feel. There’s like something that just makes me different from the 3 of them, I don’t know what it is, but it’s always been there. Always. And whether they admit they feel it or not, I feel it.
Every other Christmas or so, we do it at my house, the rest we do at my brothers apartment this year, is not my year. So we, who both work the day before and the day after Christmas, have to load up Christmas morning, two dogs, presents, etc. drive an hour… spend Christmas with my family, all of which either are retired or off work for 2 weeks. I feel it makes very little sense and also buts a lot of undue stress on us, but no one cares or cares to listen, because things go one person’s way, my moms. Or my brothers…. because he’s not far behind her. So I am most definitely not looking forward to this trip, two dogs, hour car ride, 2nd story apartment, two dogs who have to go downstairs every time they need out… yeah seems fun right? Not. At. All. But I do it, because my dads getting older and we may not have that many more Christmases, blah blah blah. Yes I sound like a bitchy spoiled brat, but you know what? That’s ok, because a) no one is ever going to read this, and b) no one gives a shit what I think.
What I REALLY want for Christmas is: a day off. A real day off, where I don’t have to get up, feed dogs, go to work, go to school, clean the house, pick up random articles of clothing from around the house, take out the trash, cook dinner… nothing, if I don’t want to. And I want the choice to stay home, and not stress, and not run around spending money I don’t have to exchange little plastic cards with some monetary value to them with other adults who should know by now Christmas is supposed to be a whole hell of a lot more than opening presents. But the chances of me getting this are slim to none. Even if it’s freezing rain treacherous roads I will get guilt-ed into driving my happy ass out there anyways. I DO want to see my family, I love my parents both very much, I love my brother also but we butt heads and when we butt heads and I don’t back down.. yeah it’s not pretty. Oh and its my fault when things aren’t pretty because I didn’t back down.
Trust me there’s a whole lot of family dynamics that I do not want to get into at the moment. We’ll save them for another time, maybe a time when I can make some sense of them, if that ever happens. Anyway, I’m off to fight 7-12 inches of snow, on top of rain ice, all weekend to do my Christmas shopping (and my moms since she’s been sending me texts telling me I need to go places for her and buy things) since it’s forced upon me every year. Wish me luck… better yet… wish the people I’m out shopping with luck, at any moment I may finally lose it.
So the 2nd member of our family is Stormie, a little over a year old weimaraner mix. We rescued her almost a year ago, January 15th, 2013 to be exact. A friend of mine posted her picture from Animal Control on my facebook page. I’d been looking at puppies and dogs for oh, I don’t know, 3 years? Something like that. I’d even went as far as to take one on a trial weekend a few years back, long crazy story. But no dog ever seemed right for us, for me, for Kane. So I called my man, he said sure, we’ll go look at her after work. I was appalled he didn’t want to run down there immediately with me and grab her before someone beat us to her! So I waited, not so patiently, until work was over, rushed home and was ready to go, but he wasn’t, he needed to shower, so I waited even more impatiently and off we went! We got there, asked around, looked at her then I went to stand in line at the counter for help. We’d seen a volunteer taking her out for a walk, we weren’t sure if she was adopted yet, so I was waiting to ask. A family had rushed over to pet her on the way in, not wanting to get my hopes up, I went around and went into the building to find out if she was still adoptable. The family fell in line behind me, the kid was whining about wanting a husky, not THAT dog, meaning Stormie. The lady asked me who I was there for, I said the weimaraner mix, she was upset, saying they were going to adopt her. Anyways long story short, we met her, we adopted her, we broke some lady’s heart. Do I feel bad? Not really, not knowing now what Stormie’s like. She’s cute, she’s cuddly, she is the devil in a small package, well… sometimes.
Don’t get me wrong, we love the little monster dearly, we’d never give her back, she’s part of our family forever now. Part of me wishes I knew what the first almost year of her life was like, I feel like it might help me understand her quirks. We do know she was returned to animal control twice, once because the lady was moving, and the 2nd time because of divorce, or so they say. We also know that the most recent “family” said she was crated 8-10 hours a day. Other than that, we really don’t know much about her past. We can speculate about some stuff, but really she’s a mystery sometimes, much like her behavior.
I was very nervous about bringing her home to Kane, but we brought her in, let Kane out and Kane wiggled his little nub at her! I was like yay! he doesn’t hate her! They ran around the house, chased each other, played, drank enough water to sink a ship. Then came bed time, Kane looked expectantly at me like “take her home now, it’s bed time”. He was truly appalled when we didn’t, he growled at her, didn’t want her near him, moved when she got close. I wanted to let her sleep in her crate, my man insisted she sleep in bed with us, just like Kane. He was not thrilled when he found out she wasn’t leaving, but I really think he’s bonded with her now. She’s obviously bonded with him, the one time I had to take him to the vet and didn’t take her, she sat at home and barked frantically until my man fed her toast to appease her.
She’s fit in fairly nicely with our family, but she reminded me of just how energetic 1 year old dogs can be. She has a few… issues, but we’re working on them or just dealing with them. She likes to chew on your face, she’s WAY better now about not doing it, but if she gets excited she’ll bite your nose. She also freaks out when you end phone calls, throws herself at you and well bites your face, in a loving way. She can jump as high as I am tall, and will. The only person she’s never jumped on is my dad. We have no clue why, but she’s super gentle with him which thrills me to no end. She’s also food obsessed, acts like she hasn’t been fed in eons and occasionally gets a bit…. aggressive about it. We’ve learned to feed her in her crate and it saves Kane from getting bitten again (it’s only happened once), her from eating Kane’s food, and Kane from accidentally getting into her kibble. She also will counter surf, and has no shame about it. We forget and leave something out occasionally but there’s a gate to the kitchen and we try, but accidents happen. And… I hate to admit it, she still pees in her crate when we leave her, I’ve had her checked out to make sure nothing physically was wrong and nothing is, but she still does it. I think she was crated for such long periods of time as a puppy that she just never learned to hold it. So, on the days she’s not at daycare, I do laundry, and we get up once a night, but, it’s just what you do for the ones you love right?
Stormie is almost the polar opposite of Kane, she’s not afraid of much, she loves to climb on top of you and snuggle and demands to be petted. Kane is very standoffish most the time. So in a way it’s kind of nice to have a dog who actually wants me to pet them and doesn’t act like it’s a weird form of torture. So far *knock on wood* she’s been healthy and happy. I can’t really imagine life without her now. I even think Kane misses her the days she goes to daycare.