KEEPIN' FROM SQUEELIN'

These last two years has been such a review of my life and who I am.  Tested to the limits at times. I know that some of the ways I try and grit my teeth is to speak out. I am really working on some things this past 9 months. Realization that the expectations we have about our lives will be as we grow older, what our relationships will be, how good we will feel physically, how our relationship with our siblings will be, what we envision our "family" unit to look like​, how our kids will be living their lives etc.  Sometimes I feel like one of those little pigs that when you pick it up, it squeals because that is all it can do. A few, my role models, are so tough, so strong and have pushed through and are continuing to push through some real crap like their husband's state of health and their daughter's continued struggles with drugs etc. I am working on not "squealing", just sittin' on it. I have these moments when I just want to take command, head into the crap, knowing I am short on ammo and somehow come out with the music playing and people cheering, like in the movies - come out with answers to my questions of "why", "tell me what I did wrong", "talk to me so I know what to fix", "just tell me the truth so I will go away, at least with a response."  I think what I have missed is that little box to shove all this crap, all these unanswered questions and push on, go around the sewage pit, don't look back, and somehow, .........somehow........just make that box out of iron with a giant padlock and never open it again. Boy, can you tell I am goofy this morning.  I guess this is all to say, I wish I was as strong as some others appear to be.  I am closing the lid of that box and won't open it again to anyone.  Head up, chin high, right foot in front of left, get on my mule and just ride. Okay, done.......It's 6:00am and just got up to check on my hubby, who is recovering from knee replacement surgery and give him his meds.  Getting more sleep but not enough yet. If I had chickens to feed, I would feel more useful at this hour since I have been awake since 4am.  Eggs to collect, chicken crap to step in.  Grandma Lucas would have  be in the kitchen by now, have cooked a good breakfast for grandpa and her boys.    Oh well, I hear my hubby's CPAP squealing, dogs have been out to pee and back in, coffee in hand, comforter on my feet and laptop on my lap emailing my buddy, my cousin who is my role model.

TELL ME WHEN IT'S TIME TO LAUGH

Well, here I sit at 5am, in my living room, with Philomena kitty rolling around on the liiving room floor, twittering (moaning and laughing at the same time) and horny like a female longhorn cow, my kitten "Munchkin" who is much younger, not at all clued into what is going on and trying to play with this horney little friend of hers.  My 92 yr old stepdad, who gets up in middle of the night, has left his empty sardine can on the floor for any curious dog or cat to examine by pushing it around on the new wooden floor, my husband's dog paced last night.  You could hear her nails on the floor walking around looking for her best buddy, my husband who is presently in the hospital after knee replacement surgery. He has been there three days and turned into a raving monster with the assist of drugs and pain and threw me out his room screaming for all to hear.  My little miniature horse, Widget, has decided he can jump and jumps his fence to wander the property and hang out with the older horses.  After chasing him at least 5 times a day, by various people, we gave up and let him go do what he wants to do.  Munchkin (the 9 week old kitten) runs over the nose of my GREAT BIG hound, Carver, who is soundly sleeping on his comfy pad which wakes him up in a storm of extremely loud warning (I will kill you if I catch you) sounds.  And if you have ever owned a hound, you know what I mean.  

My hip is absolutely killing me, can't sit to pee without incredible pain, and not wanting to say anything.  Just got a new sleep number bed and was hoping it would help but "no" and $3500 later, here I am.  

Then I get a quick look in the mirror and don't know who that extremely old and ugly woman is.  On my third round of antibiotics to kick a sinus infection which hasn't worked.  

A nice big bunch of flowers arrived via, my son, per orders from my husband.  The raging husband got off his pain meds after he realized he had probably dissolved his marriage and was about to be thrown out of the hospital and feared for his welfare on Friday when it's time to come home.  I had already researched old cockroach ridden motels in the area and had a vacancy.  There are many.  

The card sent with the flowers read in essence that he was sorry and bad behavior was due to pain and pain meds.  Said he has spoken to his sponsor and they had a long good conversation.  My husband is a recovered alcoholic 6 yrs sober but lately has been isolating (which means he goes to his room for most of the day, and watches tv and plays on his computer).  

Am I looking forward to the next 3 months of his recovery NOT!!!

This last 2 years have SUCKED!!!!!!! big time.  Step mom, who I loved so much, had a stroke and I was there when we turned off the machines.  It wasn't like they show on tv.  She choked and gasped, and threw up etc.  Then I made the choice, our of concern and love, to stay with my dad for 7 months as he was driving on the wrong side of the road due to extremely poor eyesight and refusing to admit it.  

Those 7 months were fun - NOT!!  Dad took all of his anger out on me as he grieved his loss - which ultimately resulted in me feeling like an emotional piece of hamburger.  I helped him with my step mom's trust and all of the distribution, take on the attorney who screwed up both trusts, helped him find a home to buy in Copan, Okla near his brother, packed up his 4 bedroom very large home by myself, moved him into his new home and finally got home to my house which was upside down.  My son and his fiancee had moved in to be with his dad and help out on the ranch while I was gone.  They moved into my bedroom so that meant they dismantled it, packed away most of my things, which was my request, to make them more comfortable.  Then Pat and I (via telephone conversations) chose to move them downstairs into his extremely large bedroom so that Kerry's 4 yr old daughter, who visited weekends, could have some space with them. Pat moved upstairs to the 3rd bedroom which was my long time dream craft room.  So all was pushed aside and he and his heavy smoking arrived.  I then arrived home from my stay with dad to a room with boxes and a bed.  

2 months later, my mom had a stroke so off to the hospital I went with her for the next 3 months and 2 strokes, convealescent hopitals, taking care of my 90 year old step dad who had fractured his back trying to pick her up after she had her first stroke, getting him to the doctors, emergency rooms, meds, cleaning his house, getting him food, getting him to hospital for surgery and home to recoop, meanwhile staying with my mom in hospital, the finished basement in their home flooded with sewage and it had been like that for at least a month, so hiring someone to handle that. Decisions were made, after mom's second stroke and blood clot developed which left her in a vegetative state.  Pulled her feeding tube, called Hospice.  Meanwhile, my son was getting ready to slowly move into his first home he bought, but had to expedite that to move in 24 hrs so Pat could put down a new floor, paint the room and curtains to ready for mom, move my step dad into the very large room to be with mom, and then bring her home.  Then began 6 days of taking care of mom, dad, husband, and somehow accepting the fact that mom was not going to around much longer. Trying to come to terms with the fact that my brother, who had been my best buddy for so long, just went sideways and disappeared to his home 23 miles away and let me do everything. He came over once while mom was dying at the house, told me not to call him if she died in the middle of the night.  And when she finally passed away at 3am, I stood alone, in the dark of early morning, seeing the stars, feeling the cold wind and watching the herse drive out the rocky ranch driveway and turn onto the country road headed to town and disappear.  

I called brother that morning to let him know and never saw or heard from him again.

Two weeks later, my dad, who was now living in Oklahoma, got ill and I jumped in the car and drove 2 hrs to take him to ER.  Brother said he was to busy.  Hence, 6 weeks of 22 hrs a day staying by his side in the hospital, almost losing him 3 times, asking for relief from my brother but he refused.  Then, for some reason, my brother woke up enough and decided to take over, verbally removing me from dad's room and no more communication except emails daily.  I came home to my home the later part of May. Dad eventually recovered enough to be moved to a convalescent hospital for 3 months and then my brother brought him home to his ranch to live in a travel trailer for 3 months until my brother built and addition to his home for dad.  I have not seen dad since I visited him twice in convalescent hospital.  I was told by dad, in an indirect way, that I was not welcome at my brother's place. I would invite dad to lunch and he would be to busy. Thanksigiving came and went, no phone calls from dad.  I called him at Christmas and he cried, saying he missed me..  

So, "tell me when it's time to laugh".  I am not a depressed person but I am emotionally bruised, beat up and struggling to keep my head above water.  Did I mention that during this, my step dad built a house next to our home on the ranch which meant I had to make lots of decisions and then move him in and myself to take care of him.  

My blessing - my step dad is so loving, so funny, and we laugh all of the time.  He is the bright spot in my life and my day.  He keeps my spirits up and my head above water.  

I am tough and proud of it but this last 2 years has tested me beyond.