Sylken Threads

[Sylk]

The News

There are many things in my life that have been difficult, have backlash, left me bereft.  There are even more things in my life that have brought me joy, a sense of wonder and love.  My mom and I were never really all that close.  But when I was a little kid, during the height of the 'sexual revolution', people would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up.  I would always say that I wanted to be a mom.  A mom like mine.  They would look at me funny and say something to the effect of "that's all? just a mom?"  So after a while, fearing to disappoint my peers, I would say things like... 'oh a nurse' or 'a teacher'.  But in reality, all I wanted to be was a mom.  Mom raised us as little kids.  Dad spent his entire young adult life making a life for the rest of us while he worked himself into nervous heart palpitations and a few trips to the ER.  But Mom was also cruel in some things.  For reasons I'll never really know.

When we moved half the country away from home at 2 months before my 12th birthday to start over; things changed for us all.  Mom became a heavy drinker.  She still smoked and for a while it was up to 3 packs of cigarettes a day.  She couldn't get out of bed without her hangover coffee and 3-4 cigarettes most of the time.  More than once I cleaned up after her.  I never had friends over to the house.  Mom rarely showed for swim meets, but came to my plays and I'd worry, came to my band concerts and I'd worry.  I moved away when I went to college because I couldn't handle it.  I learned through her that I would never be pretty, smart or amount to anything.  Almost always when she was drunk and for years.

For her own reasons her drinking would get better or worse, she'd disappear and reappear at important occasions.  Dad would be furious but do nothing.  My brother Rick would be left to pick up the pieces.  I just couldn't do it. I couldn't deal with it.  My own self loathing was such that I married a man who began to beat me within 6 months of our wedding. Then later married a second man who cheated on me for 7 years...... It took me a long time to figure out that I could make choices that didn't hurt me or mean I was worthless.  I'm honestly still dealing with that every day.

12 years ago my mother had esophageal cancer.  That is a horrible type of cancer typically because it moves quickly, mets  out extremely fast and generally doesn't have a decent survival rate. Mom opted for high dose radiation rather than chemo because she didn't want to lose her hair.  1 year later, then 5 then 8 and then 10 she was pronounced cancer free.  In December of 2010, mom fell and cracked her hip on the ice.  the tests, scans and battery of other hospital crap over a period of about 8 weeks brought forth the diagnosis of lung cancer in her left lung.  Again, she opted for high dose radiation rather than chemo and it went well.  She handled this radiation better than the one years before and bounced back with renewed vigor.  Mom and Dad made plans to travel again.

Then at Thanksgiving of 2011, mom fell again and snapped her femur in two.  Surgery placed a pin and two screws to give her more stability than she'd had on that side in literally over a decade.  She went to a live-in rehab facility in Denver for 3-6 weeks.  3 weeks into it, she felt faint.  Her 02 sats were 75% and her heart rate had plummeted to 35.  They rushed her to the ER, she was admitted to the ICU ward at St Anthony's in Denver and was there two nights.  Once they figured out that due to her bilateral subclavial stenosis, her hands had little to no decent circulation, and placed the pulse oxometer on the right area, things got better.  She went back to the facility in 2 more days and was eventually released to go home within another 10.  She was again in good spirits and bitching at people in the way someone does when they'd had enough fawning over them.  Though the latest news was not good for the long run. Tests run during her stint in the ICU revealed liver cancer.  My mind said that the lung cancer had metted out faster than they thought and we would lose her before July of this coming summer.  I made plans to spend the week with my family and parents and brother in the early summer.

About a week after that, Mom fell in the house.  She didn't know how it happened, when it happened or anything about it. She was confused and upset.  The ambulance again arrived and she went to the hospital.  This time she had a compression fracture of a vertebra in her back.  Into a back brace and back to the center she went.

On Monday, Janurary 23, 2012 my brother called me at about 8am his time.  My first reaction was that something bad had happened to either mom again or to dad.  "I don't know how to say this, but I'm just going to.... Mom died last night."

Stunned, my mouth dropped open.  "WHAT?  THIS ISN"T FUNNY"

"I'm not kidding.  It happened sometime in the middle of the night. They don't know how exactly."

20 minutes of conversation and all I can say is... 'ok, ok, ok.'  To everything my brother tells me.  My guilt at not being there through dad's stroke, mom's illnesses and to help him came full force to hit me in the face.  The coroner wouldn't be releasing the body for a couple days due to the fact that she didn't die at home. They had to make sure it wasn't due to neglect or whatever at the facility.  That she wanted to be cremated gave me time thankfully to tell my employer, arrange my schedule, have the younger children looked after and book flights out to Denver.  I call my oldest cousin to tell him because my mom's brother is his father. And because he and I have a secret family plan. I couldn't call Unc myself.  I couldn't hold it together to do it.

I loved my mom.  I always will. Whatever differences we had, what ever cruel and mean things were said and done pale in the wake of losing someone who loved me in a way no other will on this earth.  The ground is so frozen where my folks live that we opted to not bury the ashes until this summer.  So we had a celebration of life or *wake* for her instead and I think 300 people came.  Some I knew. Most I didn't.  I hadn't been home to visit in a very long time over 30 years.  Maybe 3 times in all.  For me it was just too hard, too heartbreaking and sad.  I was never what mom wanted for a daughter, never enough for Dad to truly be proud of what I do.  But that doesn't detract from the love I felt and will miss every day.

At the Wake,  I looked at all the boards they put up with pictures of her through college, HS, my brother and I as kids, mom and dad's travels, their 50th wedding anniversary 2 years ago where I surprised them and brought the entire family out including 1 grand child they had not met yet.  Named after my dad.  I realized I had missed out on a lot.  My young kids had missed out even more in not getting to know them.  The guilt I feel will probably last forever because, well, I'm like that.  I have a big heart, I am hurt easily and I hold a grudge with the best of my Scot ancestors. (Sound familiar Mom?) 

Over the years I have made a point to tell my parents, my brother, friends and other relatives that I love them and mean it from the heart. I still do that every day.  My husband and I went out, I spent days going through Mom's things she left me.  Sorting, crying, marveling at all the stuff she collected over the years.  We came home on Sunday, Feb. 5th.  I went back to work. The kids came home, life resumed it's relatively normal pace.

I am more careful now. I do things for people I care about not because I feel obligated but because I don't know how long they will be in my life and I want to make it count.  I can't make up for the lost time with mom, but I will damn sure make use of the time I have now with those I have in my life.

I miss you Mom.  Every day.  I know that now you don't hurt, you don't hate yourself so much and you don't spend every waking hour worried or in pain.  I know you loved us all very much.  I hope that you know we loved you too.  Watch over Dad ok?  He doesn't know it, but he needs you still.  I hope someday, I can be the kind of mom that would make you proud.

[Sylk]

Memorial Day Wishes

Today is a day to remember. For me, it's not just those who have served, are serving or may serve in the future. It is a day of rememberance for all those who have left me behind in this life as well.

For those in the military: you wrote a blank check to our country payable with your life if need be. Some paid that price. Some in their way are still paying it. Some still have that check out there. You are not forgotten nor gone in my heart. I thank you for all that I have, all that I am able to do and for a country that I still believe in. I could not do what you do. Thank you.

For friends and family not in the service who are no longer with us in this life; Thank you for being part of mine. For the lessons you taught me and the love given. For the friendships and hardships which made me who I am now.

And lastly, but not least: For those of you in my life now: Thank you for being part of it. Thank you for your friendship, your love, your lessons, your hardship and even the hurt from time to time. Without all this, I wouldn't be me and I wouldn't have the amazing life I have now with the most wonderful blessings of family and friends both new and old, distant and close.

Thank you

[Sylk]

The last one

Today, my youngest went to his first day of preschool.  He'd been on a waiting list for a few months.  He was so excited he was going to 'real school' rather than "baby school".  That's the name we coined for daycare when I started working dispatch for a 911 center a few years ago.  I worked 12-16 hour days and nights and they flipped us from days to nights after 3 months or so.  Richard loved baby school. But he so wants to be big.  He's got an older step brother who is 19 and his older brother of almost 10 years loves going to school.  It's infectious, the excitement.  The youngest sees how proud I am of the middle child and wants to do the same.  He always wants to be like his big brothers.  I just want him to be happy.

So it's a melancholy day for me.  My paramour and I have had some rough times.  It's hard to love someone who denies he's capable of being loved on some strange subconscious level.  My husband and I have talked about it all extensively.  Our relationship is such that we get approval and veto rights, have to know who the other's 'other' is and meet them..... stuff like that.  He approved mine before I even realized I was considering it.  It was funny.  And today that person turns 46.  I'm 3 years older.

Dad turned 82 last month.  He'd been married to mom for 52 almost 53 years when she died this last January. When I look at my father, I still see the young photographer who hosted parties in the house with mom and us kids watching on the stairs as people spoke French and German in the house, played poker, drank cocktails and smoked.  I still see the smile and hear the coaxing voice behind the camera asking for a smile.  Then I look again and I think... Daddy, when did you get old?  It's hard.  His mom died at age 88 or so.  His dad didn't last into his late 50's because he had lung cancer and emphysema from pipe smoking.  I almost fear hearing from my brother because I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop.   

Watching people you love grow old..... it's not something you really think about all the time.  Watching the world being new to someone going through it for the first time is helping.  My youngest is a trip.  The middle child (my oldest) is amazing as well.  My stepson needs a good boot in the ass and on a regular basis, but he didn't come to live with us until he was 12, so there was a lot (was?  try still is) of damage both physical and mental to overcome as a result of his mother and step father.  Just getting him to hold a conversation beyond gutteral noises took a year.  So at 19 he has no motivation, doesn't give a crap about anyone or anything. Plays video games when he's not at his job and still doesn't have a driver's license.  He is one who will just have to learn the hard way I think.  Because he doesn't care if we are disappointed or angry.  Nothing phases him.  He is the teflon kid.  No blame, no intensity, nothing sticks to him.

The baby has a mercurial temperament. Much like mine.  My oldest is more even keel like his father. For them both I am more grateful than I can say.  The amount of imagination and curiosity they possess is amazing and scary at the same time.  Watching them both see the world as all new and wonderful is what keeps me going on days like this.  Knowing that I get to be a part of that makes it all worth it.

I wish my dad were closer.  My brother too.  I miss them a lot. But Dad won't leave where he is now.  He's been there so long that he'd be lost without all his circle of friends.  And my brother's friends are all within a couple hours of where they live.  So it's not likely he'll be closer any time soon either.  I guess I could uproot us, move us out there.  But honestly, it's not the place I spent my formative years.  It's over grown, has an enormous drug population, people get shot just like in the inner city now.... I hate it. I hate visiting and seeing just how awful the peaceful little town I knew growing up has become.

I miss being younger.  I miss life being more simple.  I don't miss childhood really... mostly because I don't remember much of it.  I don't have a lot of memory earlier than say age 8 or so.  Lots of people have memories farther back... I just don't. I don't know why.  I'm not certain I want to find out why either.  If I don't remember, there is probably a reason.

None of this is in any order. Most of it has terrible syntax and grammar.  You know what?  you don't like it... bugger off.  It's my blog.  I get a say on what I put here.  Feelings don't have to be grammatically correct have good syntax or even make sense.  So if this is not the kind of post you're looking for.... just move along.   I just had to get it out somewhere.

Sylk

[Sylk]

You Love Me

The first time you told me you loved me, I don't know that I even heard it.  Not in my heart.  My ears heard it, my brain registered it and filed it away for another time.
Since then, you have said it more often. At least once when we speak to each other. I have told you already many times how dear you are to me.  The forest and the trees..... we have talked about that.   You have rough times going on right now that you never thought you'd have to deal with.  I am here.  My dear friend and love, I am here.

Unfortunately, I don't think what you feel for me is any deeper than what you might feel for a sister.  It makes me sad in a way.  I miss how you used to look at me, how I used to make you feel.  I truly do.  My heart spills over for you as I watch you struggle with finding some way to fill a void you have had most of your life.  I have done what I can to tell you and show you that I am here, no matter what.  You are my best friend.  You have been abandoned, betrayed and used most of your life by family and people who would call themselves your friend.  I will tell you and show you every day that I will do none of those things.  Not willingly. 

My only request is that you not throw me away too.  I couldn't bear that.  You might not 'have time' for certain mind sets, ways of thinking or feeling more deeply than you are willing to admit, but I ask that you have the time to consider that what I do for you has always been out of love.  I can operate in no other way.  I love my friends, my family and my heart is overflowing with feelings.  It is who I am love.  It is who I am.  I could no more not love you than I could stop breathing and still live.  You know this.  You feel this from me.  You refuse to accept it or acknowledge it.  For now.  In time, you might figure it out.  That I was worth having in your life.  I hope you do my friend.  For you have given me what many could not.... a friend, a love, a confidant, someone who needs someone just to be there how ever they can.

I love you R.  You might never know how much.  We might only ever be amazingly good friends when it is all said and done.  I'm ok with that.  I will mourn part of what was and celebrate that which continues to be.

Be well my dearest friend. I am thinking of you on this day when you are nervous and scared and refuse to tell anyone but me.  It will be alright.  Take the strength I send in the form of love and comfort.  Call me when you need to talk. I will be here.  I will always be here for you.  When the world falls apart or when it finally comes together for you, I will be here.  It is what I do............. It is who I am

S

[Sylk]

The loss of a father
Friday, November 16th, 2012

In the early morning hours on Wed, October 24th, 2012 I was recovering patients from surgery at work.  It was a little after 1am EST.  My phone rings.  It’s playing the theme from the Wild Wild West the series.  That means someone in my family is calling. Since it’s only my Dad or my brother, I swear silently to myself and answer because it’s Rick.

“hello”

“Hey, It’s Rick. I have some bad news…..”

shit…. oh god…….

“Ok”….

“Dad died about 2 hours ago.”

There are tears in his eyes, I can hear them in his voice.  My brother really doesn’t cry.  He’s not an emotional sort really. At least not that I have ever seen much.  This time I didn’t tell him it wasn’t funny.  The nagging feeling I had been experiencing since Summer was gone and I knew it was this which had hovered on the horizon.  Fuck I hate being right.  I thought is was my Aunt’s death that had been that other shoe.  Then Mark Metz died in a hunting accident. In fact that afternoon, I had been to Mark’s funeral.  Tears rolled silently down my face as I listened to Rick recount what he knew, what he didn’t know and what the hell were we going to do now?  Two orphans with no clue and our parents snatched from us in an instant it seemed.

Brittany comes in and sees me on the phone, tears streaming down my face and asks what happened.

“My Dad just died” I tell her.

“you need to go home. Right now. I’ll stay, don’t worry about it, just go home.  Let me know you got home safe and we’ll talk to Dr. Chevalier in the morning.”

Brittany is a good kid.  I don’t have the words to thank her properly for her compassion and will to help in a situation no one should have to go through.  She didn’t argue, she just pointed. I left for home.  On the way I called Matt.  We cried together over the phone.  I cried all the way home.

When I was 18 I left for college in Iowa.  I was drugged and raped my first week there. I lost half a year or better of my memory and still don’t remember the actual event well.  What I do remember is enough.  I’m not sure I want to remember more.  I quit school, went home in shame and lived there until sometime in August when I went back to face demons.  I never really returned home.  I had become the black sheep of the family.  I went for my 10 year HS reunion, the occasional family holiday but that’s all.  I didn’t see my parents for 10 years or more. Mom got esophageal cancer and Dad felt that as aggressive as those cancers can be, we’d best have a family vacation and NOW.  So he paid for the four of us to go to Spain for 14 days.  It was amazing.  Once again, I was the black sheep. My perforated and painted body was something Mother didn’t approve of.  While Dad might not have approved, at least he like the artwork I chose to display, if not the medium in which I did it.  Another strike against me.  I had already married and divorced my first husband who beat me.  I was on my second husband whom I didn’t love, but offered financial security for a time.  That ended not long after the trip to Spain.  I moved to West Virginia.  I had friends, a good job and my hobby. I met my current husband.   I was truly happy for the first time ever.  I had the first and only grandchild.  Mom and Dad came out for the birth of my first born.  It was traumatic and wonderful all at once.  Mom seemed to forgive me some.  We talked for the first time in over 15 years.  Dad and I got closer.  I still didn’t go home.  My home was here now, with the family I had helped create.  I was loved.

Mom got cancer again. Years of smoking finally reared up in her lungs.  Found after a fall which broke her hip and cracked her pelvis, she underwent radiation therapy once more.  Handling it much better than the same regemen for her throat 8 years prior.  But the radiation had left her bones brittle and she’d fallen again.  Surgery and more tests, a live in rehab center for athletes and convalescents, and mom recovered from the lung cancer.  But the tests had revealed cancer of her liver this time.  in 3 weeks or less Mom went from recovering to a back injury due to brittle bones.  Then one night, she broke her back, threw a clot and it was over.

Somewhere in the middle of this my father had a stroke.  For 10 days I didn’t even KNOW about it. No one called me.  NO ONE.  I was hurt, livid, angry, crushed.  In many ways I still am.  I wasn’t there for him and was refused the right to come out to help when I offered to quit my job, take a leave of absence or whatever was needed and do just that.  I was the daughter that no one wanted.

My parents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary 2 years ago this last August.  I flew my entire family out, including a grand son neither of them had ever met as a surprise.  It was the only time I had seen my father cry.  Mom never really said anything.  I’m not even sure she was happy to see me.  The boys I know she wanted to see, but me…. I’ll never really know.  A year and a half later,on January 22, 2012, Mom died.  We flew out to her celebration of life.  Her urn was placed on the mantle. The ground was frozen so we couldn’t bury her.  We opted to do so in the summer when the ground was more forgiving.  6 months later, my boys, my husband, my brother, Dad and a few very close friends shoveled dirt over mom’s urn in a simple grave in a graveyard which houses bones as old as the gold rush and before.  In my head, I buried my mom twice.

That week we went with Dad to some silly things like burrow races in Fairplay, dinner with friends, sight seeing and just quality time with my Dad.  It was nice.  Matt and I decided we’d take the family out again very soon because the boys needed to know their Grand Pere and he needed to know them.

In September my Aunt died.  Rick and I went to her funeral and were reunited with mom’s brother and our cousins.  We, the kids, had formulated a secret plan to get a family which had drifted apart over 30 years back together.

October… and here we are.  Rick and I split phone calls to people we know from our old home town.  We hack into Dad’s email to send a blanket email about his death to people we didn’t have phone numbers for since Dad’s phone had gone missing the night he died.  Rick and I posted both our phone numbers on the email to contact.  Of the HUNDREDS of people on the lists…. one called me.  ONE.  And that was because he couldn’t get in touch with Rick fast enough.  I am still…. the daughter that wasn’t.  Rick, Matt and myself shoveled dirt over Dad’s urn in a grave right next to Mom’s.  It was a beautiful day.

The amount of guilt I carry now is staggering.  I wasn’t there for Mom’s Illnesses, nor Dad’s stoke and recovery.  Rick carried it all and became the local hero in the eyes of all the people my parents knew and loved at home.  I was simply some girl they claimed as a daughter that they never saw and didn’t really care to see.  It hurts.  More than I have words for, it hurts every damn day. I hurt for Rick who hasn’t had a life for 20 years, I hurt for the loss of my mom who never really wanted me around, and for my Dad who didn’t really accept me for who I am, but did try. I hurt for the loss of a grandfather my boys will never really know.  He was amazing.

I cry every day.  I try not to, but I do.  There is so much I wanted to say and do with Dad still. So much about him I wanted my boys to know.  So now I have to settle for stories and pictures and his photographic art to tell the story of a man who for as long as I can remember represented my whole world.

People who know me well try to understand and express their sympathy. But they don’t know, they can’t see. I died that day too in some ways.  I’m not good company,  I’m needy and insecure.  I both need to be alone and want to be with people so I don’t have to think.  I am a mess. I want to crawl under a rock and stay there.

Rick can finally have a life.  But I know he’s a little lost right now.  He’s spent so much time over the years looking after our parents that now…….. And I feel guilty over that.  I wish so much were different.

Spend time with people you love. Tell them you love them, show them at every opportunity.  Tomorrow might not come.



LH

[Athos]

I'm so sorry to hear about your father Sylk. I'm sending you all my best and thinking about you tonight. Lots of love!

Athos

[Sylk]

the heart breaks, the spirit dies, the tears fall
look what you have done to me..... look what I let you do.

[Sylk]

Of Heroes and Monsters

I've been a vet tech nor 18 years. Thirteen of them in emergency or critical care wards. Over the years I have learned many many things about people, animals and attitudes in life.  But no matter how much one learns in a field like this, one is never fully prepared for things when they happen to one of our pets. 

I have a parrot, a standard poodle who was retired from show and I adopted him, and 5 cats. One of the cats is the first truly smashed face Persian I've ever owned.  He's the sweetest cat ever.  He also can't sneak up on anything or anyone because he snorts all the time. His name is Phinius. He had a brother named Ferb who went to someone I worked with. Ferb and Phinius are orange. Last Saturday morning I noticed Phinius ( who we also call "snorttle cat" or "insta-cat") walking rather stiffly.  Then he spent way too much time in the litter box and had nothing to show for it.  I have been dreading this since I brought him home.  His breed predetermined him to have urinary blockage problems. This is a life threatening situation.  I texted the doctor I work with at night and asked her to meet me at the clinic to look at him and possibly place a urinary catheter.  We found no crystals in the urine but tons of bacteria and immediately placed him on pain meds and antibiotics.  I put an IV in him and hooked him up to fluids, we ran bloodwork  and it was scary.  His values were off the charts due to the infection so home he came on fluids and my boss gave me permission to borrow an IV pump for the weekend. 

Today is Thursday.  It's Valentine's Day.  Phinius has had the urinary catheter removed twice now in hopes that the antibiotics had helped enough.  But his angry urethral sphincter had other ideas.  Tonight we placed the third urinary catheter.  He wears a 'cone of shame' and will undergo surgery either Friday afternoon or Saturday afternoon to make him pee like a girl.  ( my apologies to the men reading this part.). The surgery is called a perineal urethrostomy. They generally work well to resolve problems like this.  I hate this. I feel like a terrible kitty mom.  The sweetest cat in the world has been in a cage for almost a full week, wearing an inverted lamp shade with a plastic urinary catheter sewn in.....  Pain meds, Valium and now two types of antibiotics not withstanding, he just wants to go home. If you're sitting here reading this and saying "it's just a cat", then don't bother to comment. I don't have time for ugliness right now.

Yesterday my husband was in a car accident.  He's fine and the car suffered minimal damage.

Earlier in the week the preschool my youngest attends affectively 'lost' my son and I had to go to the facility to find him. ( he wasn't on the bus to transport him to the elementary school where that facility also picks up after school program kids and brings them back. My son rides to the elementary school since they have to go there anyway and I pick up both kids in one place). This was the third time and I was livid.  That the people are not missing body parts as a result is testimony to the amount of restraint I exhibited that afternoon.  Fortunately my son didn't seem to know what snafu had gone on and was just as happy to see Mommy as any other time.

So those are the monsters

The heroes are my boys (who seem to think I'm the best Mommy on the planet for what ever reason I have yet to fathom....)as well as a few friends from Elliquiy who have dropped me a line here and there to check on me, offer encouragement and in general are just very kind individuals. Thank you gentlemen.  It means more than you know. Lastly, my husband who said "we'll do what we need to for Phinius, don't worry."  He doesn't really like most of the other cats.... But is very attached to this little fuzz ball.

If I come up short, seem distant when I talk to you, or am otherwise extremely distracted in our communication, please know it's probably not you. There have just been a lot of monsters in my life recently and not enough heroes......

Sylk

[Sylk]

Definitions

I found one of the best definition of Polyamoury ever the other day and I thought I'd share it with folks.  Being Poly is sometimes difficult to get across to people that it's not 'being easy' or a 'man whore' or a 'slut'.  It's rather philosophical in many ways.... like trying to define love in all its aspects. Since it's a little different for everyone.  So I thought I'd post the link here.  I hope I do this correctly. I'm sure someone will yell at me if I don't.

goodmenproject.com/featured-content/what-is-polyamory

The site has a lot of really interesting articles and information.  I highly recommend it.

Cheers,

Sylk

[Sylk]

Outside Looking In

The apurture opens
The shutter clicks
a moment is captured
the outside, looking in

words are shared
a smile is given
a memory created
on the outside, looking in

what do you see, you people gazing at me?
you are on the outside looking in

you don't want to know what I see, on the inside..... afraid to peer out.............

[Sylk]

A year ago January I lost my mom.  In many ways, I'd lost her long ago to alcohol and her own demons. She'd battled 2 different cancers, had brittle bones and just about 2 weeks after she'd been diagnosed with a third type of cancer, her spinal vertibrae shattered, threw a clot and she was gone.  I miss her.  I should probably miss her more than I do actually, but since I was about 12, we just couldn't manage to keep any kind of accord really.

Then, in August, my Aunt died in a freak car accident.  Her husband is my Mom's brother.  They have three boys, my first cousins. What I'd lost in an Aunt, I had gained in my cousins again.  We'd lost touch many years ago.  Both grandfather's died when I was 6. Both grandmothers when I was about 28.

This last October, my Dad died suddenly.  My world fell in on itself and has spiraled downward in waves ever since. I still have the last text conversation with him on my phone because I can't bear to delete it.  I called the house before my brother had the phone service disconnected just so I could hear his voice on the answering machine one more time.

At Christmas my 19 year old step son moved back in with his mother after living with us since the age of 12 when his step father hit him so hard he hit back finally and was kicked out.  His mother didn't write, call, visit or otherwise communicate with him for 18 months.  When she finally did, and he went to visit, he had to sleep on the floor because the woman had rented his room out the minute he was gone from the house and he had no where else to sleep.  Yeah, she's a piece of work.  I'd love to drop her down an abandoned mine shaft with about 25 pounds of lime on top.

Three weeks ago my 5 year old told my husband that he didn't want to die.

Right now I feel like I'm on the outside of everything.  I don't belong, hate my reflection, not liking my job or most of the people in it, and am having trouble even with my hobies.  I'm old, fat, tired, and generally just not doing all that great. A friend of mine told me recently that I'm the most compassionate person he's ever met.  That I'm entirely too hard on myself and should cut myself a break.  Only thing is, I just don't know how.  Affirmations are fine if they work for you.  They don't work for me.  So many years of hearing that I wasn't smart, pretty, what was wanted in a daughter or wanted at all make seeing oneself in a different light difficult at best.  "the bad stuff is easier to believe".

I swear if I hear one more person tell me "but you're such a good person" I'm going to cold cock them to the floor.  Because in the end, if one isn't appealing on the outside, very damn few will bother with looking for what's on the inside. and just once in my flipping life I would like to stop traffic not because I look like some joke, but because that many people saw on the outside what some find on the inside.  Yeah... maybe in another lifetime....

Sylk

[Sylk]

It's been 3 years. Can t be that long?  Reading over the stuff from the death of my parents it feels like yesterday.

My oldest goes to high school this fall. He made show choir, got a new helm for heavy fighting and is in honors classes. My youngest is learning the lessons of personal space, entertaining himself without electronics and respecting that which is not his.  I am a proud mom. 

Surgery for me in late August. The turn of a new leaf. And the start of a long and necessary road. It was a difficult decision to make but will be worth it.

So where have I been?  In training. Started a new job that had training classes of 12 weeks. Now I'm starting my third year and it's still strange and often difficult. Very much out of my comfort zone but I'm making due.

The boys have outgrown most everything. My oldest started this with the top of his head level to my eyes. He now has to bend down to hug me at 5ft 8 or 9 inches and a 12 shoe.   My husband is quite tall so I know my son will also be. It's just very disconcerting sometimes. Then I see someone with a new baby and wonder if mine were truly ever that small. Watching them grow up is bittersweet but also worth it.  Though as the country is today, I almost feel I've done them a disservice. 

I'm still going through stuff from my parents home. My father was a free lance photographer who's prize student now heads the photography department at university of Athens, Ohio. So I have lots of his pictures about the house. It makes me feel I'm less alone. That he's still looking after me somehow. As ridiculous  as that sounds.  Some days it's harder than others. Like fighting waves in a storm that ebbs and rages.

I'm still struggling up that hill but I can feel the road evening in places. I'll get there. Just have to keep moving.