Multifaceted – Ashleigh/Religion/PTSD

Can’t remember if I blogged about it, it’s been a while.  (Yes, I say that frequently)

I wound up buying two Lice treatments for Ashleigh and boyfriend.  It cost almost $50.  And I was quite worked up afterwards. It’s hard to explain the dichotomy.  She’s my daughter and I love her/don’t love her behaviors and/or actions.  I want to support her but also, she needs to learn what supporting herself means as opposed to taking advantage of others that are good hearted and eventually their hearts turn cold to her.  This was by no means the end of it all.

So I found out that Ashleigh had baby #3.  This one needs to have heart surgery in Milwaukee and probably if not definitely has downs syndrome.  And the social worker (from what Tim said that Ashleigh said…._) was contemplating Ashleigh keep the baby.  In my mind, I became so angry.  First let me state, ASHLEIGH said this.  This by no means constitutes whether it’s true or not.  However, I went purely off reaction.  NOT looking at both sides of things initially.  The prospect that things might not be what they seem did not occur to me until later.  I became seething with rage.  Why?  Because shortly before I found out the baby was born, I heard from Eric who heard from a mutual friend that Ashleigh had just been asking for help on facebook for essentials that she didn’t already have.  (This was confirmed by a screenshot the mutual friend took with her own phone)  It seems that Ashleigh feels the need to breed, but not to do the hard work that is accompanied with that.  You know, funding the child.  Social services are great, but that also means that you’re accountable to them for something.  And that my friends, does not work in her world.  You know, foodstamps require proof of eligibility with financial information.  Etc, etc.  I felt like… sure, the social worker says that Ashleigh may be able to keep this baby because it’s not the “normal” baby like the other two she gave birth to in New Mexico.  However, someone emotionally charged like her leads me to feel like she is in no way capable of being patient or providing the services that school, or other things that might be needed some day.  Hell, even seeing a social worker of their own.  So many of the things we had to abide by for her well being.  And not because we took shoddy care of her, but because we wanted to give her the best chance given her mental illnesses that were present.

I would LOVE to believe I am wrong.  That this is going to be the one thing that is going to straighten her out.  That she’ll be able to rise above it because now what she’s wanted for ever is in her possible grasp.  Even after she gave birth, she apparently was begging for people to provide her with money to get a bus pass.  (Also, something that you can get if you go through certain county services… but see above)  So, little has changed.  Her opportunity to flourish is limited.  Next, I’m waiting for her to show up on Green Bay crime reports for child cruelty, endangerment, abuse, etc.  Or something unrelated.  Because she’s Ashleigh.

Which leads me to what I meant to say.  After I found out about and dealt with the information provided to me, I had some relatively difficult anxiety/PTSD moments.  To the point where I was considering stopping after work at the crisis center downtown to talk to a therapist right away.  After all, my therapy isn’t until the 30th and I needed to do something about what was festering in me.  I had no relief.  I did remember, however, the fact that I had lavender pills to calm the anxiety in me.  Lavender pills are an alternative to the pharmaceutical anti anxiety pills.  And healthier.  Spread the word….. (just beware of the lavender burps.. I never got them.  It is a side affect)  And that helped.  So emergency was over.  Crisis center averted.  I cried, I bitched, I moaned, and tried to move on.  But after the baby was born, I again found myself in this mode.  I tried to call my therapists office to see if there was a last minute cancellations.  I was desperate.  I JUST wanted to feel…. normal and get some kind of validation for how I was feeling.  Even if it just seemed weird to the outside world.

If in case you haven’t had the experience of raising a child with severe mental illness issues like BPD, or others, let me tell you… In my next life I will screen my partners for mental illness before we get to the nitty gritty of things.  I really and honestly didn’t think much of it.  After all, who am I to judge?  I am changed, in my approach to children.  I am so completely jaded in how I look at children these days.  My hope and prayers for children to not go through what a child with mental illnesses or other things worse… it’s there.  However, I just cannot fathom being a parent to anything that stands on two feet anymore.  I tried with Ashleigh.  I gave everything that I could to raise her and give her the best change at life.  And her payback to me was hurting me more than anyone in my life ever has and hopefully more than anyone ever could again.  Not only did she punch me near my incision after I got my ICD placed, blame my husband and I for “killing” my youngest daughter, blame me for her homelessness over the course of the many years.  I mean, there are so many stories I could tell you.  I just don’t have the time or patience to tell you them all.   There was no “village” as people say it takes to raise a kid until it was almost too late and she was placed in foster care.  After that… sheesh!  I lived by my appointment book.

So today, I drove to Walmart on the East Side of Green Bay.  I drove by the apartment building where Ashleigh lives and looked toward the place, into the windows and in front of the building hoping like hell not to see her.  And then when I was leaving, I saw a Green Bay City Bus pull through to drop people off and fear that I’d see her on it.  Fortunately, I didn’t see her.  The fear was very real.  I WISH that I didn’t feel this way about her.  I wish that I could feel a true sense of compassion and love for her like most parents do.  Things would be so much easier if that were the case.  Ashleigh derailed me.  And I have to pick up the pieces… again.

Next topic:  My mom.  When I was growing up with my mom, she was the person to teach me things.  A lot of times I’d see her visiting with family or friends of hers.  She’d be doing things around the house, taking care of my niece Stephanie, watching Oprah, or dieting.  My mom was never really at peace with herself and how she looked.  She was always dieting.  I was diagnosed with depression at 13 while she was still around, but I don’t think we ever really discussed it despite the fact that she suffered with it herself.  We did spend time together, but it was mostly going out to someone’s home, going shopping… but a lot of the times I didn’t feel like I was truly connecting with my mom.  I wanted more of her time, but I don’t think she could give it. Especially after Dianne died.  By the time I was 14 years old, she was yanked out of my grasp.  I was no longer able to learn from her.  I could only wish for what other kids had.  And a prayer to God that he could either save her and bring her back, or to end the suffering.  I cannot even tell you how long those thoughts had been muttered.  When I would hear about things that were being advanced in treatment of people like my mom, I’d email my dad.  While my dad was raising me, I think there were only a couple times where I really connected with him.  And only once did I ever feel special and accepted to him.  The other times I felt completely wrong.  Like at church.  So – it kinda goes like this.

I embrace if you go to a church that makes you feel good.  I do not, however, embrace a church that makes people feel bad.  Or separates you (chosen ones vs not… going to hell or going to heaven.)  I honestly believe that if there is a supreme being in the universe – it is not an us or them.  It is us all.  Well, except for the truly wicked.  And those individuals will be taken to task at how the universe or the supreme being decides.  A child that is acting out because all her stability being removed out from under her acting in troublesome ways should not be viewed as – that kid is just wrong.  Or judged by humanity, or even avoided.  That, is my story.  When I started acting out, it wasn’t that I was viewed with compassion.  I was viewed as someone to stay away from.  And although I understand why to some extent now (and I do mean SOME), I was ultimately penalized and never made to feel whole.  Even now, as much as I hate to admit this – I am continuing to try to make myself feel whole because no one else really truly helped me do that.  My relationships are fractured.  I don’t engage with people much and whenever I do – I always feel as though I’m not doing well enough or they are just putting up with me .  Not because I’m worthy.

For years after marrying Eric, I sat in the basement at Eric’s parents home because I believed in my mind of minds that my in laws hated me.  It wasn’t until one day Eric came downstairs to tell me that his parents were afraid that I hated them.  And even then, I still had a hard time feeling like they gave any amount of shits for me.  My former therapist, Jayne.  She and I connected.  And before she retired, I had this thought when I was looking in the mirror of one of my apartments I lived in.  I had this thought of, what if she’s a mother?  And at that point, I bawled.  I never really saw her in any other hat, other than therapist.  That hat suited me, and that hat didn’t hurt me.  And when we discussed it, I told her about my reaction.

Mothers scare me.  Mostly because it’s what I was never really allowed to have.  Despite the fact that I have a mother in law, I rest in the fact that it’s not really my mother.

Most people I still hold at an arm’s length because I feel like in my heart of hearts that I”m not accepted.  My friend Shannon stayed the night here one night after the Jeff Dunham show in Green Bay.  We had such a wonderful time.  The next day her husband came to pick her up and I completely folded.  I love Shannon to bits.  She’s probably the first person in recent history that I’ve really felt like I connected with and I stand to lose.  And that was hard.  And it was truly devastating.  I literally wanted to grab her and never let go.  But that is so impossible and unhealthy.  And also, kidnapping.

Also, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this, but I hate the name  – God.  I would prefer to call it///him///her anything other than God.  I prefer to spell the statement, Gawd and not the supreme being.  I refer to something above as the light or whatever.  I do not like the name God.  And I only type this because it’s a statement of how I feel.  An explanation.  It’s complicated, my relationship with the divine.  I believe there is something out there in the universe.  Something that brought humanity to the forefront.  I don’t know if it’s necessarily a scientific explanation or a creation explanation.  I will submit to the fact that there is something… and something I don’t know.  I’ve been really trying to get better at accepting the fact that things are as they are and I cannot change the past.  I have grown in the face of adversity and have become a better person.  I just can’t say that I’ve grown so much to remove the damage that has been done in every facet of my life.  I’m STILL very hurt and traumatized to what I’ve been through.  And I feel like there are a lot of people that don’t understand me and seem to feel like if they argue enough, that I’ll submit.  Or even give up.  I know for myself though that I know how I feel and no one can tell me that I’m wrong for how I feel.  I’ve gained a certain amount of self respect over the years.  It’s bizarre and I like it, but I’m conflicted by it.  It’s like trying on a skimpy dress on an overweight frame.  It just doesn’t feel right.  And maybe it makes you feel secretly good… but it’s not something you can show the world because it would hurt too much.  (woah, that was a great analogy!  Good job, Janet!)  I am aware that I never would have become this person, found my way to the degree that I am… however, after 17 years of marriage – I still don’t feel like Eric really loves me or that I have him to count on for the rest of time.  People die.  I’ve had fears that I’d come home and he’d be dead.  (I think this comes from the fact that I’ve lost so many people in my young life) I also worry that maybe someday he’d change his mind.  That he’d see in me what – though has always been there, just gotten sick of it and then I’m on my own.

(Jesus, he’s watching the Jeff Goldblum series on Disney Plus…. sigh… )

I want to believe that the people that love me, love me for me.  Or even the people that I’m convinced don’t accept me, but do…. that I could actually believe that.  That I wouldn’t have to rely so much on people telling me that I’m good, I’m awesome… etc.  The feeling that I can feel self assured.  How can you feel self assured if you don’t really hear that you’re doing a good job?  And even when I am told I’m doing a good job, or that I’m a good person – I don’t trust that they mean what they say.  I cannot quite get beyond!  Or if someone doesn’t answer my text right away, do they hate me?  Did something happen that I don’t know about?  Is it me?  Did i do something wrong?  My self doubt goes back decades and I’ve never really felt like I’m okay.

Please, help me heal.  Anything.  God, Allah, Buddah, the light, the divine, or Goddess.  Help me find my way to my true self so I don’t feel like I’m drowning in this abyss that is my self disgust or lack of acceptance.

 

Trying To Fight the Good Fight

On Christmas Day, my husband and I were told by my mother in law that her husband was sick and Christmas was cancelled for us.  I knew my father in law was not feeling well and didn’t obviously blame him.  I was angry for a completely different reason.

I did get a Christmas card from one of my family members on my dad’s side, and that was nice.  Being recognized as family is a wonderful thing.  Even if it’s what everyone else gets for the season.  I do have many family members that don’t talk to me or haven’t talked to me in years.  Many moons ago, my one brother asked me how I figured that they would still contact me?  What do we have in common anymore?  We have blood.  That’s what we have in common.  I am still the same person that I was then.  I just don’t go to the same building for props to a Lord and Savior.  Matter of fact, after my experiences – going wouldn’t feel right to me.  So maybe if it’s not me leaving the church that hurt my relationship with them – maybe they’re just rejecting me.  I’m not good enough for my family.  Or the bulk of them.  (And yes, I’m 43 years old and still thinking about this)  One of the things I uttered to my husband as tears were streaming down my face was this: “Would my mom be proud of these people for turning their backs on me?  Oh well, I guess since they don’t want me in their lives – I’m better off.  At least this way I know who accepts me.”

And then yesterday I was contacted by the same brother about Ashleigh (my surviving daughter, estranged)  I haven’t seen her since last June and I truly don’t want to start now.  (If you don’t know about her, go back a number of blogs and educate yourself.  Though, I’ve been doing this for a while)  My sibling texts me asking if I’d do him a favor.  Ashleigh has lice and needs a lice kit.  If I could run it to her, he’d be grateful.  Ashleigh has been through a lot (burglary where kids were at home at the time and in November a house fire – which no one yet has responded to her “Go Fund Me” page asking for donations)  I get frustrated because this is hardly the first time she’s had to be treated for lice.  And who knows, maybe she’s cheated again on Cody and this isn’t head lice.  Maybe this is body lice.  The same head lice takes care of body lice…. But I digress.. ::shudders::

I wind up crying before I leave the house because I’m so mad and I drive to Wal-Mart on the East Side of Green Bay.  I buy two boxes of Nix that have a security alarm on it for Ashleigh and possibly Cody??  The clerk takes the security thing off and then hands me my bag with what I only can assume, reservations.  He doesn’t even make skin to skin contact.  But after what I bought, I guess I don’t blame him.  He likely doesn’t love his job and don’t want to have to take an unpaid day of work because of some creepy customer.

I drive to the location where Ashleigh apparently lives.  I see a basement door with a hand written note on the door saying to keep the door shut (mind you, the door was partially open.  Either the note was ineffective… or the lock is.  Who’s to say?) and a Monster Energy Drink sticker underneath said note.  I walk up a series of steps that are exposed to the elements.  The wood surrounding the steps to protect against the elements was painted white and obviously hasn’t had a recent paint job.  It made me feel very awkward.  As I get up to the top, there is two apartments doors numbered  not far away from one another.  On the floor are empty pizza boxes and bagged garbage.  Given the fact that I’d prefer an enema to what I was doing – judgement of lifestyle wasn’t really happening to the people living inside.  It was dark, the surroundings were jinky… and I was doing a wholly unpleasant task.  I just wanted to leave this area as quickly as I could.

Once I left, my sibling notified Ashleigh that said package was dropped off.  I drove to my in laws house to drop off an item Eric bought for them and stayed to decompress for about 45 minutes.   I literally sat there and looked at them and said – I can see how people make unwise choices because they are stressed!  I want to shove my face into a chocolate cake right now and just hope to wake up to having feet in the morning (I’m diabetic… though I know even being diabetic your feet don’t run away.  That requires doctors.  I was just being sassy with my humor)  I would have liked to do just about anything to help “numb” the pain.  But instead, I sat and talked to my in laws about how upset I was.  How much I needed to make a therapy appointment but cannot because work cannot project how much staff is needed without knowing if the Packers will continue their winning streak.  (I do not live in Green Bay, I do not LOVE the Packers… but I’m close to Green Bay.  Yes, it happens.)

Here’s the thing.  Ashleigh is a challenging sort.  She really and truly is.  And if you’re walking into my page not knowing about our background, there is a lot you’re missing.  Just not for you.  I love Ashleigh, unconditionally.  I don’t love her choices.  I love my grandkids that she’s lost to adoption because of being unfit.  Some day, hopefully they’ll look for me.  I hope to all that is good in this world that some day she will help herself.  And not just what she feels that she needs in the moment.  That she’ll have an epiphany.  She’ll realize that she’s been forging relationships the wrong way.  That she’s been screwing people over because she’s self serving, instead of investing in people with words and time.  That her disabilities are not going to be the beginning of the end for her.  She can make her own path to wellness if she commits to doing the hard work.  And it is HARD!  While she was growing up, I worked.  And I’m working again after being on social security for a number of years.  (And I’m not one of those people cheating the system either… don’t get up in arms here!) I clean toilets, or do laundry, etc.  When I do these tasks that most people may thing are above them – I hold myself up knowing that although most people won’t appreciate the clean toilets while they’re using them… I’m committed to helping people  have a stay that is clean and safe.  You want me in your corner if you’re staying out of town.  Or at least people like me.  I give a shit about people.  And I give a shit about Ashleigh.  I want her to see what benefits she could have if she just engaged more with life instead of taking the perceived easy route.  Stop taking on living with people because you don’t want to commit to finding a place on your own.  Stop asking people for money and try to find a part time job.  I am well aware that.  She has borderline personality disorder, among other mental illnesses that really make things difficult for her to attain a job that requires little training for.  If you have experienced people like this, you get it.  If not, realize this isn’t an excuse for people with mental illness not to work.  On the contrary.  Look it up.  There is so much more to mental illness than just someone being dumb enough to diagnose.

I want anyone new to my blog to understand that my tone is not one of uncaring or just outright agitation.  I mean, agitation is definitely there.   I have PTSD as a result of parenting this child.  I fell asleep last night and dreamt that I was still in that neighborhood.  That I was walking across the bridge to the west side of the town, of course since the Simpsons were on in the background in real life – they appeared in my dream for a short time.  But then I wound up walking on side roads and saw someone in the snow that collapsed after a successful suicide attempt and the police just kinda were – meh…. so they finally did do it?  And wandered on.  Not calling in the death to the coroner, just walking by.  Unphased.  I realized I was on my period and had to figure out where a dollar general was so I could walk to get new underwear and pads.  Then the bus that Ashleigh was going to take to go somewhere, the bus took off with her kid in it and not her.  I assume that my dream meant that I am trying to take control of my world around me.  That Ashleigh is going to lose baby #3 because of her incapacity to take care of the other two that she gave birth to.  Not only would the child be unsafe – but the baby potentially has downs syndrome.  And anyone that cannot mop at a job because they say they have disabilities is not going to be able to raise a child with special needs.  Or just a child in general.

I would like to hope that her story will end “happily ever after”.  With how much stigma still exists for people with mental illness, with the lack of proper health care workers and her incapacity to accept the help she TRULY needs – I just don’t ever see that happening.  I have never asked for her to excel at life to the point she’s a NASA scientist.  I don’t even want her to get any degrees other than being able to live life with a purpose, with a belief that she is loved, and to know how to have fulfilling relationships with people.  I will be jaded for a very long time for this reason.  And I suspect until I can get the hurt out of my brain and my heart for this child (who will be 24 next year), I will be somewhat still a mess.  At least I’m not unaware of my problems and can try to face them head on.  And once the Packers allow me to have a full schedule, I’ll make that damn appointment and do the hard work I need to do to have Ashleigh in my subconsciousness and conscious. I don’t deserve to live that way.  I am fighting the good fight and I know I’m worthy of love.  And I always will be.  Just like the rest of us, Ashleigh not excluded in that.  She just has yet to see that.

How (Exactly), Did I Get Here?

I wrote an email to my godmother (or at least one of the three godmothers I have) yesterday.  I was filling her in on all of my progress. All of the things that are wonderful in my life now.  We barely talk, but I know that she cares about me.  And I like who I’m becoming now, so I wanted to share in my victories.

But how….

How did this come to pass?

The beauty and splendor that I now see.

How….?

It started when I was 11 years old and my sister died.  She was 11 years older than I was at the time, but it still hit me hard.  I think anytime you experience your first death, someone close to you.  Like your world turns upside down.  And then, a few years later, my mom.  Although my mom didn’t die, the person I knew and loved did.  She was literally a shell.  She couldn’t talk, walk, or even eat/move on her own.  And my father was literally falling apart.  Do I blame him?  No.  At the time, I was alone.  The person who modeled for me who to be and how to make my future was now gone.  And almost every day, I’d see her and remember who she no longer was.  And every time, I wanted to die inside.

I attempted to start my life over again.  My dad got me into therapy.  And although he wasn’t the picture of mental health, he wanted me to try to find my own mental health.  It truly is hard when you have no one showing you what you need to be in your close family.  But you hire someone to do it for you.  Although I understand why, I still get frustrated.  So what did I do?  I did just like he did.  I pretended everything was okay – even though, like my mom – I was a shell.

I wanted to feel love, so I found sex.  Of course, the people who were there in that respect didn’t want that.  And for a long time, I didn’t know that.  Hell, at one point – I didn’t care.  Someone was paying attention to me.

Society seems to be in this crux of figuring out that mental illness is a true issue for so many people.  Bullying seems to be hard too.  Not just on children and young people, but adults too.  Hell, Darrian at one time wanted to kill herself because of the bullying she was put through.  And you have people who have committed terrible atrocities because they themselves were bullied or abused.  The crux is that a certain percentage wants to acknowledge that mental illness is real, and a certain percentage still believe that mental illness is a fabrication – to excuse ourselves from the real issues at hand.  And while I agree that something needs to be done about gun control – that still leaves access to making weapons of mass destruction lite.  A bomb, or anything that could create mass casualties without needing to wield an AK-47.  People need to realize the ramifications of behaviors.  Whether it’s bullying or abuse.  We need to teach the future about not being judgmental assholes.  Accept people for being different.  Try to bring peace and not hate.  And just because you don’t understand them, doesn’t mean they deserve to be condemned.

I believe that may have been part of why I loved Martin Luther King Jr. so much.  I read every book that I could get my hands on about him.  He preached love and acceptance.  I also believe that’s why I love the John Lennon song “Imagine.” So many people have preached love and acceptance.  And instead, the world continues to go down this negative trajectory.  And history teaches us… what, again?

But I had sex…. and I drank a little.  And maybe smoked some pot.  And when I went to where my brother and my parents felt safe?  I didn’t.  Eventually, when I became out of hand, my closest cousin to me was barred from being in my presence by my Uncle.  Some of my friends couldn’t be in the car with me if I was with unbelievers.  And to a point, I could see where that parent was coming from.  I wasn’t hanging out with the top brass kids.  I was hanging out with trouble makers.  And I guess I hung out with them because they accepted me.  And I liked trouble, at the time.  Not always the consequences.  Looking back though, how many people asked me if they could help me?  How many people tried to take me under their wing and not assume that I was just an asshole kid.

My brother says that it was my responsibility to go to church, because I was a kid.  And that’s what you did.  And when you act like an asshole, you get treated like an asshole.  (Honestly, I don’t remember if he said that… or if I said it)  And although I admit, I was an asshole and I did what I wanted – there is a true correlation to bad things/traumatic events happening and going down the wrong path.  If you talk to any kid in foster care, prison or juvenile facilities, etc… they will likely tell you that they weren’t there because they lived a life full of puppies and rainbows.  SOMETHING happened that helped to create the problem.  And hardly anyone could do anything other than remove them from either their families to heal with a new, or remove them from society.  And while I accept that a lot of people aren’t asked the pivotal question of “What’s wrong?”, and “How can I be there for you?”, people need to.

I think a lot of people think that I took the wrong path, and I did.  And people turned the other cheek.  Or stared at me.  Or made me feel like I was a terrible person.

My family REALLY doesn’t talk to me.  And I’m not going to hunt them down to come to me either.  If they choose to be separate from me, so be it.

So, how did I get here?  How did I figure out what I needed to to feel happy?  Feel content!

I can tell you what it wasn’t – but that’s a much longer list.

Firstly, my mom started this process by giving me a diagnosis of Depression.  She saw that there was something wrong and I began treatment for it.

My dad attempted to get therapy for me, as I mentioned, so that’s something.  Even if I didn’t get the full aspect of it.

My friends past and present (the good ones) REALLY helped.  And those who are currently in my life have definitely helped.

My former therapist Jayne was an incredible part of this journey.  As was my current therapist Barb.

My husband helped me see that I’m not so bad, as do my in laws continue to try.

The family that does talk to me.

My psychiatrist that I’m seeing now got me on the right medication!!!

And last but not least, me.

I finally see through this curtain of peril and disgust.  I can finally see the colors and the life that I deserve to live.  And that I can be active and hardworking through my existing job.

I have been through hell and back.  And if you ask me, there is very little that I can say for what was done for me growing up.  Ignoring the problems are so much easier than tackling them first hand.  And although I understand the concept – it’s just not a great idea overall.  Kids need their families to try to break through the barrier of hurt.

Judging is a terrible thing to do.  Leave that to your almighty.

In addition to the fact that I was depressed, I heard “everything happens for a reason”, and people treated me like an asshole – I felt like everything was my fault. And with that sentiment, I believed it.  From the time I was 14 years old to now, almost 43 years old.  I could have died thinking that everything was my fault.  I could have left this Earth thinking that I was the common theme.  And no one would have challenged me, other than my therapist and my husband.

I’m not going to maintain anger over what wasn’t done, but I feel it necessary just to outline what got me to this point.  I am a damn strong woman and I owe a lot of gratitude to many people.  And maybe for those who weren’t actively participating in helping me become more of a functional adult, they could take lesson from it. That maybe instead of doing what society says is the safest, do the hard thing and try to work with those kids that need you. Don’t let the police or social worker do it years later.  Worse yet, funeral directors.  Talk to your kids.  If you see depression, or any type of mental illness – DO NOT pretend that it isn’t real.  Do NOT turn the other cheek.  Be the example.  Stand up and be their advocate when they cannot.

Weight Loss, Ashleigh, and Podcasts

I often come into my blog realizing that I’m not a one topic writer.  Of course, because I’m using this for my own therapeutic purposes it doesn’t really matter.  Does it?

So, as I left my last blog I discussed losing weight and trying to get to that point.  I remember driving on Buffalo Rd and thinking if I ever got a double chin, I’d lose weight.  I’d have to.  Oh gawd, if only that stuck.  I swear, the Pillsbury Dough Boy is asking for his rolls back.  XD

My sedentary lifestyle and Gilmore style eating hasn’t afforded me anything good.  Especially with the aid of hypothyroidism.  I’m not just fat, I’m genetically screwed.  However, I digress.  I’m trying to move away from just a negative tone.  I’m jaded and exceptionally sarcastic.  If you haven’t figured that out by now, I’m sorry.  Nothing to see here, I suppose.

When I started this blog, I was probably more whiny.  Look at how life screwed me over.  I’m cursed.  Etc, etc.  I’m trying not to allow the victim in anymore.  Though, I have to admit, it’s been a close and personal friend.  Honestly, that is something depression helps.  And for the fact that I made so many terrible life choices for so long in addition to it all.  Go figure.  Sure, I still struggle with feeling like life is against me.  I just have to remember I have so many people who love me and care about me.  I have animals that adore me and rely on me.  And listening to one particular podcast, I’ve realized that people who are mega stars, etc have had things way worse.  Elton John apparently tried to end his life by setting his head in a gas stove.  Fortunately his friend found him before he successfully completed that mission and we have his music to remind us that greatness doesn’t just come from a charmed life from the get go.

Weight loss is a struggle for so many people.  I’m hardly one of the few people that struggle.  I’m sure many people can relate.  Magazines, websites, apps, etc are dedicated to helping people with their goals of weight loss.  My mom was consumed with weight loss for years.  She was part of Weight Watchers, drank diet pop, and wasn’t huge on exercising.  I do remember very not fondly watching here weigh her food and thinking that I’d NEVER do that.  How tedious!  I’ve watched so many weight loss programs come and go.  Food systems that promise they’ll send you pre-portioned foods and drinks, up and coming gyms… People designate their new years resolution to lose weight and quit shortly after they’ve started.

A few things that set me back:

Pregnancy and thinking I could eat for two!  Boy!  Remember, hypothyroidism you jerk?  Sheesh!  I gained 50 lbs with each of my two children.  So 100 lbs.  There ya go!

I quit smoking!  Um…. yea.  Go figure.  So there’s probably an extra 85-100 lbs.

And I’m just getting older.  Nature just looks to screw over anyone over 40 with hypothyroidism and not accustomed to getting out much.

Why blame myself?  Well, my habits got me here.  I’m trying not to allow myself to eat or drink anything with aspartame.  Consuming that doesn’t help you lose weight!  I’m diabetic type 2 as of 2011.  I found that little nugget out when I was in the hospital after my cardiac arrest.  Since then, I haven’t taken care of myself one iota.  I just didn’t care.  I might as well have had a death wish.  Thankfully, I haven’t lost a foot yet.  I kinda need that, or those.  I don’t have to stay with that mentality.  Though I have to say that for me, changing is very hard.  Again, it’s not just me I’m certain.  However, when I try to make changes I go in – all in.  When I commit I don’t just put my toe in to test the water.  I dive in and just to hell with it if I die from hypothermia.  I generally regret my decision shortly after OR I’ll go for a while full steam ahead and procrastinate and lose all momentum.  The one thing I did last time was I walked two miles every day aside from normal movement during the day.  That lasted a while.  I of course got the healthy endorphins that said I felt good!  Yay me!  Well, yes and no.  I was feeling something I hadn’t felt in …. well, let’s face it.  Ever.  I was feeling a sense of happiness.  It was odd.  This is coming from someone who wanted to die many times over the course of her life.  Almost died without attempting it.  Has been depressed, clinically since she was 13  years old and had early life trauma.  I wasn’t operating with a normal deck.  (Lately, who is?  Everyone seems to have an eating disorder, a psychiatric issue or three) Here’s the kicker:  When I felt happy for more than a few minutes, I felt like I had a split personality.  I didn’t feel comfortable being happy because I didn’t understand it.  And I operated under the concept that happiness was a fleeting emotion.  So I stomped that emotion out.  Like a self fulfilling prophecy.  Done.  And back to the drawing board.  My dependence and comfort of food continued unabated.

I’m not a healthy person and I want to live longer than my mother had the opportunity to.  Maybe even longer than my father was afforded.  The only way I can see that happening is if I change the way I live right now.  There is no get skinny quickly process.  And I hardly think getting the weight loss surgery is the answer.  If I can’t psychologically change, I’m going to fail at weight loss surgery anyway.  I have a friend who had it years ago.  The only difference now is that she’s eating the way she used to and throws up when she’s eaten too much and of the wrong things.  And she’s unhappy.

I was getting pop from the gas station and grocery store most every day.  And after a while, I didn’t even like the taste of it when I did buy it.  The one thing I liked, honestly was the carbonation.  The taste was too sugary.  And I could feel that my body wanted me to consume more water.  So I started getting Mio and adding that to my water at work.  Oh my….. that’s yummy.  Then I started craving pop again.  And as one of the women in another podcast I listen to said:  consider WHY you’re craving what you are.  Why do you want it?  Do you really want it?  What’s going on right now that you’re considering wanting it.  Are you anxious, bored, is this comfort?  I wasn’t looking for the taste.  I was looking for the comfort and in addition, I was thirsty.  So… it worked hand in hand.  I haven’t had pop since last night.  And I’m going to again try to give it up.  Just like when I gave up smoking, one second at a time.  One minute at a time and so on.

I love baking.  So what I’m trying to do now is find web sites that show HEALTHY alternatives for baking.  Instead of the fatty fat fat version (like Bernadette says about the frozen yogurt on The Big Bang Theory), the healthier but still necessary in moderation.  Oh yea.  Moderation.  Remember that?  Oh wait… no, you don’t.  What’s that?  You’re hungry right now?  Hehe… your stomach needs to shrink.  You supersized it.  Don’t go for the banana or the pizza.  Just drink your water and smile.  You’ll go to bed eventually.

I’m trying to figure things out as I go.  I’m trying to let things go.  And I’m trying to modify my behavior.  That won’t be easy.  I just need the support of my family and friends to keep me going.  I don’t want to lose this fight.  Again…. Sugar is an addiction.  Just like everything else.  It’s just socially acceptable, so it’s harder to get off it.  I’m guessing.

As far as Ashleigh, I’ve heard she has a new beau.  She’s still homeless and has no job now.  The job didn’t last long.  She’s gotten kicked out of one of the only homeless shelter in town because they probably knew her from the past when she stayed there.  If you act like a dick and don’t take life seriously in the past, things will come back at you.  It just will.  I wish her rock bottom would have happened a long time ago.  Unfortunately that hasn’t come to pass.  I’m waiting for the moment someone tells me she’s either in jail, prison, the hospital, or the morgue.  I wish that wasn’t the case, but that’s where I see things winding up. I can’t stress about that because it doesn’t benefit me one way or another.  It just actually makes things so much worse for me.  Again, I don’t want to seem heartless.  If you have a child like this, it makes sense.  If you don’t, I wish you all the best that your children continue on the right path for them.  Moral, ethical, legal, safe, and monetarily secure.  I’d like to say I could see that for Ashleigh, but I don’t.  She’s been off and on homeless since she was 18.  So, almost 5 years.  She’s probably held an apartment for 6 months and lived off of the benefit of others for probably 2-4 months.  So…. yea.

For the benefit of Ashleigh:  To my guardian spirit.  Please watch over my daughter Ashleigh tonight.  She needs all the help she can get.  Please help her see the right way to get moving in life.  Help motivate her, clear her mind, remind her that help is just a phone call or so away.  Allow her to see just what it will take to help herself.  And know that she does still have people out there that love her, but just will not enable her bad behavior.  Keep her warm and fed.  And keep predatory people away from her if at all possible.  And as much as I don’t want negative things to happen to her, if it brings her to a point of emotional semi permanent to permanent clarity – then so be it.  Just allow her to grow from that experience and change for the better.

 

Tough Love Mom: Bitch, Complain, Fart, Laugh Hysterically, and then Cry

I’d like to start by saying:  This is by no means the “normal” mother/adult daughter relationship.  The experience and subsequent relationship defies “normal” parent/child models.  If you know me, you understand.  If not, know this.  I am NOT a mean person.  I am not confrontational.  And with all my parenting, I meant well with both of my children.  I truly and honestly did.  Things have a way of going haywire though.  As the phrasing goes:  The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Ashleigh was abused by her biological father during a very instrumental period of development (ages 2-3 1/2 years old).  Rich (her bio dad) is a narcissist in my opinion.  And is mentally ill.  Alas, love is extraordinarily blind.  You see what you want to see and ignore the rest.  By the time the abuse to Ashleigh started, Rich and I had a very tumultuous relationship.  It was akin to fire and ice.  I relied on him to go to work and make money to pay the bills.  He stayed home to find a way to manipulate women on the internet.  And unfortunately did very well doing that.  I explain this because it goes to explain some of Ashleigh’s…. shortcomings.

Ashleigh was diagnosed with attachment disorder by about 5 1/2 years old by a neuropsychologist.  We involved multiple agencies with her care.  Birth through Three until she was too old, then early education, social worker, doctors, etc.  My now husband and I did that.  NOT Rich.  Rich hardly even paid child support.  The judge literally apologized to me for how little he ordered Rich to pay, given my obvious financial needs for supporting her.  By the time Ashleigh was in middle school, all hell was breaking loose.  The vice principal of Franklin Middle School called me on the phone as he was chasing Ashleigh around the perimeter of the school.  She didn’t do well with traditional school because she was delayed, cognitively and very mentally ill.  We involved family therapists, day treatment centers, special ed services and IEP’s to facilitate, social workers, psychiatrists, psychiatric inpatient programs, crisis center hotline, non emergency police line to the point we nearly lost our own apartment.  We did everything in the best ways that we could.  Despite the fact that we were low income, raising Darrian and trying to keep her mentally stable despite being the eternal whipping girl for her sister Ashleigh.  Darrian died after Ashleigh left the home, after some time.  (2015)

Ashleigh alleged that my now husband Eric and I killed Darrian on a facebook live feed she posted and I was alerted to by a mutual friend of mine and Ashleigh’s.  I was horrified.  I knew Ashleigh would resort to all sorts of things, but I never thought that would have happened.  I should have known better.

Ashleigh was homeless from before the time Darrian died.  Which was in 2014-15.  She moved to Albuquerque, NM in late February of 2017 before her son, Kalvin was born.  Literally weeks before.  Living quarters never worked out for Ashleigh and her boy toy, Frank.  (I literally have NO respect for Frank) Frank never tried to work to make money for Ashleigh and their livelihood, yet he’d spend her money freely which was being lent to her by the United States government in the form of SSI Disability.  She was eventually found not to be able to raise Kalvin and was formally adopted by another family, which is for the best.  All the while pregnant with baby #2, Iris.

Ashleigh and I had communicated off and on while she was in New Mexico.  I tried to be supportive and give her pieces of advice that would aid her to get into the right spot.  When accusations arose by someone to the police that Ashleigh posted a threat towards her son, Kalvin, I defended her.  Not because I’ve been manipulated but because the picture doesn’t match the threat.  And I know how Ashleigh writes.  That was NOT her writing.  So I contacted the essential individual to explain my thoughts on the matter.

I finally broke down and stopped talking to Ashleigh around Late January/Early February.  I was sick and tired of hearing her complain about this, that and the other thing.  She got angry at me because I wouldn’t let her come live with my husband and I while she paid us rent.  By this point, I was up to my ceiling with abuse by her.  I was so incredibly incensed by the fact that she takes zero responsibility for herself and expects everyone else to cater to her needs.  She has changed her phone number an exorbitant amount of times and her facebook pages.  She is listed as Ashleigh Cunningham on a number of pages.  I’ve blocked 40 facebook pages that I know are hers.  And when I’ve asked her why she does this, create new pages, change her phone numbers it’s because people start drama with her and she doesn’t want to deal with it.  However, Ashleigh causes drama.  Drama should be her middle name.

On our last phone exchange, I screamed into the phone out of absolute anger and frustration and told her that I had raised her, I had done my time.  It was now her turn to be an adult and do it on her own.

Mind you, in the time since that’s happened.  I emailed her to tell her that Calla (our dog) was sick and when Calla did wind up dying, I told my brother to tell her.  Which he did.  Ashleigh then must have created another account and messaged me on facebook asking when Calla died.  When I posted a message on facebook telling anyone who may communicate with Ashleigh to let her know specific date as to when she died, she spazzed.  I can message her, I can call her because I have hands and a voice.  That if I refuse to talk to her then apparently she’s going to call me by my first name and not acknowledge me as her mother.  Blah blah.  I have agonized over how this second child is doing as I’ve heard the baby is underweight at the state of the pregnancy she’s at currently and has low amniotic fluid.  I know Ashleigh finally lost her SSI because I heard so from my brother who, at the time was in contact with her.  I’m not inclined to ask how because part of me knows she probably lost it because she wasn’t employing the services necessary to acknowledge her disabilities.  And if I asked, I would be engaging.  I’ve wondered about how Kalvin is, and wishing I could have a “normal” grandparent/grandchild relationship with him.  But unless he looks me up when he’s older, that ship has sailed.  So in my eyes, I have no grand children and will not have any grand children to speak of.  No doubt Ashleigh is going to lose this next  baby.  And my fear is she’ll continue to get pregnant until she can keep the baby and do whatever she deems appropriate with said baby/child.

Ashleigh is very mentally ill, I recognize that.  But I have suffered abuse at her hands, her sister and my now husband Eric has suffered abuse by her hands.  We’ve all went through the wringer with her.  And when I say these things, it’s not to undermine her.  It’s truly out of realistic perspective.

I am incredibly angry with her and I have suffered trauma because of her “relationship” she’s engaged with me and her sister.  And I love her yet… because she’s my daughter.  I do not wish ill for her present or future.  I wish nothing but the best for her.  In order for that to happen, she has to want and to try for better things.  I just feel like that’s not going to happen until … whatever breaking point.

Another fear I have is that when Ashleigh loses custody of Iris (baby #2), she’s going to kill herself because she can’t hack it.  She won’t be able to move on from here.  She’ll have lost everything.  And as much as I’m angry at Ashleigh, I’m not angry enough to want her dead.  FAR from.  I want her to learn from her mistakes.  I want her to acknowledge that she made them and to learn how to adapt from here.  I want her to acknowledge the strength from within, instead of just being angry that everyone else has this quality of life and I don’t.  I want her to stop doing the absolute minimum, if that.  I want her to learn to love herself.  She is far away from doing that.  And all I can think of is how much I need her to stop trying to contact me.  Stop requesting me to friend her on yet ANOTHER facebook account that has yet to be blocked.  I’m tired of being blamed for her short comings.  I am 41 fucking years old and raised two kids with the best of my ability.  I’ve had a cardiac arrest and lost my one child, with whom I could have seen having an adult relationship with.  A healthy one at that.  But unfortunately, that ship has sailed too.  And now I’m left picking up the pieces of my life – trying to figure out how to soldier on and she has the audacity to say she’s going to call me by my first name?  Well, honey, you won’t be doing it to me.  I am not under your spell or control.  I have problems and responsibilities of my own and you need to grow the f up and do things yourself.  That means, get a job.  Work for your housing or food.  Don’t panhandle.  Just do the right thing for yourself.  And if Frank doesn’t want to get a job and is being abusive to you (despite the fact I know you’re being abusive to him in return.  I’ve seen it and heard it – verbal, not physical that I’ve heard), then walk away from that leech.  Let him sucker some other individual into thinking he’s God’s gift.

I need to heal dammit!  I’m a broken person trying to put all my bat crap crazy together again.  I have lost so incredibly much and although I’ve gained things too – my mind is troubled.  I’m trying to gain my ground again.  I’m trying to learn how to grow plants and do things naturally.  If Ashleigh can grow up, we’ll talk then.  In the meantime… I am pissed off.  I deserve respect, because although I’m angry; I tried.  And I tried VERY hard to make her a respectable person.  I put her needs so far in front of my own for so many years.  I tried to protect her sister from her.  And while I raised her, I lost a lot of my own self dignity and knowledge that Darrian needed me too.  Not just as a human shield, but as a true to life mother.  And as much as I know I tried, I didn’t try enough, and she suffered in the end for that.  Not just by her death, but by her life.  And I truly regret that.  With all my heart.  And I hope Darrian realizes just how much I am sorry.  I never wanted her to be the short stick.

 

Death, Taxes, and Forgiveness

Since I was last here, my Dad died, my dog Calla died, and a great friend from my younger years named Laura Himes died.   All three things were difficult to contend with.  Less Laura than any of the others.  Although I experienced a PTSD episode at her burial.  To which I made a public spectacle of myself, without intention.  I have thought of that for the last few weeks and wish I could apologize to the Himes family for how things went that afternoon.  Regardless…. I digress.

When my father died, certain funds were moved into accounts for my husband and I.  We were able to purchase a house in Kewaunee, WI and start a new phase in our existence.  To which I say, I love it.  I honestly and truly do.  The community is beautiful and quiet, and I have places to which to grow plants, food, and we see wildlife in the backyard upon occasion (which could cause problems in the food growing aspect…. ).  There are friends here and a desire to learn more about the community that I am now a part of.  However, there is a dark part of me that demands acknowledgement.  So I have to take care of that now.

Ashleigh (my daughter) and I haven’t talked for months.  She moved to Albuquerue, NM with her boyfriend/fiance’/whatever she wants to call him today.  Her son, my grandson Kalvin got adopted by the foster family that was caring for him because Ashleigh was not able to provide him the life he deserved.  She is unstable mentally and physically (homeless most of her pregnancy) and doesn’t have enough money to care for him (a little over $500 p/month in SSI up until this month.  SSI allegedly cut her off.  Had I not found out through my brother Tim who still talks to her, I probably wouldn’t know) Ashleigh has not sought out work, she did however manage to get a housing voucher and lives in an apartment.  Once her SSI got cut off she called Tim to ask for money for rent. She also solicited an old friend Jill/Amber’s mom for money for her cell bill.  (That nugget of information I found out on facebook messenger shortly after I got off the phone with Tim, telling me that Ashleigh lost her SSI to begin with)  And given that Frank, the not biological father (come to find out) and the likeliest of options being the father not wanting anything to do with the child, the adoption was possible.  I could only imagine Ashleigh would be devastated.  She is pregnant with child #2, who she said she wants to name Iris.  I have no doubt that Iris will be put up for adoption as well.

I’m going to backtrack a little for the sake of storytelling.  I mentioned that Ashleigh and I are not talking.  This is why:

If you’ve read my blogs before, you know things are rough with Ashleigh anyway.  She really and truly made life for my husband, our daughter and I a living hell.  She was sexually promiscuous and trying to get pregnant from 16 years old on.  She was always engaging in suicidal ideation and frequently in the psych unit (which was our only emotional vacation from the age of 12 on).  She was abusive to Darrian, our child that passed away at the tender age of 16.  She had been in two different day treatment facilities for a number of months.  She was in therapy and seeing psychiatrists.  She ended up in foster care and once she turned 18 and had successfully graduated from high school, she got an apartment of her own which she subsequently lost after the city had to condemn it.  (That’s how bad the state of her apartment was)

At one point before Ashleigh and I stopped talking, I had a dream.  The dream consisted of this:  I’m in my house (granted, the furnishings aren’t the same) and I’m sitting in the living room (honestly the living room looked like a waiting room with leather bound chairs/short back/modern looking.  Comfortable.  Ashleigh was in the kitchen (which looked identical to what my kitchen ACTUALLY looks like in real life)  She was complaining about her phone, needing to get a new one because the one she has is a piece of shit.  I’m annoyed, sitting in the living room after hearing that same one sided conversation, over and over again.  I finally get fed up with it and tell Ashleigh to leave my house.  I look to my phone (and here’s how you can tell it’s a dream, aside from other… aspects) and I find an app that will block people you don’t want from entering your house.  A barrier of sorts.  Well, the app doesn’t work as it promises and Ashleigh re-enters, angry.  REALLY angry.  She stomps her way towards me and starts punching me, first on the back of the head and then comes around to punch me in the face.  Brutally.  And I wake up.

……

In January, Ashleigh was calling me.  Upset about the fact that Kalvin was going to be adopted.  Saying this nonsense about how if anything bad happened to him while in the custody of this other couple, she was going to sue.  That this was bs, blah blah blah.  I take the position of if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say it at all… so I just maintained being quiet.  I do this for a number of phone calls because the same ramblings progress, call after call.  And eventually I lose my cool.  I tell Ashleigh that raising a child requires a place to live, food to eat, and safety and security.  That she cannot provide that.  Literally with everything that she makes from SSI and being homeless at the time, that’s not a safe life to live with a young child.  She eventually blames me for not allowing her and Kalvin to come live with us.  She at one time offered to pay me rent for them living with us and after being quiet for so long and being so frustrated by her inability to see the elephant WAY obvious in the room for most people, I lose my cool.  I scream into the phone.  I fucking raised you, I did my time.  You’re an adult now and you need to be the adult for yourself .  At one phone during my screaming I acknowledge that she hung up, although I’m not sure when.

Ashleigh continues to email me pictures of Kalvin before the adoption was final and asking me for things, but I don’t answer.  She sends me facebook requests, but I’ve blocked all 40 of the pages that I’ve found that she has of hers.  Her last email is this: “It’s ok for you to block me on fb. When i had something major happen. Aint my fault Tim talked to my caseworker trying to talk her into having kalvin taken. And you wanna sit there ignore me when i need u. Well i will be trying to go home next month. I cant put this baby girl in danger. Fuck that. I love you but blocking me is no answer to get me away as a daughter just saying”

Look, I have come to a point in my life where I have a good marriage, a wonderful marriage.  I have a home, and I’m now focusing on myself more than I ever have in my life.  I’m no longer in the teenage mindset where everything I was focused on was the need to find love.  I have love.  And honestly, I’m not sure Ashleigh knows what love is.  She is mentally ill.  Literally.  Her last diagnosis was Borderline Personality Disorder, Delusional Disorder (Persecutory Type), Major or Severe Depression and Generalized Anxiety.  So, this isn’t just the minor stuff here people.  This is a massively unhealthy individual.  She needs a LOT of help!  I have not come to a point in my life where I can forgive who I was, who I was to my family (my mom, dad, and my community at that time).  I have not resolved, in completion that I am a different person.  I cannot bring more positivity into my life until I do that.  Because if I bring more positivity into my life it will be the case of the self fulfilled prophecy.  I have been there, done that and got the crappy ass free bumper sticker.  I don’t recommend it.  I deserve a good life, and I deserve the people in my life that will help enrich me, and not take away from me.  I love my daughter, but at this point she is toxic and will not find the means to help herself the way she needs to.  I honestly wish the best for her, I do.  I have put prayer requests out there for her from a church group my friend Shannon is acquainted with, and as far as I’m concerned, I’m doing the best thing for her and for myself.  I need to forgive myself for who I was.  I need to remind myself regularly that I am NOT the reason for all the bad that has come into my life.  I was not the common denominator.  I just happened to be an unwilling participant.  And in the grand scheme of things, I wanted to be loved.  Just like everyone on the fucking planet.

I have resumed therapy with my therapist Barb.  More to come…..

Together,No More

Lately with the holidays coming up, I am so much more depressed than usual.  Aside from the stress of having to buy presents and consider what to do for everyone – this year presents a new challenge.

Ashleigh has been homeless for a while.  She told me she was pregnant in August and just recently (around Halloween) told me she had a baby girl that was “premature” but 7 lbs 6 oz (premature?  seriously?  at 7 lbs 6 oz? Darlin, you were 7 lbs 13.4 oz and full term…. come on)

I played along.  She said she had the baby at St. Vincent’s Hospital.  Mind you, at first when she told me I was in shock.  And I was mortified.  What if?  What if she had this baby?  I started asking her questions, telling her I wanted to be a part of this baby’s life.  Because essentially, I would be grandmother.  She became very defensive.  Telling me that she didn’t want her child to be around someone like me, etc… etc.  Which threw me! You don’t want your child around…. me?  What do you mean?  When I told Eric about all of this, he felt that she was not being truthful.  We still have yet to see any proof of this alleged child.  He also felt like the things she was saying to me was to hurt me.  And to be honest, I don’t understand it. I think I do, but I don’t.  Eric at that point decided to write her off. Nothing she was saying made any sense about this whole baby thing.  And the whole conversation blew up.  So with this cropping up and past behaviors still cropping up into current day – Eric has basically written her off.  She has done so much damage to this family and to herself.  She continues to be unsafe and unwilling to take accountability. She is still emotionally abusive to Darrian.  And we have attempted to fill out paperwork for the restraining order but how is the Brown County Sheriff going to serve her at address unknown?

Darrian gets mad at me for that, by the way.  It’s not like I made the rules. You cannot give a restraining order legally to someone who is homeless. How do you know they will be in one place from day to day?  It just doesn’t work.

The fact that Eric has basically written Ashleigh off hurts me immensely. I can’t even begin to explain it.  When I talk to him about issues with her I just feel like he’s not even emotionally present for me.  Like I am an army of one.  And it really hurts inside to know that even though I know he’s listening, he’s not really engaging in a way that shows empathy or anything other than pure frustration or irritation.

When I did talk to Eric about Ashleigh the last time I told him that even though he is probably right.  Ashleigh probably was saying those things to be hurtful to me.  I had to look past that in order to continue to love her.  I just did.  It would hurt way too much for me to just dwell over that concept.  There is a lot Ashleigh does. Eric did level with me and tell me that he doesn’t feel safe around her.  Ashleigh’s behaviors and lack of accountability remind him of Rich (Ashleigh’s biological father).  So when he sees/hears about her, it’s as if she is him.  He doesn’t want to do anything to accidentally hurt her with that in mind.

As much as he and I both realize that she is not him, and he is not her – I have difficulty with his rational.  The sins of the father are not the sins of the daughter.  The similarities might be there – but I guess that’s where it begins and ends in some ways to me.  It does complicate matters for the fact that Eric has paranoid schizophrenia and has been subject to hallucinations/delusions.  And bipolar type 1, which in the right mindset can be prone to extreme anger for really no reason.  That makes it hard.

So, we’re approaching the holidays.  Thanksgiving and Christmas.  Both holidays of family togetherness and/or gatherings.  With Darrian wanting a restraining order against Ashleigh because of her continuing verbal abuse against her despite not living with us, and Eric’s feelings…. we are a separated family.  By force.  And no matter how you try to explain it to Ashleigh, she doesn’t understand it.  Her rational is always different than the average Joe.  She understands things in a very different way and can demonize us very quickly because of her mental illness and alternative viewpoints to how things work.

In addition, I deal with my own frustrations with Ashleigh.  I seem to be convenient to Ashleigh.  I can drive her places or potentially provide her with things – as opposed to a relationship with her.  And as much as she says she wants that relationship, right now she wants items.  Money, material things, rides, wifi, food… etc.  And when I cannot provide those things to her and force her to figure things out on her own, she starts to say she’s losing control.  And that is hard for me to deal with.  She is manipulating me, I know she is.  When she calls, she doesn’t immediately say she wants my help.  She goes around it.  Well, the bus isn’t running anymore and this girl told me that I could live with her for a few months in Green Bay, but I’m in DePere (which is at least 6-10 miles away depending where she’s at and where her friend is at).  Well, I just happened to be in Kewaunee at the time, which was over 30 minutes away from her having my own life.  (Visiting friends)  Or I couldn’t bring her female hygiene products because I was going to get food for the home from the local St Vincent de Paul pantry (and that took me two hours to sit there and wait because of the Thanksgiving holiday offerings available during the time I went for food… oops!)  Her expectations of me are very different.

Oh, as for the baby issue.  She has said that the baby was put into foster care.  I did look up births in the Green Bay hospitals around the time in question.  The baby she allegedly had is not listed in the newspaper birth announcements.  So, all in all from what I can come to grips with, this baby is falsified by Ashleigh.  And it is quite possible she was using this as an opportunity to hurt me.  Quite honestly though, it would have hurt me more if this baby did truly exist.  Factors however did not add up.  She will not admit to any of this, but…. it is what it is.

As for Darrian, she had to drop Chemistry because she missed too much core information due to missing medical/dental appointments that were not able to be avoided.  She will revisit Chemistry next year and I’m sure she’ll do well.  She now has a study hall, which is exactly what she needed to help her catch up with some of her missing appointments.  Her braces are coming along.  The other night though, she said something to me while her friend Samantha was over.  Well, two somethings.  I slept late into Saturday.  Eric and I were about to go to pick up hamburgers from the grocery store.  Before I left I was about to tell her where we were going and what to expect.  She flipped out on me.  Even though it was only an hour and a half after I woke up, she accused me of getting angry at her and being unfair to her or yelling at her.  Which I hadn’t.  I was completely thrown for a loop.  I can only assume this is attention seeking behavior. Then on Sunday while her friend was still over (since we had her friend over for a sleepover), I asked Darrian if she helped Eric out like I had asked while I was gone to Kewaunee.  At first she tried to tip toe around answering directly.  She said she didn’t hear Eric call for her.  I asked her if she was in her room or what?  I didn’t raise my voice or anything.  I wasn’t being pointed in my question per se.  I was just looking for facts. Immediately she starts overreacting.  Saying that she doesn’t do anything right, etc… etc.  And where she really threw me was saying that I don’t want her because she doesn’t do anything right and I should just put her into foster care so maybe the foster family might be able to get her to do more.  I was so ANGRY at her response.  She was manipulating me herself and using something emotionally difficult for me.  Yes, we have difficulties with her, but it doesn’t necessitate her going into foster care. She’s a 16 year old girl who is very intelligent.  She knows the difference between right and wrong – but she’s trying to push her lack of responsibility on me.  Not only was that unfair for that purpose alone, but it was unfair because the process of putting Ashleigh into foster care was incredibly difficult.  I became very close to putting myself into inpatient psychiatric care the day she went in.  I became very psychologically unbalanced for the first week she was in there because of how hard it hit me.  And the fact that she did shove that prospect in my face really pissed me off.

A few hours later I went into her room to tell her what was going on because I was going to do laundry (my clothes I needed to clean to volunteer at the local Humane Society).  She asked me for a hug right away.  And instead, I gave her a mouthful.  I was incensed!  How can you ask me for a hug after you said something so hurtful?  How do I just shove that under the rug?  I can’t just do that.  So I gave her a little of my two cents worth to make her think about what she said and hopefully … (yet doubtful) will make her think before she becomes reactive and says things that she might regret.  And those things would remove hurt from even starting.

The prospect of the holidays does not excite me whatsoever though.  I don’t feel as though I am deserving of anything.  As much as I am trying to keep things afloat, I just feel like we have had to ask for too much.  Car repairs and new tires that my in laws have bought for us (over $700 worth of investment that we couldn’t afford).  I am so grateful that they love us so much and are willing to take the financial hit on these things.  Now, with all the complications with both of the kids – the way my brain is processing it – how Eric is reacting to both of the kids… and how my brain is processing that… I just want today to jump to January 1st.  Hell, just skip to February 11th.  I just know there will be complicated emotions happening for everyone and it’ll just be overwhelming.  I know this is a part of my journey and you can’t escape uncomfortable or overwhelming… but dammit, I could use a break!

Thank goodness tomorrow is Tuesday.

Oh!  Speaking of Tuesday… I am trying to find a therapist that will do more specific trauma therapy.  Like EMDR or Brainspotting… something like that.  The problem is, I don’t know if that will cause complications with my insurance company (duplication of services, lose my current therapist, etc….)  I really am tired of the PTSD and how it impacts my life.

Last night I wanted to blog more.  I was more focused on my emotions about how complicated the feelings are between Eric and I, Darrian and I, Ashleigh and I, Ashleigh and Darrian, Ashleigh and Eric… etc etc etc…. I assume (hopefully soon) I will delve into it on my blog.  It is important.  I need to get this stuff out there… out of my mind.  And I find myself having difficulty communicating it to anyone who is unbiased or biased all the same.  The opportunities just aren’t there.  GAH!  Thank goodness for Therapy Tuesday!!!

I do volunteer two days this week, so I am looking forward to that.  It is hard on my body.  I really took for granted how good I have it walking or taking my two chihuahua dogs out.  When you’re walking a Lab, Rottweiler mix, Pit Bull, etc that has been cooped up in a large enclosure for hours… you get dragged!  No fault to the Humane Society or the employees.  It just is what it is.  I do find myself feeling a sense of achievement and enjoyment doing what I do.  I don’t need to get paid.  I am just glad i can make a difference to these dogs, even if just for 5 minutes.  It really makes me smile and sometimes cry a little bit.

Take care all and have a wonderful week!

 

 

How Are You Doing? Loaded Question?

I can’t count the number of times I’ve been asked in various places how I’m doing. Grocery stores, restaurants, doctors offices… WHY? Why do you ask that? You must automatically assume that I am well. That I will say it to pacify the conversational standard. No one wants to hear tale of how you’re really doing, do they? The nurse, doctor, and therapist are all good at listening. (Though the therapist is kind of a given) In my head, I want more people to listen. And a large part of me is screaming inside to just do it. I can’t. I’ve tried. I am trying. I just keep closing off. It’s safer. OR is it? I want friendships. I desire them so immensely. My one friend, whom I treasure dearly is hundreds of miles away. I’ve talked to two ladies on World of Warcraft that are amazing too. They want me to chat with them on teamspeak. (for those geeky enough to play on World of Warcraft, you’ll understand exactly what teamspeak is) And as much as I would love to talk to them, I can’t. I have a severe sense of rejection. My shame, my guilt, my depression, my anxiety… they the problems. I can say they are my problems. I can say that maybe I could push myself through it. And if you know me, you know I am.

After 4+ years of therapy, I feel very little resolve to who I am. The lamictal I am taking is causing me to have occasional temporary sleep paralysis. So, today (later, obviously) I will be calling my psychiatrists office to have them switch me. I can’t handle that. I’ve also been informed that SSI has overpaid me by $9000. That if I don’t pay them back in 30 days, they will garnish my SSI until the funds have been repaid. I haven’t cried so hard in so long after I read that. And as if one letter wasn’t bad enough, they sent two letters to clarify their point. Eric read a bit further into one of the letters. It says that if it causes a hardship, to contact Social Security office. Eric’s SSI has been cut over half, Darrian’s biological father is behind on child support by over $1000 (I know, why am I bitching about that… there are other dead beat dads that far surpass what my ex does. I am fortunate that it’s not more. Believe me.). How am I going to pay my bills? When I got SSI, I thought that I’d be able to help my family now. I could actually contribute to the home. Now, I feel as though I’m being emotionally crippled. That any “stability” that I may have had has suddenly gone out the window.

My physical health has been declining. My right foot hurts, I have a numbing on the lower left side of my back, my arthritis is flaring up – big time. And when I stand up sometimes, I feel an immense pain that leads me to want to cry. And that’s not covering any other family issues. Which, by the way? I had to call the non emergency police line on Ashleigh. Her 2nd boyfriend since she moved out, he broke up with her. So instead of trying to rationally cope (which she doesn’t think rationally. she thinks emotionally on a heightened scale!), she reacts by saying she’s going to kill herself and that she shouldn’t live. I needed the police department to do a welfare check on her. Make sure she was safe and was not going to actually do anything to harm herself. If the past says anything, she may NOT have the problems she does. Who knows? As a mother, I don’t want to take the chance. The one time she actually means it… where I could lose her forever. And I can’t handle that. Not one iota.

I plan on going to the social security office near me to figure all of this out. I do have to say, I am terrified. Absolutely and utterly terrified.

Oh, and FYI, I have gotten three text messages saying “God is Not Dead”. All I can say is Fuck you. Don’t send me this random message relating to your religion of choice. I find it offensive that any person would follow this advice from some movie that they believe is the truth. I could be athiest, but I don’t send you a text message about how believing in God or the Devil is crap. I am not Wiccan and telling you that it’s not a God. It’s the goddess. I’m not going to tell you things that COULD be against your belief systems. And regardless of what I have professed before of my religious front, who are you to automatically assume that I will appreciate the gesture or accept it without question? So, fuck you. I know people mean well … I do. And I still love and care for the people who have sent it. I just think it’s a terrible that anyone would force feed that bull shit. Just be happy if you’re my friend. And understand that I am happy for you that you have watched this movie. That it touched your heart. That you want to share it with others. But I don’t want it. So, send your messages elsewhere about this topic. In the end, it just offends me.

Anyway, off I go to bed land. I hear it calling!

Even After You Leave My Home, I Am NO Less Stressed!

Yesterday my daughter sends me a text message. “I had sex with dennis tonight and way b4 too! Like 6days ago i was tryin 4 a baby.” Her tagline on her text message reads: (As most youth these days do, she did not add the capitalization where it is necessary. Has the internet generation gotten lazy?)

So, all of last night I sat and thought about it. What this will mean. Not just that I would become a young grandmother. The implications for her and her child. She cannot take care of herself. The proof is in her eviction notification from her landlord. And her eviction is based on her not being able to clean and letting it go to the point of disgusting! The county has told her that any baby she would have at this point would be removed from her custody. And the fact that all this has happened since the last CST (Community Service Team) meeting happened, just adds to the proof that she is incapable of raising a child.

I know this was inevitable. I hate even thinking about her having sex, or for that matter trying to conceive! She’s telling me over text that her friend Kayla is going to be having a baby December 6th and she wants to go over there. I have no doubt that on the other end of my phone, she’s excited. There are no emoticons to show the excitement, but I bet that is exactly how she felt. She wants to know everything about it. She’s curious and what not. Although she has already had things printed off showing signs, symptoms, what to expect, etc…. apparently she lost them.

I’ve taken 3 anti anxiety pills today. Two Clonazapam, one Lorazepam. None of them seem to be touching the anxiety I feel right now. I love this girl and I would give my heart to protect her. I would die for her. Without a doubt. All my pain and fear is just becoming more intensified. I dread for the day (If that day comes. And I strongly hope that IT doesn’t happen until she is way older and more stable) that she becomes a mother. The fact that she the child will be the gift that will give her all the love and acceptance that she’s always desired…. It is truly a misgiving.

I accept the fact that children are a blessing. There are many nights where I have looked at my baby, toddler, child, tween.. etc… and just thought: “Wow. My life would be so much more meaningless if they were not here today.” And it’s all true. Granted, I took the hard route. And not only did that hard route include me, it includes my entire family. That part I truly regret. If there is nothing else that I regret, that is definitely one thing. I wish that I had a degree in the subject that I find fascinating! I wish I had a wonderful career that stimulated me and kept me moving. And I wish I could provide for my family as we all deserve.

Now, this part isn’t Ashleigh related and the title doesn’t reflect this part.

Eric (my husband), has had migraines for years. Related to barometric pressure/sinus and Chiari Malformation (http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/chiari-malformation/basics/definition/con-20031115) There, research it! He has been burdened so heavily over his migraines and his increasing medical diagnosis. The medication the doctors give him doesn’t help. And for the bipolar type I (for which he also suffers) he’s untreated. The medication doesn’t work, allergic to meds, or some of the medication put him into renal failure. Hell, he can’t even have any medication that are considered NSAIDS. (i.e. Ibuprofen (Advil, Motrin, Motrin IB, Nuprin) Aspirin (Anacin, Ascriptin, Bayer, Bufferin, Ecotrin, Excedrin) Naproxen sodium (Aleve, Anaprox). Seeing him in as much pain as he is on a regular basis is absolutely awful. Unfortunately, marijuana seems to help him with his pain. And of course it’s illegal in Wisconsin. And most likely will be for many years to come. And at least when he’s smoked marijuana, he seems like the man I fell in love with.

I still oppose him using it. Only for the legal factor. And honestly, I have changed my opinion on marijuana in a HUGE way. In the past, I became really angry and would yell at him. There were times where it was warranted. Using it in the home and finding out from other people instead of him being honest with me. Of course, at certain points during this process, I still probably would have become angry with him.  It’s the deception that is the biggest deal.  I just hope that some day Scott Walker can get his head out of his ass and finalize the legalization of medicinal marijuana.  Hell, who knows if that will ever happen.

I also feel agitated.  I am so tired of feeling like I’m a bug that’s being stepped on.  Darrian’s friend Randi Jo’s mom can bring Darrian from whatever place they went to meet up at but can never bring her home.  She can never pick her up from our house.  I always have to do the transportation from home and back.  And no matter what, there are always 2 if not 3 vehicles in their driveway.  Darrian also expects (as I think most teenagers do) that summer vacation is meant for them to sit around and do whatever the hell they want.  It has nothing to do with what needs to be done.  I mean, after all, parents are stupid.  Darrian and I got into an argument because I didn’t like her tone with me.  And she said something that I became very upset about.  A sarcastic remark that went too far.  After it was over, somewhat, Darrian tells me that I need to speak to her in a different way.  I need to say “please” more often.  That instead of “you need to do……”, that I ask her politely.  If I thought this would help one iota, maybe I would consider it.  It doesn’t.  When I tell her what needs to be done, she forgets.  We can remind her (and in a nice way) that it needs to be done.  Well, after 10-20 minutes we’re still waiting.  When we get on her case about it then we’re unreasonable and claims “it’s no wonder why I want to be out of this house!”  I am not going to tip toe around my child.  And life will chew you up and spit you out.  They don’t address you in a way that is more appropriate to how one feels.  So … this doesn’t exactly make sense.  And I told her as much.

She keeps saying that … I parent her the same way I did Ashleigh.  That we compare her to Ashleigh, and when I walked into the room one night… (she was recently put on birth control pills.  She recently had a cyst on her ovary that was 3×3 cm.  Our hope is that the birth control can help alleviate that issue, as well as period regulation) and she exlaims “I am not a slut!”  I didn’t even have a chance to say anything.  I don’t exactly understand why she said it.  I do trust Darrian and she’s always said that she cares about not having sex.  Her intentions are to stay a virgin.  And although it is particularly strange that she was gone from 2 p.m. ish to 11 p.m. with some guy Morgan, I feel like I should at least give her a shot to either fall flat on her face or trust her.  I love her, I do.   I’m tired of her spending every moment of every waking hour (minus bathroom breaks and eating… maybe a little social time with Eric and/or I.) on the internet.  Skyping, taking selfies and posting them on facebook, and using my phone to text her friends or call them.

She and I butt heads frequently.  I can’t ever seem to get things right between her and I.  When we do get upset with each other, we both become agitated very very quickly.  We shout at each other.  I feel like both of us are 15 years old and I’m fighting with her about things… whether she wants agitate me more… I hope not.  I really do hope she figures things out.  Because of the situation she puts herself in, I have to be a mother to her.  Not just  because of my obligation.  It’s because I love her.  I just wish she could compose herself in a manner that would  show her intent to clean.  Of course, that’s all order.

 

I will finish off now.  I do have to sleep.

Thank you for hearing and reading.  It is a blessing that I have people who follow along with my journey.  Bless you all!

What Was the Point?

I find myself at a loss the last few days. Ashleigh will officially be evicted from her apartment. The one she’s had since June 1st, 2014. And the one she didn’t move into until a week later. Her neighbors have been complaining about the smell coming from her apartment. My youngest daughter, Darrian tried to help. And what Darrian tells me is that she became sick just getting into Ashleigh’s apartment. The smell was overpowering. The dishes hadn’t been done. The garbage hadn’t been taken out. And many many other things I’m certain. Neither here nor there, it was enough to warrant an eviction. So, my feelings on the matter? Wait for it………

I honestly don’t see what the point in getting Ashleigh the apartment was in the first place. I tried very hard to demand a competency review. I’m not saying that this wasn’t Ashleigh’s choice. And I’m not trying to excuse her behavior. And maybe it’s just because I’m her mom and I don’t want her going into the system because she has no where to go. Everyone involved in her case has seen how her hygiene issues have been. And between her foster mom and our family, we’ve seen the deplorable state that Ashleigh leaves her living area. Let alone her own self care. And now this. Why? The social worker says they’ve exhausted all their resources getting Ashleigh into this apartment. And that the landlord is the most lenient in the area. Now, with an eviction on her record (given the length of time she was in the apartment and condition of why she was evicted), it will be next to impossible for her to find another apartment on her own. She can’t come back here and she doesn’t know that many people. And even if she does know people, as she does – she will alienate their friendship. Especially if she lives with them for any amount of time. She will go back to her ways and it will drive people away from her. No matter how kind they are.

I’ve already been to the crisis center once. A few days ago. That was before I knew that Ashleigh was officially going to be evicted. I almost went down there last night. Being completely preoccupied with the situation and already (and being so completely emotional) will do that to a mother.

So now what? Last night, Ashleigh text me asking for me to buy her hair dye. She wants to have her hair purple or something. (Priorities, I’m telling ya) She seems to want to blame the landlord for what is presently happening. (Because, she cannot be blamed…. right?) That is what it always comes down to. Ashleigh isn’t to blame. It’s always someone else that becomes the scape goat. I have advocated and tried to help Ashleigh as much as I thought I could do. Hell, even more than I probably should have done. (Only because it emotionally and physically exhausted me) I wanted so badly to do right by her that I went through every possible step. And unless you are a parent of a kid like this, it’s hard to grasp.

I would have tried to help her clean up. However, I know Ashleigh. Since Ashleigh had from Friday to Monday and barely accomplished anything in the way of keeping her apartment – I would have been setting a precedence. That when Ashleigh is on the brink (even because of her own negative choices), that mom is going to pull her out of the deep end, so to speak. I knew going in that I had to separate myself from the situation. Ashleigh has been desperately wanting her independence so badly for years. She has wanted to get exactly what she wants. Well, last month she got it. And this month, she’s essentially losing all that she’s been fighting for. To some degree anyway. In no time, she’ll be living in a homeless shelter if she can’t find another place to live. Ashleigh is going to be on her own this time to find her own apartment. And I highly doubt that she’ll care enough to do the work to get a place.

As much as I don’t want to excuse Ashleigh’s behavior, I don’t understand why she didn’t go to a group home. I feel like she belonged there from day one. At least she’d have someone to walk her through her daily stuff so she didn’t lose her place to live. She’s had people walking behind her for so long reminding her what to do. Keeping her behaviors in check. And now that she is responsible to do it all on her own, she’s failing. Don’t get me wrong. She needed the push to get to graduate. She still needs the push though. And no one but her will do it. And her bad choices eliminate that from even happening.

Maybe I’m wrong. I hope she’ll learn from this experience and MAYBE she’ll have an epiphany. Maybe she’ll come around to realizing that she fucked up and not to do it again. Who knows. It’s not like anyone moved out for the first time and did all the responsible things. That no one ever had to fall flat on their face when they started that process to independence. I know I messed up something fierce and had to learn from my mistakes. As a mother, this process is going to hurt so badly inside. I love this kid so much and want to help her. I have to let her help herself. I have to let the county figure out what is next with her. And I don’t see what they can do either, given my last conversation with her social worker. Hell, it seems pointless to have a social worker if they can’t help a person who could soon be homeless! Again, I could be wrong there. She could serve many other purposes and it’s my agitation coming out. (Well, I know it is)

It’s hard not to feel completely overwhelmed with all of this. It seems to be on my mind from the time I wake up to the time I go to sleep now. I need to find a way to not let it get to this point. I have to not let it get to this point. I have to continue to try to let her figure out that life is more difficult than she anticipated it would be. That it’s not all about having fun. And I hope she gets her shit together. As a mother, if she doesn’t…. it’ll hurt that much more. I know it’s not my fault. I do. I can’t help but wishing that it wouldn’t be this way.