Cognitive Dissonance and newsy updates

I love you all, dearly. So you'd think I'd want to communicate with you more often. And I do, on one level. But I have layers, like onions.

(Start at the 23 second mark)
Which in this illustration makes me the ogre. Well, sometimes that description is accurate. But that's not what we're here to talk about today.
I feel these forces within me grappling for control. Looking for the right word, we turn to Thesaurus.com and find: Discord, Dissonance, Disparity, Dissension, Incongruity, Contention, Variance. I give you - My Brain! (It's a very confusing place.)

And the blogging is but a small aspect of the larger complications in negotiating my day. Every day.

Well, it seems like every day, on bad days. If I recall correctly (and with this brain, who can tell?) on good days I know what to do and do it with confidence. On bad days I don't know what to do, or won't do what I know to do. Disparity within the ranks.

The professionals call this Depression. There might be other labels for it, more specific than depression. I don't care about labels anyway. Except when I do.

Time to move away from the navel gazing.

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In the news... Let's start with Diva. When last we checked in, Diva had moved to live with her birth mother. Well, that lasted maybe a week or two. The two of them are so much alike in some negative ways. Talk about discord! Diva left, to go... where? "Dad, can you help me?" She didn't want to come back home, which is great because we didn't want her back here. She had a job by that time, working at Taco Bell and wanted to stay in the area to continue working. Good idea. Superman put her up in a cheap (relatively) motel for a week while she looked for an apartment. She did, found a place that she could almost afford. We're helping her out a bit. A couple hundred dollars a month is worth the price to have her living on her own.

She was still 17 when all this transpired. Superman had to put the lease in his name because she was a minor. She tried to enroll in the local high school, but being a minor she has to go to school in the district/zone where her parents live. Um, nope. Special case here. Even with her dad on the lease, that wasn't enough. So she waited until after her birthday to go back to enroll. They handed her a couple more hoops to jump through.  I think she's done everything they asked of her. They said they'd call her. She's still waiting.

Diva wanted to get a second job, because damn, living on one's own is expensive! (Yeah. Duh. Living with ungrateful greedy children is really expensive.) She found employment at a new burger joint opening down the street. Then she made the mistake of mentioning it at Taco Bell, so they fired her - two weeks before she started the new job. But then I get confused, because she was still at Taco Bell the day she.. Well, let me tell you about the level of awareness and personal responsibility Diva has attained!

She had been working with a manager she liked and respected. He treated her in kind. Of course he was transferred, because Corporate Decisions. The new manager isn't as easy to work with. She and Diva had some disagreement, the specifics are unimportant (I don't know them). She was "getting all up in (Diva's) face!" Diva, bless her heart, recognized her triggers and tried to back down. The manager told her to go into the office so they could discuss it. Diva, having finally learned a thing or two about herself, knew that was a bad idea. She told me she just knew if she'd gone in, she'd have gotten so angry as to lose her temper and end up "punching the bitch" which would lead to jail. I am so proud of her for having this foresight! She said to the manager "I need to leave," to which the manager responded "If you leave now, you won't be back." Diva said "OK" and walked out.

And Diva already has another job, so she's not destitute or anything. There was a week between the Taco Bell stint and the new thing, so funds might be tight this month. She's learning about life, for sure. And really learning! Not just pretending to, then doing some other stupid shit. Diva was to start her new job this past Monday. I haven't talked to her so don't know how it's going.

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Who's next? Let's look at Sproing. This young man needs some real life experience to teach him some truths, dammit. Back in October when I last posted, he was in the county hoosegow awaiting trial. His case went to court Wednesday of the week before Thanksgiving. They did a legal plea thing and applied a Youthful Offender thingie to the case. He was sentenced to 1-6 years, suspended, then put on probation for two years. As long as he stays out of legal trouble for these two years, he'll be able to have his record expunged. That's the Youthful Offender deal. So he came home in time for Thanksgiving, but the rest of us (Superman, Twitch, and I) went to Pennsylvania to visit Light for Thanksgiving. Couldn't take Sproing, so he spent his Thanksgiving alone. Kinda sucks, but it is what it is (as my brother likes to say).

Since coming home he's supposed to be getting back into a school of some kind and getting a job. Guess what. Neither has happened. He has filled out a few applications, and kinda talked about the school options. Right after Thanksgiving we contacted the high school about him re-enrolling, but because of his felony conviction, they don't want him there. I understand. I don't think he's cut out for traditional high school classes and all that bullshit anyway. His guidance counselor at school and I think he should get his GED. For some reason Sproing is adamantly opposed to that idea. Says he wants a genuine High School Diploma. We're supposed to be looking into online school options.

There's been a spanner thrown into the works, as the Brits like to say. Remember the part where he stays out of trouble for two years? Well, oops. There was a thing with some friend of his concerning two stolen watches. Sproing didn't steal them, I'm 97.5% positive. But he gave a ride to this kid when driving Superman's truck one evening. The next day Superman and I went out for a romantic lunch hour at Taco Bell (livin' large!) and I saw something shiny in the passenger side door pocket. You guessed it, the missing watches! Superman took them to the sheriff's office, Sproing was arrested for possession/receiving stolen goods. I'm pretty sure he knew nothing about the watches being in the truck until I found them. That kid probably left them there. Now Sproing has to go to trial to be exonerated on that charge. I hope that's what happens, anyway. If not, this violates his probation and he'll likely have to serve time, 1-6 years, in jail. I hope he gets out of this mess.

In the meantime, he had a birthday. He turned 18 last Sunday. This changes things legally, but I'm unclear on the specifics.

Sproing has been trying a little harder this week to find work. I think he wants to do the right thing, but sometimes... I don't know. Maybe I'm a bad influence on him. It isn't the same, me not working versus him not working, but he doesn't see it like that. But I feel guilt and other vague negative emotions about it.

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There are other things you probably want to know, or that I want to tell you, but this post is plenty long enough already, and I have pushed myself into a funk and don't have the gumption to write any more. That's "any more" not "anymore". There is a difference. These things become inordinately important to me when I have lost control of other parts of my life. Another example: there may be other things to say, and maybe I'll write another post soon. "May be" and "maybe", two different things.

What really matters?

Once again, here I am

So much has happened, but my heart hasn't been into the writing of it. However, I want to stay in contact with this blog. And damn it all, as so often happens once I get to this point all my ideas flee my head.

I think I need a nap.

I took a nap. Some time passed between those last two sentences.

Diva is once again living with her birth mother in Spartanburg. Her bedroom here has been transformed. First of all, Cory did a spiritual cleansing (and physical cleaning) of the space.

Wait, who's Cory? you ask. I have previously referred to him a C. He's the young man who started my whole gay journey, the one who moved in with us at age 17 when he came out to his mom and she kicked him out of her home. He has lived here off and on for the last almost ten years. And oh yeah, he has moved back in as of the 31st of August. Just a week or so after Diva left, coincidentally.

So, Diva's room: it got cleaned and cleansed, then Superman and I painted it blue. It's never been blue before, not since we've lived here. It's been green, pink and purple, yellow and purple, but not blue. After the distructo-child lived there, poisoning it with her hatred, that room needed a big change. It looks damned good, if I do say so myself. Cory lives there now. Diva knows she no longer has a room here, which hopefully will encourage her to NOT COME BACK!!

Now, for Sproing. He's in jail. Big people jail, not kiddie jail. The first day of school for the kids here was the 17th of August. Sproing skipped school that day and, unbeknownst to me, went with a friend of his to the home of another acquaintance and burgled the house. They broke in through a window and stole not one but two Play Stations (PS4s, I think). Plus the peripherals like cords, controllers and a couple of games. That was a Monday. That Thursday a couple of detectives from the police department came by to ask if I knew anything. I had seen the things, not knowing from whence they came. So the detectives went to the school and "interviewed" Sproing. He was taken to the county detention center from there and I haven't seen him since. He's been charged with second degree burglary and grand larceny (>$2000 but < $10,000).  I requested that he be kept there rather than let out on bail. The judge set his bail at $30,000. So there he sits.

Actually he is supposed to be in court tomorrow on his charge of credit card fraud for stealing almost $900 from us. I'm not going to worry about it. If they need him there, they'll have to walk him across the street from the detention center to the court house. I'm not sure when he's to appear for the new burglary and larceny charges. I'm not the victim on record for those.

And here's the thing. For a long time I've had hope for that kid. He's relatively intelligent. Stupid as shit in the unwise sense, but smart otherwise. He also talks a good talk. He's been stringing me along all summer, promising to look for a job and making a show of it, but not really doing anything. He said all sorts of inspiring things about starting school and being on track, etc. He had a conference with his guidance counselor the second day of school. They made grand plans for him to graduate next January, just half a year behind schedule. He sounded good. But the day before that discussion he had seriously broken the law.

He betrayed me. Or I allowed myself to be hoodwinked and thus feel betrayed. Diva has been a hot mess for the longest time and I have little hope of her being a responsible citizen, but I thought Spoing had the stuff to deliver.

So I am D O N E with him. I'm angry and hurt. I spoke to him on the phone a couple of times the first week he was incarcerated. He wanted me to arrange a meeting with the judge to try to work something out so he could be out on bail. HA! I said No. He's been there three weeks as of today. Funny, it seems like longer. Hmph, probably feels like longer to him, too. GOOD!! Anyway, I wrote him a letter yesterday and sent $20 (in a Postal Money Order only) for his canteen account. I called the jail to ask how I could visit him, and the nice lady said I had to be on an approved visitor list; he has to add me, but he needs to know my name, birth date, phone number, and drivers license number. Yeah, he won't know that one. But I asked about sending him stamps and envelopes so he can write to me, but she said nope. I can send money and he can buy those supplies in the canteen. So I sent some money. Which he'll probably spend on chips and soda. Anyway, I'll call in a few days and see if I'm on his visitor list. I'm about ready to talk to him again, but have only recently reached this point. Superman isn't ready to talk to him yet.

If he ends up staying in jail until (or past) January 24th, he won't move back home. That's his 18th birthday, and after he's 18 we aren't legally obligated to providing a home for him. Since he confessed to his involvement with the burglary I guess he'll plead guilty unless he gets a public defender who convinces him otherwise. The stolen goods were retrieved from this house, though, where he said he'd hid them, so I don't think he has a defense. Anyway, if convicted I predict he'll spend at least 12 months in jail, maybe more. He's in the county jail now. After conviction, though, I don't know if he'll stay in the jail or go to prison. As I was recently informed, there's a difference.

I never thought I'd be having this discussion about one of my children. It turns my stomach.

So the house has been peaceful for a couple of weeks since Diva left. Twitch is here still, and Cory's here now. They are so much more calm than Diva and Sproing! My life has, for now anyway, eased somewhat. The stress level is much lower. I'm still in shock, or something like it. Don't think I'll relax until both of them turn 18. Diva hits the big "adult" on 4 December.

In the meantime I'm not sure what I'm doing. Working on Diva's room was helpful. Actually I got to go through all her stuff. She'd left everything at the home of a friend when she left for Spartanburg, and Superman retrieved it from there. We had it here for a few days before we were "able" to get it to her. I cleaned out a lot of junk. Seriously, empty shampoo and deodorant containers? I had Cory go through her shirts to get rid of what he thought was unsuitable. I wanted that done but wasn't quite able to do it myself. Now it's all NOT in my house. I went through Sproing's stuff too. He has significantly less than she did.

The next project is to make changes to his old room similar to what we did to hers. Not sure what color(s) to paint it. Diva's room is light smoky blue on three walls, slightly darker on the 4th wall. We might do something like that with the colors for Sproing's old room, or paint it one color. Do any of you have suggestions? I won't go with purple again, not that I don't (or didn't) like that color, but after Diva it has some negative associations for me. Also no red. I don't do red, not in large swaths like that.

I'm rambling. I want to comment on Jay's suicide, but I'm not sure what to say. It hurts. Hurts more this week than it did last week, for some reason. As I said to a couple of other bloggers, it's a tragic situation all around.

I've had trouble this week getting anything done. Tuesday was somewhat productive, but yesterday and today I haven't done jack. Can't seem to get myself out of bed. I finally showered at 5:15 yesterday evening. Haven't bathed today. I did get dressed, though. Yay me. I made a list Tuesday of things to do yesterday. And there it sits, waiting for me to do something. Maybe tomorrow.

And that's about all I have to say right now. Writing this blog post has been the most productive thing I've done today. I'm gonna call that a win.

I'm blogstipated

I don't post often enough so when I finally sit down to write, there's so much to say it gets too long and I forget some of what I wanted to say. And other problems, but I forgot them just now.

Last week Twitch was transferred back to the Greenwood store (Arby's) so we no longer have to make that long drive to Simpsonville. What a relief! I actually like the drive sometimes, but not when it's so hot, and not four times a day. So now I'm glad he didn't get an apartment there.

Diva is a hot mess, as usual. She got this internship thing at a hair salon, then never went. She's being her old crazy self again, and not being nice to me very often. I don't want to talk about it.

Let's see... Sproing. He's an ass. Hangs around the house most of the day with his friends, playing video games and talking shit. He tells me he has a lead on one job or another nearly every day, but nothing ever becomes of it. Yes, he's taking advantage of me. Again. Still.

Light's birthday is Friday. She'll be 26. She's been in my dreams recently, but as a small child. Sometimes she's under 2 years old, sometimes she's pre-teen. Sometimes my other children are in the dreams too. She was such a lovely child. I miss that.

Superman and I were in Target yesterday and saw some cute dresses for little girls. I like the idea of sweet little girls, ages approximately 3-7, but the reality can be gritty. I know from experience. Maybe I'm ready for grandparenthood. Thing is, none of my children is ready for parenthood, so let's just skip it for now.

Here's the segue to the next topic:

Sproing hangs out in the living room most of the day. Whenever I go through there I get a pang of melancholy or something in the middle of my chest. Melancholy doesn't really begin to describe it. It's sadder and more anxious than my concept of melancholy. Whatever, it isn't pretty. This ball of burning lead in my chest saps my motivation right out of me.

I've said before that I am a hoarder. I want to clear out a lot of this junk in my life, but there is a strong emotional component to this mess. I'm a mess. For months I've been staring at these shelves in my bedroom. Just those two over there, not that big bookshelf on that side of the room. No, not that one up there either. Let's for a moment ignore the one(s) behind me. Just these two little (OK, not so little) shelves on top of my two drawer filing cabinet. (Now I want to create a diversion by telling you how wonderful my filing cabinet is, but that's just an unhealthy coping strategy, so let's not go there.) So this morning, feeling like accomplishing something, I started on the first cubby. (The unit has four cubbies, two small and two large. And the top of the shelf. And all that crap in front of it.) I got everything except the really big unabridged dictionary cleaned out! I even threw some of it away! Go me! But OMG I'm now approaching a nervous anxiety attack. Walking through the living room made it worse. I'm hydrating, and I had a V-8, hoping vegetables will help my body deal. I can write coherent sentences (I think) so it could be worse. It could also be a lot better.

Papers from my college art classes were in that cubby. Some sketch books, some notes and communications from the class. I took those classes only about five years ago. It seems like a long time now. There was a note from my professor encouraging me to continue my art education because he sees a lot of promise/potential. All the gods have mercy upon me!! I want to! So much! I remember I cried when I first got that note from him, and I cried again when I read it today. I'm currently helpless, (well, probably not completely) hopelessly entangled in the trappings of my life, unable to exercise my creativity.

Actually, one of the things I want to do today is sew. I have a new dress completely cut out and ready to sew together. I've started sewing a shirt and want to get back to it. But do you know how close my sewing room/office is to the living room where the "chaps" are hanging? I can't go there. Gads, I feel so helpless and weak and stupid.

In other, lighter news, I broke a tooth over the weekend. For those of you keeping score at home, it's the bottom right, third tooth from the end. I have no wisdom teeth anymore, so don't count that. A piece of the tooth sheared off the side between the teeth. It's stuck between the teeth now, and shifts around when I chew on that side. Feels really strange. I broke it while eating cornbread. Soft, fluffy, oh so good cornbread. Or at least that's when I noticed it. I was also eating soup. Soup with nothing hard in it. I have no idea how it broke. I suspect there's a filling in that tooth and it popped off beside the filling. Thankfully it doesn't hurt. I have an appointment with my dentist tomorrow midday.

This is about all I have the emotional energy to write right now. Have a good July.

It's only Tuesday? I thought for sure it would be Friday by now.

 

Yo-yo. That's what she is. Or that's what she's doing to me, I don't know.
Yes, the Diva is back. This doesn't surprise you, does it? I hope not. We all should have predicted this. Hell, I did.

She seems to be back to stay, at least for a while. We discussed her continued education. On the advice of the student support specialist at the high school, we're looking into the adult education GED program at the alternative school. This seems to be the best bet for the child.

I am kinda depressed. It's hard to write much. By the way, I have an appointment with my therapist tomorrow (Wednesday) afternoon. Haven't seen her in a while, what with surgery and recovery and all. And boy, do I have a lot to share with her!

An old friend stopped by the house today. Wendell. I probably wrote about him a few years ago. He worked with Sproing for a while, teaching him how to be a decent human being. Don't know how well it worked, but oh well. Wendell is a fantastic fellow. He lives in Los Angeles now and works with a social service agency that targets people with at-risk behaviors for HIV/AIDS prevention education, among other things. Wendell worked with Sproing, but he and I became good friends. I miss him. It was very good to see him again.

I had a good conversation with Diva last night. She told me a little bit about living with her birth mom Janice. In a round-about way, probably unintentionally, she kinda told me that I'm a good mother. It took me a couple of hours after the conversation to realize it, but hey! I'm taking the compliment.

Jay asked about Twitch. Yes, Twitch still lives here. He works at Arby's, making sandwiches for the hungry lunch crowd almost every day. He is doing well, but really should be working (in my opinion) as a graphic designer or something related, which is what he got his degree for. However, he has plans to transfer to a store in Charlotte, NC this summer so he can look for graphic design work there. He went to college in Charlotte, so he's familiar with the city. It's big enough to have more opportunity for work in his field. That's the hope, anyway. He just turned 24 and feels like it's a drag to still be living with his parents. As much as we love and support him, we think he should be living on his own, too. All in good time.

That's about all I have the emotional energy to relay. I'll be back.

Meh

It's like this... nuthin'. I got nuthin' going on, nothing interesting to say.

My brain is full of cotton fluff. Nothing interests me, my primary motivation is to stay out of the way of the people in this house. Except maybe Superman. He's nice. Everyone else is annoying at the very least.

Sproing got himself suspended from school for mouthing off to an administrator and refusing to cooperate. Typical Sproingish behavior, I see it all the time. The assistant principal was not amused. Now Sproing is home until next Wednesday and I am not amused. I can't talk to him. When I try he gets very angry and won't listen.

Diva came home from school in tears today. The usual suspects are picking on her again. They're threatening to jump her... after graduation. She's repeating the 10th grade, and if she passes all her classes this year and next she will be eligible to graduate in June of 2016. So, over a year and a half from now she might get jumped by these girls who don't like her. But to her it is a big thing, and I can't dismiss her concerns. But she won't tell me who these girls are and she refuses to inform the authorities at school. So what the hell am I supposed to do about it? All I did today was make sympathetic noises. Really, it's all she allows me to do.

I'm not a good mother anymore. I think I used to be, to the older children who were good at behaving themselves. To the younger ones when they were real young. I have no idea what to do with them now. I've lost most of the respect they ever had for me. I feel used. This feeling of being used is probably typical of parents of teens. No matter, is sucks.

So my only purpose in life right now is to love my husband. I can do that. I enjoy loving my husband. He's a great guy. Not perfect, of course, and I try to ignore his imperfections. I can live with that. I'm supposed to have purpose as a mother, but my children won't let me. Whatever. I just wish they wouldn't argue with me. It hurts.

I don't post here very often anymore. There isn't much to say that doesn't sound pitiful. But I figured I'd check in, let you know that I'm still alive and I plan to stay that way.

Did She Survive the Summer?

I don't know. The verdict is still out on that one.

The kids are back in school and I am still alive, so if those are the measurements, yes I survived. But who am I now? I don't know.

I'll tell you a little bit about the kids. Sproing is already not doing well at school, and they've been in for seven days. We have a teacher conference with his English teacher tomorrow afternoon. Also he's failing math already. I don't know what it is about this boy, and I don't know what to do with him. That's what his English teacher says, too.

And now for Diva: she has contracted another STD, this time a biggie. She's got genital herpes. Or the way she says it, general harpies. You'd think she was an uneducated idiot. Maybe she is, though I've done everything in my power to enrich her life with educational opportunities and good moral teaching.

I don't know who I am. I feel like I'm about three feet tall with the strength of a four year old. No, I know too much to have the strength of a four year old. They have the benefit of ignorance (very different from idiocy) and naivety which increases their particular strength. I'm a useless mass of non-confidence. Or a non-confident mass of uselessness.

Can you smell the depression? And when I'm depressed I don't post on my blog very much. I also don't read blogs much, so I have no idea what anyone else is doing. Slugmama, bless her heart, sent me a message today (or was it yesterday?) inquiring of my situation. You can thank her for this post, such as it is.

I don't even go online much these days. Just this week I've checked my email almost every day, which is a huge jump from the once a week or so I was active last month. I had been doing the Facebork thing pretty regularly, but that tapered off sometime mid summer. I just don't care about much anymore.

The kids will be home any minute now and I want to be done here first, so this is what'cha got today.

The drain

Sproing and Diva will be home all day tomorrow and for the foreseeable future. Today is the last day of school. I feel as though all the interest and motivation has drained from my life. I do truly despise summer break.

So I'm going to the gymnasium today for an orientation. I've joined a 36 week program (that's a really long time) of exercise and healthy eating that should get me in much better shape (and not so much the round shape) and help me lose some of this extra weight. I told the fella leading it that I want to lose 100 lbs. Now, I don't expect, nor do I desire to lose 100 lbs. in 36 weeks. Lordy, that's way too fast. Perhaps I could lose half of that, somewhere between 40 and 50 lbs in that time. That's also kinda fast, but doable, maybe. Anyway, I'll do orientation later this morning. Then probably tomorrow I'll start with the exercise. Ugh. I'm not looking forward to that part. And I need to get some proper attire. I doubt the skirts are going to be adequate. And I need proper footwear. Some people may be excited about getting all these new clothes and shoes and shit. I am not one of those people. I don't like shopping for clothes or shoes, though I like having a good pair of supportive athletic shoes.

I seem to be over-emotional today. Sproing threatened to skip school today and I broke down crying. Right now I'm on the verge of tears for reasons I don't understand. Maybe it's hormones. Maybe it's the threat of summer break. Maybe it's the threat of exercise.

For real, people. I fear exercise. It's like I was bitten by a gymnasium as a child or something. I get anxious and panicky when I go into a gym or onto a playing field. And I cry easily. I hate this. I look like a fat wimp. But part of me wants to do this. Really, I want the results and the only way to do that is to go through the discomfort, both mental and physical.

I have an idea. I'll make a paperclip chain, one clip for every day until the first day of school. And at the end of each day I'll take off one clip, and the chain will grow shorter and shorter. This works for me; I've done it before for other things. At first the chain seems interminably long, but all of a sudden, one day it looks shorter.

My brain is desperately searching for something to make it feel better. This is where we must avoid dangerous traps, because the simple brain wants to numb the pain. It's 8 a.m., let's have a beer! No, not gonna do that. The rest of that big bag of M&Ms. Also not a good idea. A cigarette! That'll be great! No, a particularly bad idea, and I don't smoke anyway. Dude, time to get baked. Nope, not going there. Don't have a source for that shit and I don't want to do it while it's illegal anyway, if at all. So here I am, pounding away on the blog. I think it helps.

I just received a call from the school. Diva needs to be picked up at 10:30 because she doesn't have a 6th period. As part of her shortened school day she dropped her 6th period class, and the last class of today coincides with the 6th period. So she has half a half day today. My stomach queeses. My last free day, last day free of them before summer break is now only two hours long. Well, three hours from the time they leave for school. Ugh. I'm not having a good day. Yesterday was a terrific day. Today, not so much.

Though I did get my sewing machine back. And for only $25 it got repaired, cleaned, and oiled. I am halfway through making a posh frock for myself. A dress made of linen. I probably won't work on it today, as it requires concentration and I'm all messed up.

OK, I'll put this on the blog then go make my paperclip chain. ttyl

Thoughts on depression and not being so depressed

So I was talking to Superman this morning while I was painting the firewood rack in our backyard. We were talking about my increased motivation and the lessening of my depression. I said that I'd had brief episodes of feel-good-motivation-to-get-stuff-done (hereafter referred to as "motivation") surrounded by lots of mope-and-not-getting-much-accomplished (hereafter referred to as "depression"). I feel as though I've been depressed for probably 30, maybe 35, of my 52 years. That's total periods of depression interspersed with days/weeks/years of feeling pretty good and motivated, mostly in bursts of days or weeks, not months or years. Superman remembers it a bit differently, that I was motivated more often than depressed until about seven or eight years ago, which would be when Diva and Sproing (who are now 16.5) began to get really difficult, and when Twitch was in the worst of his teen years. Now that the kidlets are in the worst of their teen years (and have been for at least four years) things are still bad. Refer to, oh hell, most of my blog archives, since I started this blog in 2007 when I was already in the dumps.

I painted the firewood rack this morning. I asked Twitch to do it last week and he just never got around to it. He had lots of excuses. Excuses are his speciality. He's a lazy son of a bitch.

Oh, and did I tell you that Manny is back?  We sprung him from the repair shop on Friday, IIRC. $550 for bail, or repairs in this case. Damn. Ron the mechanic said I really need to get this oil leak fixed, too. It's in the lifter area, evidently the gasket on the lifter head leaks. There are other oil leaks, but he says probably 90% of the oil is coming from there. That repair will probably cost at least $400.

Manny's clutch appears to be fine, it was the bracket holding the clutch and brake pedals that broke, causing the clutch to slip badly. This is what Ron the mechanic says. I really don't know much of what I'm talking about. I don't know the difference between a broken clutch and a slipped clutch. I do know that he's shifting just fine now.

And I feel the need for a trip. I'd love to go to western PA again to see Light, but I could be happy with a weekend camping trip in the mountains, perhaps a day driving the Blue Ridge Parkway.

It's late, I'm tired, and all sorts of other things. So goodnight, and I'll see about writing more before too long. I'd like to blog at least once a week rather than the once or twice a month I've managed recently. Motivation, people!!

Spring Break!

See that exclamation mark in the title? I don't really mean it.

I have the depression monster sitting on my head today. Eh, whatever. I'm used to it. I don't even want to be not depressed, necessarily. I know how to do this depression thing. It's comfortable. Sort of. And everything around me (except Superman) triggers my depression. So I might as well embrace it.

So, Spring Break. Easter, as you probably know, was this past Sunday. We didn't do a thing toward celebrating it. Why bother? I don't believe in so much of what the Christian churches teach, so whatever. I did, however, buy myself a small chocolate bunny on clearance at the grocery store on Monday. So yay, happy Easter.

Being Easter and all, the schools are out. No school last Friday, and no school all this week. You know what that means. Kids here all day. Or in and out all day, with me concerned about what kind of trouble they're getting into if they aren't here. Sort of. Mostly, I'm trying not to care what they do. The depression is helping with the Not Caring thing. Spring Break also signals the impending school summer break, which lasts a painfully long time. Only about five weeks now until school's out for almost three months. Plus, it's hot here. Or it will be then. Actually right now the temps are not too bad. Warm, but not terrible.

The pollen is pretty bad, but if I stay inside I'm OK. I don't want to get out of the house anyway. Unfortunately there are things I must do. My allergies are better than they were a couple of weeks ago, so that's good. And we've had a fair amount of rain which helps wash the pollen out of the air.

A couple of things about Diva:
First the good news. Yes! There is good news! Last week was the 31st anniversary of our wedding. Superman and I eloped in March of '83 a month before the planned wedding. Then we did the public wedding thing to make our parents happy in April. We usually celebrate the March date, but Diva got wind of the April anniversary and made dinner for us. It was really sweet. She made a small cake with fruit compote topping, broiled some whitefish and dished up some carrots and applesauce for us. It was quite nice of her and I thanked her and hugged her and everything. Also, she makes really good cakes. I suspect her daddy helped with the fish. It was cooked just right. All in all a good evening. So score 1 for Diva.

Yesterday she had her intake interview with Department of Juvenile Justice (DJJ). That fight she had at school in January resulted in a criminal charge of public disturbance or something. I can't remember exactly what the charge is. So DJJ needs demographic information and assorted other crap for their files. So we did that. She was surly. I survived.

In the process of the interview she mentioned that she was still upset about an incident of molestation she experienced last year. I may have mentioned it then. It happened March a year ago. Superman and I were of course concerned about the molestation and have done what we can to help her. She's been to the local sexual abuse counseling place for some services (forensic interview, physical exam, STD testing) but refused any counseling at the time and when offered since then. Until yesterday. She told the DJJ agent when he asked that yes, she does need to talk to someone about the trauma. OK, backing up a week or two, she came to me all in a dither one Saturday recently. She'd been in serious trouble for some now-forgotten offense and was undoubtedly grounded. She started out crying about some other wrong that had been done unto her, then segued into this lament about how traumatized she is by the molestation incident.

I do not mean to minimize the impact of her being molested. It was an invasion of her very being. She was spending the night with a friend, and the ex-boyfriend of the girl's mother came into the room where they were sleeping and fondled her. She told the friend's mother the next morning, mother called the police, Diva was taken to the hospital for whatever it is they do in those cases. We followed up with the police detective who was on the case, with the sexual trauma center, and everything else we were supposed to do. We were sympathetic and concerned about her, as much as I can be sympathetic to her in light of all the abuse she has heaped on me. I really do care.

Anyway, that recent Saturday she complained bitterly that I hadn't done anything, or didn't care, or something about how upset she still is because of the sexual abuse. Just a few days prior to this someone from the sexual trauma center called to check up on Diva, see how she was doing. I was sitting with Diva at the time, and asked her, told her who was on the phone, etc. She said she was fine. So here it is Saturday and she tells me she has flashbacks, can't sleep at night, is afraid this guy is peeking in her window every night. This is all news to me. She hasn't said one word about it for months and months. I asked if she'd like to talk to someone to help her deal with her feelings and she said yes. So the following Monday I called the sexual trauma center to set up an appointment for her. The woman I needed to talk to was at lunch, I left a message, she never got back to me. I didn't follow through. Then this week Diva tells the DJJ agent that she needs to talk to someone about the abuse. I told him what I'd done and that I hadn't followed up, he told me to follow up. Yes sir, I certainly will.

I think it's impossible for me to be brief in telling a story. Sorry about that, y'all.

After we left the DJJ office in the courthouse downtown I drove directly (through the pollen) to the sexual trauma center, a mile or so south of downtown. I figured that showing up at this place, since I was already out anyway, was easier than me remembering to call back. Well, now Diva refuses to get out of the truck to come in and talk to someone. I went in, explained the situation, and after a few minutes a very nice young woman came out, willing to talk to Diva. Also, see, Diva is in regular counseling with a therapist at the local Dept. of Mental Health office. Has been for years. I mentioned this to the nice young woman who said it would be best for Diva to discuss these things with the therapist with whom she already has a good working relationship. I said "Makes sense to me. Don't know why she hasn't." But Nice Young Woman was willing to talk to Diva if she'd come in. So I went back out to the truck and Diva still refused to budge. So I went back in, thanked the Nice Young Woman, and took Diva home. Because shit. You know?

And I strongly suspect Diva is just jerking my chain. She's being manipulative. Perhaps she is traumatized by the molestation, I don't know, but I really think she throws it in my face to distract me from her other misdeeds. I have done what I can for her. I'm willing to get her the help she needs to the best of  my knowledge and ability. She, in typical Diva style, refuses to cooperate with me.

When I got home I called her therapist at the dept. of mental health, told her about the events of the day. I asked if she and Diva had worked through any of this sexual abuse trauma Diva claims to suffer. Therapist didn't remember Diva having been abused. I thought we'd told her, was sure we had, and she said, "Yes, I vaguely remember now." Therapist said she worked for four years at the sexual trauma center before taking the position she has now with Mental Health. I laughed. Because, of course. Nice Young Woman told me that Therapist was trained in exactly the same kind of therapy they use at the trauma center, and would do exactly the same thing they'd do there.

Diva has an appointment to see her Mental Health therapist next Tuesday. We shall see what we shall see.

Oh, back to the whole Spring Break and everyone's home thing. Diva Darling posted a threatening video on Facebork attacking the same girl she fought with last January. (This is related, trust me.) The police are involved with that, too. I got a call, again, from the assistant principal. We've come to know each other well this year. Gosh, that happened over a week ago I think. It took a while for consequences to hit because the Individual Education Plan (IEP) team had to meet to determine if Diva's behavior in this case is due to her clinical diagnoses before the assistant principal could hand down the punishment. We, the IEP team, decided that, no, Diva's threatening video was not related to her clinical diagnoses. Therefore Diva gets suspended for four days. Remember I said the kids were out on Friday? We had this IEP meeting last Wednesday, so Thursday was Diva's first day of suspension. The following three days of suspension occur Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday of next week when school in once again in session. Fuck My Life. She gets an extra long Spring Break. She did the same thing before Christmas, got I can't remember how many days suspension just before the Christmas break to make it an extra long vacation for her. I feel so fucked over. To add insult to injury (if that's what this is) Sproing got suspended for three days the week before last, and he was at home last Monday and Tuesday, back in school Wednesday and Thursday, then off again now. At least he goes back to school next Monday.

And this is a preview of our summer break. Kids home and arguing with me and each other 'round the clock. I feel stressed.

In other news, Sproing took an all-day driving class two weekends ago, and has the practical driving part of the class this week, this afternoon and tomorrow afternoon. He has already scheduled a time with the DMV to take his driving test for his license. The boy wants to DRIVE! Sounds like more opportunity to get in trouble to me, but whatever. He is a good driver. He's young and stupid, though (age 16) and I fear he will wreck the car. Superman needs to up the insurance coverage before the kid does any driving. I need to ask him about that.

All of the kids (Twitch included) need to find jobs. The kidlets for the summer and Twitch for permanent. Mostly he mopes around the house. He'll go out looking for work a couple of days a week maybe, but he spends a lot of time at home moping. Talk about depressing. He says he wants to get a job so he can move out of this house, away from his siblings. Well, then, Twitch, get off your lazy ass, get out there and WORK, dammit!!

I have no energy to confront any of them about any of this. I hide in my room reading (mostly) gay romances all day. It's light reading, doesn't require much brain work. No, this isn't healthy. Right now I don't much care. In related news, I see my therapist on Thursday. We will discuss my coping strategies and probably come to no conclusion.

Superman got himself a new computer and a new tablet recently. They're cool. I've used the tablet a few times. It's good for cruising the 'net, I suppose, but I much prefer a keyboard to write anything. His computer works so well! Turn it on and -ta da!- it's on. Mine takes about half an hour to boot up completely so I can surf the web without it freezing up on me. Most of the time. My computer is six, maybe seven years old now. Vista was the great new thing when I got it. I upgraded to Windows 7 and got myself a few more Gigs of RAM (or something) when Windows 7 came out. Now that Superman has a new computer, though, mine looks less and less appealing.

That's all I have today. Sorry most of it is so morose. And long-winded.

Yeah, whatever

I'm back. Did you miss me? That was a rhetorical question to which I don't really want an answer.

I haven't turned on my computer in almost two weeks. I've done a little bit of Facebork browsing on my smart (sic) phone. My phone is old and stupid (for a smart phone) and won't give me much. I can "like" a post, comment on posts sometimes, but not much else. Aside from that, I haven't been online.

I have, however, been thinking about lots of my online friends. Hi guys! Not doing much about it, but thinking of you fondly.

Depressed. Oh, and pollen. I didn't even stand near the opened door for five days last week, the pollen was so bad. It's still pretty heavy, but not as bad as it was even earlier this week. I was out yesterday, took Diva to her therapist, and had to shower when I got home to get rid of the pollen. I was out earlier this morning, going to the high school, and haven't even had to washed my face and I'm OK.

I was called to the principal's office. Diva again. Remember the fight she got into a few weeks (months?) ago? She's still fighting with the girl, but not with fists. She posted a vulgar tirade online attacking the other girl, and I was called in today to a conference with the school resource officer and the principal and Diva about it. Posting vulgar tirades against someone is technically illegal. Not sure I knew that, but whatever. The other girl's mother doesn't want to press charges now as long as this shit ends. Diva sat through the meeting with a scowl on her face. If Diva does this shit again the charge will be harsher, something about a pattern of behavior and harassment. I wish the other mother would press charges. Maybe I can talk to the resource officer (he's a sergeant with the Sheriff's dept.) to encourage the other mom to press charges. But if she is charged, the offense will be added to her list of charges and we'll wait for-fucking-ever to go to court and my life with suck until then. And probably after, because shit.

I'm so fucking depressed. I hate my home life. I hate my house. I resent our pets. I am pissed as hell that I feel like I have to hide in my room to avoid the hellishness of my children.

Nothing works. No amount of talking to the kids, punishing them, encouraging them, doing things for them, ignoring them,  not anything works. She has charges pending against her and jack shit is happening about that. Oh, we do have an "intake interview" for her in two weeks at Department of Juvenile Justice (DJJ). We've done this before. It's filling out forms, answering the same questions over and over because these forms don't coordinate with each other to share information. Name, age, birth date, address, social security number, etc. over and over again. Probably some other questions, too, but I can't now remember. Maybe I'll post about it after the meeting, but probably not. Back to the point: DJJ will gather all this redundant information and sit on it for months. In the meantime, she'll be a pain in my ass. My therapist says this is "learned helplessness," this sense that there's no point in doing anything because nothing will change.

She ran away last month, for a weekend. She says it wasn't running away, she just left without telling us she was leaving or where she was going. Et cetera. The point: the police officer told us that when she's 17 they can't make her come home. She'll be 17 on the 4th of December. It can't come soon enough for any of us, parents and child(ren) included.

Chocolate and sex are the only things that give me pleasure these days.

Did I tell you the doctor has increased my antidepressant meds? I may have said that already in a previous post. Don't know if it helps. What will really help is changing things in my life that depress and stress me. Nothing we've done has helped. I feel like my life is in a sick holding pattern for now until the children move out. Or at least that particular girl child. The old boy needs to go, too. He's home, pretending to look for a job but mostly sitting on his lazy ass. I nag, but nagging makes me sick. I'm too depressed to fight.

And I feel like this is the only thing I ever write about here on this blog anymore. I'm bored of it all.

"All the pretty girls get cut in half while the sad clowns make us laugh."


OK, a couple of positives: I have been cleaning and decluttering a little bit. Not a bunch, but a little bit. And that's good. I got myself a new CD of The Plain White T's, the above song is on the album. The whole album has catchy songs on it. Do I like it? Dunno, but they're catchy tunes.

And baseball season started! Go Braves! It's not much, but it helps.

And I got my hair cut. Really short. Half inch all over. It looks ridiculous. Kinda reminds me of the crew cuts my Daddy used to give my brothers when they were 2-6 years old. And I don't give a flying fuck, except when I do.

Here's another post

Somebody suggested that I post more often. So here's another post. What will it say? I don't know yet.
In the meantime, enjoy this post:

Yet another post

One reason I haven't posted recently is that I don't want to talk about it. It's too damned depressing. 

Yeah, I'm depressed, and it affects the way I communicate. My thoughts are disorganized and so is my communication. I don't make sense to myself, so I doubt I make sense to anyone else. 

I saw my therapist today. She knows I am depressed. She sympathises. She wants to help us get Diva into a group home or something. 

There's a group home here in Greenwood. I contacted the admissions director the other day to see about getting Diva in there. She says they have space for her, but there is of course more to the application process. I dropped off some of Diva's records yesterday - the discharge summary from the psychiatric residential facility, the latest IEP* from the school, that sort of thing. I've arrange for the school psychologist to send their psych evaluation to this place. Next step is for us to have an interview. Or for them to interview Diva, I'm not sure which. The invitation to interview depends on whether or not the paperwork I've already submitted scares the admissions director off of Diva. We shall see. My therapist knows the admissions lady and will call her to put in a good word for us/Diva. 

Superman had a heart scare Tuesday. His heart was fluttering something awful, beating really fast, he was dizzy and short of breath. I took him to the emergency department. The doctor he got is the best cardiologist in town, according to reliable sources. Superman was experiencing atrial fibrillation, which is the leading cause of stroke. FML. But, it's also very common and very easy to manage. I pretend not to worry. 

So, do you think stress might be a factor? Do you, like me, think that Diva in particular and the sons in addition are killing us? 

Diva did a bad thing last weekend. She was grounded, but convinced her daddy to allow her to exchange one day of being grounded (Friday evening to Saturday evening) for being grounded the rest of this week. We brokered a similar deal with Sproing not too long ago. So yeah, we let her spend the night/day with her friend in Abbeville (the next town west of us). The little bitch pulled the switcheroo, though. See, I knew we shouldn't trust her, but I went along with the plan anyway because what the fuck. Her daddy trusted her, though. He was to pick her up at 6:30 Saturday evening. To make a long painful story short, he didn't actually get her until 7:30 Sunday evening. She kept calling to say she wasn't at her friend's house, they were in another town visiting relatives or some such. It's all lies anyway, so whatever. The thing is that he trusted her and she broke his trust. Again. And this was the last straw. He is heartbroken, really. 

I had a little talk with her this afternoon. I explained that she did herself in this time, that her daddy who has always had her back, who has always given her the benefit of the doubt, is now finished with her. 

Superman was in a state Sunday evening, and since then, too. He is in mourning for the little girl he wishes he had. You probably know I gave up on her (mostly) a long time ago. It hurts to see how much she has hurt him. 

There's more, too. More that involves her screaming and cussing at us for an hour right after Superman got home from the hospital. She insists that she's going to move to Abbeville to live with her friend. That ain't happenin'. We're the parents, we have legal responsibility for her, etc. and we're not going to let her live with some other skanky ho to get into all kind of trouble. We will, however, let her live at this group home. At first she balked (that's a very understated way to describe her reaction) but after finding out more about the place she's more willing to consider it. I hope to all the gods available that they accept her. 

Sproing is home and nothing has changed about the way he interacts with the family. I don't know how to describe it. He's bossy, shifts blame, bitches about any task we give him (though he usually does what we ask if we leave him alone), and ignores the rules he doesn't like. He goes before the judge again on March 11th for his final ... whatever the legal term is. This is when the judge considers the results of his evaluations from the evaluation center (the kiddie jail he was in) and makes a final judgement on what to do with him. I have no idea how that will go. Frankly I haven't the emotional energy to give a fuck. I'll deal with it when it happens. 

Twitch is looking for a job. Sort of. In a very lazy half-assed way. His presence irritates me because he's being such a leech. I "encourage" him to get out there and pound the pavement, but godalmighty I'm so fucking depressed that I barely have the energy to give him a dirty look. 

Superman and I will leave here as soon as we're finished at court with Sproing on the 11th. We'll drive up to Pennsylvania to see Light. Her art exhibit is up until the third week of March and I really want to see it. So on the way to Delaware we're going to swing by Indiana, PA. Yeah, it's a round-about way to get to Delaware from South Carolina, but it involves seeing Light so it's all good. Then Thursday we'll head to Lewes, DE for the Bloggerpalooza. Oh my stars I'm so looking forward to seeing my blog buddies and being away from home! It feels like years since I did anything resembling fun. I had a blast on my road trip last summer, and that's probably the last time I had fun. Being so depressed makes it seem like I've never known fun and will never have any fun ever again. So I'm going to Delaware looking for fun. 

"They" say that being involved in charitable activities helps relieve feelings of despondency. Tomorrow (Friday) I'll spend a few hours with a sweet little old lady who is slowly dying of heart failure. It's my Friday thing for now. Until she dies. This is the third Hospice patient I've had the privilege** of visiting. She isn't quite as spunky as the last lady I sat with, but she's very nice. Her daughter (the caregiver) is nice, too. I'll take my knitting. I knat last week and she enjoyed watching me. I find that amusing, but whatever to amuse a poor dying lady, I'll do. I think I left my little scissors there. They weren't in my tote bag when I got home. 

And that's about all I know. It's pretty damned depressing. Maybe one day I'll be able to post something that has nothing to do with my children and that is pleasant. This ain't it. 

*IEP - Individual Education Plan

**"Privilege is not spelled with a "d" anywhere. Remember that, Java. Also, it truly is a great privilege to visit with these Hospice patients. 

It's been a busy week?

I don't know anything anymore.

Diva has been doing her shorter school day for about a week now. The special-needs bus brings her home around 1:00 in the afternoon. She hangs around, watches TV, sleeps in the afternoon. I have no gumption to encourage anything else. I don't know what to do with her anyway. If we talk too much we end up fighting, so I'm trying to stay out of her way.

This is fucked up. This is not how I envisioned my life with my adopted children. Things were going to be so much better than this. There have been lots of missteps along the way. I did what I thought was right for a long time, and of course I made mistakes. But at some point a few years ago (probably five years if I had to guess) the balance tipped. I am in over my head with these kids. I don't know what to do and have no confidence to try much of anything anyway.

I read over the past few posts about Diva. I really do sound like a rotten mother. I have a bad attitude, that's for sure.

Sproing has been in jail for three weeks now. Not sure when he'll go before the judge again, but it will probably be within another three weeks. Superman and I had a good visit with him Saturday. He turned 16 a couple of weeks ago and is itching to try for his drivers' license as soon as he gets sprung from juvie. Yeah, we'll see. Really, I don't know. I think there should be an easy answer, that he definitely should (or should not) get his license yet. But I don't know and haven't the mental/emotional fortitude to figure it out. Or to stick with a plan.

And Twitch is home again. I drove down to Charleston last Thursday to get him and all his stuff. He's here. And pretending to look for a job, but not very hard in my estimation. He wants to go to Cincinnati (I don't know where that came from) to get a job, but he has no money, no prospects, nothing to go on. I told him to get a job here, make some money, do a bunch of research and job searching online and when he's got enough cash to make the move and a job to go to, then he'll be ready to go. He's been moping and mumbling around here since Friday. He helped his dad gather firewood on Sunday, that was helpful.

C moved out over the weekend. Twitch is now in the room C and his friend shared. This is the third time, if I recall, that C has lived here then moved away. This time is the worst yet. "How do you mean, Java?" Well, we had to kick him out this time. The other two times he motivated himself to go and had an apartment to go to. Now he moved in with some other friends and the situation is not ideal. It's a fairly small house with way more people than fit comfortably. Of course that could be said about this place. Also, the other residents have three dogs and there's a 5-year-old kid there at least part of the time. C doesn't deal with children well, and he has little patience for dogs (less for cats, but that's another story). C is a cook at the local Shoney's restaurant and doesn't seem to have any further dreams. He almost graduated from college but quit with two classes to go. Or maybe it was one. I don't remember. It looks to me like his life is stuck in idle and no one is at the controls. The clutch operator went out for a smoke break and hasn't returned in a while.

But he's gone from here, so hopefully that will help him kickstart his life again. He was definitely too comfortable here.

So lots of changes in the past week. In all of these things I feel a degree of guilt. Other feelings, too, but definitely guilt. Maybe it's misplaced, maybe not. Doesn't matter. It's what I'm dealing with. And not dealing well, either. On the other hand, I haven't gotten drunk since my last post. I have been eating too much, though. I feel a lot of pain right now, and I'm looking to food for some feel-good. I had a small ice cream thing a couple of hours ago and now my stomach feels unsettled. It didn't taste good enough to make me feel happy, either, so now I'm just sorry I ate it at all. Sometimes I wish I was one of those people who can't eat when they're depressed, but really it's all bad, so whatever.

In happy news (the only happy news around here at all) Light had her Master of Fine Arts oral defense this morning. She passed! And her art show is this Saturday. She says everything is set up and looks good. Superman and Twitch will drive to western Pennsylvania on Thursday to spend the weekend with her, see her show, etc. I'm disappointed that I don't get to go, but Superman hasn't been to see her in nearly two years and I've been twice since then. I'll be here with Diva. Hopefully Sproing won't get out of jail until his dad gets back next Tuesday or Wednesday. So I'm happy as hell for Light, and glad that Superman and Twitch get to see her.

Today, that's all I got.

Beginning with a quote, some random tidbits, then a boring ramble about my life

Another quote, because I found it relevant.

The art of progress is to preserve order amid change, and to preserve change amid order. -Alfred North Whitehead, mathematician and philosopher (1861-1947)

I also like this guy's name; Alfred North Whitehead. An auspicious name, indeed.

A sign of inflation: the leading men in romance novels are now billionaires. Being a lowly millionaire isn't enough anymore.

To The Cat: Do you think I love you? No. You are not worthy of love. You demand worship, thereby foregoing the privilege of love.

I spent many hours this afternoon sorting through things. I'm trying to clear out some of the clutter. It's not technically a New Year's Resolution, because I don't like to make those. But it's something I've been working toward for a few months. (Years, maybe?) This is a convenient time to do it because Superman is home for two weeks and he helps me get things accomplished. We have been painting the front room this week. Well, painting it some more. We'd already put the gray on the wainscoting and the yellow above the chair rail. This week I have painted the yellow stripes on the yellow wall. It looks really good! The contrast is subtle and the whole thing works well, I think. We've decided to repaint the trim, too, because by golly it needs it. The existing color works really well with what we've done to the walls, and Superman found the right can of paint, so we can repaint. I was hoping to do that today (hoping Superman would do it, because he said he would and he's better with the detail work, anyway) but other things, important things, got done today instead.

So I started going through some of the boxes and bags of junk. I've only just begun. I found interesting things, like the sketch books and syllabi from two of my art classes that I took at Mercer University in 1986. One was a drawing class (b o r i n g), the other was advanced ceramics (thrilling!!). I kept those. I threw away the old colored pencils from the drawing class, though. Unfortunately I kept more that I tossed from that box. I took care of a couple of other box/bag things. There is SO MUCH more to do! It's intimidating. I'm supposed to tell myself "good for you for doing as much as you did" but sometimes I don't believe myself when I say crap like that. I organized our board games bin, too. Good for me.

In the box that holds our board games (it's our coffee table, too) I found a huge box of old pictures. That's what finally did me in. I looked through a few of them but had to stuff it all back in the box and put it in the other cabinet where it should have been already anyway. I don't know how it got into the coffee table box. Subterfuge, maybe.

Do you know how hard it is for a hoarder (that's me) (I can claim it now, which I suppose is progress, huh?) to sort through and throw away things? I feel good about what I accomplished, honestly. It feels good, in a way, to let loose of the junk. But it takes an emotional toll. And yeah, those pictures tipped me over the edge. I predict it will be many many months (years?) before I'm ready to sort the pictures.

I have two other boxes in the chairs at the dining table that I need to sort though. Then there are another three or four boxes of general crap in the front yellow room that I need to process before we can use the room. It all seems so overwhelming right now. I've had a beer, though, and that helps a little bit. Superman took over supper preparations (I got the collard greens cleaned and on the stovetop. He's made cornbread, supervised the cooking of the greens, and I think he may have heated up a can of baked beans. We didn't have any canned black-eyed peas, so we're making do with baked beans.) and sent me back to my room. I needed to lie down. Well, I'm sitting up using the computer, but I am in bed, so it's all good. And I had a beer, did I mention? That's good too.

Yesterday Superman and I went to my favorite thrift store source for furniture and bought a three piece living room set. There's a sofa, love seat, and rocker-recliner. The love seat reclines individually, too. It's pretty cool, really. Blue plaid with off-white background and some other neutral-ish colors in the plaid, neutral enough that I can't remember what they are. We've needed more furniture in the living room, but there's so much other junk in that room that there's not space for what we got. That's one reason I'm going through stuff today. It's time, and we need the space.

I'll tell you what we need. The front living room (parlor? sitting room?) that C is living in now. He was supposed to be out by the end of November, but alas, here he is. Superman has told the boy (young man, at 25 years old!!) that if he's  not out by the end of January his stuff is going to be on the curb. He needs to be out, and we need him out. I have grand plans for that room. I need it for my sewing/crafts/art. And office, perhaps. I'm not sure what all the room will hold, but I have lots of stuff to go in there.

And speaking of C, he's out of the hospital. He only stayed one night. He has psoriasis on his leg/ankle and the cracked skin allowed some infection to take hold. At the hospital he received IV antibiotics and got a prescription for an oral dose of something. Anyway, he feels much better now.

Back to my life, my house. One thing I've needed for a long time is ONE place for all of my sewing and crafts things. I have a little bit here, some there, a box or five stacked in there, etc. I feel as though I'd be able to work more efficiently on my creative things if it was all centrally located and organized. And I need to be creative. It feeds my soul.

So, about this soul of mine. Diva's aura sucks my soul dry. That may have something to do with why the box of pictures did me in. She was sitting in the room with me when I opened the box. She wasn't doing anything, it's not like she was trying to bother me. It's a gift with her, that ability to disrupt my groove. She has such a negative energy about her all the time. Or most of the time anyway. Today for sure. She walks in and anger fills the room. Anger, contempt, hatred. That's what she brings to the interaction. I try, I really do, to be as positive as possible. Some days it just doesn't work. She has been home for too long. You know she got suspended from school the last week before winter break. They go back next Monday. Oh, I'm so eager for her (and Sproing, too) to be out of my house all day, and at school where I know other people are watching out for them.

I can feel the tendrils of depression obscuring my outlook. I hope hope hope I feel better tomorrow.

Happy New Year

And here we are again

I have my computer back now. It had a nasty Trojan (is that supposed to be capitalized in this context?) that was erasing my registry or something. The nice fella at the repair shop fixed it, maybe. He said it was a particularly nasty one. The first time I started up the computer it did well, but since has been very slow to start. I may need to call the guy on Monday. Nevertheless it is good to have my own computer back.

I had the esophagogastroduodenoscopy on Wednesday. Did I tell you about that? I know I mentioned that I was scheduled for the procedure. It's an upper G.I. endoscopy. The doc snaked a tube with a camera on the end down my throat, into my stomach, and on to the first section of my intestine (the duodenum). It all looks good, he said. He took a few "clippings" from my stomach for biopsy or something because he said it was ever so slightly darker pink than perhaps it should be. I suppose I'll hear something from my family doctor once the results come back. I'm not worried.

My body heard that we are anemic. So what does the uterus do? She decides to bleed profusely for a couple of days. Not cool, uterus. It's not even time for that yet. You're supposed to wait another week or two, according to our most recent schedule.

Have been pretty depressed this week. Why? I dunno. Why does depression happen? I think that's the wrong question to ask, though I can say that hormones probably contribute to this episode. I don't want to go out anywhere or do anything. I had an appointment with my psychiatrist for this coming Monday but I called to cancel it Friday. I intend to reschedule, but the office was closed when I called so I have to call back to reschedule. There was a menu option to cancel appointments, though, on the answering program. I appreciate that.

I'm supposed to go to Florida for Thanksgiving. Have we discussed this? We're to bury my dad's ashes on the day after Thanksgiving. Light is coming home to South Carolina for this holiday, and Twitch got Tuesday through Friday off work so he'll be here from Charleston. All of this means that if I go to Florida, I'll go alone. Anyone who's read this blog for any length of time knows that I'm all about solo road trips! This time, though, I'm just not feeling it. A practical reason: my truck needs a work-over from the mechanic. That "check engine" light that started blaring on my way up through Vermont is still shining as soon as the truck warms up. We haven't had room in the budget to get it checked out. And otherwise, I kinda don't really want to see my Florida family. Especially not all together at one time. I usually do OK one on one with each of them, mostly, for brief periods. I'm supposed to spend a couple of days with my Mama in the Orlando area before T'giving, then go up to Gainesville for the holiday. Friday we'll go from Gainesville to the little town where my dad's family has cemetary plots. His parents, grandparents, and uncles are all buried there and it's where he wanted to be placed. Then either Friday or Saturday (depending on how long this thing lasts Friday) I'll drive back home. If I go.

I will get to see Light if I go to Florida because she doesn't fly back to Pennsylvania until the Monday after Thanksgiving. I'll miss Twitch, but I've seen him fairly recently anyway. He's only about four hours away, which makes for a nice drive especially if Superman and I go together without other passengers.

And now that I've discussed the Florida trip, I'm more willing to go. I don't know what's going to happen. I'm not making any decisions about it now because the hormones and depression influence me too much. I'll think about it in another week or two. Of course that gets really close to travel time, but I've told the family that I'm going, and if I end up going, they'll not know I almost didn't. You know what I mean?

My last post was way too long, so before this one gets any longer I'm going to end it.

In which we discuss death, among other things

My son Twitch called me. Twitch, who has chronic depression. He called to tell me, among other things, that he hates tourists (he now lives in Charleston, SC, a popular tourist destination) but has told me previously that he loves living in Charleston. He told me he's sure he was born on the wrong planet. The universe made a mistake in placing him here. He hates his life. He wonders if there is a way to remove all the nose hairs from his nose without pain. Why? I ask him. Because they are bugging me, he says. Increase your pain tolerance. I recommend that he not use Nair™ in that sensitive mucous membrane. He wants to live in a place with a low cost of living and excellent public transportation and cultural opportunities. But not on this planet, evidently. It was a whine fest conversation. I said "I gave birth to you on this planet." I wanted to say more, something like STFU!, but all I could do was sigh. Then I hung up on him. I don't have the energy for that shit today.

Warning: I'm about to write about death and suicide. 
Before he called I read an article in The New Yorker by David Sedaris, written about his sister Tiffany's recent suicide. It's a very good article, but then we are talking about David Sedaris who is an excellent writer. Back to Twitch, who is dissatisfied with his life and has been for much of it. And David Sedaris' sister Tiffany who evidently was dissatisfied with her life. I have long feared that Twitch will take that exit ramp from life. Today my brain says to me "What if he does? How will that affect you?" Of course I would be ... what word describes an extreme form of upset? On the other hand, I'd know he was out of the misery of this life. Who was it said something like death is the greatest adventure? Some famous philosopher or something. I have often considered suicide myself, a few times seriously. It's something I think about, abstractly, often. Right now I have decided not to kill myself because I wonder what will happen in my life as I get older. What kind of old lady will I be? I have to live long enough to be an old lady to find out. How old is "old?" Well into my 70s, at least, and probably to my mid to late 80s. 90s? Maybe. Depends on how healthy I am.

While we're speaking of death, I'd like to discuss my father's death. I might have gone through this before in this venue, but I need to rehash it. He died on March 25th of this year. Too early, I thought. But now I think it was right on time. I believe that things happen for a reason most of the time. Also, there isn't anything I can do about it anyway. He's dead and nothing will change that. I miss him. I've been thinking of him more frequently of late. Daddy did not want to "linger" incapacitated and be a burden to his family. After he died I learned that he had begun to lose his mental faculties. He'd become increasingly forgetful in a senile dementia sort of way. His compromised heart and consequent decreased oxygen to the brain might have been a factor there. But it frustrated and frightened him, I know. No, he didn't tell me this, but I know him well enough. I just know. And now he's free of this world's limitations. I am happy for him, I guess. No one knows for sure what if anything comes after this life, but we like to think it's pleasant. If he's in a "better place" then good for him. As for the rest of us, we'll deal. What else is there to do?

I followed a link from a link in a link in an email to this site called Tunein. It's online radio, or something like it. I am currently listening to French programming. Programming in French, though I think not from France itself. If I remember correctly, it originates in Brussels, Belgium. It's talk radio, and I have no idea what they're talking about but it sounds really cool. I know a few French words, and catch some meaning here and there. In the last program the voices said "et cetera" a lot. A few programs ago some ladies were talking about Pre-zee-'dent O-ba-'ma. Right now they're playing some kind of new age-y music featuring lots of bells. Related quote: "New Agers might be whack, but they do make some nice music." - Superman. I'd like to learn French some day. Maybe when I am an old lady.

And speaking of whack, Diva. Let's entertain ourselves with another Diva story. Just today the child was telling us that we need to meet her boyfriend, get the embarrassment over with. Yeah, whatever. She was using Superman's phone to text the guy. Superman took his phone with him to run errands and the alleged boyfriend texted back. Superman asks who this is, and the guy got defensive saying something like wha' chu mean who am I? So Superman said it was his phone, his daughter had been texting. Yada yada, the point is that Diva was communicating with a much older guy (don't know how old) and had told him she was 20 years old (she'll be 16 in about six weeks) and in college, living by herself in her own house. Superman corrected the misinformation. The poor ersatz boyfriend was freaked out about being "played" like that, and assured Superman that he has absolutely no desire to be involved with anyone that young.

Why does she tell lies like that, string innocent people along, legally endangering them? She's whack, obviously, but really. Superman had a talk with her when he got home from running his errands. Then I fussed at her for a while. Don't know if it will make any difference. I asked her if she understands how she could have ruined his life if she'd followed through with her story and gotten physically involved with him. He'd be labeled a sex offender FOR LIFE and wouldn't be able to get much of a job, get housing in very many places, etc. Ruin his life, basically. She stared at me like I was yammering to the wind. Whack, I tell you. (OK, so obviously my word for the day is "whack.") Oh, she also gave him our address. This isn't the first time she'd done shit like this. A couple of years ago I answered a phone call from another guy in his 30s, if I recall correctly, who she was stringing along with lies of this nature. She'd given him our address, too. She has no sense.

Another Diva story, this one not so ... whack. She wanted to have a combination birthday/Halloween party, celebrate her b'day early because it's too cold in early December to have a party outside. The kids had a day off school Friday (teacher workday, end of grading period) so we did the party thing in the pavillion at the local Parks and Rec center. I made a cake. It looked awesome, and tasted so-so. I used box mixes of her desired flavors. I took pictures. (Long side note: I have a new-ish camera because my old one that I knew how to use got dunked with me in the river when I was canoeing with my brothers after my dad's non-funeral party. The new camera has a big square battery reminiscent of a cell phone battery. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to recharge it or replace it. Probably it's rechargeable, but I don't know how to do that. I took a few pictures on Friday before the camera lost power.) Due to the otherwise dark theme of this post, I won't add the pictures now. Also, I haven't downloaded them from the camera yet.

Game 4 of the (small, only North America) World Series is about to start, so I'm outa here. Cards ahead 2 games to 1 over the Red Sox. Boo-yah!

Good grief

So yeah, I guess it has been a while since I put up a post here. I've been avoiding the internet again. Nothing personal, y'all. Just depressed.

The kids got back into school last Tuesday. They've been at school for just over a week and neither of them has been suspended yet. Yay! I haven't had any calls from the principals. So far so good. Diva says she has all A's so far. She's also going to be part of the girls' volleyball team, sort of. She's been drafted as a line guard or something. She'll watch the boundary line (or whatever it's called) and judge whether the ball is in, out, or on the line. Good for her. She really is trying to keep her nose clean and do the right thing. I'm annoyed with her, but I think that has more to do with the antagonism between the two of us.

I don't want to talk about Sproing. Suffice to say he isn't behaving well. Got another B&E charge (felony) a couple of weeks ago. Still hasn't been to court. Grrrr.

Twitch is moving to Charleston! (South Carolina) He spent last week there with a couple of friends and looked for a job. So far nothing, but he did pay September rent at the apartment there. He'll be the third roommate with those friends. It is my fervent hope that he is gainfully employed within the month and can afford October rent. It's a good move, him leaving here and moving to Charleston. I don't want him to have to come back home. He doesn't either. Superman and I will take Twitch and his load of stuff to Charleston on Saturday. I'm looking forward to seeing Twitch's new apartment and spending some time alone with my husband after we drop off Twitch at his new home.

I am relieved that the annoying teenagers are back in school. I've not recovered from the summer break. Seriously. My nerves are raw and I can't think clearly. Is this a minor case of PTSD? Maybe. I feel as though I'm wounded.

Shall we talk about the dog? Oreo. Predominantly black lab, with rumors of pit bull parentage and signs of possible other breed influences. Dalmatian has been suggested. I'll tell you what, though, he's a smart pup. He's about 6 months old, maybe 6.5. We have him in beginner obedience classes at PetSmart. He learns fast. He is a very good dog. We have considered finding him a new home because we are not really ready to have another dog right now. However, the longer we have him and work with him, the more we want to keep him. If you recall, Sproing brought him home, saying he'd take good care of him, etc. Yeah, right. I said "no." Superman said "no" but the dog (for reasons I can't recall) spent the weekend here, at which point Superman changed his position on keeping the dog. Although he's a wonderful dog, he is a puppy and requires a lot of work, supervision, and diligence to keep him from chewing up my entire house. Right now I want to keep the dog and get rid of Sproing. If only it were that easy.

Do we want to talk about my depression? Disclaimer: I do not want to hurt myself, have no plans to do so. There is no joy in my life. I have a good life, indeed, and I am deeply loved. That helps. I am mortally tired of the shit I have to deal with. I don't really know how to describe it. I'm stuck. Pretty worthless for many values of "worth." Oh, I have many fine qualities, but really? Day to day I'm barely surviving.

I don't want to talk about it anymore.

Braves baseball helps. Fewer than six weeks left in the season, and "we" (the Braves) are almost a shoo-in for post-season playoffs. We're 13 games ahead of second place in the National League Eastern Division. And as of this evening we have the highest win percentage of any other team in the MLB. For most of my readers, that means jack shit. The significance here is that I'm not too depressed to want to watch Braves baseball. So it could be worse.

And that's all I know.

Here's the thing

I dread spending time with my children. Well, with some of my children. One in particular. The young boy is being a pain in the ass, and has been all summer. Although to my surprise and delight, Diva is doing very well. Though I'm not eagerly looking for opportunities to spend time with her, when these opportunities occur they can be almost pleasant. It's a process for both of us, Diva and me, learning to get along in each other's company. Sproing, though, isn't attempting to make things better. He's just obnoxious and rude and inconsiderate, etc. School starts in 15 days. Yes, I'm counting them, the days.

Today has been difficult for me, and it's a "me" thing. I slept in, which isn't a bad thing necessarily. I got up and showered, which is good, since some days I forego the shower. (That's one of the signs that I'm depressed, the skipping of the shower. Also the sleeping in.) I spent a few moments in the same room with Sproing. That was stressful, so I left. I was finishing my morning grooming routine in the bathroom but the cat's litter box made the experience odiferously unpleasant. Well, what to do except clean it out, right? Superman usually does that job, but he's at work and I'm uncomfortable with the stench, so here I go. And make a mess of it. Dumped half the cat poop on the bathroom floor. I cleaned it up effectively. (Sometimes when I try to clean up my messes, I end up making bigger messes.) But in the process I stepped in dirty cat litter (no icky solids, but nasty nonetheless). And I'd just had a shower. So I washed my feet in the sink. One at a time; I didn't levitate over the lavatory to wash both feet simultaneously. Now, on a good day I'd have a laugh at my clumsiness and go about my business. Today is not a good day. I very nearly cried. And I've been anxious and on edge ever since. I have some pills to help that, but I'm going to try eating a healthy lunch (I had a healthy breakfast, though it was small) and see if that doesn't help soothe my nerves somewhat. I have to go through the living room where the Sproing is lying in wait to be ugly to me, and that increases my resistance to leaving the relative safety of my bedroom.

As you may have noticed, I'm not writing much here these days. Actually, I went all week last week without turning on my computer at all. I think it was yesterday, Sunday, that I finally logged on and checked my email. I deleted most of that without reading it. Just too depressed. Facebook depresses me these days, too, though I did peruse the 'book for a while yesterday. Probably won't mess with it today.

I watched the Braves win all three games against the Phillies this weekend. That was about the only "fun" thing I could do all weekend. I was strong enough one day last week to get my hair cut. That's a stressful activity for me, as I've mentioned in the past. But it was OK. And I spent the time with Twitch, too, which was pleasant. I picked him up from work (he has a small part-part-time job doing warehouse stuff at a department store), we went to the cheap haircut place and waited a long time for my haircut, then he helped me buy $300+ worth of groceries at Aldi. Aldi is the place where you bag your own groceries in your own bags/boxes. I have a few market bags and miscellaneous small containers for that sort of thing, but not for $300+ worth of groceries. I had an old medium sized dog crate rattling around in the back seat of my truck, though, and we assembled that to hold lots of groceries. Used bungee cords to secure it in the bed of the truck. Thankfully it was a rare sunny day here in the 'wood. The whole thing was kinda funny. Perhaps I should have taken a picture of it, but I didn't. Anyway, that was a busy day. Buying, bagging, transporting, unloading, and putting away that much stuff takes a long time and lots of energy. Way more energy than I have today, for sure.

These paragraphs are too long. I reread them, looking for a good place to divide them into smaller chunks, but find no good breaking point. So there you have it; long, rambling paragraphs. It's the best I can do today, and I'm OK with that.

Let's go find some healthy lunch. Maybe that will help. (It won't help the paragraphs, but will hopefully help my emotional condition.)

Oh, Look at the Time!

As in, it's been a long time since I posted. I've been either busy, depressed, or hiding.

Tonight I had lots of beer. I drank all 5 of the remaining beers in the refrigerator.

We bought another refrigerator. It's a used one, only 10.5 sq ft. It sits in our bedroom. The original purpose of this refrigerator is to keep our beer safe from predation by the other residents of this household. Yes, someone (or more than one someone) has been swiping our beer. What cads! So I got a used 'fridge so we can keep our stuff secure behind the locked door of our bedroom..

There are too many people in this house. Twitch has an alternative situation that might (I hope!!) come to be. A friend of his has a place in Charleston SC and is looking for a third roommate. Twitch has already applied for jobs in that area online. I really hope he can move to Charleston.

The kidlets have been much easier to deal with this summer than in previous years. And actually Diva is sometimes pleasant! Can you believe it? Sproing is a pain in the ass, but I'm not letting it get to me much. Here's the thing: I went away for three weeks (you remember my trip to New England, right?) The separation helped the relationship between me and the kids. While I was away, Superman kinda let loose of the reigns a bit. He's not as strict as I am anyway. So when I came back it was easier to keep the looseness than to impose more restrictions. And I've loosened up on my give-a-shit. So they do whatever and I don't care.

Of course that's not entirely true. I keep tabs on them, and give some direction. But since I've loosened up they seem to be more willing to do what I ask of them. Most of the time. Diva more than Sproing (OMG!!) because he's a pain in the ass.

I've been on edge today. Why? I dunno. Had my period last week, so it isn't premenstrual shit. Maybe it's that my home is stressful. Could be, eh? OMG, the week before my period was hell. I was so cranky, and realized it was hormonal. Poor Superman. I tried to stay out of the way of the kids as much as possible. I recognize when I'm unreasonable.

Hey, lets see what this dog of ours looks like.

 His name is Oreo. I don't like that name, particularly, but that's what Sproing likes. It was what he was called as a puppy, when we got him. It's a name, so whatever. As often as not I call him "pup."

 He's more or less adorable. And bigger now than he is in these pics. He's nearly 6 months old now. He had his balls chopped off earlier this week, and starts obedience class later today. He's pretty smart, and very puppy-like. Weighed 45 lbs on Wednesday when he had his surgery. He's got a lot of Labrador in him, and some pit bull, according to the kid who gave him to Sproing.

Oh look! It's Superman! I like this picture. He's a cutie. I don't notice it when I look at him, but in these pictures he looks older than I perceive him to be. 

 And check out our produce! While I was on my trip this pair of squash was harvested from our garden. I had to get a picture of it to share with you, since it looks so much like a scrotum. I mean, am I right?

How fun is this? We didn't eat it. They picked it when I was away, and by the time I got home it was far from fresh. Oh well.

So, let's talk briefly about this garden thing. We planted green beans, squash, zucchini, and tomatoes. Here's the thing: I don't like squash or zucchini. Besides which, the zucchini plant died from some kind of bug infestation. We've eaten some of the green beans, though I've thrown out more than we've eaten.  I've also used some of the tomatoes. There are green ones on the vine which I'll harvest at the proper time.

So we planted this garden with things I don't like. WTF? I dunno. And Superman is too busy with work and stuff around the house to cook up any of this stuff.

I'm quite tipsy. I've been depressed most of the day, and decided I'd do the beer thing tonight while watching Braves baseball. Didn't have the first beer until the 8th inning, when we were leading the Cardinals 4-1. That was the final score, btw. After the game I continued with the beer. I'm dizzy and feeling smooth, but the headache is there, too.

So. Depression. Superman went to Georgia today to visit his family. Good for him. I'm glad he gets to do that. I hate that he's away, though. Sometimes he takes one of the boys (Diva isn't welcome in his parents' house after beating me up a couple of years ago) but this time he went by himself. So everyone else is home. They all drive me crazy. Wait. This paragraph was supposed to be about depression. OK, so I has it, the depression thing. I hate summer. Maybe things will be better when the kids get back in school. Their first day is Aug. 20th. Less than a month away! I need me time with none of these pariahs at home.

Let's talk about parenting. I've given up, sort of. Diva and Sproing are 15.5 years old now. They are responsible for their own behavior. They do what they want. I leave them alone. That's not entirely true, of course. I just try to keep things together with the minimum effort. I can't do any more than that. They've broken me. I just don't give the kind of shit that I used to.

It's officially Saturday. It's my brother's birthday today. He's 49. Hee hee hee. I can't wait to tease him next year. I'm two years older than he is, so anything I say he's already said to me. That's not why I started talking about Saturday, though. I haven't even opened my computer since sometime last weekend. All week I've been either watching TV (which I rarely do) or reading from my Kindle. I've read I don't know how many gay romance novels/stories. I read a straight romance today. It was weird. The two main guy characters fell in love with women. WTF is up with that? It's time for another gay story, or else something of high quality. I have a collection of E. M. Forster works on the Kindle.  The novel I read today was not well written, so I need something of quality to wash out my brain.

I have another book, a paperback, that I started earlier in the week. It's entitled The Hoarding Handbook. It's written for social service providers who deal with hoarders. It isn't specifically for mental health professionals, rather it is written by mental health professionals for others who deal with hoarders. I have read the first three chapters. It's good, I guess, but hard to read because I see myself in it. I got it so I might be able to help myself a bit with getting rid of the crap I've hoarded. It's a slow process, especially since I keep distracting myself.

OK, I'm going to quit this rambling and get ready for bed. It's high time I went to sleep.