Ten Moments That Changed My Life...

So far...and yes, I totally stole the title.

1. My child was born.

Every parent's going to say that, right? 

Because it's true. There's a clear before and after line in my life - the moment Chelsea was born, and I looked at the beautiful screaming baby in my arms, and said, "Hi." (Profound, wasn't I?)

2. I received the gift of life.

I had been checked into the hospital for emergency surgery, but they couldn't do the surgery until I received blood. 

I was so sick. I remember looking at that blood coming into me and feeling so grateful to whomever had taken time out of their busy life to donate. 

I've donated blood before; but it's a completely different thing to receive it. It's  life, and it's a gift. 

3. I entered the psychiatric hospital (aka The Place).

It was a humbling thing, admitting I needed help. After that, the hits kept coming. A physical, endless interviews, and I had to give up my distractions - no cellphone, e-reader or laptop while I was in there. 

My first days were spent staring at walls, and I wasn't alone. Other 'psych' patients were with me, along with alcoholics and drug addicts. We all stared at the walls, and slept a lot. 

This was my first step in facing my depression instead of hiding from it; in realizing that help was available; in realizing that I wasn't alone. 

4. I got laid off from Ford.

The Ford Experience Of 1998 changed the course of my life. I think. When I got hired there, I was prepared to work the most mind-numbingly boring assembly line job for the rest of my life. 

I was laid off within five weeks; devastated, but secretly relieved. I got hired back at my old company, but in a much better job. I also went back to school and finished my degree two years later, and got my current job a year after that. 

You just never know what's a blessing in disguise. 

5. 9/11/01

Not all changes are good. 

The events on 9/11 didn't affect me directly. But the way I think and act every day are affected by it. I don't ever see myself on a plane again. I can't ever go to work in the morning without thinking about what other workers in other high rise buildings were doing that Tuesday. 

Clear blue skies are the worst. 

6. Dwayne finally asked me out.

Enough said. (Okay, well, read further entries down for reference.)

7. Cancer found its way into the family.

My grandmother was the center of our family, and she molded me into who I am today. The day I found out she had ovarian cancer was the worst day of my life. 

That was 2009. She died in 2011, then my grandpa got brain cancer, and my brother got leukemia. My grandpa died July before last; my brother has just achieved remission. But I still feel like I'm in 2009 - cancer? What?

8. I got a kittycat.

The most rewarding thing I ever did was adopt a kitten. I didn't know at the time that she was a Maine Coon mix and that she would grow to gargantuan proportions! I just knew she was small and fluffy and adorable. 

Now she's nine years old, 18.5 lbs, still fluffy and I love her so much! 

There's nothing like having a pet to remind you to love all animals, and to support shelters, sanctuaries and the ASPCA. 

9. I lost my job.

I'm still in the midst of this one. I'd worked for the same company for nineteen years, and then it was all gone.

I have a new job now, but I'll never get over the loss, and the feeling that I let somebody down.

10. I had to go back to the The Place.

The second time around, I thought I knew what to expect. More of the same, digging into my brain, experiencing lots of shame... 

On my first day back, though, I found I wasn't the only repeater. There were other people there, who had been there with me the first time three years before.

I realized then that there's no shame in admitting I needed help, AGAIN. It changed the way I viewed my disease. There should be no shame in it, because that prevents you reaching out and grabbing a lifeline.

I learned that I can fight and struggle and maybe fall down but I can and will always get back up.

:)

With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair...

I was in my neurologist's office, talking about the increase in my migraines. She hemmed and hawed and finally said, "Michelle, I think you're depressed again."

Something about chronic pain and depression feeding off of each other, blah blah, and all I could think was, I KNOW, I've been here before, but I got better. Aren't I still better? Plus, my psychiatrist seems to think I'm okay... But all I could really do was start crying and say, "It's been a really bad week."

It didn't seem to matter; she said I was as dysphoric as she's ever seen me, so now I have to go to therapy again. I hate therapy - my secrets are perfectly fine hidden down deep where they belong.

...

We buried my grandfather almost two weeks ago, right next to my grandmother, in our family cemetery in Blackwater, Kentucky. It was humbling, to see the number of people who drove 180+ miles from Louisville to a tiny place that's not even on the map, a holler in the Appalachian foothills - all to attend the graveside service for my grandpa.

I heard several people say it at the funeral home, but I always feel like I said it first - Popa was the best man I've ever known.

You couldn't ask for a better legacy than that.

...

Popa's oldest son and I were in Popa's hospital room when the nurse came in and suggested we should start calling people. Pretty soon we had four more in there, plus our preacher. It was so crowded, and I just wanted everyone to leave - all I could think was, is Popa somehow hearing all this noise?

But there's really no tactful way to kick your own family out of the room.

So we waited, and Popa's breathing got more and more shallow. There were conversations going on around us, but my eyes were glued to Popa's chest - as long as he was breathing, he was okay. I noticed my brother doing the same thing. 

My brother and I clash a lot. We're extreme opposites, and also extremely similar, sometimes.

My grandpa's breathing stuttered a few times, which I had read was normal. The Hosparus wing that my grandfather was in was such a helpful, wonderful place. They let us know what was happening and what to look for, every step of the way. We were prepared.

Then, Popa took a breath, and then half a breath, and then he didn't breathe again.

I wasn't as prepared for it as I thought I was.

I'm not giving up, I'm just giving in

Chelsea helped me with my room yesterday. We're packing this week, among other things.

When I learned of my grandmother's cancer, back in 2009, that's kind of when things went south for me, and my room reflected that. 

We got through piles of books, DVDs, CDs, papers...the stuff on the bottom was stuff that I'd last seen 5 years ago. It was kind of like an archaeological study on depression symptom #2: not having the energy or the interest to take care of things.

I'm much better now. In the past year, especially, I've come a long way from the dark place that landed me in the hospital back then. I think I've finally hit the right combination of medicine, I have figured out coping mechanisms, I know my triggers...

But this month, I'm desperately wishing to be anywhere else. Isn't that awful? I want to drown my sorrows in something...check myself in the hospital...just lay under my covers and hide forever!

But I can't, because I'm stronger now. My brother has cancer and the pill he takes makes him sick and my grandfather had brain surgery again and he's in the hospital and I have to divide my time between packing up my life to move this week and visiting my grandpa in the hospital.

My grandfather also has cancer again, and this time they can't do anything with it. They're giving him six months to a year.

My mom and my aunt, wimps that they are, sent my brother to tell me the news. He was very no nonsense about it, much like he was when he told me that he himself had cancer.

I just want to cry.

Well okay, I have. But only in my room, late at night. 

I just can't even express how much I hate cancer.

We're one, but we're not the same, we get to carry each other...

Well.

You know, my mind tries to look at what's going on objectively, and it can't...it veers away. Weird. My only issues are that this stupid migraine won't go away; also, I'm apparently going to need to pry my floor-sleeper out of the apartment because he hasn't budged. Is he going to just keep sitting there even after we move?

But everything else, I just try to look at from my mother's perspective, and I want to be a better daughter. My grandfather has never quite recovered from his brain surgery last year, and tonight my mom is with him back at the hospital. My brother, in the meantime, is starting his third week of treatment for leukemia. We're still healing from the loss of my grandmother to ovarian cancer, and so learning this about my brother was a blow.

I had three hospital stays in three years, it's my time to be healthy; I just need to get there. I want to support my mom and not be so tired all the time. 

Life's too short.

So now, totally unrelated, I thought I'd cheer us up (or, well, me up) with a film clip! Have you ever seen "O Brother, Where Art Thou?"? You haven't? Why not???!!! This is my heritage, yo! LOLOL

So, this is my very favorite part of the movie, because the guys have been running from the law this whole time and have no idea that the record they made as The Soggy Bottom Boys has become a BONA FIDE hit! And if you feel the need to make fun of the accents or the dancing, go ahead, but tread lightly, because I grew up with grandparents and great-grandparents that sang and danced EXACTLY like this! :)

p.s. The clip isn't perfect but it's the best I could find...and oh, yeah, it's dubbed in French. AHAHAHA

Tonight's the night the world begins again...

There's so many scary things happening right now, and all I want to do is hide.

If I could just stay in bed and cuddle my kitty forever, I'd be content.

I guess I can't do that.

Treasure your family and make time to be with them. Appreciate your good health. If you can walk and run, do it! Drink in the beauty around you and listen to music...and if you are artistically talented, use your talents! Paint, draw, dance, sing and play the piano...the world needs it.

And I meant what I said about family! You blink and they're gone, or different, and all you have left is your memories. Cherish what you have, and make the most of it.

Family = everything.

When the darkness closes in...

I'm furious with my big brother.

I've documented in great detail here about how obnoxious and annoying my big brother is; how he's a terrible loser and an even worse winner, how we still pick at each other like we're 5 and 10 years old and no one can stand to be around us because we're so much alike; and how he's the best dad and big brother in the world.

He's a big jerk.

On Monday, he told me he had leukemia. Chronic Myelocytic Leukemia.

My stupid brother has stupid cancer.

I'm so, so mad at him.

I'm crying even as I type this. How dare he have this happen to him? We've always been Johnny and Michelle, and now he's going through something I can't help him with.

My typical brother:

John: I have leukemia.
Michelle: (crying)
John: Why are you crying? Other than the leukemia, I'm in perfect health!

And later:

John: (blah, blah, blah)
John:...And no matter what, do NOT ask me how I'm feeling, I'm already sick of it, I feel fine! I mean it! Don't ask me!!!

(sigh)

The prognosis is good. I just feel a little beat down, what with my grandma's cancer and then my things and then my grandpa's brain tumor and I don't wanna hear the prognosis is good I wanna hear that my brother is going to be perfect as good as new as obnoxious and annoying as ever.

I love my big brother. I'm not really mad at him...well, no more than usual. :)

Love y'all, goodnight. :)

Missed.

Two years ago, we celebrated Fourth of July at my grandparents house. My grandma was in the last weeks of her two-year struggle with ovarian cancer, and we were all aware that this was likely the last holiday we would all be together.

As I sat and gazed at my beautiful grandmother, I thought about Thornton Wilder's "Our Town". I felt like the young female protagonist who died and visited her life as a ghost, and implored everyone to appreciate their life and loved ones while they could.

I struggled to take in every moment of the day: my family laughing as we cooked out in the backyard; sitting in the family room with my grandma and my daughter; setting off fireworks in the street while my grandma watched from the porch. She had to be so exhausted, but she stayed up and with us every moment of the day.

Eight days later, my grandmother slipped into a coma. She died on July 16, 2011.

We didn't celebrate Independence Day at all the next year.

This year we did get together for our family thing. The pain is still there but time has eased it, and now we can smile and laugh and remember without our heart always breaking in two.

This holiday, though, is no longer just a holiday. It's the last holiday I spent with my grandmother, and will always be the most precious to me.

Just a little...unwell.

I've been chronically depressed since my teens, and taking medicine for it for the last ten or fifteen years or so.

But four years ago, my grandmother was diagnosed with cancer, and not even the medicine could stop my mental breakdown.

I still don't know why I stumbled and fell, and others didn't.

I wrecked my car.
I broke my leg.
I went on a mad online spending spree with money I didn't have.
I landed myself in a psychiatric hospital.
I no longer drive.
I no longer handle my own money.
I had emergency surgery.
I no longer leave my house except to go to work.

I live for the weekends, when I can sleep.  And sleep, and sleep.

And trust me, I'm better than I was.  Two years ago, I wasn't leaving the house AT ALL.

I promise I'm trying.

Secrets

It feels like I've already lived my time, and now I'm just waiting to die.

I don't want to give in.  If my tiny frail grandmother could fight and fight and fight against the cancer, I can fight against this black hole of depression.

Safe

Music: In My Arms - Plumb

My grandma's been in the hospital since Tuesday. She had her first and only chemo treatment and she still hasn't recovered. Her remaining chemo schedule has been put off indefinitely, and now they're talking feeding tube.

How did we get here? She was fine three months ago...

I guess I should say she seemed fine three months ago. Even then, the cancer was eating away at her, and we didn't know it.

I love a lot of people...my family, and my friends, and my coworkers...sometimes my heart feels almost too full when I think about all the wonderful people in my life. Sometimes I might get hurt, if I expect something from someone and it doesn't happen... but then I laugh it off, and forgive if needed. There's no room for resentment in my heart. It just doesn't go well with the love...

This has been a more disjointed entry than usual...I'm just finding it hard to focus lately, I guess. Worried, and disappointed. The world turned upside down when my grandma got sick, and it still hasn't righted itself.

Walking with hope

Music: For Blue Skies - Strays Don't Sleep

I came home from my accident today... crawled in bed... and I haven't moved since then.

Of course I know I'm being childish. I talked on the phone to my grandmother who is in the hospital for her overnight chemo treatment, and she was all, "Honey, it'll be okay," trying to get me to stop crying. I mean, we have bigger problems than that I am afraid to drive and I have no self-confidence behind the wheel anymore. You know...CHEMO TREATMENT.

I'm just overwhelmed by my sheer incompetence at life. I can't seem to get out of bed. Ever. Today is just maybe the last straw, Those 'depression' ads have started to sound kind of familiar, making me think I should call my doctor and look into getting that prescription, but I'd much rather stare at the wall, blankly.

I don't know how my daughter is getting to school in the morning, because I can't seem to move...

It was pretty funny, the guy I hit was calling the police and wanted to know what type of car I drove and I was so in shock, I had no idea. I just looked at him. He asked me again. I said, well, that's a good question. Wait a minute. Give me a minute. Of course I know what kind of car I drive. It's my car. Um. ... After a few more seconds of this (and don't ask me how come he couldn't just walk around the car and see for himself), he finally says, well, it's green, right, and I said, oh yes, it is green, and just looked at him again. Then he goes, it looks like a Chevy...

Sheesh! That's what it took for me to remember that I drive a Chevy Malibu.

Is it me? What?

Listening to: Star Trek:TNG

I had another wreck today...it's about that time of year, you know. I cried and cried and wanted my mommy, but I couldn't have her because today was my grandma's first day of chemo, so my mom was at the hospital with her, instead.

That about sums up my life the past few months: wreck, tears, grandma, cancer (Stage 4), chemo. Lots and lots of tears.

Lots of curling up in bed and just letting time go by. Nothing seems to really matter very much, anymore...

Family

My family... My whole life, whenever I refer to my family, it's always been my mom's side. I do have some family on my dad's side - cousins, uncles, an aunt - but my paternal grandparents both died when I was a teenager, and my dad, an alcoholic, drifts in and out of my life.

My family on mom's side, however, is extremely close and has been the same tight family unit for as long as I can remember. Mom (mom). John (brother). Moma (grandmother). Popa (grandfather). Edie (great-aunt). Aunt Sondra (aunt). Annie (cousin). The unit has of course gotten bigger over the years, first by me with the addition of my daughter and my SO, and then my brother got married and had my nephew and niece. Chelsea (daughter). Dwayne (SO). Carol (SIL). Johnny (nephew). Chloe (niece).

So for all of my 36 years, I've experienced the joys of a close family... The now thirteen of us not only gather for every birthday, every holiday and every summoning by my grandmother, but we also travel, en masse, every year to vacation together for a long weekend to coincide with our family's Decoration Day at our ancestral home. These have been our traditions forever. I can only vaguely remember when our family unit included one more, my great-grandmother (Ma), who lived one street over and died when I was seven. My grandmother still calls her Mommy and cries when she talks about her.

Another of the hard times our family endured was when my dad was stationed in Germany for three years and took us with him. I cried for my grandmother every night for a week, but from what I hear, my grandmother took it much worse, having her babies so far away. My aunt got pregnant and had a baby and my mom, her sister, was an ocean away and couldn't be there with her. My brother graduated from high school in Germany but my grandmother crossed the ocean and came to Germany for that one!

When I graduated from high school and again, from college, my whole family was there to see me. I have been so lucky, my whole life, to have been blessed with my family, no matter how infuriating and annoying I may sometimes find them. They are family, you know!

And since this is Kentucky and everyone has kids when they're teenagers, my grandparents are only 75 and 79 years old. I've been expecting to have at least fifteen more years with them.

So when Mom told me that Moma was being tested for ovarian cancer, it was really the last thing I ever expected to hear.