Know it'll all be clear...

Life's too short to have migraines.

I've tried to convince myself that the pain's all in my head (haha) but it's. not. working. (sob)

If I was feeling better, I could be putting together a really fabulous entry on what a week we've had!  Wendy Davis rocks!  DOMA is no more!

But the good is tempered by the bad, of course...Rick Perry doesn't seem to understand that no means no.  What is wrong with him?  And DOMA being struck down doesn't affect my Kentucky... I live in Louisville, which is a wonderful city, but there's still a whole lot of bigoted rednecks that live in the rest of the South.

But still, there are two things I picture from this week that almost make my headache go away:

1) Wendy Davis and Leticia Van De Putte on the floor of the Texas Senate - Davis standing for a reported 15 hours, Van De Putte coming straight from her father's funeral - and making me SO PROUD I nearly couldn't stand it.

2) Sitting at my desk at work covertly reading the SCOTUS live blog and seeing Justice Kennedy's beautiful wording and realizing what it meant - DOMA had been struck down. I was so happy I literally wanted to jump for joy but that would have given me away so I had to get up and sedately walk away from my desk into the break room so I could bounce.

I have to believe that things will work out. I haven't stuck around this long for it not to. ... Because obviously, the world revolves around me.

Well, it's coming from my perspective, why shouldn't it?

I WISH that was my doctor...

Went to visit my psychiatrist today.  It used to be a weekly thing but now we've stretched it to every two months.  Go me!  I also used to have to go see a psychiatrist AND a therapist but I cut the therapist loose...I don't really like someone probing the dark inner recesses of my mind, you know?

So anyway, my psychiatrist visits are usually short and sweet, but also a little disturbing.  My goal is to go in and say whatever I can to make him believe that I AM OKAY.  His goal is apparently to see right through me and get at the truth.

Me, after a migraine-filled week in which I've taken 20 Vicodin and am feeling a little sick about it:
"I'm doing great!"
DOCTOR:
"So how much Vicodin do you take a day?"

Me, after spending two weeks in bed, avoiding my family, and Dwayne ordering me to tell the doctor about it:
"Everything is good!"
DOCTOR:
"So how's your relationship with Dwayne?"

Me, after another marathon migraine and my regular doctor gives up and refers me to a third neurologist:
"Doing really good!"
DOCTOR:
"So what has changed for you medically?"

It's a little strange and stalker-ish how he seems to know things!  And I'm dying to know what he's writing down in his little notepad about me...

But it's worth the uncomfortable trip, to make sure I stay out of the hospital, healthy and on my meds.

So yay!  I'm doing good.  For now.  Hopefully for the next two months.  :)

Such a lovely place

So it was about this time two years ago that I melted down completely and went into the mental hospital.  Here's some advice if you ever find yourself in the same situation:

1. They're tricky. You're saying, I know, I don't feel good, blah blah blah, and next thing you know you're locked into a psychiatric hold and you can't leave.  
TIP: Be prepared.

2. They put psych patients in with the drug addicts and the alcoholics.  Guess who's considered the scary ones in that bunch?  You could always tell who the psych patients were in the room because no one would be sitting by them. And I can't blame people.  I spent most of my time staring into space, sleeping or crying.  One of the other psych patients in there with me tried to escape.  From a voluntary check-in!  
TIP: Stay away from the psych patients. Unless you are one. Then, sorry. :(

3. The days go by with excruciating slowness punctuated by meetings, doctor visits, group therapy, checkups, yoga, meditation, ART TIME.  I stayed in my room and slept through meetings, therapy, yoga and meditation, until they finally put their foot down and said I had to go to art time.  Which was fabulously fun.  Or just may have seemed that way when you've been beaten down by life and staring at the walls of a treatment facility for a few days.  Whichever, the point is, art time lets you see grown adults coloring diligently around a table WITH an instructor and helps you get at your inner self. TIP: Don't miss art time!

4. The place where I stayed had a very nice kitchen.  I didn't know this at first, because I refused to leave my room through two mealtimes before hunger finally drove me downstairs for supper.  My fear of crowds made me very uncomfortable, but the food was great.  
TIP: Be ready to face your fear on a daily basis if you want to eat good.  Otherwise, you'll be eating crackers.

5. Families were allowed to visit on certain days.  I never missed my family so much as when I was locked in and couldn't get out.  I had no laptop, no cellphone, no ebook; so I stalked my family on the public phone as much as I could.  I had to take my turn, though, because everyone else was doing the same thing.  The important thing was they had to come visit me on my allotted day, and bring money.  Because I missed them, and snacks.  
TIP: STRESS to your family how important family day is, because it's really disappointing if you're one of the ones whose family doesn't show up.

So that's all I've got for now...I'll tell yall later how the next two months went.  Really a short time in my life, but it'll stay with me forever.

...And yes, I said she tried to escape.  From a voluntary check-in.  Ensuring her spot in the IV chair at the nurse's station for HOURS and then the room with the 24-hour surveillance cameras.  There's crazy, and then there's CRAZY...

Happy Father's Day 2013

We had Father's Day for my grandpa today.  He was diagnosed with a brain tumor in December, had emergency surgery, then radiation, and has had lots of complications since then.  The doctor said this week that he has pneumonia again.  Is it because we went out of town last weekend?  I don't know, but I'm so grateful he's still here.

Popa, Father's Day 2008

My daughter never met her father.  I have the distinction of being one of those girls who managed to give birth AND get dumped by their boyfriend on the same day.  I was the clear winner, however, because that day I met the person who I would love more than anyone else in the whole world.

Michelle and Chelsea, 1992

I've always been a single mom, but not.  Chelsea grew up with me AND my mother AND my grandmother...and Dwayne and I started dating when she was four so she really had me plus two other moms plus a kind of stepdad. So I always had help, and HELP, but it still has always felt like me and Chelsea vs. the world.  I wonder if my mom felt like that with me?

Michelle and Chelsea 1994

Michelle and Chelsea 1995

Michelle and Chelsea 2004

Us, now

It's dark inside.

I hate when I get this twitchy feeling inside...like my nerves are jumping around and things just feel wrong and I want to curl up in a ball and hide from SOMETHING but I don't know what it is.

Even though I'm getting better, I still get this feeling often.

And I know I'm getting better.  It's taken a very long time to get this far, but I still have a long way to go.

I saw the movie `Silver Linings Playbook` tonight.  My co-worker lent it to me for the weekend after he watched it four times in a row and gushed over how awesome it was.

And it was really, really good.  It had our hometown girl Jennifer Lawrence in it, she was great...

But seeing it once was more than enough for me.  It just made me so exhausted, because I've been there.  I've been in that psychiatric hospital, and in those group therapy sessions, and on all those different medications, and fighting to be a `normal` person.

I'm glad I saw the movie, I just don't want to see it again.

Back home, at last

I'm finally back home. The past few days have been difficult - traveling, shopping, dining out and being a tourist, when I've spent the last couple of years being a shut-in.

There were still times I stayed behind in the hotel when the family went out, but I really did try to take part.  I don't want to be tired all the time. 

One of the places I went:

And further down:

I've rafted the river below the falls twice. Back, before, you know...

I hardly recognized myself when I got home and looked in the mirror.  I actually got some sun the past few days and am not my usual shade of pale white that comes from being in my room 24-7.

I'll try to keep it up. I really did push myself. For every moment I sat waiting alone in the car or the lobby or the hotel room, there was also a moment I uncomfortably endured the crowded restaurant and park and shop.  It can only get easier.

But for now at least, I'm home with my kitty:

Sunday after the second Saturday...

This is my grandpa putting flowers on my grandma's grave for Decoration tomorrow.

I'm not sure why we started early.

If you're not from the Appalachians you may have never heard of Decoration Day. It's what the idea of Memorial Day came from. It warranted its own paragraph in Wikipedia under Memorial Day -

"Annual Decoration Days for particular cemeteries are held on a Sunday in late spring or early summer in some rural areas of the American South, notably in the mountains.
 

In cases involving a family graveyard where remote ancestors as well as those who were deceased more recently are buried, this may take on the character of an extended family reunion to which some people travel hundreds of miles.

People gather on the designated day and put flowers on graves and renew contacts with kinfolk and others.
 
There often is a religious service and a "dinner on the ground," the traditional term for a potluck meal in which people used to spread the dishes out on sheets or tablecloths on the grass.
It is believed that this practice began before the American Civil War and thus may reflect the real origin of the "memorial day" idea." 

This is my great- grandparents grave... I called them Ma and Pa but my Grandma, in true Appalachian fashion, called them Mommy and Daddy her whole life.

Further down this way in the Taylor Family Cemetery are the graves of my great great grandparents and my great great great grandparents.  Tomorrow morning the cemetery will be full of distantly related people we don't know and lots of firsts and second cousins we haven't seen since last Decoration.

This is my first Decoration since Moma's been gone.  Two years ago we all came down here for Decoration and my grandma was so sick - she would only live for another month after that. But she went everywhere with us. She was such a fighter.

I couldn't come the next year,... I had emergency surgery and couldn't get out of bed. 

So I've made trips in between to decorate her grave for the seasons, but this is different.  I've never been to Decoration without her.  What do I do, how do I act without her? This is her thing and I am just a supporting player with no one here to support.

I miss her so much.

Safely rest

I grew up on Army bases...I've probably heard 'Taps' played over a thousand times.

It ALWAYS affects you.  On base, when it's played every evening, you're expected as a civilian to stop what you're doing outside and hold your hand on your heart for the 24-notes it takes to play the song.

If you're driving, you stop the car.  If you're in uniform, you get out of the car and salute until the song is over.

The song is special.

Today I remember the more than one million Americans who have died serving in our Armed Forces.

Forward and back

I successfully made it to work I think six weeks in a row, before I slipped and missed a week and a half this time.  When I fail, I fail big.  My first day back was today.  It's interesting living life on the edge.

And I hated myself for not getting there...and taking that step backward...not to mention the disappointment I could feel from my mom and my daughter and Dwayne.  Oh, the waves and waves and crushing waves of disappointment...

The only time I left my room in the last week and a half was to go the doctor.

So I guess it was nice to get out today.  It was really hard.  Once you fall back into the pattern of never leaving the house, it's hard to escape.

Every day is a battle.  If I didn't have a family that loves me I would have succumbed long ago.  But I do and so I keep fighting.

The ambien effect...

I used to sit and watch my grandpa count out his pills every night and think, wow, old people need a lot of medicine.

And now I'm pretty sure I take more pills than he does.  He's 83, and I just turned 40 and am in denial about it.

I regularly swallow 9 pills every night.  That's not including any Benadryl or antibiotic or whatever else I might sporadically need.

My most important pill is, of course, the AMBIEN.  I can't go to sleep without it.  I also wouldn't be able to explain away all my strange middle of the night behavior without it.

"Michelle, why did you buy $500 worth of music from iTunes in the middle of the night!?"

Oh, wow, it must have been the Ambien...

"Mommy, I told you to get up and put these in the fridge and lock the door!"

Oh sorry, it was the Ambien...

"Why does the cat have all these bald spots?"

I was giving her a haircut...what...it seemed like a good idea with the Ambien!

So now I'm up because this one time the Ambien hasn't put me to sleep yet.  Which means everything is suspect.  My judgment is compromised and my memory will be faulty.  Everything I'm typing right now holds the potential for embarrassment.  But I really want to go get a diet Pepsi which is full of awesome caffeine so I'm gonna hit publish and blame it on the Ambien.  

No Escape

We were on one of those Halloween `Ghost Runs` about fifteen years ago...Dwayne and I, a couple of friends, and a whole bunch of people I didn't know.

The group decided to go to `The Haunted Forest` but when we got there only three went in, leaving about eight of us sitting in the van.  For a very. long. time.

Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore, and I asked if anyone had ever read Sartre's "No Exit"...and started explaining a little bit what the play was about.

"So," my friend Jim said, "are you saying that sitting here in the van with us is like being in hell?"

OUCH! BUSTED!

Dwayne still likes to make fun of me for that one...he says I need reminding that I'm not always the smartest one in the room.

I was totally put in my place.  I think it was probably a few days before I said anything at all...

Ties, baby

We go to Cumberland Falls every year.  My daughter feels the pull as much as I do, and insists on it.  She'll be 21 in July. !!!.  She was 2 or 3 in this picture, and my grandma had talked us to the edge to get a great shot.

We're Kentuckians, through and through.  Even though I was an Army brat and lived in a lot of different places, it was a relief to come back home.  I'll never want to live anywhere else.  Why would I?  This is the best place in the world.

I blame my grandmother.  She raised all of us to be like this.  I'm not kidding when I say that when I was little, she'd sing me to sleep with a lullaby that began, "Kentucky, you are the dearest land outside of heaven to me...".

I'm a city girl, but I can trace my dirt poor tobacco-farming eastern Kentucky ancestors back to the 1700's.  That's because they're all buried in our family cemetery in Blackwater, KY, where we go every year on Decoration Day.  My grandmother is buried there, and my great-great-great-great-grandmother is buried there. There's still room left for me, too.

We were taught how to handicap the Kentucky Derby by the time we were 5, the basics of country music at 6, and had field tripped the state's major landmarks before age 10.  The UK Wildcats basketball worship training began in the womb.

It's a good thing the brainwashing began early and intense, because it might not have otherwise survived the big 3-year move to Germany.  We didn't get basketball over there, I had to rely on country music cassette mix tapes sent to me via APO mail, the only mountains were the Alps, and the only landmarks were various castles and the Schwarzwald.

I got shipped back home right before I turned 13.  A little culture shock.  But my family!  My trees, my basketball, my Derby, my bluegrass, my mountains, my falls, my Kentucky...

Edit: My mom reminded me exactly how the song goes:

Kentucky, you are the dearest land outside of heaven to me,
Kentucky, I miss your laurel and your redbud trees…
When I die, I want to rest upon your graceful mountains so high..
For that is where God will look for me.

I need a Speaker.

Ender was the first Speaker.  He didn't eulogize...he instead spoke of the intentions and hopes and regrets that made up the essence of an individual's life.

I need a Speaker.  I've become so lazy, self-centered, slow, dumb, uninteresting, vain, mean and a host of other bad things I can't think of right now because I'm slow and dumb...

I need a Speaker.  To explain all this away...

Tango.

I'm enjoying some small things:

1. My new iPhone - I really love it
2. `Imagine Dragons` and `The Lumineers`
3. Netflix

4. My SeanCody membership
5. All the free time I have now since I stopped playing on Facebook.

That I'm enjoying anything at all is a good sign...I'm really hoping my doctors have hit the right pill combo to keep me steady and sane.  I've been to work every day five weeks in a row (yay!).  And I've thought about doing other stuff...that part is taking me baby steps, but at least I'm thinking about it...right?

There are billions of heroes...

There are two heroes in this picture:

The man who stopped the tanks...and the driver of the first tank, who stopped.

Anne was spending her teen years being hidden away in an attic from the Nazis; yet still she believed that people were good at heart.

And I agree.  Bad people can shout and make bombs and kill, but billions of good people will show courage and save lives and prevail.

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.

Friday. Weekend. Still employed. For now.

I actually can't believe I made it 40 years before I was finally the subject of gossip...finger pointing...whispered conversations...

Actual long drawn out made up falsehoods about me started circulating work last week while I was out and seemed to get even worse after I got back.

Ever had conversations stop as you walk by?

Wow.

If I wasn't on three different anti-anxiety medications I probably would have taken it with a lot less zen.

I just don't want to be fired for real now, and make the gossip come true.  

Forgot about the loss of income - I just don't want these people to think they were right!

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.

No. Way.

I can't believe today is my 40th birthday.
I'm the age my mother used to be when I was 20.  And now, my daughter is 20, the age I used to be.
What?
How did this happen?
And I've been drifting and dreaming the years away...
I want a pause button, so I can figure out my great contribution to society...time's just rushing on and on.
...
Then again, only John Lennon could write `Imagine`. It takes the rest of us to appreciate it.  

Hypocrisy is my middle name...no, wait...

1. My sweet adorable kitty is so cute, she follows me around like a puppy and does whatever I do.  But lately, she just lays around and sleeps all day.  Hmmm...

2. My shrink put me back on the scary medicine... okaaaaaay...

3. Did you notice it didn't get dark until 6 p.m. today?  The days are getting longer...

4. Today was my first of undoubtedly many missteps of 2013 - I called in to work.  I'm such a disappointment, I'm so predictable, yes yes yes I already know.  I just don't know WHY.

5. Hopefully the medicine will help.  If it doesn't drive me battier than I already am...

I feel so...stupid.

Get busy living or get busy dying...

`Some birds aren't meant to be caged.`

`Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.`
I will always be grateful for this movie...

More more more

I go back to the doctor on Monday.My new medicine that was supposed to help me get better actually had this unexpected side effect.
Auditory hallucinations...
Sheesh...I'm supposed to get LESS crazy, not get pushed over the edge.

Pressure, Darkness, Freedom

Popa and I heard it firsthand from Kris this summer - `Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose.`

- And sometimes, when you fall, you fly.

It's time to start being me again.

At least I got 3 hours in...

Why why why does my kitty wake me up at 2:30 in the morning?
Am I being punished?
I'm bad, right?:(I've been up for 3 hours and 20 minutes and I only have 25 minutes left to go back to sleep.  Arrrgggghhhh, BAD KITTY.

Baby, It's Cold Outside... I Wish...

I had a dream that Moma was still alive. I woke up and for a moment, I still believed it, and I was so relieved.  That meant that the last year had been a terrible nightmare.  Then I woke up, for real. 

I still have that same sort of vague, floaty mentality I've always had.  Will that ever change?  It's so much easier to float than it is to hurt.  When group therapy and the shrinks pinpointed me to a tee, it totally freaked me out.  How'd they do that?  How'd they know all that about me?

I wonder if anyone else gets tired of being who they are all the time... I wonder if anyone thinks I'm a big fake...or is that what everyone thinks?

Charade

    
I've taken the Ambien and am patiently waiting to fall asleep, fully expecting to not remember writing any of this in the morning. That stuff is scary.  And really scary when I take it with some Benadryl and a Vicodin.  But at least I don't wash it down with a whiskey...

Sleep eludes me anymore, without a pill.  Unless it's non-threatening catnaps, in the middle of the day.  Those are easy. The pressure of lying down to sleep 6-8 hours at night in the dark has gotten to be too much, without some help...

I'm not sure at what point I'm supposed to stand back up and do things on my own again.  The crazy place floated around the idea of a year...

It's been a short seven months and I miss Moma terribly.  I'll never get over the fact that she's not here anymore.  I was blessed with a very close relationship with the perfect grandma for the first 38 years of my life.  I wouldn't trade it for anything.

100 words

I'm trying to get better.  I think I'm trying to get better. 
I don't know if I'm getting better.
I suspect I'm not getting better.
I want to be better.  I want to live.
I want to surprise people and defy expectations.  I want to feel.
I want to laugh and run and cry and breathe.
I want to shine on, and stay gold.
How do I get there?
How do I get better?
No hiding, no shame, no fear,
I guess.
I really don't know.
But I am trying.
I want to know.  I just need to try.
LIFE.

Numbness, denial, escape, self-medicate, run run run

I'm not that important.

I'm trying really hard to get better. Or I think I am. I have pressures and hopes and expectations weighing down on me. Just get better. Buck up. Get with it. What is your problem, anyway?

And I caught a glimpse of real life and maybe I don't wanna get better, maybe I'd rather stay in a nice fog, where my grandma isn't gone and my daughter isn't suddenly grown up and life isn't so ugly and dreary and hurtful.

I can't cry hard enough for you to hear me now...

The summer of 1983, my parents moved me away to Obernburg, Germany, and I spent my first night there crying for my grandmother.

Now, 28 years later, it's the summer of 2011 and I'm spending the night again crying for my grandmother.

I didn't realize when I saw her briefly this past Saturday, and kissed her on the cheek, and said 'I love you, bye,' that it would be the last time we would ever speak.
I don't know how to do this.

Please carry me home...

Music: Patty Griffin - Not Alone

I hate broken ankles. I hate pain. I hate being confined to the house for weeks. I hate not being able to get comfortable. I hate being scatterbrained. I hate cliques. I hate cancer. I hate vegetables and fruit and ham and lettuce and beans. I hate insects. I hate Westerns. I hate my carpet. I hate bigotry and racism and homophobia. I hate war.

I love my family. I love my kitty. I love reading, and writing, and dancing, and poetry, and art and music. I love TV and movies. I love my iPod and my Sony Reader and my laptop. I love my blanket. I love the fall, and the winter, and the spring. I love trees. I love my brothers and sisters around the world even though I have never met them. I love God.

I try to love when I feel like hating. But I'm still hating things, especially cancer.

I need to be more loving, to make up for it. Loving is easy...it's everything.

Enough said....

Once upon a time a girl named Michelle fell down the stairs, broke her leg, and was never seen again.

No superheroes here...

Top Five Reality-Check Moments After Falling Down The Stairs
1. You realize that you're on the downside of 30, which means you have no coordination and your bones are brittle.
2. Even though you have a broken leg, you still have to get back up the stairs.
3. You really have no privacy in the E/R, as evidenced by sitting out in the hallway in a wheelchair the entire time I was there, while I talked to the doctor, they medicined me, and splinted me. In the hallway.
4. All those fantasies of breaking a bone so I don't have to go to work? STUPID...I forgot that broken bones really, really hurt.
5. People come to your house to check on you no matter how messy your room is. The usual method of avoiding company by pretending you're not home isn't really an option. Where else am I gonna be with my broken leg?

Always a struggle to be...

See John Glenn's autobiography for this exercise...

1. I am Michelle.
2. I am a mom.
3. I am a Christian.
4. I am a daughter, granddaughter, sister, aunt, niece, cousin.
5. I am owned by a cat.
6. I clench my teeth when I'm stressed.
7. I clench my teeth all the time.
8. I am broke... or maybe broken.
9. I have no idea how John Glenn or the other astronauts managed to come up with 100 of these.
10. I am done.

To your hearts

Music: Come Undone - Duran Duran

My grandma's still in the hospital...last night she needed a blood transfusion. She seems to be getting sicker, the longer she's in there.
I'd rather talk about how amazing my grandma is...I've covered a lot of ground here, though, so I may repeat myself.

1. My afghan. You have to see it to appreciate it. It's huge, every color of the rainbow, and some kind of complicated pattern...Moma has made many afghans over the years, but mine is the most special and beautiful thing ever. You would think I was the favorite, it's that beautiful. She loves me, and every night when I sleep under the afghan she made for me so many years ago, I'm reminded of it.

2. My books. My parents moved me away to Germany when I was ten and it devastated me to be away from my grandma, and it devastated her, too. She sent me letters, and tapes, and books... Every single book was a special, huge classic book, with an inscription inside from her telling me how much she loved me. The Little House books, Little Women, Heidi, Ballet Shoes, and more, these books still populate my bookshelf, and remind me of the time when we may have been separated by distance, but she refused to let me forget how much we loved each other.

3. Travel. I've seen so many different places, most of it thanks to my grandmother. She herself has been to 46 states and nine countries. She decides she wants to see a place and just...goes there. And sometimes, if I'm around, I'm lucky enough to get to go, too. Otherwise, I might catch her when she gets back and she says, oh, I drove to so-and-so for the week, it was great. !!!

4. Hair. I have very long, curly brown hair. My grandmother is directly responsible for this, as she kept cutting all my hair off every time she ever got me alone. You can see in photo albums from my childhood when my summer-long stays at Moma's house were, because the 'before' pictures always showed me with long tangled hair, and the 'after' pictures were always me with short hair looking like a boy, with a very sad look on my face. I rebelled at eighth grade and said no more haircuts and I meant it, I've never had short hair again. And it's all her fault.

And she is still trying to this day, I don't think a conversation goes by without her mentioning haircut this or haircut that, or how good I'd look with short hair, etc. When my grandma doesn't get her way she never stops trying until she does get her way. Every conversation, every day, forever.

5. Inspiration. She didn't go beyond the eighth grade, but she studied and got her GED. She was the daughter of a tobacco farmer, born and raised in the holler, and she married and divorced and at twenty-two was a single mom. She made the hard decision to leave the babies with her mom while she left the holler and went north to work, and then when she had made enough to buy a house, she moved the babies and her mom up north to Louisville to live. My grandma was the original working, single mom, way before it became fashionable. She's the strongest person I know.

Yes, we just have to remember that...she's the strongest person we know.

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.

Retrospect

November:

My pretty bought-new UK blue car broke to pieces when I hit that tree, and after more than a month of waiting and then car shopping, I ended up with a brand new used car...

I had bought my last two cars new, both, again, UK blue... but nowadays, times are tough and I had to go for used only, with what the insurance paid off when they totaled out my car.

So my mom and my grandma are out looking for cars while I'm at work, and one day they call and tell me they've found my car and they've had my mechanic check it and all they need is my social security number...

So now I have a little nondescript dark green car, and it looks like every other car in the parking lot. It doesn't stand out like my pretty bright UK blue car did! But that's okay, because I'm in love with the inside of it. It's an LS, nicer inside than any of my new cars ever were, and best of all, the stereo is awesome...

Which is really all I care about. I always offer my car to drive anywhere now, because of my really cool stereo. I LOVE my stereo...

Yeah, I offer my car to drive - not me driving. Other people drive my car alot. I don't wanna drive, and for some reason, people don't seem to want me to drive them around... I can't imagine why...

December -

By December I'm so tired I can barely make it in to work. My arms get tired just blow drying my hair and folding clothes. Once I'm down, I'm down... at home that means going from my bedroom to the kitchen is impossible, and at work that means going from my desk to the breakroom is impossible.

My brain finally remembered that I felt this way a year ago and my anemia had gotten really, really bad... It took me a while to catch on because this year I didn't have any symptoms exacerbating it like I did last year.

So I start taking some over the counter iron pills, but they're not helping...

January -

Cyst on my neck. Surgery to remove it. Stitches. Scar. Ow. At least it's benign.

Oh, and the doctor tested my blood, said my anemia has my blood count almost down to the levels it was last year (8), and got me off the stupid self-medicating and on some proper pills.

My post-op check was delayed by the ice storm that knocked out everybody's power for a week and destroyed all the trees.

Yeah, first the windstorm caused by the hurricane, and then less than six months later, we have the ice storm.

At least all those generators everybody bought the first time around got put to good use....

But I can't stand to see all the broken trees.

February -

Birthday time. After last year's debacle I said, no birthday party. So when my aunt called to let me know that the time of my birthday party had changed, I figured out quickly that my mom had planned it against my wishes...

So, halfway through the party, celebrating it the day after my birthday, with one family member having left the house in anger and walking aimlessly around the neighborhood, and another family member in the kitchen talking angrily about leaving and how they shouldn't have even came, there was me in my mom's bathroom crying and desperately wishing to go back to the day before.

My mom came in there and told me she was sorry, she knew I had said no party, and next year we would just go out of town.

Cool. Or, how about, just. no. party.

On the up side, I'm feeling much, much, much better. The doctor's prescription for my anemia has worked like magic. I'm actually able to go for walks now...

This time, I'm going to keep taking the pills even though I'm feeling better. I've been anemic since I was a teenager, and have gone through spells ever since of my iron dropping to really low levels, but never like it has the past two years.

Take your medicine! It's my new motto... I'm not getting any younger, obviously, with the way these dreaded birthdays keep coming around...

After the Fact

Music: Robbie Williams - Eternity

My air conditioning's kind of broken.

Yes yes, I know it's November, but it's too hot. It's a second floor thing, I guess. Heat rising and all that.

I made C watch 'Footloose' and 'Ferris Bueller's Day Off' with me today. Expanding her pop culture horizons. The first sixteen years of her life she only watched Nickelodeon and Disney channel, so she has a lot to catch up on.

My dad used to make me sit through John Wayne, Clint Eastwood, Audie Murphy...and I'm a girl! This has to be way more fun for my daughter! We watched 'Dirty Dancing' last week and she didn't complain...hardly at all.

I haven't bought a replacement car yet. That's because the insurance company hasn't sent my check yet. Tomorrow will be 35 days since my accident. It's a red tape thing. I could have walked to Indiana, collected the document they are waiting on, and then hand delivered it to their headquarters in Maryland by now. Twice.

I have to go get some more cold water from the freezer, let's hope the temperature drops drastically tonight...

Roses

Music: Eminem - When I'm Gone

I brought my old journal over and it's here: http://rememberinggraceonce.blogspot.com/...

Don't much feel like journaling tonight...headache.

I did have some pretty good drugs for about a minute, between my car wreck and going to the dentist for a root canal... but then people found out I had the medicine, and they were coming out of the woodwork. There should be a song out there titled, "Everybody's Your Best Friend, When You Have Narcotics!".

So I gave almost all my Vicoprofens and Flexerils away, and now I have a massive migraine and my neck's hurting and I sort of wish I hadn't been so generous.

I really don't wish that. I just sometimes get the feeling that people are taking advantage of me.

It doesn't matter...anything I have that I lend or give was never really mine to begin with.

Forever and ever

Music: The New Amsterdams - Hanging On For Hope

I totaled my car the first of October, on the way to taking my daughter to school, less than five minutes after leaving home... The road I live off of is a tricky one, it's very curvy and hilly and scary at night, and everyone who's ever grown up in Louisville calls it 'Hot Rod Haven'. And for goodness' sake, I've been driving this road ever since I started driving and I KNOW to slow down on that one curve when the road is wet, but my daughter and I were having a lively discussion (the kind that mothers and daughters get into some mornings).

The next thing I know, I'm fishtailing right, then left, then careening off the road, through the brush, under the trees, then right into a tree. We came away with scratches, bruises, a wrenched neck (mine), and a truly impressive black eye (my daughter's). My car was a goner.

So now the bruises are faded and we're all healed up although I'm kicking myself for not getting a picture of C's black eye at it's most colorful. My neck is still giving me pain but I'm taking it as penance for being what must be the WORST DRIVER IN THE UNIVERSE. This makes at least the SIXTH REPORTED accident which was MY FAULT in my life - reported meaning I've had to call the insurance company. And I've only been driving for eighteen years.

I think I can do the math. That's an accident every three years. And that's only REPORTED accidents. That's not counting the time I hit the man on Dixie highway and messed up my car but it didn't hurt his truck so he told me to go on, or the time I hit the man in the parking lot at work but it didn't mess up his car so he told me to go on...

So I admit it, I'm a terrible driver, and I really, really, really don't want to be driving... I need to just have my own driver so society can breathe easy now that I'm no longer out there on the roads.

And as much as I don't want to be driving, my daughter REALLY doesn't want me to be driving anymore. We're still in the rental car waiting on the check from the insurance company. And every morning on the way to school, the litany starts as soon as we pull out onto the road... "Please slow down... Please put both hands on the wheel... Please pay attention to the road..." I've turned my daughter into a nervous wreck when she's in the car with me.

But my airbags deployed and the window shattered and the front end buckled and still my daughter and I walked away from that car in one piece. Even though I'm a terrible driver, I have so much to be thankful for.

So, so much to be thankful for.