I think I could deal with being the horrible weight I am if I looked nearly as cute as as my wii mii! She's adorable with her cute chubby belly and smiley face. Ah, if only!
While at work I was planning on going for a walk after work, but it was horribly hot out and I still have a mysterious pain in my right heel. I have no idea what I did to it, I just remember that it started hurting yesterday sometime. Who knows what I did to it? Anyway, because of the pain, I was only able to do the Wii for 16 minutes today. When I do it, I try to do it for a half an hour. I'm usually dying by them. But I only got to do half of that today, and I couldn't do boxing and step aerobics more then once each, so I didn't feel like it was a very good "workout" but I apparently lost .4lbs. wooooooooooooooooooooo! Runway, here I come! :P
But it is positive at least. I'm going to really try to do this more often. Tomorrow night I'm going to be gone after work, and I know this weekend is probably a complete bust, with family/moving my brother and stuff. But if I can do it twice more this week, then maybe I can get down another .4lbs or so...or maybe a whole pound. I have to try to be more positive about all this stuff I know I do. Being depressed sure doesn't help anything.
And now to go make some chicken, at almost 8:30pm.
Monday, July 20, 2009
I hate my life
The more I look at myself in the mirror the more I hate myself. I'm getting married in a year. I CAN NOT get married looking like this. I refuse. However, I don't seem to have the drive or the ambition to do anything about it. I do well on the Wii Fit for a week, and the off of it for two. I go for walks three days a week for two weeks, then not a walk in months. I eat well for a bit, then eat pizza non stop. Ugh.
I hate my life.
I hate my life.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Massive Depression
Ugh. I just weighed myself for the first time in I don't even know how long. I am a chubby, chubby girl. I knew my weight range. I just didn't think it would be on on the high end. I need to make a change. But I'm afraid. I don't know what to do....I need a plan.
I've been Tagged!
I thought this was just an email thing, but apparently you can be tagged in blogs too! Who knew? Lauren from Mommy in Munchkin Land tagged me. And we all know that I have no life, so here I go:
Rules are as follows: 1) Mention the person who tagged you and be sure to link to them!2) Post your list of 8's3) Tag 8 bloggers and don't forget to tell them!
For the record, I do NOT have anyone to send this to after this...cause there's like two people who read this, if that. I know, sad. Here we go!
8 of my most favorite foods:
1- Turkey
2- Pizza
3- Salty Chips
4- Chicken fried rice
5- Popcorn
6- bbq chicken
7- lobster
8- crab
8 Things I Cherish
1- my family and friends and boyfriend
2- Benson
3- my pictures
4- my memories (the good ones...the bad ones can go to hell!!!)
5- a good nap
6- lots of time with a good book
7- fresh pepsi
8- fresh ocean air.
8 Ways I Kill Time
1- chatting on/ surfing the Internet
2- reading
3- Talking on the phone
4- watching tv
5- walking to the stores at the mini mall next to my apartment
6- playing with Benson
7- Cleaning/organizing
8- reading/writing emails
8 Shows I Watch
1- House
2- Deadliest Catch
3- Canada's Worst Handyman
4- Family Guy
5- Law and Order SVU
6- Law and Order
7- American Dad
8- Groomer Has It
8 Things to do before I die
1- Go the UK
2- See Greece
3- go back to Yellowstone
4- get a house with an ocean view
5- see Europe...ALL OF IT
6- learn to play something
7- write a book
8- go on another big road trip
8 Ways to make me Happy
1- leave me alone...alone time is good.
2- Bring me carnations
3- Take me for a boat drive
4- do the dishes
5- random gifts!
6- getting a letter, real mail rules
7- let me buy my stupid little things that I like
8- let me play with kittens
No tagging :(
Rules are as follows: 1) Mention the person who tagged you and be sure to link to them!2) Post your list of 8's3) Tag 8 bloggers and don't forget to tell them!
For the record, I do NOT have anyone to send this to after this...cause there's like two people who read this, if that. I know, sad. Here we go!
8 of my most favorite foods:
1- Turkey
2- Pizza
3- Salty Chips
4- Chicken fried rice
5- Popcorn
6- bbq chicken
7- lobster
8- crab
8 Things I Cherish
1- my family and friends and boyfriend
2- Benson
3- my pictures
4- my memories (the good ones...the bad ones can go to hell!!!)
5- a good nap
6- lots of time with a good book
7- fresh pepsi
8- fresh ocean air.
8 Ways I Kill Time
1- chatting on/ surfing the Internet
2- reading
3- Talking on the phone
4- watching tv
5- walking to the stores at the mini mall next to my apartment
6- playing with Benson
7- Cleaning/organizing
8- reading/writing emails
8 Shows I Watch
1- House
2- Deadliest Catch
3- Canada's Worst Handyman
4- Family Guy
5- Law and Order SVU
6- Law and Order
7- American Dad
8- Groomer Has It
8 Things to do before I die
1- Go the UK
2- See Greece
3- go back to Yellowstone
4- get a house with an ocean view
5- see Europe...ALL OF IT
6- learn to play something
7- write a book
8- go on another big road trip
8 Ways to make me Happy
1- leave me alone...alone time is good.
2- Bring me carnations
3- Take me for a boat drive
4- do the dishes
5- random gifts!
6- getting a letter, real mail rules
7- let me buy my stupid little things that I like
8- let me play with kittens
No tagging :(
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Clenched Teeth
Sometimes I wonder why I bother. Honestly.
My back has been killing me like crazy, interrupting my sleep, etc. We also had an overflowing hamper of dirty clothes. We're going home on the weekend, so I will do most of the laundry for free, but the boy's uniform had to be washed, so I put in our towels, socks, underwear, stuff like that. I sorted everything, put it in the hamper and gave it to him to take. Naturally it didn't happen right away. He finally went up and put it in the laundry.
I was really, really sore and tired this afternoon, so after a bit, I went to have a nap. I reminded him THREE times that the laundry would be ready to go into the dryer very soon. THREE times.
After laying in bed and having Benson try to fit my entire hand and arm into his mouth a few times, I did manage to sleep for a bit. I stayed in bed a bit longer, as my back was sore, and I was really hot and enjoying the fan on my face. I got out of bed, and saw the hamper in the exact same place. I sighed every so deeply.
He was sitting in the recliner, with his computer glued to his lap as usual and I said in as nice a voice as I could manage "You didn't go get the laundry?" and his reply, which was not at all a surprise, "Oh shit, I forgot it!" Really??? Fucking shocking! So he got up and ran up stairs to put it in. Yeah, no driers free. It's Sunday. He was lucky to get a washer free. It's things like this that makes me hate him just a little bit. Why can't he remember? He sighs and gets mad when I remind him things over and over again, because I'm nagging him or whatever. But OBVIOUSLY he's a child and needs to be nagged. Jesus. I could kill him. So now my laundry is just sitting up there, waiting to go into a free dryer. And my jaw hurts because I'm clenching my teeth so hard and not saying anything. And he knows I'm mad since he did the dishes, which he NEVER does.
Argh!!!
As a side note, I'm sorry that this blog has turned into a total bitch fest, but there's like only one reader, and she knows I'm a bitch, so it's all good.
My back has been killing me like crazy, interrupting my sleep, etc. We also had an overflowing hamper of dirty clothes. We're going home on the weekend, so I will do most of the laundry for free, but the boy's uniform had to be washed, so I put in our towels, socks, underwear, stuff like that. I sorted everything, put it in the hamper and gave it to him to take. Naturally it didn't happen right away. He finally went up and put it in the laundry.
I was really, really sore and tired this afternoon, so after a bit, I went to have a nap. I reminded him THREE times that the laundry would be ready to go into the dryer very soon. THREE times.
After laying in bed and having Benson try to fit my entire hand and arm into his mouth a few times, I did manage to sleep for a bit. I stayed in bed a bit longer, as my back was sore, and I was really hot and enjoying the fan on my face. I got out of bed, and saw the hamper in the exact same place. I sighed every so deeply.
He was sitting in the recliner, with his computer glued to his lap as usual and I said in as nice a voice as I could manage "You didn't go get the laundry?" and his reply, which was not at all a surprise, "Oh shit, I forgot it!" Really??? Fucking shocking! So he got up and ran up stairs to put it in. Yeah, no driers free. It's Sunday. He was lucky to get a washer free. It's things like this that makes me hate him just a little bit. Why can't he remember? He sighs and gets mad when I remind him things over and over again, because I'm nagging him or whatever. But OBVIOUSLY he's a child and needs to be nagged. Jesus. I could kill him. So now my laundry is just sitting up there, waiting to go into a free dryer. And my jaw hurts because I'm clenching my teeth so hard and not saying anything. And he knows I'm mad since he did the dishes, which he NEVER does.
Argh!!!
As a side note, I'm sorry that this blog has turned into a total bitch fest, but there's like only one reader, and she knows I'm a bitch, so it's all good.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Tired
I am sitting here, in my somewhat less messy apartment, feeling much better about my dining room.
Since we moved here, there was one wall of our dining room that was completely covered, nearly head high, with bins and boxes. They have slowly been chipped away at, over time. But there were many stubborn boxes that just refused to be dealt with. They were all the boys, filled with things I can't quite believe he spent money on moving across the country, vhs tapes, audio tapes, empty dvd cases, old text books (Yes, I myself have kept text books, but I was an English major, so I kept my poetry books, etc) that he's never going to use again. But that's fine, I guess. Except that he wouldn't move them. Yeah, he's been busy, I get that. But there are weekends. And there are plenty of days that he's not doing anything at his stay at home job.
DOESN'T MATTER. I took care of it. As per usual. The boxes are gone. Now the only box in the dining room is the one that is going to good will asap. I feel like I have a bit of order back in my life. Sure, the bedroom closets are now stuffed beyond capacity with random boxes and bins, but that's what closet doors are for! No one needs to know. My next job will be to try to curb Rob's disgusting side of the bed. He just drops everything by the bed and leaves it there. It drives me crazy. I'm the type of person that doesn't mind a little bit of clutter in the bedroom, but this is getting out of hand. I will try once again to have a talk with him. Maybe I'll try not to cry this time. Though last time it seemed to work a little bit.
I am very tired from moving all of those boxes. And I'm tired anyway, not sleeping well because of my weird back problems. Fine during the day, but as soon as I lay down for a bit, it hurts like hell. I've been waking up around 4 in the morning in intense pain. I get up, take some drugs, heat up my heating pad, go back to sleep until about 6 or 6:30, in more pain. Heating up my heating pad didn't work this time. I got up before 7 and ate some cereal, farted around on the computer, and went back to bed just after 8. My back still hurt a bit, but not as much, and I was able to get a couple more hours of sleep. Yes, this means I "slept in", but really, if you add up all the hours I was actually sleeping, it was just a regular night's sleep. So I don't feel bad about it at all. Yeah, I know, I'll eventually go to the doctors. It would be nice if I had some insurance though.
I would like to sit here and enjoy my tidy dining room, but I have a feeling I'll be doing a few more things before I settle in for the night. The fun never ends.
Since we moved here, there was one wall of our dining room that was completely covered, nearly head high, with bins and boxes. They have slowly been chipped away at, over time. But there were many stubborn boxes that just refused to be dealt with. They were all the boys, filled with things I can't quite believe he spent money on moving across the country, vhs tapes, audio tapes, empty dvd cases, old text books (Yes, I myself have kept text books, but I was an English major, so I kept my poetry books, etc) that he's never going to use again. But that's fine, I guess. Except that he wouldn't move them. Yeah, he's been busy, I get that. But there are weekends. And there are plenty of days that he's not doing anything at his stay at home job.
DOESN'T MATTER. I took care of it. As per usual. The boxes are gone. Now the only box in the dining room is the one that is going to good will asap. I feel like I have a bit of order back in my life. Sure, the bedroom closets are now stuffed beyond capacity with random boxes and bins, but that's what closet doors are for! No one needs to know. My next job will be to try to curb Rob's disgusting side of the bed. He just drops everything by the bed and leaves it there. It drives me crazy. I'm the type of person that doesn't mind a little bit of clutter in the bedroom, but this is getting out of hand. I will try once again to have a talk with him. Maybe I'll try not to cry this time. Though last time it seemed to work a little bit.
I am very tired from moving all of those boxes. And I'm tired anyway, not sleeping well because of my weird back problems. Fine during the day, but as soon as I lay down for a bit, it hurts like hell. I've been waking up around 4 in the morning in intense pain. I get up, take some drugs, heat up my heating pad, go back to sleep until about 6 or 6:30, in more pain. Heating up my heating pad didn't work this time. I got up before 7 and ate some cereal, farted around on the computer, and went back to bed just after 8. My back still hurt a bit, but not as much, and I was able to get a couple more hours of sleep. Yes, this means I "slept in", but really, if you add up all the hours I was actually sleeping, it was just a regular night's sleep. So I don't feel bad about it at all. Yeah, I know, I'll eventually go to the doctors. It would be nice if I had some insurance though.
I would like to sit here and enjoy my tidy dining room, but I have a feeling I'll be doing a few more things before I settle in for the night. The fun never ends.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Minor Break Downs are Fun!
I had a job interview today at 4. After spending the morning/early afternoon doing laundry, dishes, organizing things, I started to get ready. You already know my whole button popping clothing issues I was having when i was getting ready for the interview. Well, I found something to wear, and was doing my hair and makeup. I don't wear makeup very often, but it was a shock to me when I realized my new foundation (about 25 bucks or more, which is A LOT for me to spend on makeup) was missing from my purse. No were to be found. It had to have fallen out. I lost my mind. I seriously did. I cried, I ranted...I asked what was the point of my life if every little thing I do is a total and complete struggle? Ugh. It was not my finest hour.
Anyway, I had a tiny bit of foundation left in a different bottle, and was able to make it work. I know it's not a huge deal, I know that. It didn't stop me from going nuts though.
I did the interview. The first half went well, the second half sucked. We'll see I guess, fingers crossed.
Anyway, I had a tiny bit of foundation left in a different bottle, and was able to make it work. I know it's not a huge deal, I know that. It didn't stop me from going nuts though.
I did the interview. The first half went well, the second half sucked. We'll see I guess, fingers crossed.
Wow, I suck
Last post December 20th. Wow. Way to go Lacey, good job. Here we go again. I think I really have to at least make an effort to keep this up, because writing has always had a very important hand in keeping me (somewhat) sane. I feel better when I get things out, when I can see the words that have been flying around in my head.
The last thing I wrote about was my Grampy's funeral. Happy thoughts. Let's continue with that for just a bit. Christmas was awful. It wasn't the same without him at all. Thankfully Meghan kept everyone pretty happy when she was around...she is so expressive, a true drama queen in the making. She had a wonderful time. Rob proposed to me on Christmas. I wish he had waited. I was already rocking from Grampy's death and my first Christmas at home in years which didn't exactly go as planned. I couldn't give it my happiness. I tried, and failed miserably. He felt bad, everyone couldn't understand why I pretty much hid the ring. It just wasn't the right time for it...
Anyway, I got through it. I'm in no way planning a wedding. I can't. I get too stressed out just thinking about it, and honestly, I wouldn't care if I got married at all, next year or in ten years. It's just not that big of a deal for me. Part of the reason is Grampy. I just assumed he'd be there, you know? Unlike my Poppy who passed away a few years ago, Grampy was always so full of life, and he fully intended to try to live forever, so, it was just expected that he would be there, beaming because he was so happy and proud, and even though I don't dance, I would have danced with him that day...but that's not going to happen now, and it saddens me so much.
Another reason is how incredibly fat I am. I hate my body, but I can't seem to get on the right track to do anything to change it. I just tried on my spring/summer dress shirts this morning, as I have a job interview in a few hours. Thought maybe I could pull out a nice shirt and at least TRY to look nice, though a huge blob of a person never looks nice, not really. Yeah. None of them fit. Oh, I could get them on. I could do up the buttons, but they were nearly popping. I shouldn't have even tried. Now I'm even more depressed. I feel like crying, but what's the point? I'm fat. End of story. And I'm always going to be fat, because I don't have the willpower to change that, and I refuse to be the fattest girl at my wedding. And I refuse to have a million pictures to remember myself as a white ball. Not gonna happen. No way, no how.
Oh, there are other reasons why I'm in no hurry to get married. Money for one. That's a big one I guess. And I often wonder if Rob and I will be ok married. We fight like cats and dogs as it is. I cracked this weekend about the mess he leaves EVERYWHERE he goes in the apartment. He told me he's trying and I nearly bit my tongue off. I'd hate to see what not trying looks like. Seriously. So he said he would try harder, and yeah, the first day, he did the dishes, and he tried to help with the boxes of junk still in the dining room. Yeah, now the junk is just spread all over the apartment. I'm going to lose it again, I know it, and you know what? I just don't care anymore. So be it. I made myself clear, he knows where I stand. I told him that I refused to be in a marriage like my parents. I love my parents, but there are parts of them that I hate. They were (still are half the time) miserable when we were growing up. Mom would freak out at everyone because she thought she got no help. And when I did try to help I got screamed at. No wonder I was a crier back in the day. I'm not going to become that angry, sad, screaming woman. She is already in there, trying to come out every chance she gets, and I'm not going to give her a constant outlet.
I feel more like Rob and I are roommates lately. We really don't act like a couple anymore. We've even been sleeping in separate rooms because he's been sick for two weeks now, coughing all night. I'm really enjoying the sleeping alone, except for the horribly sore back I get after laying down for a few hours...not really sure what's going on there, but it isn't fun. I guess I'm going to have to go bite the bullet and actually go to the doctors soon. I hate the doctor. Well, I like my doctor as a person, but hate doctors in general.
I have an interview today. I was a temp for two months at an office like a five minute drive away from my apartment. Would have been perfect, but I was told that they don't hire temps. Which is stupid if you ask me, but whatever. So now I have an interview for a job today at 4pm. It's in Bedford, so it'd be a sucky long bus ride that will make me cranky and want to kill myself, but it's a job. I need to have a job and make some money. Fingers crossed. They probably won't hire me because I'm so fat. Not getting my hopes up.
God, I'm a cheerful person aren't I? I am in all likely hood depressed again, but whatever. Been living with that for over ten years now, I think I can live with it longer.
I guess I should mention that we got a kitten and named him Benson. I love him, but I also hate him half the time. I don't think I should ever have kids. I'm pretty sure I'll be one of those mothers that drowns their kids in the bathtub because I snapped. Seriously. This is a serious worry for me.
Ok, I'm going to end this epic post now. I'll be sure to post the rejection and anger I feel when I don't get the job...ah, nothing like a positive outlook!
Does anyone even read this thing anymore?
The last thing I wrote about was my Grampy's funeral. Happy thoughts. Let's continue with that for just a bit. Christmas was awful. It wasn't the same without him at all. Thankfully Meghan kept everyone pretty happy when she was around...she is so expressive, a true drama queen in the making. She had a wonderful time. Rob proposed to me on Christmas. I wish he had waited. I was already rocking from Grampy's death and my first Christmas at home in years which didn't exactly go as planned. I couldn't give it my happiness. I tried, and failed miserably. He felt bad, everyone couldn't understand why I pretty much hid the ring. It just wasn't the right time for it...
Anyway, I got through it. I'm in no way planning a wedding. I can't. I get too stressed out just thinking about it, and honestly, I wouldn't care if I got married at all, next year or in ten years. It's just not that big of a deal for me. Part of the reason is Grampy. I just assumed he'd be there, you know? Unlike my Poppy who passed away a few years ago, Grampy was always so full of life, and he fully intended to try to live forever, so, it was just expected that he would be there, beaming because he was so happy and proud, and even though I don't dance, I would have danced with him that day...but that's not going to happen now, and it saddens me so much.
Another reason is how incredibly fat I am. I hate my body, but I can't seem to get on the right track to do anything to change it. I just tried on my spring/summer dress shirts this morning, as I have a job interview in a few hours. Thought maybe I could pull out a nice shirt and at least TRY to look nice, though a huge blob of a person never looks nice, not really. Yeah. None of them fit. Oh, I could get them on. I could do up the buttons, but they were nearly popping. I shouldn't have even tried. Now I'm even more depressed. I feel like crying, but what's the point? I'm fat. End of story. And I'm always going to be fat, because I don't have the willpower to change that, and I refuse to be the fattest girl at my wedding. And I refuse to have a million pictures to remember myself as a white ball. Not gonna happen. No way, no how.
Oh, there are other reasons why I'm in no hurry to get married. Money for one. That's a big one I guess. And I often wonder if Rob and I will be ok married. We fight like cats and dogs as it is. I cracked this weekend about the mess he leaves EVERYWHERE he goes in the apartment. He told me he's trying and I nearly bit my tongue off. I'd hate to see what not trying looks like. Seriously. So he said he would try harder, and yeah, the first day, he did the dishes, and he tried to help with the boxes of junk still in the dining room. Yeah, now the junk is just spread all over the apartment. I'm going to lose it again, I know it, and you know what? I just don't care anymore. So be it. I made myself clear, he knows where I stand. I told him that I refused to be in a marriage like my parents. I love my parents, but there are parts of them that I hate. They were (still are half the time) miserable when we were growing up. Mom would freak out at everyone because she thought she got no help. And when I did try to help I got screamed at. No wonder I was a crier back in the day. I'm not going to become that angry, sad, screaming woman. She is already in there, trying to come out every chance she gets, and I'm not going to give her a constant outlet.
I feel more like Rob and I are roommates lately. We really don't act like a couple anymore. We've even been sleeping in separate rooms because he's been sick for two weeks now, coughing all night. I'm really enjoying the sleeping alone, except for the horribly sore back I get after laying down for a few hours...not really sure what's going on there, but it isn't fun. I guess I'm going to have to go bite the bullet and actually go to the doctors soon. I hate the doctor. Well, I like my doctor as a person, but hate doctors in general.
I have an interview today. I was a temp for two months at an office like a five minute drive away from my apartment. Would have been perfect, but I was told that they don't hire temps. Which is stupid if you ask me, but whatever. So now I have an interview for a job today at 4pm. It's in Bedford, so it'd be a sucky long bus ride that will make me cranky and want to kill myself, but it's a job. I need to have a job and make some money. Fingers crossed. They probably won't hire me because I'm so fat. Not getting my hopes up.
God, I'm a cheerful person aren't I? I am in all likely hood depressed again, but whatever. Been living with that for over ten years now, I think I can live with it longer.
I guess I should mention that we got a kitten and named him Benson. I love him, but I also hate him half the time. I don't think I should ever have kids. I'm pretty sure I'll be one of those mothers that drowns their kids in the bathtub because I snapped. Seriously. This is a serious worry for me.
Ok, I'm going to end this epic post now. I'll be sure to post the rejection and anger I feel when I don't get the job...ah, nothing like a positive outlook!
Does anyone even read this thing anymore?
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Wouldn't you know it...
So I've been beyond stressed lately, with the death of my grandfather, no job, no money, Christmas is coming, etc, etc. Little things started to pile up, like dirty dishes or dirty socks being left willy nilly all over the apartment, stuff still in boxes, furniture still not put together, etc. It was starting to pile up inside me and making me go crazy. Actually go crazy. Last night Rob got called into work. I was watching tv and eating popcorn. Then I chipped a back tooth. Yup, same side as my other broken tooth, but down the bottom, closer to the back. It's one that has a filling it, so I'm wondering now if the whole thing will just fall apart on me, and I'll have two huge holes on that side of my mouth.
So I cracked the tooth, and everything, and I mean everything feel apart for me. I sat on the couch in the dark and cried. I cried over the tooth, I cried over the insurance and money I don't have to fix it, I cried over the dirty dishes and socks, the no job, the no Grampy, the issues Rob and I have been having lately, the feeling of worthlessness and unhappiness I've been having, etc. Rob came home and found me like that. He offered to do all the housework, in his usual "WHATEVER WILL MAKE YOU HAPPY, I'LL DO IT, JUST PLEASE STOP CRYING" fashion he has. I didn't want that. I told him that I understood that he was working and I wasn't, so it's normal for me to do the majority of housework, but I need help. Just a little bit, cause I can feel myself going nuts. It's that simple. It's a slippery slope, and I've been here before. I'm a long way from where I was, long ago, but it all starts somewhere, and I certainly don't want to get beyond this.
My Mom, Nanny Barb (maybe) and Aunt Bonnie were supposed to come up today, Bonnie had a flight to catch. I killed myself last night cleaning up the apartment, moved extremely heavy boxes, cleaned up the guest bedroom, etc. Threw out my back, cried when I tried to move, you know, all that typically fun stuff that I get myself into. Yeah, no one came. Oh, my Mom came, to my brother's house. I understand that since the baby is there, that's where people are going to stay, I get that. I'm totally fine with that. But John and Denise still haven't been over here to see my new place. I understand that they are busy with the baby and work and stuff, but still. Like today. Mom called and said that they were all going to Costco. I said that was fine, I'd see them later. She said no, they were coming over to get me. I said no, I didn't want to go to Costco. I didn't need anything from there, and I had no money, so why should I go to Costco? She said get my coat, they'll be there in a few minutes. So fine. I got ready, then they called from the parking lot. John, Denise, Mom and Meghan. Um, am I missing something here? You can't come in for five minutes and see where I live? It's not a huge deal, but I nearly killed myself trying to make it somewhat presentable, as much as it can be still filled with boxes, and no one but Rob is going to see it. That's fine.
Ugh! I want to scream or something! Nothing is going right. I'm supposed to go home with Mom and Kendra tomorrow. I just want to sit quietly and sleep all day. How am I going to survive that car ride? And then I get to go and wrap a million presents for my sad grandmother. That's going to be wonderful. I just want this whole stupid Christmas to be over. I hate it this year, I don't want it, I want it to go away.
So I cracked the tooth, and everything, and I mean everything feel apart for me. I sat on the couch in the dark and cried. I cried over the tooth, I cried over the insurance and money I don't have to fix it, I cried over the dirty dishes and socks, the no job, the no Grampy, the issues Rob and I have been having lately, the feeling of worthlessness and unhappiness I've been having, etc. Rob came home and found me like that. He offered to do all the housework, in his usual "WHATEVER WILL MAKE YOU HAPPY, I'LL DO IT, JUST PLEASE STOP CRYING" fashion he has. I didn't want that. I told him that I understood that he was working and I wasn't, so it's normal for me to do the majority of housework, but I need help. Just a little bit, cause I can feel myself going nuts. It's that simple. It's a slippery slope, and I've been here before. I'm a long way from where I was, long ago, but it all starts somewhere, and I certainly don't want to get beyond this.
My Mom, Nanny Barb (maybe) and Aunt Bonnie were supposed to come up today, Bonnie had a flight to catch. I killed myself last night cleaning up the apartment, moved extremely heavy boxes, cleaned up the guest bedroom, etc. Threw out my back, cried when I tried to move, you know, all that typically fun stuff that I get myself into. Yeah, no one came. Oh, my Mom came, to my brother's house. I understand that since the baby is there, that's where people are going to stay, I get that. I'm totally fine with that. But John and Denise still haven't been over here to see my new place. I understand that they are busy with the baby and work and stuff, but still. Like today. Mom called and said that they were all going to Costco. I said that was fine, I'd see them later. She said no, they were coming over to get me. I said no, I didn't want to go to Costco. I didn't need anything from there, and I had no money, so why should I go to Costco? She said get my coat, they'll be there in a few minutes. So fine. I got ready, then they called from the parking lot. John, Denise, Mom and Meghan. Um, am I missing something here? You can't come in for five minutes and see where I live? It's not a huge deal, but I nearly killed myself trying to make it somewhat presentable, as much as it can be still filled with boxes, and no one but Rob is going to see it. That's fine.
Ugh! I want to scream or something! Nothing is going right. I'm supposed to go home with Mom and Kendra tomorrow. I just want to sit quietly and sleep all day. How am I going to survive that car ride? And then I get to go and wrap a million presents for my sad grandmother. That's going to be wonderful. I just want this whole stupid Christmas to be over. I hate it this year, I don't want it, I want it to go away.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Sad, sad, sad
It's been an awful week. I guess it's been a bit more then a week now. Who knows anymore? It's become so hard to keep track of what time it is, or even what day it is anymore. As hard as it is, I think it's important for me to write about this stuff. I need to get it off of my chest.
Tuesday morning I received a phone call. My Grampy had a stroke the night before. We were weakly hopeful. I would be called when news was offered. I few hours later I received a call from my father. It didn't look like Grampy would make the night. You need to come home. I cried. I screamed. I rocked back and forth. I don't know if I can actually describe to anyone just how much I loved my Grampy. He means so much to me. He's always been there. Always. And he's always shown his love, clearly, to me, unlike many others I grew up with.
I made it home that night, 9:30. My little brother let me into the locked doors of the hospital. My Grampy, that man full of life, fight and fun, was lying on the bed. An oxygen mask on his face. His chest rising slightly. His eyes tightly closed. I broke down. I refused to sit next to him. I also refused to leave that room that night. I stayed, sure he would be gone soon. As the night grew on, I was able to sit next to him. Hold his hand. Whisper in his ear how much I loved him.
He was still alive the next morning. And the next night. My Aunt Bonnie and older brother were coming that night. We said that he was waiting for them. The night before he seemed to be in a lot of pain, and was given medication which seemed to calm him. The twitching and kicking stopped. Unless I placed a cold cloth on his forehead, or unless someone told him "Bonnie and John Mitchell are almost here." Oh, how he kicked.
He survived the night. And the next day. His whiskers were growing. It was awful. My Grampy never had a beard. He was always clean shaven and well dressed, he always smelled lightly of Old Spice. That night, Thursday, was awful. His breathing stopped at least 15 times. Probably more. I almost screamed at him to just let go, stop fighting. We were going to be ok without him. It would be hard, but we would be able to go on, eventually. But he would regain his breath. The next morning, as I had every other morning, I left to go home for my shower, but I didn't think I could come back. I had been there every day and every night, but that night was awful. Awful. I didn't know if I had it in me to give anymore. I stayed home for a few hours, tried to sleep, played with the baby, cried on Clayton...
It was John Mitchell who convinced me to go back. The nurses, the wonderful, wonderful nurses, shaved him. He was clean cut now. And apparently his breathing was better, and his color too. I went back. My Nanny Barb jumped up and hugged me, told me she was so glad I came back. I kept up my vigil. I owed it to him. I had been away for so long. I owed it to him to be there for him.
Now were were waiting for my cousin Jeremy to fly home, as well as one of Grampy's sisters. Friday they would be coming, her in the afternoon, him in the evening. We all knew he was waiting for Jeremy.
That night was hard. My grandmother said goodbye to Grampy for the second time in a week. Myself and my aunt, uncles, and mother sat in the TV room of the hospital and watched a Rankin's Family special. We laughed, some of us danced (my aunt is crazy)...We may have had cabin fever. Jeremy got there, as did Rob, and Clayton came too. The night was over, Mom, Bonnie and I were left alone with him again. My mother wrote his obituary, sure it would be over.
The next morning, he was the same. His breathing labored, but no more so then the night before. I wanted to scream. He was so stubborn. He was going to go on his own time, and that was it. My grandmother called that morning, as she always did. She told us "Maybe he needs to be alone to go. Why don't you three come on home for a bit. Have a shower, have some breakfast. Rest." We didn't want to go, but she did, so we started to tidy the room, and I called my Uncle Greg, and told him the news. I hung up the phone, turned to tell Mom and Bonnie not to forget their purses. When I got no answer, I turned back to the bed, and they were sitting beside him, mom holding up her hand. I stopped. I looked. He wasn't breathing. Mom yelled "Go get the nurses," I ran, in my sock feet, to the nurses station, tried to say "Wilena" but it didn't quite get out. The nurses followed. When I got back, he had taken another breath. Wilena took his pulse and told us it was time. Mom made me call my uncle Greg back to tell him to bring my grandmother. My hand was shaking so hard I could barely dial. When I hung up the phone, he took his final breath.
And it was finally over.
After all that waiting, it was finished. My Mother and Aunt cried as if their hearts were breaking. I sat there and shook, crying my own tears. We had asked for this so much during the last few days and when it happened, it was the last thing we wanted.
Then the phone calls, the family, the screaming of my grandmother, the sitting...It's all a haze. It didn't even feel real. Life was somewhat normal as we waiting for the funeral.
The funeral. I read. I'm still amazed I got through it. People tell me I did well. I don't know. I'm not a religious person, in fact I'm surprised that I didn't burst into flames, but I took comfort in the words that I spoke. I felt like I was doing something. Before and after the funeral, my grandmother told me many times how proud my Grampy would be of me. I think he would probably have told me to stop being so foolish, but who knows?
The graveside was the worst. I will never forget my grandmother screaming "no no no," or my mother "trying" to take my carnation from me (every other grandchild threw theirs into the grave with him, I felt bad about this, but as Mom reminded me, Grampy hated flowers, so would have been glad I kept mine). Rob and I left soon afterwards, came back from Halifax.
And my frustration continues. I don't know why. It just seems like I'm not happy. And I don't know what to do about it. I know a lot of it has to do with Grampy, but I was unhappy before hand too. And Rob is so touchy lately. I make suggestions and he snaps at me. I hide in the bedroom, he in the living room, and we live our lives separately. I need a job. That way I can have a real reason to hide from him. I shouldn't have to hide from him, or want to. I don't know what to do.
I just want to get this whole stupid holiday behind me.
Tuesday morning I received a phone call. My Grampy had a stroke the night before. We were weakly hopeful. I would be called when news was offered. I few hours later I received a call from my father. It didn't look like Grampy would make the night. You need to come home. I cried. I screamed. I rocked back and forth. I don't know if I can actually describe to anyone just how much I loved my Grampy. He means so much to me. He's always been there. Always. And he's always shown his love, clearly, to me, unlike many others I grew up with.
I made it home that night, 9:30. My little brother let me into the locked doors of the hospital. My Grampy, that man full of life, fight and fun, was lying on the bed. An oxygen mask on his face. His chest rising slightly. His eyes tightly closed. I broke down. I refused to sit next to him. I also refused to leave that room that night. I stayed, sure he would be gone soon. As the night grew on, I was able to sit next to him. Hold his hand. Whisper in his ear how much I loved him.
He was still alive the next morning. And the next night. My Aunt Bonnie and older brother were coming that night. We said that he was waiting for them. The night before he seemed to be in a lot of pain, and was given medication which seemed to calm him. The twitching and kicking stopped. Unless I placed a cold cloth on his forehead, or unless someone told him "Bonnie and John Mitchell are almost here." Oh, how he kicked.
He survived the night. And the next day. His whiskers were growing. It was awful. My Grampy never had a beard. He was always clean shaven and well dressed, he always smelled lightly of Old Spice. That night, Thursday, was awful. His breathing stopped at least 15 times. Probably more. I almost screamed at him to just let go, stop fighting. We were going to be ok without him. It would be hard, but we would be able to go on, eventually. But he would regain his breath. The next morning, as I had every other morning, I left to go home for my shower, but I didn't think I could come back. I had been there every day and every night, but that night was awful. Awful. I didn't know if I had it in me to give anymore. I stayed home for a few hours, tried to sleep, played with the baby, cried on Clayton...
It was John Mitchell who convinced me to go back. The nurses, the wonderful, wonderful nurses, shaved him. He was clean cut now. And apparently his breathing was better, and his color too. I went back. My Nanny Barb jumped up and hugged me, told me she was so glad I came back. I kept up my vigil. I owed it to him. I had been away for so long. I owed it to him to be there for him.
Now were were waiting for my cousin Jeremy to fly home, as well as one of Grampy's sisters. Friday they would be coming, her in the afternoon, him in the evening. We all knew he was waiting for Jeremy.
That night was hard. My grandmother said goodbye to Grampy for the second time in a week. Myself and my aunt, uncles, and mother sat in the TV room of the hospital and watched a Rankin's Family special. We laughed, some of us danced (my aunt is crazy)...We may have had cabin fever. Jeremy got there, as did Rob, and Clayton came too. The night was over, Mom, Bonnie and I were left alone with him again. My mother wrote his obituary, sure it would be over.
The next morning, he was the same. His breathing labored, but no more so then the night before. I wanted to scream. He was so stubborn. He was going to go on his own time, and that was it. My grandmother called that morning, as she always did. She told us "Maybe he needs to be alone to go. Why don't you three come on home for a bit. Have a shower, have some breakfast. Rest." We didn't want to go, but she did, so we started to tidy the room, and I called my Uncle Greg, and told him the news. I hung up the phone, turned to tell Mom and Bonnie not to forget their purses. When I got no answer, I turned back to the bed, and they were sitting beside him, mom holding up her hand. I stopped. I looked. He wasn't breathing. Mom yelled "Go get the nurses," I ran, in my sock feet, to the nurses station, tried to say "Wilena" but it didn't quite get out. The nurses followed. When I got back, he had taken another breath. Wilena took his pulse and told us it was time. Mom made me call my uncle Greg back to tell him to bring my grandmother. My hand was shaking so hard I could barely dial. When I hung up the phone, he took his final breath.
And it was finally over.
After all that waiting, it was finished. My Mother and Aunt cried as if their hearts were breaking. I sat there and shook, crying my own tears. We had asked for this so much during the last few days and when it happened, it was the last thing we wanted.
Then the phone calls, the family, the screaming of my grandmother, the sitting...It's all a haze. It didn't even feel real. Life was somewhat normal as we waiting for the funeral.
The funeral. I read. I'm still amazed I got through it. People tell me I did well. I don't know. I'm not a religious person, in fact I'm surprised that I didn't burst into flames, but I took comfort in the words that I spoke. I felt like I was doing something. Before and after the funeral, my grandmother told me many times how proud my Grampy would be of me. I think he would probably have told me to stop being so foolish, but who knows?
The graveside was the worst. I will never forget my grandmother screaming "no no no," or my mother "trying" to take my carnation from me (every other grandchild threw theirs into the grave with him, I felt bad about this, but as Mom reminded me, Grampy hated flowers, so would have been glad I kept mine). Rob and I left soon afterwards, came back from Halifax.
And my frustration continues. I don't know why. It just seems like I'm not happy. And I don't know what to do about it. I know a lot of it has to do with Grampy, but I was unhappy before hand too. And Rob is so touchy lately. I make suggestions and he snaps at me. I hide in the bedroom, he in the living room, and we live our lives separately. I need a job. That way I can have a real reason to hide from him. I shouldn't have to hide from him, or want to. I don't know what to do.
I just want to get this whole stupid holiday behind me.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Starting all over again....
Well here I am, in Halifax. No job, no money, but an apartment and a boy. My boy.
We've been here a bit over a month now, and the job hunt isn't going very well, for either one of us. I've applied to countless jobs and haven't gotten a bite yet. That's gotta make a girl feel good about herself. I'm going to start applying for shitty retail jobs now, anything to get some money coming in. Most days I try not to think about it. Other days it's all I can do. I'm glad that I came, but it makes me wonder...I mean, in Calgary Rob and I both had good jobs, good friends...and now...ugh, with Christmas coming, it's very stressful.
But I am, over all, very happy to be here. I mean, the ocean! My family and old friends...though things are stressful on that front too. My grandfather is recovering really well from his TWO heart attacks but his pancreas isn't doing well...they think that he might have pancreatic cancer. Like five percent of people with pancreatic cancer make it for five years...I'm trying not to think about it. That seems to work most days, though I did cry myself quietly to sleep one night. I don't want to stress Rob out over things that he can't fix.
Speaking about Rob being stressed, he's been very stressed off and on, due to the whole money thing, job thing, moving thing. Sometimes he would snap. Other times he would go and be by himself. I don't deal well with my own stress, let alone someone elses.
This is it so far. Hopefully I will have better news to post soon.
We've been here a bit over a month now, and the job hunt isn't going very well, for either one of us. I've applied to countless jobs and haven't gotten a bite yet. That's gotta make a girl feel good about herself. I'm going to start applying for shitty retail jobs now, anything to get some money coming in. Most days I try not to think about it. Other days it's all I can do. I'm glad that I came, but it makes me wonder...I mean, in Calgary Rob and I both had good jobs, good friends...and now...ugh, with Christmas coming, it's very stressful.
But I am, over all, very happy to be here. I mean, the ocean! My family and old friends...though things are stressful on that front too. My grandfather is recovering really well from his TWO heart attacks but his pancreas isn't doing well...they think that he might have pancreatic cancer. Like five percent of people with pancreatic cancer make it for five years...I'm trying not to think about it. That seems to work most days, though I did cry myself quietly to sleep one night. I don't want to stress Rob out over things that he can't fix.
Speaking about Rob being stressed, he's been very stressed off and on, due to the whole money thing, job thing, moving thing. Sometimes he would snap. Other times he would go and be by himself. I don't deal well with my own stress, let alone someone elses.
This is it so far. Hopefully I will have better news to post soon.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Hosptial Music
Where to begin? It’s been a really long time since I’ve written in this. Almost a month now. Such is my curse. I love to write, but often stop for no reason whatsoever. I make up reasons. Too busy, too tired, having nothing to say. But there are always things to say, if you really try.
Where to begin? Work is going great in some respects, not so great in others. The new receptionist is wonderful. Judy is a gift from the non-existent gods. She always wants to work. And she does my filing, which Wendy was so intent on me doing. What the fuck ever. Judy is always working, and if she has nothing to do, she will ask everyone if they have anything that needs to be done. That’s just amazing to me. Like night and day. And she drives me home a lot. That’s pretty awesome. There are other issues, as they always are. I just keep waiting for things to be resolved, and keep on saying to myself “If I was the boss…”
Last Saturday Rob and I helped Chrissy and T move into their new condo. It’s a really cute little place, which a huge back deck (which I got burnt on that day. Ah, fun times). I can’t wait to spend some non working time there. The day actually wasn’t too bad. We got there late, so we didn’t help as much as we could have, but I would like to think that we helped make a difference. I gave them Idiot Boy’s tiny TV that he left at Shelly’s that I was using at my apartment now until Chrissy gave me an older bigger one of hers. So now we’re just trading TV’s it seems. Good times! So anyway, I hope they get some use out of Idiot Boy’s TV, since I don’t want it. I was going to give it to goodwill, but Chrissy and T’s seems like a good place.
Sunday we drove to Vulcan to do the geeky thing. And it was pretty geeky. I bought a Borg bear and a Captain bear which I have named 13 of 69 (thank you Chrissy!) and Captain Ricky. They have brought me much enjoyment. I’m wishing I had bought the communicator that I saw. But I didn’t. What can you do? I really, really wish that Jill was there. I would have done so many stupid, geeky, retarded things if Jill was with me. But what can you do? She’s being all married and adult like in Ontario, which is all good. Just makes me sad sometimes. I keep wishing and hoping that someday, maybe, Jill and I will live in the same province again. I guess I should probably stop holding my breath on that one. But stranger things have happened I suppose.
We’ve been doing some trip planning. I’m getting excited to go to the States and to finally see Stacia face to face…it’s very exciting! Plus I get to dress up (and be to token fat girl in the wedding, but that’s ok) and see all sorts of new places I’ve never seen before. I’m hoping that it will all go well.
I also got new glasses. I got a nice pair of prescription sunglasses and then just a regular pair. They are blue. Everyone keeps telling me how much they like them, so it looks like they’re not stupid after all. I was a little worried that I wouldn’t be able to pull them off, but apparently I can. Good stuff!
I guess I should get back to work now. I don’t want to, but I should probably earn my pay check. Boo! The important thing is I updated this for T!
I also feel I must tell everyone I am obsessed with Matt Good’s Hospital Music. When I bought the CD last summer I wasn’t so thrilled. Then I started reading more about the CD and making of it (depression, suicide attempt, divorce, etc) and started listening to it harder. Now I love it. There are some songs I’m not thrilled with, but that’s normal for a Matt Good CD in my experience. There is one in particular that I just love. I don’t know what it is about it, but I love it. It’s called “The Boy Come Home” The first verse in particular gets me, so for your viewing pleasure, here it is:
“While I go over it in my headWalk through those doors and stand there staringAnd there ain't one soul that's in there deadMy hand stays out, I keep my headAnd walking out I see you sitting in that Ford of your old man'sScratching your arms like your skin is crawlingBut done up the best you can”
It may not seem very nice or great…but seriously, listen to the song a couple of times and give it a chance…
Where to begin? Work is going great in some respects, not so great in others. The new receptionist is wonderful. Judy is a gift from the non-existent gods. She always wants to work. And she does my filing, which Wendy was so intent on me doing. What the fuck ever. Judy is always working, and if she has nothing to do, she will ask everyone if they have anything that needs to be done. That’s just amazing to me. Like night and day. And she drives me home a lot. That’s pretty awesome. There are other issues, as they always are. I just keep waiting for things to be resolved, and keep on saying to myself “If I was the boss…”
Last Saturday Rob and I helped Chrissy and T move into their new condo. It’s a really cute little place, which a huge back deck (which I got burnt on that day. Ah, fun times). I can’t wait to spend some non working time there. The day actually wasn’t too bad. We got there late, so we didn’t help as much as we could have, but I would like to think that we helped make a difference. I gave them Idiot Boy’s tiny TV that he left at Shelly’s that I was using at my apartment now until Chrissy gave me an older bigger one of hers. So now we’re just trading TV’s it seems. Good times! So anyway, I hope they get some use out of Idiot Boy’s TV, since I don’t want it. I was going to give it to goodwill, but Chrissy and T’s seems like a good place.
Sunday we drove to Vulcan to do the geeky thing. And it was pretty geeky. I bought a Borg bear and a Captain bear which I have named 13 of 69 (thank you Chrissy!) and Captain Ricky. They have brought me much enjoyment. I’m wishing I had bought the communicator that I saw. But I didn’t. What can you do? I really, really wish that Jill was there. I would have done so many stupid, geeky, retarded things if Jill was with me. But what can you do? She’s being all married and adult like in Ontario, which is all good. Just makes me sad sometimes. I keep wishing and hoping that someday, maybe, Jill and I will live in the same province again. I guess I should probably stop holding my breath on that one. But stranger things have happened I suppose.
We’ve been doing some trip planning. I’m getting excited to go to the States and to finally see Stacia face to face…it’s very exciting! Plus I get to dress up (and be to token fat girl in the wedding, but that’s ok) and see all sorts of new places I’ve never seen before. I’m hoping that it will all go well.
I also got new glasses. I got a nice pair of prescription sunglasses and then just a regular pair. They are blue. Everyone keeps telling me how much they like them, so it looks like they’re not stupid after all. I was a little worried that I wouldn’t be able to pull them off, but apparently I can. Good stuff!
I guess I should get back to work now. I don’t want to, but I should probably earn my pay check. Boo! The important thing is I updated this for T!
I also feel I must tell everyone I am obsessed with Matt Good’s Hospital Music. When I bought the CD last summer I wasn’t so thrilled. Then I started reading more about the CD and making of it (depression, suicide attempt, divorce, etc) and started listening to it harder. Now I love it. There are some songs I’m not thrilled with, but that’s normal for a Matt Good CD in my experience. There is one in particular that I just love. I don’t know what it is about it, but I love it. It’s called “The Boy Come Home” The first verse in particular gets me, so for your viewing pleasure, here it is:
“While I go over it in my headWalk through those doors and stand there staringAnd there ain't one soul that's in there deadMy hand stays out, I keep my headAnd walking out I see you sitting in that Ford of your old man'sScratching your arms like your skin is crawlingBut done up the best you can”
It may not seem very nice or great…but seriously, listen to the song a couple of times and give it a chance…
Monday, June 23, 2008
Happy Birthday To Me!
I am officially a quarter of a century right now. How scary is that? It's weird. But I guess it had to happen some day.
My pre birthday weekend was pretty great, with some kind of shitty stuff thrown in here for good measure, cause, let's face it, it's me after all. Saturday at the Virgin Fest, was insanely hot. No shade. Lots of sun. Some water...I got massive sunburns on odd parts of my body, like my hands, feet, and insides of my arms, plus more normal spots too. Fun times. Then I'm pretty sure I got heat exhaustion. That sort of sucked. We left early that night, but didn't really care about the later acts, so that was fine. When I got home, I had a cold shower and got a horrible pounding headache and thought for a brief minute there, my head might actually explode. You will be happy to know that it did not, but it tried really hard to.
Yesterday was better. Not as hot, less sun and more cool breezes. And awesome music. Lots of smoking, lots of pot, lots of pushing, but a pretty damn good day. Until we got to Rob's car and found out that it was broken into. A wonderful typical ending to one of our days. His cd's and ipod were stolen, and some dirty old crackhead touched all of his stuff, but otherwise, I think he's ok stuff wise. His driver's side backseat window however, is taped up right now. Poor Rob. He did get me an awesome birthday card though (haven't gotten the rest of my birthday present yet, I'm spoiled!) that he made me open. I'm pretty sure he thinks I need to go to AA, but I'm good with that :)
My pre birthday weekend was pretty great, with some kind of shitty stuff thrown in here for good measure, cause, let's face it, it's me after all. Saturday at the Virgin Fest, was insanely hot. No shade. Lots of sun. Some water...I got massive sunburns on odd parts of my body, like my hands, feet, and insides of my arms, plus more normal spots too. Fun times. Then I'm pretty sure I got heat exhaustion. That sort of sucked. We left early that night, but didn't really care about the later acts, so that was fine. When I got home, I had a cold shower and got a horrible pounding headache and thought for a brief minute there, my head might actually explode. You will be happy to know that it did not, but it tried really hard to.
Yesterday was better. Not as hot, less sun and more cool breezes. And awesome music. Lots of smoking, lots of pot, lots of pushing, but a pretty damn good day. Until we got to Rob's car and found out that it was broken into. A wonderful typical ending to one of our days. His cd's and ipod were stolen, and some dirty old crackhead touched all of his stuff, but otherwise, I think he's ok stuff wise. His driver's side backseat window however, is taped up right now. Poor Rob. He did get me an awesome birthday card though (haven't gotten the rest of my birthday present yet, I'm spoiled!) that he made me open. I'm pretty sure he thinks I need to go to AA, but I'm good with that :)
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Quiet
I'm home alone tonight. Just Chekov and I. My landlords are fighting again. Yelling at their little girl. Do they think that I can't hear them? Or do they even care?
I'm tired tonight. And not feeling good. My stomach is sick and my head is aching. I'm nervous about tomorrow. And I'm alone. Oh, did I already say that? Rob won't be over until Friday, most likely. The apartment seems really quiet and empty. I think I'm ready to start living with Rob for good. I wonder what we will do though. He's talking about staying in Calgary longer then I was expecting, but not a year longer I don't think. I don't know what I will do when my lease is up here. I sure as hell don't want to live with three boys. Ugh, I don't even want to think about it.
Tomorrow is my appointment. I'm getting nervous. Really nervous. That's probably part of my sick feelings tonight. Chrissy and T will be taking me tomorrow and waiting for me to be finished. I'm still freaked out though. I'm just really scared that there's going to be something really wrong with me. Everyone keeps telling me that everything will be fine, and it probably will...but at the same time...anything could happen. It's just adding to my stress ulcer.
My Mom wants my uncle Jamie to stop driving. She also wants him to get his eyes checked. I wish I was there. I want to spend time with my uncle while he's still able to do things. I don't want to get there only to push him around in a wheel chair.
I have to drink so much water tomorrow. Here's hoping I can keep it all in until my test is done.
I'm tired tonight. And not feeling good. My stomach is sick and my head is aching. I'm nervous about tomorrow. And I'm alone. Oh, did I already say that? Rob won't be over until Friday, most likely. The apartment seems really quiet and empty. I think I'm ready to start living with Rob for good. I wonder what we will do though. He's talking about staying in Calgary longer then I was expecting, but not a year longer I don't think. I don't know what I will do when my lease is up here. I sure as hell don't want to live with three boys. Ugh, I don't even want to think about it.
Tomorrow is my appointment. I'm getting nervous. Really nervous. That's probably part of my sick feelings tonight. Chrissy and T will be taking me tomorrow and waiting for me to be finished. I'm still freaked out though. I'm just really scared that there's going to be something really wrong with me. Everyone keeps telling me that everything will be fine, and it probably will...but at the same time...anything could happen. It's just adding to my stress ulcer.
My Mom wants my uncle Jamie to stop driving. She also wants him to get his eyes checked. I wish I was there. I want to spend time with my uncle while he's still able to do things. I don't want to get there only to push him around in a wheel chair.
I have to drink so much water tomorrow. Here's hoping I can keep it all in until my test is done.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Updated!
It's been a bit since I've written anything here. I just don't seem to go on my computer much at home, Rob has been over a lot lately. Cause we are basically living in sin. Good times.
My ultrasound is this week. Hopefully they will figure out what's wrong with me. I have to say I wasn't impressed when my friend Jenny told me that they did an internal one on her. At least she warned me before hand. That would have been a big shock. An unpleasant one. Ugh. Anyway, it's in the afternoon and Rob is working, so Chrissy and T will be taking me. I was really freaking out about it at first, but I'm better now. I told them that if they had other plans, I would be ok to go on my own, but they love me and said they would still go with me. So good times on Thursday. Fingers crossed that they find out what's wrong with me. And if they do, fingers crossed even harder that it's nothing really bad.
I've been walking to work lately, and it's been raining. Like everyday. And if it just happens to be cloudy and not raining, the ground is still soaked. So my poor feet have been wet for like two weeks this week. This morning Rob drove me in. I was so happy. I was here really early, but that's ok. The banked time is good.
We had a retarded fight on Friday night. I'm not going to go into it, because it's just too retarded. But it centered around a Kenny vs Spenny episode. I think it's a case of we don't really fight at all, just once every few months. Yeah, we have little cranky moments, but no fights. So I think we just keep all of the annoyances inside and then let them out once every few months and feel better. We made up that night so it was all good.
Work is retarded. They still haven't hired a girl for upfront and I have to answer the phones everyday at 4 when everyone else leaves, and I answer them when they ring during the day and the girl who's up front doesn't answer. But apparently I "haven't done phones" for two weeks now. Whatever. Fuck, I hate how childish it can be here, people don't come right up and say something to you. They go running to mommy or daddy or start talking behind your backs. Babies.
My ultrasound is this week. Hopefully they will figure out what's wrong with me. I have to say I wasn't impressed when my friend Jenny told me that they did an internal one on her. At least she warned me before hand. That would have been a big shock. An unpleasant one. Ugh. Anyway, it's in the afternoon and Rob is working, so Chrissy and T will be taking me. I was really freaking out about it at first, but I'm better now. I told them that if they had other plans, I would be ok to go on my own, but they love me and said they would still go with me. So good times on Thursday. Fingers crossed that they find out what's wrong with me. And if they do, fingers crossed even harder that it's nothing really bad.
I've been walking to work lately, and it's been raining. Like everyday. And if it just happens to be cloudy and not raining, the ground is still soaked. So my poor feet have been wet for like two weeks this week. This morning Rob drove me in. I was so happy. I was here really early, but that's ok. The banked time is good.
We had a retarded fight on Friday night. I'm not going to go into it, because it's just too retarded. But it centered around a Kenny vs Spenny episode. I think it's a case of we don't really fight at all, just once every few months. Yeah, we have little cranky moments, but no fights. So I think we just keep all of the annoyances inside and then let them out once every few months and feel better. We made up that night so it was all good.
Work is retarded. They still haven't hired a girl for upfront and I have to answer the phones everyday at 4 when everyone else leaves, and I answer them when they ring during the day and the girl who's up front doesn't answer. But apparently I "haven't done phones" for two weeks now. Whatever. Fuck, I hate how childish it can be here, people don't come right up and say something to you. They go running to mommy or daddy or start talking behind your backs. Babies.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Exhausted
Why am I so tired? All the time? Is there an actual reason? Or am I just lazy?
Friday was month end at work. Everyone was freaking out. For no particular reason. I don't understand why people do that, leave everything for the last day of the month, when you know that stuff needs to be finished on that day. Other then messing up my check run and having to do things for other people, the day went pretty well. I finished at 5 and was able to leave. I walked home again. A little over half way it started to rain a bit. I tried to call Rob, but my phone wasn't working right. I kept missing his calls and I kept getting his voice mail. When I finally did get a hold of him it was thundering and pouring down rain. Lucky for me I had my umbrella, and was able to be mostly dry by the time he picked me up, about five minutes from my house. We went for Coco Brooks pizza and had a somewhat damp quiet night in. He fell asleep by 10 on the couch. We're old.
Saturday we didn't do anything until about 8. We left and did a few errands, then met Chrissy and T for Indiana Jones. I'm glad that I saw it with them. It was pretty good, lame plot, but the plot isn't the important things in those movies, it's the people. So I'm happy.
I had a hard time sleeping last night. I was jittery or something. I moved around a lot. Rob woke me up in the middle of the night saying something about duct tape. He's cool like that. I woke up early, couldn't sleep anymore, so I got up. I just don't feel like myself lately. Today, after laying on the bed for a while, Rob took me to the grocery store then he went home. I just didn't feel like hanging out. Nothing about Rob, just me. Me and the crazy girl that I am.
Friday was month end at work. Everyone was freaking out. For no particular reason. I don't understand why people do that, leave everything for the last day of the month, when you know that stuff needs to be finished on that day. Other then messing up my check run and having to do things for other people, the day went pretty well. I finished at 5 and was able to leave. I walked home again. A little over half way it started to rain a bit. I tried to call Rob, but my phone wasn't working right. I kept missing his calls and I kept getting his voice mail. When I finally did get a hold of him it was thundering and pouring down rain. Lucky for me I had my umbrella, and was able to be mostly dry by the time he picked me up, about five minutes from my house. We went for Coco Brooks pizza and had a somewhat damp quiet night in. He fell asleep by 10 on the couch. We're old.
Saturday we didn't do anything until about 8. We left and did a few errands, then met Chrissy and T for Indiana Jones. I'm glad that I saw it with them. It was pretty good, lame plot, but the plot isn't the important things in those movies, it's the people. So I'm happy.
I had a hard time sleeping last night. I was jittery or something. I moved around a lot. Rob woke me up in the middle of the night saying something about duct tape. He's cool like that. I woke up early, couldn't sleep anymore, so I got up. I just don't feel like myself lately. Today, after laying on the bed for a while, Rob took me to the grocery store then he went home. I just didn't feel like hanging out. Nothing about Rob, just me. Me and the crazy girl that I am.
Monday, May 26, 2008
I can talk!
My mouth is mostly healed now. The mouthwash really helped heal it up a lot faster then I thought it would. It's just nice to be able to drink water without it hurting.
I walked to work today. It wasn't raining when I left, it was just misting so it was all good. However, the ground was just soaking wet, so by the time I got to work, my feet were like sponges. It was gross. I was soaked to the bone, foot-wise. So I had to dry those out all day long. Good times.
So I'm broken again. Even though I was broken two weeks ago. I had one week between periods. This is not normal. I need to make an appointment with a girly bits doctor and try and figure out what the f is going on with my body. This is just so frustrating and annoying and gross. I'm just sick of it. Poor Rob, he's putting up with so much crap from me. I'm a tad bit on edge and cranky. I love Rob, he's so good to me.
I walked to work today. It wasn't raining when I left, it was just misting so it was all good. However, the ground was just soaking wet, so by the time I got to work, my feet were like sponges. It was gross. I was soaked to the bone, foot-wise. So I had to dry those out all day long. Good times.
So I'm broken again. Even though I was broken two weeks ago. I had one week between periods. This is not normal. I need to make an appointment with a girly bits doctor and try and figure out what the f is going on with my body. This is just so frustrating and annoying and gross. I'm just sick of it. Poor Rob, he's putting up with so much crap from me. I'm a tad bit on edge and cranky. I love Rob, he's so good to me.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Why must Dentists Mock Me?
Why do I have such horrible luck with dentists? I'm not a horrible person. I don't have the best teeth but I do my best to take care of them. I waited around and waited around and waited around until I could see the dentist last night. There are only so many places you can go in Sunridge.
Finally it was my appointment. I went in, and she looked at my mouth for all of thirty seconds and said "Hmmm, likes like you "probably" bit your cheek when it was frozen." then proceeded to tell me that she could do nothing for me, and that it had to get a lot worse before it was going to get better. I asked her if there was anything she could give me as I was in horrible agony and she was like, no, not really. Gee, thanks bitch.
I was really mad. Rob came to pick me up and suggested we go to Shoppers, on the off chance that the drug lady could suggest anything for me. I describe my disgusting problem to her, and She was like "Your dentist didn't give you anything? Jeesh!" and stalked off to go get me lots of goodies, like codeine, a mouth rinse and a gel to numb it. The mouthwash hurts like hell, but not as much as the warm salt water I've been rinsing with. And it actually feels like it's healing the cut. The drugs made me loopy last night and put me in a high sleep for about two hours, but I was awake the rest of the night, so I didn't go in today. I'm glad I didn't, because I've been keeping my mouth closed, and it feels so much better. Answering phones and questions and blah blah blah all day at work kills me, it stretches out the cut that's trying so hard to heal. So hopefully it will get lots of rest and healing time today. Fingers crossed. It's been a week exactly today since it's happened. It better heal up soon.
Rob might take me to Ikea after he's done work. I might get a new bedspread. I'm such a girl sometimes.
Finally it was my appointment. I went in, and she looked at my mouth for all of thirty seconds and said "Hmmm, likes like you "probably" bit your cheek when it was frozen." then proceeded to tell me that she could do nothing for me, and that it had to get a lot worse before it was going to get better. I asked her if there was anything she could give me as I was in horrible agony and she was like, no, not really. Gee, thanks bitch.
I was really mad. Rob came to pick me up and suggested we go to Shoppers, on the off chance that the drug lady could suggest anything for me. I describe my disgusting problem to her, and She was like "Your dentist didn't give you anything? Jeesh!" and stalked off to go get me lots of goodies, like codeine, a mouth rinse and a gel to numb it. The mouthwash hurts like hell, but not as much as the warm salt water I've been rinsing with. And it actually feels like it's healing the cut. The drugs made me loopy last night and put me in a high sleep for about two hours, but I was awake the rest of the night, so I didn't go in today. I'm glad I didn't, because I've been keeping my mouth closed, and it feels so much better. Answering phones and questions and blah blah blah all day at work kills me, it stretches out the cut that's trying so hard to heal. So hopefully it will get lots of rest and healing time today. Fingers crossed. It's been a week exactly today since it's happened. It better heal up soon.
Rob might take me to Ikea after he's done work. I might get a new bedspread. I'm such a girl sometimes.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Owie
I failed to mention that my mouth has been in extreme pain since Thursday when I got four fillings on my right side (yes, I know, my teeth suck. Moving on...). Funny thing is the teeth are fine. It's my cheek this is killing me. It's to the point that it hurts to eat or drink anything, even water, and it hurts to open my mouth. I was mumbling all my words yesterday. I'm almost certain it's from when the assistant tried to put some stupid cardboard thing against my right cheek to keep it away from the tooth. It was too big for my mouth, as most of the things they try to use on me are, and she was having trouble getting it in there, so she actually shoved it in. I was all frozen, but I could still kind of feel it slide along my cheek. I thought "Uh oh, that's probably going to hurt." Um, yeah. Extreme pain. For almost a week. I was going to go to the clinic after work today. I called my dentist to cancel my appointment for Thursday, because if I can't open my mouth wide enough to eat cereal, a two hour dental appointment is probably out of the question. The receptionist told me my dentist should look at my mouth, I said fine, but she couldn't see me until tomorrow after work. For christ's sake. I just want something to make the pain go away. I've tried Aleve and Advil extra strength gel caps but they're not doing anything. I think it's infected and I need antibiotics, even though I hate them. Rinsing with salt water hurts like hell and makes me want to cry, but it does feel really good for a little while afterwards. I need drugs!
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Long Weekend
I'm stressed. Let me just make myself clear. It's really hard for me to be out here, so far away from my family. So much is happening at home, and some of my family tries to keep me in the dark about it, saying things are ok when they're really not.
My Grampy is sick. Really sick. He only weighs 130lbs now. He's tiny and sick. He tells me he feels good. How can you feel good when you're so sick? You can't. I hate not being there. He sounded good when I talked to him yesterday, and he called me his favorite girl, which made me happy. His doctor is on vacation so we won't hear back about the test results for a while. I'm terrified of test results. it seems like that's all that I wait for. Test results. And the results are never good. My Mother told me today that my Nanny Barb doesn't think Grampy will make it through the summer. I can't believe that's true. I can't believe that the last time I will have seen my grampy is over a year ago, when he hugged me on his front step and told me he loved me. He's one of the most stubborn people I've met, even more so then me, so I have to believe that he's a fighter, and that I will see him again.
My great grandmother is giving up on everything. She put her name in to the manor at home (old folk's home-really just a babysitter). It's like she just doesn't care anymore. About anything. My Mom is angry at her, and scared, I'm sure. We've been blessed with young grandparents. It's hard when they're getting old. I try to remember what it was like to lose my Poppy a few years ago, and that doesn't even seem real.
My uncle Jamie fell down at work the other day. Beat his arm all up. This might be the most upsetting for me. My uncle Jamie is the the nicest person in the world. He doesn't deserve this. God damn genetics.
My poor grandmother ended up in the hospital, with what I think is probably a stress induced issue. That poor woman.
My Dad is drinking a lot again. I don't know if it's because he has diabetes and he's upset about that, or if he's upset about the state of the crab fishery (last year it was about 10 or 15 thousand lbs they could catch, this year it was 5...that's our big money fishery). Mom is not happy, and all the stress she's under with her family...it's not a good mixture.
I want to be there. I want to push a button and fix everyone. I want to hug my Grampy and look him in the eyes and know that he's going to be ok. I want to hug my grandmother and take away her stress. I want to hug my uncle Jamie and take out the god damn genes in him that are making him sick. I want to make everyone better and happy. But I can't.
I cried a lot yesterday. I hate to cry. I spent a lot of my early life crying, and then just stopped and held as much inside as I could. I was folding laundry and started to cry. I felt like an idiot. Rob held me and made me lay down. He held me and I cried. I felt really stupid but I felt better afterwords. He told me, again, that I don't need to hold everything inside anymore. He's my rock. I don't need to do it on my own. But it's hard to hand that responsibility over to someone again. But if anyone can handle it, I think he can.
My Grampy is sick. Really sick. He only weighs 130lbs now. He's tiny and sick. He tells me he feels good. How can you feel good when you're so sick? You can't. I hate not being there. He sounded good when I talked to him yesterday, and he called me his favorite girl, which made me happy. His doctor is on vacation so we won't hear back about the test results for a while. I'm terrified of test results. it seems like that's all that I wait for. Test results. And the results are never good. My Mother told me today that my Nanny Barb doesn't think Grampy will make it through the summer. I can't believe that's true. I can't believe that the last time I will have seen my grampy is over a year ago, when he hugged me on his front step and told me he loved me. He's one of the most stubborn people I've met, even more so then me, so I have to believe that he's a fighter, and that I will see him again.
My great grandmother is giving up on everything. She put her name in to the manor at home (old folk's home-really just a babysitter). It's like she just doesn't care anymore. About anything. My Mom is angry at her, and scared, I'm sure. We've been blessed with young grandparents. It's hard when they're getting old. I try to remember what it was like to lose my Poppy a few years ago, and that doesn't even seem real.
My uncle Jamie fell down at work the other day. Beat his arm all up. This might be the most upsetting for me. My uncle Jamie is the the nicest person in the world. He doesn't deserve this. God damn genetics.
My poor grandmother ended up in the hospital, with what I think is probably a stress induced issue. That poor woman.
My Dad is drinking a lot again. I don't know if it's because he has diabetes and he's upset about that, or if he's upset about the state of the crab fishery (last year it was about 10 or 15 thousand lbs they could catch, this year it was 5...that's our big money fishery). Mom is not happy, and all the stress she's under with her family...it's not a good mixture.
I want to be there. I want to push a button and fix everyone. I want to hug my Grampy and look him in the eyes and know that he's going to be ok. I want to hug my grandmother and take away her stress. I want to hug my uncle Jamie and take out the god damn genes in him that are making him sick. I want to make everyone better and happy. But I can't.
I cried a lot yesterday. I hate to cry. I spent a lot of my early life crying, and then just stopped and held as much inside as I could. I was folding laundry and started to cry. I felt like an idiot. Rob held me and made me lay down. He held me and I cried. I felt really stupid but I felt better afterwords. He told me, again, that I don't need to hold everything inside anymore. He's my rock. I don't need to do it on my own. But it's hard to hand that responsibility over to someone again. But if anyone can handle it, I think he can.
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