I have an appointment with my doctor on September 7th to talk about my weight and dieting efforts again. Then the bariatric department will continue with the process of getting my gut removed.
I had a dream last night that Dad came back to life. He was sitting in the back seat of my car, since I was taking him home. He said to me, "I'm dead and you'll die to if you don't do something." Then he held up a piece of paper that said "age 33." Meaning... If I don't do something about my weight soon, I'll die when I'm 33. I know it was just a dream, but it freaked me out. The rest of the dream I was trying to find a home for an abused puppy while Dad watched me from his recliner. Everywhere I went, he followed me in the recliner. I had the feeling that I missed him, but at the same time I had a feeling of dread because he was back. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel right now, and I'm glad I have therapy on the 29th. People seem to think I should be fine with Dad's death because he was abusive. But nothing is ever that simple. It was that simple with my grandpa. I fucking hated that piece of shit. But this is different.
Part of my healing process is starting to sing again. I'm taking voice lessons and joining choir at DMACC. I get 3 credits out of it. I'm glad I'll have a full load this fall. It will give me something to do, but at the same time, I'm stressed out about it.
I always thought of myself as strong. Strong as an ox. But now I feel weak as a kitten. Every little thing stresses me out or makes me panic. I panic when I wake up, if I manage to sleep. I panic at night, when I'm trying to get to bed.
I don't know. I don't know anything. I can't handle anything. I feel like I've regressed back to my mental state in high school in a matter of a couple of weeks. I'm REALLY leaning on my medicine right now.
About Me
- Fatbutt McGee
- A menopausal 30 year old, over two years after hysterectomy, struggling with body changes and weight gain.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Thursday, August 18, 2011
In Loving Memory.....
This is a little write up my mom did when she and I couldn't sleep.
In Loving Memory of Terry Galen Steele
MUSIC
Terry often talked about the many great people that he used to play his banjo with. He said he could live without his legs, and would be okay as long as he had his hands and could play. He said he "sang with his fingers."
He admired his uncle Vic who taught him to play the fiddle.
Terry was offered a job with the Ozark Opry in 1976, but turned it down. He felt traveling was no way to raise kids, and he had his eye on Mary.
There are many memories of going to Columbia, MO yearly to watch different bluegrass groups play every half hour for 3 days.
Tyne was 10 days old when she went to her first jam session.
Tiffini was 2 when Terry and John Purk went to various bluegrass festivals. Tiffini wanted nothing to do with John, so he bribed her with M&M's. She then would sit on his lap. Years later, when visiting Mary's family, Mary's brother Paul was teasing Tiffini and said, "you don't know who I am, do you?"
After thinking a little while, she responded, "John Purk?" Mary realized she needed to spend more time with her family!
FAMILY
The girls grew up with music. Tyne started violin lessons at age 3. By the time she graduated high school she could play 9 instruments, including, (but not limited to), piano, bassoon, clarinet, violin, and contrabass clarinet. Tyne was an All State performer on bassoon, and plays with the Quad City Symphony in her spare time. Tyne is also an accomplished vocalist, specializing in harmonizing with her sister, Tiffini. They've performed together in variety shows, for funerals and for weddings.
Tiffini inherited her singing voice from the Steele side, and also played piano, trumpet, french horn and mellophone. Tiffini was an All State vocalist in high school and the youngest in the high school to obtain an outstanding performer award in singing. She went on to win the senior choral award, and had several roles in musicals starting in middle school. She was Marian in the Music Man, Maria in the Sound of Music, the narrator in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat, and was asked to join the cast of Big River as a soloist. With nothing but bluegrass played in the Steele household, Tiffini in her rebellious teen years asked, "why couldn't I have been born into a classical family?" The family had a good laugh.
Alexis chose the theatrical route. She was in many high school, college, and community plays, and went on to join the Brownville Theater Company during college. She also lived in Pennsylvania for a few months, working at a Renaissance festival. Since then she has had small roles in local movies, including playing a zombie in the upcoming film Collapse. Alexis now lives in Chicago, continuing to nurture the acting bug. When Alexis was born, Terry's comment after the announcement of "it's a girl" was "look how long her fingers are! She'll play the violin or banjo." Alexis has shown interest in learning to play the mandolin, and will hopefully continue to blossom musically.
Education was important to Terry. He wanted his girls to have more opportunities than he had. Terry did not get a degree and he did not want that for his girls. After high school, Terry went to Northeast Missouri State University (now Truman University) for one year.
WORK
Work was very important to Terry. He was proud of the fact that he helped pour the concrete for the Robintech building in Grinnell. His employee number was 1. He stayed with this building throughout his career in plastics. He did everything from blending the PVC powder to extruding to calibrating dies. He worked his way up from foreman to tool and die manager.
Terry was able to travel for work, going to Austria to purchase equipment 3 different times. Terry loved history and was able to tour a concentration camp while in Austria.
He worked with Henry Corbel from France and Henry proposed a challenge to Terry. If he could get a certain percent of bubbles out of the product, he would give him half a bottle of wine. Terry exceeded the challenge, and received a full bottle of wine. At that time Terry didn't drink, but that's not what was important to him. He loved a challenge.
Terry also worked with Horst Eigruber from Germany and understood the language enough to communicate and defend his knowledge when discussions were held in German.
Terry was told by another Austrian co-worker, "you must move to Austria, you can learn nothing more from the United States."
ANIMALS
Terry loved horses. The family raised and showed Appaloosa's and POA's.
Terry shared his love of dogs and hunting with his grandpa, "Booger" Steele. Tyne was 5 months old when she went on her first coon hunt.
Terry loved fishing with his uncle Jerry. One year Terry was in big trouble when he talked Jerry intro going fishing on his anniversary. Jerry called his wife and said they were going to be a little late. Betty, his wife, responded, "you'd better be catching a lot of fish!!" They definitely did.
Terry built a barn for the horses. After the shell was constructed, he designed and built the stalls and doors himself.
KNOWLEDGE AND SHENANIGANS
Terry loved the challenge of computers. He crashed the home computer 4 times just to see what he could get away with. He read each computer manual from front to back. He loved to read and he loved to learn. He never simply read a book, he memorized them with frightening accuracy.
Terry had his friend and right hand man at work, Rich Wedmore, play Santa for the girls. One year, when the girls were getting a little older, Tyne went to Terry and whispered, "I know what Santa drives. It's a red truck." Tyne was then strongly warned that she was not to tell her sisters.
Terry was a practical joker at work, and if he saw someone with plumber's crack, he'd make a point of pouring some coffee down the offending butt crack.
RANDOM MEMORIES
Terry was an amazing physical specimen in his day, flexible and strong. He was proficient in some gymnastics and could easily pull off the iron cross. He was a skilled martial artist as well, which definitely impressed Mary.
On many many many occasions, he used his knowledge and strength to save each member of his family in one way or another. Whether it was knocking a bull off its feet when it threatened his young daughter, or protecting his sister from an abusive boyfriend, even after taking a shovel to the face, Terry was always there to help and was fiercely protective.
In Loving Memory of Terry Galen Steele
MUSIC
Terry often talked about the many great people that he used to play his banjo with. He said he could live without his legs, and would be okay as long as he had his hands and could play. He said he "sang with his fingers."
He admired his uncle Vic who taught him to play the fiddle.
Terry was offered a job with the Ozark Opry in 1976, but turned it down. He felt traveling was no way to raise kids, and he had his eye on Mary.
There are many memories of going to Columbia, MO yearly to watch different bluegrass groups play every half hour for 3 days.
Tyne was 10 days old when she went to her first jam session.
Tiffini was 2 when Terry and John Purk went to various bluegrass festivals. Tiffini wanted nothing to do with John, so he bribed her with M&M's. She then would sit on his lap. Years later, when visiting Mary's family, Mary's brother Paul was teasing Tiffini and said, "you don't know who I am, do you?"
After thinking a little while, she responded, "John Purk?" Mary realized she needed to spend more time with her family!
FAMILY
The girls grew up with music. Tyne started violin lessons at age 3. By the time she graduated high school she could play 9 instruments, including, (but not limited to), piano, bassoon, clarinet, violin, and contrabass clarinet. Tyne was an All State performer on bassoon, and plays with the Quad City Symphony in her spare time. Tyne is also an accomplished vocalist, specializing in harmonizing with her sister, Tiffini. They've performed together in variety shows, for funerals and for weddings.
Tiffini inherited her singing voice from the Steele side, and also played piano, trumpet, french horn and mellophone. Tiffini was an All State vocalist in high school and the youngest in the high school to obtain an outstanding performer award in singing. She went on to win the senior choral award, and had several roles in musicals starting in middle school. She was Marian in the Music Man, Maria in the Sound of Music, the narrator in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat, and was asked to join the cast of Big River as a soloist. With nothing but bluegrass played in the Steele household, Tiffini in her rebellious teen years asked, "why couldn't I have been born into a classical family?" The family had a good laugh.
Alexis chose the theatrical route. She was in many high school, college, and community plays, and went on to join the Brownville Theater Company during college. She also lived in Pennsylvania for a few months, working at a Renaissance festival. Since then she has had small roles in local movies, including playing a zombie in the upcoming film Collapse. Alexis now lives in Chicago, continuing to nurture the acting bug. When Alexis was born, Terry's comment after the announcement of "it's a girl" was "look how long her fingers are! She'll play the violin or banjo." Alexis has shown interest in learning to play the mandolin, and will hopefully continue to blossom musically.
Education was important to Terry. He wanted his girls to have more opportunities than he had. Terry did not get a degree and he did not want that for his girls. After high school, Terry went to Northeast Missouri State University (now Truman University) for one year.
WORK
Work was very important to Terry. He was proud of the fact that he helped pour the concrete for the Robintech building in Grinnell. His employee number was 1. He stayed with this building throughout his career in plastics. He did everything from blending the PVC powder to extruding to calibrating dies. He worked his way up from foreman to tool and die manager.
Terry was able to travel for work, going to Austria to purchase equipment 3 different times. Terry loved history and was able to tour a concentration camp while in Austria.
He worked with Henry Corbel from France and Henry proposed a challenge to Terry. If he could get a certain percent of bubbles out of the product, he would give him half a bottle of wine. Terry exceeded the challenge, and received a full bottle of wine. At that time Terry didn't drink, but that's not what was important to him. He loved a challenge.
Terry also worked with Horst Eigruber from Germany and understood the language enough to communicate and defend his knowledge when discussions were held in German.
Terry was told by another Austrian co-worker, "you must move to Austria, you can learn nothing more from the United States."
ANIMALS
Terry loved horses. The family raised and showed Appaloosa's and POA's.
Terry shared his love of dogs and hunting with his grandpa, "Booger" Steele. Tyne was 5 months old when she went on her first coon hunt.
Terry loved fishing with his uncle Jerry. One year Terry was in big trouble when he talked Jerry intro going fishing on his anniversary. Jerry called his wife and said they were going to be a little late. Betty, his wife, responded, "you'd better be catching a lot of fish!!" They definitely did.
Terry built a barn for the horses. After the shell was constructed, he designed and built the stalls and doors himself.
KNOWLEDGE AND SHENANIGANS
Terry loved the challenge of computers. He crashed the home computer 4 times just to see what he could get away with. He read each computer manual from front to back. He loved to read and he loved to learn. He never simply read a book, he memorized them with frightening accuracy.
Terry had his friend and right hand man at work, Rich Wedmore, play Santa for the girls. One year, when the girls were getting a little older, Tyne went to Terry and whispered, "I know what Santa drives. It's a red truck." Tyne was then strongly warned that she was not to tell her sisters.
Terry was a practical joker at work, and if he saw someone with plumber's crack, he'd make a point of pouring some coffee down the offending butt crack.
RANDOM MEMORIES
Terry was an amazing physical specimen in his day, flexible and strong. He was proficient in some gymnastics and could easily pull off the iron cross. He was a skilled martial artist as well, which definitely impressed Mary.
On many many many occasions, he used his knowledge and strength to save each member of his family in one way or another. Whether it was knocking a bull off its feet when it threatened his young daughter, or protecting his sister from an abusive boyfriend, even after taking a shovel to the face, Terry was always there to help and was fiercely protective.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
It Hurts
I don't know how much I can really write about this subject. But I'd like to get out what I can. Forgive me if this post is just a cluster fuck of random thoughts.
When I was a wee one, I idolized my dad. He was strong, he was protective, and he was kind. When I got just a bit older, it became obvious he had a temper. Most of the time, everything was fine, but every now and then he'd blow up and it terrified my mom, my sisters and me. When I started high school, things got progressively worse.
I've listed a bunch of stuff he did in the past, and I don't really want to remember it right now. By the time I got to college, I think he was at his worst. I avoided going home, and my sisters and I begged Mom to get a divorce. When the divorce actually happened, there was a restraining order and I reached the apotheosis of my anger. I didn't speak to him for a year. The restraining order didn't involve calls, so he called the house quite a bit to talk to my mom. If I answered the phone, I'd scream at him to go to hell. Every night I prayed for him to die. A few times he was on the brink, and I wanted him to tip over the edge so badly.
After a whole lot of therapy, a diagnosis of bipolar disorder, (for dad and I both), and many delicious pills, I felt better, and started rebuilding my relationship with him. It was a slow process, and when I did spend time with him, I felt like I had to fake my affection. I always kind of felt like that, even up to the end. I could never forget the evil things he did, but at the same time I remembered what a good man he used to be. It was hard for me to understand why he was the way he was, but more recently, it became kind of obvious. Mental illness, combined with a lifetime of physical pain, (beginning with a TERRIBLE car accident when he was in high school) and a subsequent addiction to pain medication, made him deteriorate quickly.
He was so intelligent when he was younger, and during his career as a tool and dye specialist, he traveled the world, helping develop plastics, primarily in Germany and Austria. He could have been anything he wanted. He was a brilliant musician, and although he couldn't read music, he was a master and could play anything by ear. Banjo, violin, guitar, basically anything with strings.
As his health declined, it got harder for him to play, and he gave it up for a long time. He started playing with a band again a few years ago, which brought him a lot of joy.
The more he crumbled, the more he isolated himself from any friends he had. He hyped up and made up stories that made him look like some sort of super hero. It would be easy to say he was just a delusional braggart, but I don't think he could handle the idea of becoming feeble, and he spent so much time in this dream world, that it became real to him.
A lot of people have asked why I didn't confront him about stuff he did to us in the past. I honestly think it would have literally killed him. His delusions kept him from realizing what a tragedy his life was, and how horribly alone he was. I know he had glimpses of reality, and seeing his reaction to those periods of lucidity broke my fucking heart, and I don't mind that he leaned on drugs and fantasy to keep going.
Talking with his girlfriend Deb today was like a knife in my heart. At one point he was considering doing meth. She freaked out at him and told him to get rid of it or she was out of there. He threw it out, sat down in his recliner and broke into tears, sobbing "please don't leave me alone." I completely lost it and had to have my sisters and brother in law take me to Tron's house. I cried uncontrollably until I fell asleep on him.
I got that same heartbreak when we went over to the house to kind of make amends with our insane aunt. She had some pictures of him sitting out. He was so happy in all of them, and when I got to one of him grinning from ear to ear with me sitting on his lap, I just thought I would die. I haven't been able to really stop crying since then.
It's like a Shakespeare tragedy. Everything seems so senseless and avoidable, but in the end it all turns to shit and you're left wondering why.
I seem to do okay until I think about how lonely was. I just can't take it. I didn't think this day would be so hard. I've expected it to happen for the last 5 years. Now that it's actually happened, I feel crushed and empty.
I'm finding some solace remembering the last couple of times I talked with him. The most recent was the beginning of June. I was cat sitting for my fucking bitch of a cousin, (long story), and he came over to visit. I was working on accounting, so we talked a little about my classes. He talked about himself for a long time, which I was fine with since I know he didn't have anyone to talk to. At one point, after telling some story about how good he was at something, he stopped, leaned back, and closed his eyes. He said, "God, why did you do this to me?? ......... you didn't, I did this to myself. I had this coming." That was one of his lucid moments. I couldn't take it and I started bawling. I spilled my guts to him. I told him I'd been mad at him for so long, and hated him at times, but that seeing him lose everything and spend his days miserable and lonely made me sick with sadness. He wiped my tears away and said he loved me, and that no matter what, he'd always be proud of all of us girls. We cried together for awhile, then both got a little more light hearted, and he went home. We had talked for about 3 hours.
Not long after that I was sitting at home, thinking of childhood shit, and I had to call him. I couldn't stand it. I told him I just called to say I appreciated him, and that through all the bullshit and misery, I remembered all the good things he did, and the times he literally saved out lives. Like the time one of our bulls had Tyne pinned up against the fence. Dad ran straight at him and plowed him over. He literally knocked the bull off of its feet. There was another time we were out in the barn, and one of our iron tamping posts had fallen over and was going straight for my head. I didn't notice until I saw Dad's hand come out of nowhere. He had seen it and ran up and grabbed it before it hit me.
When Alexis fell off the hay elevator and fractured her skull, Dad kept Tyne and I calm. I called 911 and he stayed with her in the barn, completely calm, making sure her head was stabilized and that no one moved her until the ambulance got there.
There were other times that I don't remember, but have heard stories about.
While I was telling him about the things I remembered him doing for us, we both cried again. He didn't stay on the phone long, but I was glad I had called. That was the last time I talked to him before he died. I bought him a father's day card, but I never took it over to him. I asked the funeral home to burn it with him.
The night after he died, I couldn't sleep. Mom couldn't either. We just stayed up and talked. We were talking about how behind he was on all of his payments, and Mom mentioned something my aunt's boyfriend had said. Dad was too proud to ask for help. It used to be that he'd call Mom when he needed help figuring out a budget or something, but as bills piled up, and he lost control, he couldn't bring himself to ask anymore. I can't be mad at him for leaving so much debt, and letting his life insurance lapse. I just can't. All I can think about is him, alone, trying to pay his bills, but constantly being hounded for money by my cousin or other leaches that saw him as an easy mark. What was he going to do? Help his niece or pay the water bill? He helped his niece. He helped people he thought needed him. Once, when he knew I needed some money but knew I wouldn't ask, he said to me, "I want to give you this. I want to help you, because you never ask me for anything. You're independent, just like me."
I thought I slept last night. I hadn't slept in about 30 hours, so I took 3 Ambien out of desperation since 3 am rolled around and I still couldn't keep my eyes closed. I thought I slept, but Mom told me I was yelling out in my sleep all night. Bryan said I calmed down around 8 am. Mom still couldn't sleep and was up and around all night, and she said at one point she put her hand on me and asked if I was alright. I don't remember any of this, but apparently I told her no. And I'm not. I'm trying to be, but I have this overwhelming feeling of guilt that I'm having problems with. I need to go see Peg, my therapist. She knows all about my situation. She was my therapist during the worst of things, and helped me get past the uncontrollable anger I felt. I need her to help me again. Should I have made more of an effort to keep him involved in my life? Is it ok that I was still kind of mad at him? How the hell do I work through all of these goddamn contradictions?? I HATE HATE HATE feeling this way. I wish someone would give me a pill to make me stop feeling. I wish I could have seen him before he died.
On the car ride home tonight, I took the opportunity to really let stuff out. I cried, hard. I screamed and screamed and screamed until my throat hurt and I thought I would puke. I'm in pain, and I don't know what to do.
I love you, Dad. I'm going to miss you.
When I was a wee one, I idolized my dad. He was strong, he was protective, and he was kind. When I got just a bit older, it became obvious he had a temper. Most of the time, everything was fine, but every now and then he'd blow up and it terrified my mom, my sisters and me. When I started high school, things got progressively worse.
I've listed a bunch of stuff he did in the past, and I don't really want to remember it right now. By the time I got to college, I think he was at his worst. I avoided going home, and my sisters and I begged Mom to get a divorce. When the divorce actually happened, there was a restraining order and I reached the apotheosis of my anger. I didn't speak to him for a year. The restraining order didn't involve calls, so he called the house quite a bit to talk to my mom. If I answered the phone, I'd scream at him to go to hell. Every night I prayed for him to die. A few times he was on the brink, and I wanted him to tip over the edge so badly.
After a whole lot of therapy, a diagnosis of bipolar disorder, (for dad and I both), and many delicious pills, I felt better, and started rebuilding my relationship with him. It was a slow process, and when I did spend time with him, I felt like I had to fake my affection. I always kind of felt like that, even up to the end. I could never forget the evil things he did, but at the same time I remembered what a good man he used to be. It was hard for me to understand why he was the way he was, but more recently, it became kind of obvious. Mental illness, combined with a lifetime of physical pain, (beginning with a TERRIBLE car accident when he was in high school) and a subsequent addiction to pain medication, made him deteriorate quickly.
He was so intelligent when he was younger, and during his career as a tool and dye specialist, he traveled the world, helping develop plastics, primarily in Germany and Austria. He could have been anything he wanted. He was a brilliant musician, and although he couldn't read music, he was a master and could play anything by ear. Banjo, violin, guitar, basically anything with strings.
As his health declined, it got harder for him to play, and he gave it up for a long time. He started playing with a band again a few years ago, which brought him a lot of joy.
The more he crumbled, the more he isolated himself from any friends he had. He hyped up and made up stories that made him look like some sort of super hero. It would be easy to say he was just a delusional braggart, but I don't think he could handle the idea of becoming feeble, and he spent so much time in this dream world, that it became real to him.
A lot of people have asked why I didn't confront him about stuff he did to us in the past. I honestly think it would have literally killed him. His delusions kept him from realizing what a tragedy his life was, and how horribly alone he was. I know he had glimpses of reality, and seeing his reaction to those periods of lucidity broke my fucking heart, and I don't mind that he leaned on drugs and fantasy to keep going.
Talking with his girlfriend Deb today was like a knife in my heart. At one point he was considering doing meth. She freaked out at him and told him to get rid of it or she was out of there. He threw it out, sat down in his recliner and broke into tears, sobbing "please don't leave me alone." I completely lost it and had to have my sisters and brother in law take me to Tron's house. I cried uncontrollably until I fell asleep on him.
I got that same heartbreak when we went over to the house to kind of make amends with our insane aunt. She had some pictures of him sitting out. He was so happy in all of them, and when I got to one of him grinning from ear to ear with me sitting on his lap, I just thought I would die. I haven't been able to really stop crying since then.
It's like a Shakespeare tragedy. Everything seems so senseless and avoidable, but in the end it all turns to shit and you're left wondering why.
I seem to do okay until I think about how lonely was. I just can't take it. I didn't think this day would be so hard. I've expected it to happen for the last 5 years. Now that it's actually happened, I feel crushed and empty.
I'm finding some solace remembering the last couple of times I talked with him. The most recent was the beginning of June. I was cat sitting for my fucking bitch of a cousin, (long story), and he came over to visit. I was working on accounting, so we talked a little about my classes. He talked about himself for a long time, which I was fine with since I know he didn't have anyone to talk to. At one point, after telling some story about how good he was at something, he stopped, leaned back, and closed his eyes. He said, "God, why did you do this to me?? ......... you didn't, I did this to myself. I had this coming." That was one of his lucid moments. I couldn't take it and I started bawling. I spilled my guts to him. I told him I'd been mad at him for so long, and hated him at times, but that seeing him lose everything and spend his days miserable and lonely made me sick with sadness. He wiped my tears away and said he loved me, and that no matter what, he'd always be proud of all of us girls. We cried together for awhile, then both got a little more light hearted, and he went home. We had talked for about 3 hours.
Not long after that I was sitting at home, thinking of childhood shit, and I had to call him. I couldn't stand it. I told him I just called to say I appreciated him, and that through all the bullshit and misery, I remembered all the good things he did, and the times he literally saved out lives. Like the time one of our bulls had Tyne pinned up against the fence. Dad ran straight at him and plowed him over. He literally knocked the bull off of its feet. There was another time we were out in the barn, and one of our iron tamping posts had fallen over and was going straight for my head. I didn't notice until I saw Dad's hand come out of nowhere. He had seen it and ran up and grabbed it before it hit me.
When Alexis fell off the hay elevator and fractured her skull, Dad kept Tyne and I calm. I called 911 and he stayed with her in the barn, completely calm, making sure her head was stabilized and that no one moved her until the ambulance got there.
There were other times that I don't remember, but have heard stories about.
While I was telling him about the things I remembered him doing for us, we both cried again. He didn't stay on the phone long, but I was glad I had called. That was the last time I talked to him before he died. I bought him a father's day card, but I never took it over to him. I asked the funeral home to burn it with him.
The night after he died, I couldn't sleep. Mom couldn't either. We just stayed up and talked. We were talking about how behind he was on all of his payments, and Mom mentioned something my aunt's boyfriend had said. Dad was too proud to ask for help. It used to be that he'd call Mom when he needed help figuring out a budget or something, but as bills piled up, and he lost control, he couldn't bring himself to ask anymore. I can't be mad at him for leaving so much debt, and letting his life insurance lapse. I just can't. All I can think about is him, alone, trying to pay his bills, but constantly being hounded for money by my cousin or other leaches that saw him as an easy mark. What was he going to do? Help his niece or pay the water bill? He helped his niece. He helped people he thought needed him. Once, when he knew I needed some money but knew I wouldn't ask, he said to me, "I want to give you this. I want to help you, because you never ask me for anything. You're independent, just like me."
I thought I slept last night. I hadn't slept in about 30 hours, so I took 3 Ambien out of desperation since 3 am rolled around and I still couldn't keep my eyes closed. I thought I slept, but Mom told me I was yelling out in my sleep all night. Bryan said I calmed down around 8 am. Mom still couldn't sleep and was up and around all night, and she said at one point she put her hand on me and asked if I was alright. I don't remember any of this, but apparently I told her no. And I'm not. I'm trying to be, but I have this overwhelming feeling of guilt that I'm having problems with. I need to go see Peg, my therapist. She knows all about my situation. She was my therapist during the worst of things, and helped me get past the uncontrollable anger I felt. I need her to help me again. Should I have made more of an effort to keep him involved in my life? Is it ok that I was still kind of mad at him? How the hell do I work through all of these goddamn contradictions?? I HATE HATE HATE feeling this way. I wish someone would give me a pill to make me stop feeling. I wish I could have seen him before he died.
On the car ride home tonight, I took the opportunity to really let stuff out. I cried, hard. I screamed and screamed and screamed until my throat hurt and I thought I would puke. I'm in pain, and I don't know what to do.
I love you, Dad. I'm going to miss you.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Pappyson
Dad died. Things have been BEYOND a cluster fuck here, so I'm stressed out and don't want to talk about it on here right now. I'm pretty sure most of the people that read this are friends with me on facebook, so you all have the details by now anyway. I'll post more when I've got a clearer head.
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