God only asked Noah for 40 days and 40 nights

Today is day 34 in the hospital. I am exhausted. I just wrapped Harlen's PICC line so he could shower. I am not a nurse. I have never wanted to be a nurse. I never cared to know what a PICC line is or what it does. He has a port too. It's in the right side of his chest. It is for blood or platelets or poison or whatever the hell they want to put in him. We were so excited for a clean bone marrow biopsy, but now his numbers won't come up and the Dr. today gave us little hope on what they could do next. Did I mention I am tired?

On top of it all we are trying from 70 miles away to compose the bull sale catalog. It is virtually impossible. My mind is so cloudy from stress and anxiety that I am having a hard time remembering numbers from one source to get to the other source. It is a long process on a normal year and takes most of my energy. I am sucking at it.

Harlen is down. He is talking like he is planning for an end result that I cannot put my head around. I can't think through this. I can't imagine a life without him in it, but if his numbers don't come up there isn't much more they can do for him. UGH The words came out of my mouth. My God it is your turn to step in. I know you aren't accustom to being told what to do, but I am tired of asking. I am tired of pleading. I need the father of my children in my life, in their life. I need a happy ending. I need what is left in my family to stay in this family.Was cancer your idea? Because I have to tell you if it was it blows.

There is hope and then it is crushed, then there is hope, but it is squashed, then there is real hope, but it was just pretend, then there really is hope, but it never was hope. It was just words, and words are empty and hollow and ugly.

I still have hope the Dr.'s are wrong because seriously when have they been right?

I believe I would rather have 2 of every species living amongst me.

Paralyzed

Today I am paralyzed. I am sure most of you believe that I am not being literal, but I am. It is amazing what the mind can do to the body. I have a headache. It's pretty excruciating. I took my normal regiment of Excedrin and Promethezine, but it is hanging on if not just by its fingertips. My mind wants to do so many things, like clean the house, fix the holes in my walls, make my yard look like someone lives here, but my body is paralyzed. It is like I am glued to this brown recliner in my living room in which I have come to hate. I feel so heavy that moving is almost impossible. You say I am just lazy, but you don't feel what I feel.

Tomorrow we meet with the Stem Cell Transplant Team. I am petrified of what they are going to tell us. You could say I just need faith, but faith in what? I have faith in a God now, but I do not have faith that it will save my husband from the horrible pain he is in store for. I do not have faith that a match will be found. I am scared. I am scared of what they are going to tell us.

Harlen has been suffering from stress related ills since his diagnosis. For the last three days it has been his back. He is suffering from muscle spasms and I am afraid of leaving him alone.  I used to get this pain all of the time and  know it will go away when he quits worrying and relaxes, but that is easier said than done. He is in the hands of people he doesn't know. People who are trained to cure him, but if they don't win it is just a game to them. They don't have a stake in this fight. As long as they get paid they will feel that their job has been completed.

I find comfort in prayer lately, but today I could pray all day and not feel at ease. God find a match for Harlen. Life is short enough.

A reprieve

I hear stories of Alzheimer's patience who come back for a while. People who get 2-3 weeks of clearness, but then fall back into the unknown. I am afraid this is me. This is me because I lost my meds and because of the rough weeks I had before I asked for early refills. Now I am considered an addict. Me who only asked for 15 Valiums for the month because I didn't want to become addicted, but because of some crazy ass man in blue called me a killer, said I killed my son, I lost my mind for a while. Now my reprieve is gone and the depression is back. My husband treated like a queen for 3 weeks because he had his wife back, but now he will hate to be in the same room as me again. I am a downer. I am sad. I am suicidal. I hate my life.

I lost my Meds

I am having a rough day. I can't find my diazepam anywhere and I need it. I am panicked. I am having my 1st panic attack since changing meds. I need some help. I hope this is just a lil set back. 2 steps forward and 1 step back. Pray for me tonight.

Optimistic Labels

I hate words like CPR Cardiopulminary Resuscitation. It doesn't resuscitate. The JAWS OF LIFE doesn't actually bring someone to life.

I am depressed. I can't get off my ass. I can't clean. I really don't family around. I don't want anyone around.

My Punishment

MY PUNISHMENT

Last night I had the most vivid dream.

A nightmare full of terror it seemed.

My hands, and my feet were tied to a post.

Above me floated my dead son’s ghost.

The fire burned high and hot all around.

The crackling of the embers was heard, the only sound.

Guilty of killing my oldest son.

It’s the last thing I would have ever done

The whole town cheered at the sight of my demise.

If only they could have seen that day through my eyes.

Their judgement might be different than guilty and death.

The pain is excruciating. I barely catch a breath.

I feel my skin sizzle in the blistering flames.

I am she, whom the whole world blames.

As the heat engulfs me I devour this punishment.

My soul senses a complete replenishment.

After years of agony my spirit finally embraces the release.

Life exiled, head slumped, I am finally at peace.

The Conversation

Cyrus and McKayla came over to the house yesterday. We talked. We talked for 2 hours about a lot of things. He still blames me for so many things, but I don't think he hates me. I don't know if things will ever be the same. I love this child so much. I would easily give my life for him. If this was a fair world I would be able to take this from him. I deserve it. He deserves a good life, teaching, having kids, loving his music and his books. He has been through hell and back. If God was real I could sacrifice my mind for him to be healthy. Love should conquer all.

Fear

A new year

A well known fear

The future isn t clear.

Hoping death is near.

I put up a good fight.

The victory is never in sight.

In the darkness ,little light.

Everything I try nothing is right.

I am exhausted from trying.

My eyes are dry from crying.

My mind tires of lying .

My thoughts centered on dying.

I am a failure in every way.

Good intentions everyday.

A lifetime crushed with what you say.

Never again will life be okay.

A noose would be sufficient.

A gun, I am proficient.

Tylenol, the most efficient.

Ask God he is omniscient.

I will always be your mom........

I know you are no longer here.
I know I will never see you in this life again.
I know that my last memories of you were horrendous.
I know that no one understands the pain.
I know that no one understands the guilt.
It was me that saw you last.
It was me that spoke to you last.
It was me who was responsible for your well-being.
It was me who failed miserably.
It was me that changed your diapers, fed and clothed you.
It was me that showed you love everyday.
I will always be your mom.
But I will never get to hold you or kiss you.
I will never get to see your smiling face.
I will never see you graduate or get married or have kids.

I will never grow old reaping your blessings.

God everyday I wake up pleading for you to be home.
There are not miracles, nor God, nor Oden, nor Christ.
There is no heaven.
There is not even relief for the nightmare that is my life.
I am running hard but the reaper will not let go of my jacket.
He is laughing and I am panicked, popping the Valium to just be able to breathe.
Some days I go backwards, but I am on the uphill climb.

They Have it Worse

They Have it Worse

You think you got it bad there is someone who always has it worse.

They took your pride but they left your purse.

Is that supposed to make me feel better?

I could sit down and detail it in a letter.

You have no idea what I’ve been through.

Your eyes would cry a tear if you knew,

Or maybe you would talk the same way.

Judge me, then invite me to pray.

You think you know what it is like to walk in my shoes,

Do you know what it’s like to feel so blue?

To sit and wonder what your child would have been?

To question every moment, if not then?

Then times that by two and add abuse and a rape.

Are you astonished? Is that a gape?

Some have it worse, but some have it milder.

Some like it nice and some like it wilder.

Some think I’m a bitch, and some think I am kind.

I invite you to come inside my shady mind.

Then you’ll see the darkest, deepest corners,

Where they scream and claw at this greatest mourner.

I see my baby in my dreams.

She is perfect, life is what it seems.

But that dream fades and in comes the fear.

The reapers are all around. Their breath is near.

They take her away and leave me pleading.

She is fresh and I am still bleeding.

Then tease me with a greater life.

Hit me once, now hit me twice.

He was the flawless son.

His potential had just begun...

The harvester couldn’t take this one in the dark.

This time the jaws were as mean as a shark.

He left a scar that no one could hide.

He pilfered what was left inside.

The grim he took the future and left me blind.

Now who has it worst? Who can you find?

You know nothing about them, just as you know nothing about me.

Open your eyes and get off your worn knees.

God never made you judge over anyone.

You say he sent his Only Begotten Son?

That is for your mind not for mine.

Being on your knees weakens the spine.

So, tell me again how Some have it worse.

Because my life feels like it has been cursed.

I am not looking for your pity.

Asking you to get down and gritty.

I am not asking for anything at all.

You’re the reason I built a large wall.

To keep the Pharisees out and let no one else in.

Your words will not penetrate the skin.

Leave me alone and take your own course.

Empathy is one thing no one can force.

You should just get past it.

Someone very close to me gave the whole spill about how I should get over losing two kids, I should get past it, sure it was hard, but it was a long time . I don't like hearing this from people who aren't close to me, but coming from someone who is supposed to be on your side. your encourager, your no matter what, it bothered me. 

I am not sleeping again. My anxiety and panic is through the ceiling. I am exhausted. I am sad. 

Can I just sleep?

Are you sitting on Loughlin's grave?

We finally buried Harlen's mom yesterday. The weather did not permit for the burial earlier. When we arrived at the cemetery I walked towards the grave which was one over from Loughlin's. Harlen's dad was in between. I looked at Loughlin's headstone and the metal pheasant that sat on the edge was on the ground, the tail feathers broke off. I picked it up and fixed it, put it back where it belongs. The chairs were almost touching the headstone. It made me sick. Harlen's siblings went over and sat in the chairs, more sick. Harlen dedicated the grave, even more sick. All I can think is get off my son. Why would they think this is ok?  It isn't . I am angry about it. Get off my son. Even today I am still angry.

I am sure there is so much more to my anger, than the chairs and the broken pheasant. I feel like I have for 25 years, not the most important women in my husbands life. His mom never liked me. She never thought I was good enough for her son, and now as we bury her everyone tramples my son. I hope I am never like her. I hope that I can always remember that my children's happiness is more important than my petty judgement. The anger isn't going away anytime soon.

"Life is a Struggle"

8 years , I guess is the amount of time until everyone thinks you should be fine.

October 27th, 2016 was 8 years since Loughlin died. For me, it will always be one of those days, but I guess for the rest of the world he has been put on the back burner. The phone calls were 0. Even Harlen wanted to treat it as just another day in paradise. I tried to remind people with a post on Loughlin's page on Facebook, but it felt shallow and like I was trying too hard.

Did you know me before I lost Loughlin? I am nothing like I was, or maybe I am exactly like I was before. I don't remember what I was like. If I was a better person to some, I was a worse person to others. It is relative.

You might have forgot my son, but I haven't. You see part of my heart will be forever dead, black, empty. My soul is crying out, yet no one is listening. I have sang my song of misery for too long. I have used all of the empathy allowed in this world. I should sink into the darkness of the water where you do not have to acknowledge my pain anymore, but that wouldn't be me. Why do you feel you don't have to be a little uncomfortable around me twice a year when I am in agony every single day? You run. You hide. You ignore, but I am like that smell you can't get out of your freezer. I will always be here to remind you.

Today is Halloween. It used to be our family's favorite. We used to dress up together. It used to be so much fun, but now all I remember is the wreck and being in a hospital and someone taking my kids trick-or-treating for me. WOW 8 years might be enough for everyone else but it isn't even close for me.

Just a Week away.from the Ugly

Today is the 20th of October. I am busy. It is Homecoming Week. Kids are going every which way imaginable. Yet, I look out my window and the colors are orange and yellow with brown sneaking in. My heart skips a little, my stomach is queasy, my hands shake uncontrollably, my head swims and aches, I am transformed back to that day, that morning. I was so busy. I had to get home. I had to make a cake for a funeral at the church. I was grouchy. I made Loughlin and Cyrus change seats, Harlen says I favored Cyrus. Did I? This is all my fault. I can't even say I am sorry. I am so sorry Loughlin. I loved you so much. I was always so proud of you. You set our family on a path that is still taken today. I am sorry. My heart hurts so much. My doc always asks me where I feel it. I feel it from the tip of my head to my toes. I am weak. The crater you have left in our life can never be filled. I wish I could live my life over. I would cherish every moment with every child, Rhiannon, Loughlin, Cyrus, True. Maya, Giles and Lea, everyone of them. Life is fleeting. What makes an ordinary day an extraordinary moment? I wish I could remember every second I spent with Loughlin, but with every day my mind fails me more.

My Response is Anger

There was yet another accident in our little neck of the woods last week. 5 kids were in a pick-up truck driving under the influence and it rolled. Some of the kids walked away from the accident and some are hurt. Everyone is asking for prayers for them, others held a vigil for them. Me, I just sat and stewed, finding myself get angrier and angrier. How many years do you think I will be like this, the feeling of being cheated? Loughlin did nothing wrong. He hardly did anything wrong ever. He was such an amazing young men. Am I saying these kids drank, got in their pick-up drove so they deserve it? Hell no, if so there are a million crazy teenagers that deserve to be dead, including me. I am saying, in a just world Loughlin would still be here. He didn't deserve this.

The Cemetery

I really have memory problems, but I can't remember the last time I have been to Loughlin's grave. I used to visit it often. I felt closer to him there. I believe that is because of the quietness that surrounds you there. It is surreal, well until some car or farm truck drives by and ruins the entire moment. They look at you like you are a freak. If you show your emotions, cry the looks make you feel like you are unstable, that you should have been over this. Almost 8 years and you are still crying for a son you killed, yes, yes, yes, I cry almost daily. I cry at my failures. I cry at what my life has become. I look for something to drowned out my agony. Alcohol, drugs, but I have other kids. I have to be strong, so I will just use my prescribed meds to relieve my hurt and anger and frustration at the process. Why the hell do I have do go through this twice?

Are you a mom? Can you feel my pain? Can you feel the loneliness even in a crowded room? Do you feel this anger? Scream with me. Let the world know how fucked up this is.

Loughlin and Rhiannon, I will never look upon your beautiful faces again. I am so tired..........

Hunting Season lasts a Lifetime

Loughlin's 1st and only Buck

Loughlin loved to hunt. He hunted in his free time as much as he could. He shot his 1st buck on one of the last day of hunting season. His first hunting season. The mount is beautifully hung going down our stairs. It was an awesome buck. 

True now loves to hunt even more than Loughlin did. He hunts morning and night. He never drew for a tag this year, but did get a bow permit. He shot his first buck with a bow the other night. Now it is Giles turn. It is the first weekend he can go. Harlen, True and Giles headed to Jordan Valley to try to fill Giles' permit. I hope he gets his 1st deer.

On the other hand it is hard for me to put on a smile and say go. It all makes my heart hurt so much. It makes me think of Loughlin and how much he missed, how much joy we missed in him succeeding, how hard it is to be overly excited for the other boys. I also know that their is danger each time they head out with their guns. My grandfather was shot and killed deer hunting in Utah. I have never been a fan and my anxiety is overwhelming when they go. 

Pheasant season opened today, next is duck and goose, then turkey. You see my anguish will go on forever, but hopefully the worry will subside a bit.

The Sun in the Eastern Horizon blinds my eyes but not my mind to my failures and inadequacies.

Yesterday as I drove the kids to school, I descended our hill, the blaring ball of fire was so immense that I could not see in front of me again. ( I say again, at least I think again. I don't really remember why I hit that truck.) It's nice to have something other than me to blame. The sun is an inanimate object. I am sure he can take the heat.

The whole accident came back in full force. The what ifs drowned me in my own self despair. How could I let this happen? How is Loughlin dead? Just writing those words socks me in the stomach taking the air out of my lungs. Almost 8 years and I still haven't conquered the "Acceptance" step of grief. The weight is enormous today. Sunday Loughlin would be 23. My God is there so much difference between 15 and 23? So much time has passed but in my mind, which isn't that stable, it was yesterday, and yet how is Giles a Freshman? Is it understandable that Loughlin will be "Forever 15" and yet everyone else is growing older? I am older, so much older. I feel it everyday. I have friends running marathons, I can't run downstairs to get toilet paper. ( I am sure I can find something else that will work.)

I keep a page for Loughlin on Facebook. I feel like people hate when I am down and only want uplifting posts. WTF These are the shoes I was given to walk this long dirt road we call life. I guarantee if you want to try them on you will be as Anastasia in Cinderella. They will look like a comfortable fit until the truth is revealed. They are my shoes and mine alone. I am not happy that 2 of my kids are in the cold ground. I am angry. I am sad. I am hurt. I feel ripped off. You talk of your grand babies and your weddings and my kids are gone. My future is forever degraded. My life forever decayed. I am a realist. I always have been. The smile on my face is real, or if it is absent it is absent for a reason. I will not pretend. My incredible son is dead. How do you smile through that? I am not always a miserable wretch. I love my other kids. I love to watch their accomplishments. I love to hear them sing. I love to even hear them argue. I love all the things I missed with Rhiannon and Loughlin. So quit looking at me with that pity face, like you could handle this so much better.

Shower to Shower Each Day

I can measure my depression by the time I spend in the shower. I hate the shower, the closed curtain, the steam, the difficulty breathing, the silence. I hate it. Last week I only took 1 shower in the 7 days. I know that is so disgusting, but I really didn't care. I changed clothes, underwear, used deodorant, straightened hair, used ponytails, hats. The shower is too much though.

I stay away from wherever I can. If I have to go I am sitting by myself, talking to as few as I can.

I don't know what brought it on, if anything. The first day of school, the start of September, Fall like weather, harvest, Cyrus moving out for school, the upcoming 23rd birthday for Loughlin, True moving out soon, any of these could be the culprit, but to be honest I am just tired. It seems I still suck at handling everyday mishaps. I get pulled over by an undercover, unmarked car in the middle of the country for using my phone. I had just picked up True's pickup that had run out of gas and was calling him to tell him his hunting stuff was safe. 500 yards later I am being pulled over. You know how much I love the lights and the sirens. They make my whole day run so smoothly. Then there are bills and an unfinished house that is pulling me down, not to mention my dirty house that I have been trying my best to get clean, but I don't have any energy, or desire. I only feel disappointment in not getting anything accomplished and a husband who sees only my inadequacies. If you add all of these together you might add up to depression + anxiety but actually it is just my life.

And then there were 3.........

School started this morning for Nyssa. Maya is a Junior. Giles is a Freshman, and Lea is in 7th grade,
I couldn't even get myself to get a picture. Giles is a Freshman. I hate this year in school. I will be glad when November rolls around. He would make it past the dreadful October 27th. All I remember is this video. August 2008, the last real 1st day of school.