What can I do?

The new bone marrow biopsy came back with double the amount of leukemia cells in the marrow than when Harlen started. It was devastating news. He started a new chemo on Wednesday. We have it and a trial drug left. It is hard not to be negative. I wish there was something I could do to change this. Harlen is getting tired. He is only 52. His life has so much more to live. We have so many plans for the future. Alaska with the boys, Europe with me, Grandchildren. It just isn't fair. So many prayers on his behalf have been said. We have to have good news soon. Please God let us keep him here on Earth.

28th Anniversary

Tonight I am tired and sad. The end

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.

Mirrors

I avoid mirrors as much as I can. Today as I was waiting for Harlen in the car, I looked in my rear view mirror. I was noticing all the wrinkles on my face. I thought of the years I have lived, but then I caught a glimpse of the scar below my lower lip, then the one above my right eye. The scars I have from running into the truck 11 years ago. Then as quick as I glanced in the mirror I was back in the suburban and Loughlin was dead on the bench behind me. The air left the van. I was left to my guilt and loneliness. Wrinkles to scars to I killed my son in less than 1 minute. PTSD? probably, but it is my life. This is not the life I chose. This is not a life I would choose even for my worst enemies. My family is everything to me.

Lea had a varsity game that we were on our way to. I was already in a mood. Lea didn't get to play. She was heartbroken. She cried. Lea never cries. She cried all the way home. She cried when we got home. She wrapped up in her comforter on her bed and cried. I went in and laid by her and cried with her. I hope it isn't how this year goes. I hope it gets better. Lea is a fantastic baller. She earned a spot on that team. I lived through 4 years of this with True. I am getting too old for the politics of this shit. I am tired. I love my baby girl. How do I sit back and watch another coach break my baby?

I got my new 10mm out and shot it for a while. I need the practice. True's going to come teach me how to be a better shot. I love that gun. Best Birthday present ever.

That's not me anymore

That’s not me anymore

I used to wake each day looking forward to a new endeavor.

I used to crack a joke. I was quick. I was clever.

That’s not me anymore.

I used to enjoy a huge crowd, eyes on me as I took the stage.

I read every book I could find and hung on every page.

That’s not me anymore.

I loved to cook all kinds of cuisine.

My house was never perfect, but it was clean.

But that’s not me anymore.

I loved the farm, the bulls, the cows and the lil calves.

Always content, never worried about the didn’t haves.

I’ll never be like that anymore.

I loved to watch my kids in everything they did.

Every song, every hit, every set, even when they slid.

It’s just not me anymore.

I loved my husband with every ounce of my soul.

We went everywhere together. Eternity was my goal.

That’s just not me anymore.

I can’t say I was always smiling, but the joy shined through.

Days I was down there was only just a few.

But I’m not like that anymore.

Back then I believed there was a God that cared about my life.

I believed in forever families and wanted to be a forever wife.

But I don’t believe like that anymore.

I spend days now wondering why I am even here.

All my mistakes and flaws are showing crystal clear.

Cuz that’s not my life anymore.

Getting out of bed each day shouldn’t be a struggle.

And at night I want to be alone. Never want to cuddle.

Happiness eludes me. I don’t feel it anymore.

I worry every moment, every day, every minute.

If this is it. I quit. I don’t want to be in it.

I don’t want to live anymore.

This is not a cry for help

There has been this lingering thought in my head most of my life. I don't belong. There is this utility knife on the counter in my kitchen. I don't know who left it there or why. I haven't thought that part through. I don't really care. I only care that it is there. Tempting as it seems. There is so many ways to ease this pain I face everyday. Overdose, Driving off the road to the dam, Guns galore, but this knife entices my thoughts of the unseemly demise of my soul. It would be easy, yet messy. Where would be the cleanliness, but when have I ever cared about sticky floors. My life has always been so fucking cluttered, complicated, sloppy, and frankly dire. Yet this sharp razor knife has kept my attention for moments. Who am I kidding? It's all I think about. I would never do this to my babies, my husband, yes, but not my kids. They have suffered insurmountable damage at my hands. The POPO was correct. I killed my son. I probably killed my baby girl too. She was mine.  He was mine. I was in charge of their everything, and I failed. I failed grievously. I quit the medicine that was supposed to be keeping me level, but it wasn't keeping me level. It was keeping me numb, dead inside, dull, even callous, but that pink pill kept me alive, breathing, but what is living, breathing without feeling? It isn't living. You are right. I might as well have been in a coma for 9 years. I could only wish I was in the coma, because then I wouldn't have been filled with the ugly emotions that creeped in and took over my life, the guilt, the anxiety, the anger, the guilt, the guilt, the guilt. So this is 1 week off those horrible, sinister, menacing, horrid, vile pink pills that made me shake uncontrollably, that made jerk, so I couldn't even enjoy my succulent black beverage that is ALWAYS my favorite part of my morning. For 2 months I have refrained from the coffee because I was tired of being burned, but most of all I was tired of the ugliness that surrounded that fucking pink pill. I am not capable of living without that fucking pink pill, yet how would I know? How would I know with my addiction to this lousy pink pill? Sure for a year after Loughlin died I was a fucking wreck. I did horrible things, made terrible choices. I wanted to die. The guilt. Is there a worse emotion? It engulfs your whole being. your every thought, your every word, your every dream, your everything. The guilt of losing Rhiannon made me a better mom, but a lousy wife. The guilt of killing Loughlin, killed me. I died 3,602 days ago, 86,642 hours ago, 5,198,520 minutes ago. I have been part of the walking dead for almost 10 years. Surely not the walking dead that is on TV with the fingers falling off and wanting to devour human flesh, but I am walking and I am dead. 💔

The impending 10 year mark is suffocating me.

.
I am shaking
Heart breaking
No faking
I want to die
10 long years
All my fears
They came true
I never knew
A pain like this
The child I miss
Could change us all
I sit. I scream. I bawl.
Where are the smiles?
Nothing but trials.
I have failed.
My hands not nailed
My cross I have to carry
The weight makes me weary,
My mind is scrambled
His life I gambled.
I see him lying there.
God how can this be fair?
One life gone, but 7 destroyed.
Lives of hell were deployed.

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.

Happy 24th Birthday Loughlin

Today Loughlin would have been 24 years old. I can't believe it has been 9 years. I can't also believe that we have survived 9 birthdays without you. I miss you every moment. I love you. My heart is full today, but broken in pieces.

Today I just wanted to die

We are coming up on another one of Loughlin's birthdays. He would have been 24, but he isn't . He is dead. I have had one of those days. Those days when you think that you have had enough. The kind of day I have more than a couple of times a year. I had almost convinced myself to give up. My kids are doing well. They probably would be better off without me. I am doing bookwork that I hate, no that I despise. My anxiety is unbearable. I was even dreaming of ways to do it so that Harlen would still get the life insurance . He would be better without me. I can't breathe any longer. I want it to end.

2 hrs later, Lea has a volleyball game and life looks a little better. 

Maybe I can make it another day.

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 can choose to be happy

As you know reading this blog I have chose not to have religion or god in my life. The pain and guilt attached to the two is more that I can handle. I choose not to believe in a God that closes his eyes and ignores the suffering of his creations on Earth. I am constantly looking for something that will ease this pain and longing of losing two children.

Today is the day Rhiannon died. 29 years ago she left me. She was laying next to me in bed. I woke up to find her cold and blue with blood coming from her nose. The images never leave my mind. So the day after Memorial day I am grieving like it was yesterday, but I have been grieving for what seems an eternity. One of Maya's friends is pregnant. She brings back so many memories for me. She sang in her last choir concert. She graduated. She stands proud. I want to put my arms around her and tell her to take everyday as a gift, to love that little girl, to take picture after picture. Not to be like me and take life for granted, to not take pictures, and to hold her every minute of every day.

The person who should be my biggest supporter has grown tired of my sadness and depression. He yelled at me and told me it has been long enough. He said 9 years is time enough to get over the death of my son. I said that I still haven't done it in 29 years. I cannot choose to be happy. There are days I am happy. I am coaching Lea's softball team again this year. I love it. I am happy some of the time, but some times I am paralyzed with the panic, anxiety and sadness. Some days I have a hard time getting out of bed. It makes me feel worthless. It makes me feel like I will never be normal again. Do you think I choose to be debilitated? He has diabetes. I told him he should choose not to have diabetes. I don't see a difference. I do not choose to have PTSD. I do not choose to be paralyzed when sirens go off. I do not choose to have uncontrolled shaking when a cop is behind me. I do not choose to have tremors so bad I can't write the roster for my softball team. I do not choose any of them. I do not chose to be miserable, but some days I am.

I did not choose to be sexually abused.

 I did not choose to lose my virginity to a 30 year old man who raped me when I was passed out drunk at 16.

 I did not choose to lose my baby girl when I was alone at the age of 18 and I did not choose to drive into a parked farm truck killing my handsome son, injuring 3 of my other children. I did not choose it. I am doing the best I can. 

Please don't place more guilt on me. Please don't knock me down further. Don't hold my head deeper under the water. I am losing consciousness. I am drowning. It doesn't matter the amount of time that passes, 9 years, 29 years, 31 years, or 38 years. I am doing the best I can. It may not be what you think is the best I can, but I am trying everyday I get out of bed. Everyday I love my babies. Everyday I do what I can to help them in their lives. If they call I am there for them. I am happy for Cyrus and his upcoming nuptials. I have the invitations done.

So there it is. Whatever you hear in church or on your radio Christian shows it is not true. I am not able to CHOOSE TO BE HAPPY.  These people , these church leaders and speakers think they know. I hope one day that diseases of the mind will be treated with the same attitude as diseases of the any other part of the body. PTSD cannot be prayed away. It cannot be wished away. There is no magic  cure, no blessing that will miraculously fix it. It is a difficult and excruciating process to be able to function in this world. I take my medicine. I see my counselor. I am trying.

I just wish the world could understand. I wish my loved ones could too. But just like CHOOSING to be happy it isn't that easy. If only I could choose I would.

So many kinds of floods

Yesterday a pipe broke in our basement and we ended up with about 8 inches of water throughout. Water in a basement engulfs everything, every corner, every crevice. If there are dead little creatures lurking behind the water heater or in a bag you haven't opened in 8 years the emerge. It is very revealing.
This flood showed me so many things. It showed me that I haven't been in the basement physically, mentally, but most of all emotionally. A Brachiosaurus was floating in the middle of Giles's room. Who knows where he came from. He once was Loughlin's, then Cyrus's, then True's. Where has he been? Where has all these left over clothes been? 8 years, My God, Where have I been? Where has my life been? Where has Loughlin been? Where are my kids? Where did they go, not physically, but where did my other 5 kids go?

Maya came home from school so upset. The baseball coach is not going to let her take stats this year. I learned she is a girl, and a boy would be better. WTF I guess everything I taught her about having the same rights her whole life was bullshit. I am pissed. Can you tell? She has very few things in her life she loves, baseball is one of them. She can't play it anymore because of her TBI, but at least she could be a part of this team. Did I say I am pissed? Give her a break. She deserves it, for once.

Now the floodgates are open. The tears are falling once again. I am so exhausted. Surgery to the Sale to the Funeral to the Delivering Bulls to a Flooded Basement.

Is this a normal life? I don't remember having chose this life. The sadness is here again. Relief is what I want.

"If you have done it unto the least of these my brethren, you have done it unto me."

Matthew 25:40 is on Loughlin's headstone...........

I know I am not religious, but I do try to find influence to better my life. I feel the need to help the most downtrodden. Everyone calls me crazy. My son's friend is homeless and in trouble. He needs help. Who am I not to offer my home, my family, my food, my love? I am just a peasant, whom without the help of others would have perished long ago. I have a loving family. I had a grandma who took me in when I was lost, never to be found. She loved me and taught me that there should be no judgement, only love. 

I am not in a great place right now myself, but lending a hand to someone else makes me feel good, makes me realize that there is pain all around us. It makes me understand that all we have to do is open our eyes a little bit and the opportunities to help, save, love is everywhere. 

I go in for LAPAROSCOPIC NISSEN FUNDOPLICATION on December 15th. I will be sore for sometime. I will be on a liquid diet for 2 weeks. It will be a miserable Christmas for me. I am trying to get on top of things before that time. I usually start Christmas cards, shopping, decorating at about the 15th so I am struggling. I am so far behind that I have not done True's thank you cards from graduation, or the kids' steer thank you cards from September. So I am working on all three at the same time. The shopping will be done online. The presents will be wrapped by my beautiful daughters. I hope to have the Christmas tree up on Sunday. 

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.

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..........

I love Hospitals

I was scheduled for a endoscopy and colonoscopy on Friday. Thursday I started the "cleaning out" process. I started the drain at about 8pm. I had cramps in my back and could barely leave the bathroom. I never slept all of Thursday night. I have a very sensitive stomach and I was miserable. So nothing to eat after Thursday 8pm, and nothing to drink after 4am Friday. I was in good spirits when I got there. (well I hate hospitals and my anxiety was huge) I went in for the procedure and they could not give me enough pain medicine. I was hurting, waking up out of a dead sleep to horrendous pain. They said they couldn't give me anymore meds and it wasn't controlling the pain. I made it through though.

I went home and slept. Saturday I still felt terrible, but Harlen wanted to get the house cleaned up, so I got up and helped, unwillingly. Sunday I started feeling better, but by the night my stomach was getting nauseated. I went to bed, woke up at 1am with horrendous acid reflux. It felt like it was burning my up from the inside out. It was one of my worst bouts. I threw up and I threw up. I threw up so hard I wet my pants. So I showered at 2am. I got out got dressed and started throwing up again. I threw up so hard I broke blood vessels in my eyes. I wet my pants again. (Getting old and having had 7 kids sucks) So I took my 2nd shower at about 3:30 am .

I got dressed and set pillows on my bed so that I was sitting and tried to get some sleep. It wasn't easy still. I was exhausted.

So last night I really needed some shut eye. I went to bed at 10. I had a small bit of reflux but slept through it. At 4 am I woke up with horrible diarrhea. The cramps were so bad up and down my back I was crying. It was with me on and off for the rest of the night and even this morning. I hope this is not a complication from the colonoscopy. I would rather throw up any day of the week.

I have one more test to complete and hopefully the Doc will agree to the surgery. It is hard to be a good wife and mom when you never feel good.

Yesterday Giles played football against Vale, ( the rival team) . I don't understand the rival because I never grew up here. They won 16-8. Everyone was excited. I was mmmmmmm . Giles didn't play much. I wish he would have just had fun instead of insisting on playing a sport he could really get hurt in.
Today Lea plays her 2nd to last volleyball game. She loves it and is going to miss it.

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.

Giles in the Lion's Den, wait throw Maya too.

I am struggling with a decision that Giles, and Harlen, and me unwillingly have made. Giles wants to play football, not because he loves the game, but because it is the thing to do if you are cool in high school. I hate my kids playing football for Nyssa High School. There is no way in hell that the benefits out weigh the drawbacks. 1st and foremost the likelihood of a head injury is great. After dealing with 8 years of the negative results of a head injury with Maya and even Cyrus, I do not want there to even be a chance of this happening to Giles. I worry constantly about this.
The 2nd and most convincing reason is that I have lost my collective mind. The coach is an ass. There is no other way to put it. He berates these young boys. I believe he actually enjoys hurting some of these kids lives, not all, if you are an under privileged boy whom he thinks he can change your life and get credit for it. He is all in, but I guess losing your brother in a horrible car wreck and your family going to hell and back doesn't quite pass the test. He was bad to Loughlin, horrible to Cyrus, and the things he said to True were Nasty and could be criminal.
 I had to go to blue & white night yesterday. I sat in the hot sun listening to this man tell everyone how much he cares for the kids. OMG I can't breath.  I can feel the bile erupt in my throat. I am sick, physically sick. I want to run, throw Maya in the wheelchair, grab Giles and get the hell out of there. I want to get him far away from this self-righteous predator. But that isn't enough for this mom. Maya is asking if she can take stats for the football team. She can't play sports anymore so this is her alternative, not one but two kids will be in the grasp of this POS.  Is this how the parents of ancient times felt when they were asked to sacrifice their kids to the Gods? (I know a little over dramatic, and he is far from a God) but just another mountain to climb, another lesson learned, another parenting skill failed. Jail might be worth it.