Either way...I needed those 2 weeks because I had reached a point of no return and felt my body slowly shutting down....a silent dark cloud was drifting over me, and I know I know...you would dub me Cymbalta and make some crack about depression, but it was much simpler than that....being burnt out has nothing to do with depression or anxiety or anything else a tiny little pink or blue pill can relieve for hours at a time....its about a way of life that is burdening you emotionally and in this case physically, so you find yourself drifting mentally at work, bored on the ride home, and tossing and turning on a heating pad for your hip that seems to be aching from the nothingness....
I had last left off chewing the ears of helpless Cadbury critters, and a lot has happened in that time span....let's start with a little musing on families. As you know from previous posts I can pontificate and dissect and analyze the whole dysfunctional family concept until the cows come home to graze.....but cud is cud, and it doesn't make it any less nasty. Neither does trying to figure out what the hell families are made of...what they should be....and what they aren't...
And so it was that the weekend of Easter Marcus' grandfather Nazario passed away....first lets preface this by saying he fell ill and had to be hospitalized and Marcus didn't get the call until he had been in the hospital for a week....and by then he had pneumonia, and it was Wednesday.....Three days later I was fielding calls from a distant aunt in Portland that he had taken a turn for the worse aka stroke and was now in a coma....by afternoon a text simply announcing "Grandpa died" was the only communicating line between a scattered group of misfits....
Mind you the back story may shed some light on the whole family dynamic....abusive, alcoholic father finds God and changes life for the better once being saved....but only after irreversible damage is done to now grown up children who scatter to the 7 winds and make every effort to NOT conform to the way of their father's new found salvation in Jehovah....
Please keep in mind I am a very open, very liberal person in regards to religion...my mother and I are devout Episcopalians, my step father is a Wiccan, my sister is an amalgamation of Episcopalian principles and jaded agnostic views almost bordering faint atheist....and my father picks and choices aspects of the Anglican faith melded with hippy dippy self help books....we have Buddhists and Catholics, and holy roller Baptists....I am quite familiar with the Latter Day Saints aka people on bikes, and I truly believe we all have the same idea.
I am stealing this from Ice-T: "You are either a good person or you're a bad person". Essentially he hit the nail on the head....all religions regardless of tyrannical and oppressive attributes and varying dress and rituals all have the same sort of idea....live a righteous life, live a good life for the benefits of others.
However, this is also not a free pass once you find your path or the light or have been saved to take the high road and preach to others. This also does not unfortunately ever erase the damage done by prior sins...
And so it was that we made the decision to take the ass numbing journey to Longview because only one of his four children had planned to go....someone from his past needed to be there in his present to represent the future he left behind...or maybe I was fooling myself, and just wanted to go out of curiosity to see what people would say about a man I had only met a handful of times and could never communicate with because of the language barrier....but still sent a card to every holiday...
So we stuffed ourselves into the car and made the journey, snacks and juice boxes keeping us fueled until we hit the 903 area code. And then it went downhill. Let me start out by saying we all can find flaws in our in laws and families....its more than the ha-ha joke of the dreaded mother in law or groping drunk uncle.....its while we might despise our own family, somehow we hold them on a higher pedestal than our spouses and somehow what is normal to them, is completely utterly despicable and debauchery to us....its a fact. Admit it. You do it too....
But most of you are probably smart enough to keep it hidden in the recesses and fat folds of the grey matter between your ears...
For those of us stupid enough, callous enough and vile enough to say those things....well it makes situations like this even more tragic. My mother in law is nice. Do not get me wrong in that I can honestly state she is very gracious and boisterous and overall happy go lucky....But she is as selfish as selfish come, and being a mother was an oversight on her part....it was an inconvenience that has seemed to resolve itself when my husband made his way to adulthood, and somehow the idea of grand motherhood is an idea better left on paper...she also finds it difficult to not fill her day with drinking round the clock and this lifestyle has deteriorated her since I last saw her at our wedding....from weight loss to the fact she doesn't even know our names.....
In that single moment standing in a dead man's house to change clothes, I felt like I should have stayed at home....it was this eerie out of body experience where I was watching the dramady of another family and did not recognize the players, the lines or even why the fuck I was sitting there watching it...
That was the tip of the ice berg. I felt since he was a Jehovah Witness, and was cremated that black was not necessarily entirely the protocol for this occasion, and decided to wear a dark taupe pants suit with heels. Very demur and yet classy with a brass button top.....think a sergeant pepper type jacket....at least that's what Marcus calls me. Well I had no clue that pants are frowned upon. And so I walked into the Kingdom Hall ignorant and basically offending a number of parishioners...or Witnesses...or followers. I am ignorant to the lingo, and as ashamed as I am to say this, I was always one of those teach your kids moms that you slam the door shut or hide so they don't leave a copy of the Watch Tower at your door..
Second to that offense is the fact that everyone speaks Spanish, not English and except for my mother-in-law, his widow, wife #2, Marcus and the kids and I, not a single other family member came. Over 250 people attended his memorial especially since it turns out he was an Elder, like standing room in the hall over the intercom, sobbing, emoting and I sat there completely emotionless because I didnt' feel right....plus no windows and no crosses or religious icons of faith sent me into a catatonic state of disbelief.
I find my religion, my faith is rooted in my personal relationship with whatever that belief is and while I love the feeling I get from genuflecting at church and taking Communion, I don't feel that my personal religious purpose is to absolutely dedicate my life to the church....it seems so strange, so alien to me to live your life being told what to do, when to do it to the point of losing your own identity.
But then I accept the fact and was in awe really of the dedication these people have to their religion....I mean maybe in some ways I feel its almost on the verge of a Jonestown type atmosphere, but I didn't see any Kool-aid so I know it was at least safe for now...
Fast forward to an ass numbing ride back and then we are here busy preparing for Charlotte's birthday party....a really nifty and groovy spa day in Katy with 8 little girls who in one overnight at the Sheraton West taught me how great medical science is to have evolved with birth control. That the NuvaRing is the next best thing since the Bacon Shake at Jack in the Box, and the best part of the whole awesome fun filled weekend....2 things. A) I got to send all those snotty ass bitches back to their snotty ass mothers and B) I now have a deeper and complete with heaving sigh of relief moment because I realize Charlotte is not nearly as screwed up like these other kids....not only was she on her best behavior and completely thankful, but the crap these kids say....let's just say mommy and daddy don't want to know their little bitty blow habit, parental bickering, and kids in therapy moments were shared as if discussing the next Justin Bieber video. I mean maybe its me, but every time I wish I was rich, I have to reconsider because the issues these kids have make me happy that we're poor...And most of all it made me realize (I guess I am managing to weasel in #3) that my mother blows my mind with the sacrifices and shit she does for me, my sister and my kids....she made this one of the best birthdays that Charlotte has ever had...hands down. For that moment on Saturday sitting in that spa, Charlotte was the girl all the others envied....and it was wonderful to see her enjoy something I couldn't otherwise have given her.
Needless to say we were exhausted when we hit the sack on Sunday, and I think even the anticipation of her actual birthday on Monday wasn't enough to keep her from falling asleep at 7:30 at night.
Then Charlotte rang in her 9th birthday the next day, Monday, and I lay there that morning thinking back to that day at 1:45 am when I finally pushed the little bugger out, and remembering in that moment that everyone in the room (save for the asshole whose DNA she shares) came together...it was like I had given my dad, my mom, John, and most of all myself a purpose to life we hadn't had before....Don't mistake this for some noble holier than thou attempt at idolizing myself for having a child...I won't start popping them out right and life because its my purpose or because its God's will....But in that quiet moment in that delivery room I felt like this shift in balance, and I looked at my parents, and then into her deep blue eyes and I knew nothing. Absolutely nothing would ever be the same. Ever. And it scared the living shit out of me. And she still does. But in a good way. Like in that put your arms out and spin until you cannot spin anymore and fall over keeling with laughter....
That day was her day to shine. Because she is walking, talking, laughing proof that of my salvation. Because she is absolutely unequivocally the reason I am alive today. Because she is one of the most awesome kids you will ever meet, and she deserves that one day to be the center of it all. So many days, so much of her life is played out being some fixture in the background of everything else, and between having Max, and the shit at work, and PTA, and her dad, and just time to breathe, it can be completely fucked up and unfair that she is left out in the cold. (not literal in a CPS knocking on our door with frost bitten kid way).
It would have been even better if she had gotten a call from her father....and not at the last minute as an after thought as what happened while we were eating dinner at CPK....She spent the rest of last week waiting for a card that never came, and the sinking realization he didn't really give a shit to begin with....Don't get me wrong...she got the Toms she was so desperately wanting, and the feather in her hair, and some cool stuff...none of it made a difference. It was the thought. It was that her Paki, my dad who I have numerous times bitched about his selfishness called her at 7 am, my parents, her great-grandfather, her baby brother, her step dad all celebrated in some way with her....we all remembered...how can we not? Our lives wouldn't be the same without her..
Two weeks of no entries, now going on 3 and I don't know if I still have your attention, but if I do then know this isn't going to be that much longer....My hand is getting tired and I need to wrap it up so I can actually write about something fresh and cool...and maybe a little funny? Anyway-the week ended with this awesome opportunity, thanks to a great gal, Jennie Orellana, to write a hip hop blog for Act Badd Productions...something that seems totally the polar opposite of me, but is really part of my former drug addled self I can mesh and merge into my life now...besides, it gets my foot in the door of something so much more with my writing.....if you know me, you'll know I would give anything to write for the Houston Press or some awesome publication..
oh-and that neighbor who got shipped off to rehab leaves a vacancy in my complex and God knows I could use the extra $200 referral money to buy more birth control or feed the kids I have, so if you need a place let me know!
Otherwise....peace out, dawg....ok-so that was a half ass attempt at using cool lingo and I better just stick to old school style....so please stay tuned tomorrow when I get back on track....say a few Hail Mary's for me .....
Mind you the back story may shed some light on the whole family dynamic....abusive, alcoholic father finds God and changes life for the better once being saved....but only after irreversible damage is done to now grown up children who scatter to the 7 winds and make every effort to NOT conform to the way of their father's new found salvation in Jehovah....
Please keep in mind I am a very open, very liberal person in regards to religion...my mother and I are devout Episcopalians, my step father is a Wiccan, my sister is an amalgamation of Episcopalian principles and jaded agnostic views almost bordering faint atheist....and my father picks and choices aspects of the Anglican faith melded with hippy dippy self help books....we have Buddhists and Catholics, and holy roller Baptists....I am quite familiar with the Latter Day Saints aka people on bikes, and I truly believe we all have the same idea.
I am stealing this from Ice-T: "You are either a good person or you're a bad person". Essentially he hit the nail on the head....all religions regardless of tyrannical and oppressive attributes and varying dress and rituals all have the same sort of idea....live a righteous life, live a good life for the benefits of others.
However, this is also not a free pass once you find your path or the light or have been saved to take the high road and preach to others. This also does not unfortunately ever erase the damage done by prior sins...
And so it was that we made the decision to take the ass numbing journey to Longview because only one of his four children had planned to go....someone from his past needed to be there in his present to represent the future he left behind...or maybe I was fooling myself, and just wanted to go out of curiosity to see what people would say about a man I had only met a handful of times and could never communicate with because of the language barrier....but still sent a card to every holiday...
So we stuffed ourselves into the car and made the journey, snacks and juice boxes keeping us fueled until we hit the 903 area code. And then it went downhill. Let me start out by saying we all can find flaws in our in laws and families....its more than the ha-ha joke of the dreaded mother in law or groping drunk uncle.....its while we might despise our own family, somehow we hold them on a higher pedestal than our spouses and somehow what is normal to them, is completely utterly despicable and debauchery to us....its a fact. Admit it. You do it too....
But most of you are probably smart enough to keep it hidden in the recesses and fat folds of the grey matter between your ears...
For those of us stupid enough, callous enough and vile enough to say those things....well it makes situations like this even more tragic. My mother in law is nice. Do not get me wrong in that I can honestly state she is very gracious and boisterous and overall happy go lucky....But she is as selfish as selfish come, and being a mother was an oversight on her part....it was an inconvenience that has seemed to resolve itself when my husband made his way to adulthood, and somehow the idea of grand motherhood is an idea better left on paper...she also finds it difficult to not fill her day with drinking round the clock and this lifestyle has deteriorated her since I last saw her at our wedding....from weight loss to the fact she doesn't even know our names.....
In that single moment standing in a dead man's house to change clothes, I felt like I should have stayed at home....it was this eerie out of body experience where I was watching the dramady of another family and did not recognize the players, the lines or even why the fuck I was sitting there watching it...
That was the tip of the ice berg. I felt since he was a Jehovah Witness, and was cremated that black was not necessarily entirely the protocol for this occasion, and decided to wear a dark taupe pants suit with heels. Very demur and yet classy with a brass button top.....think a sergeant pepper type jacket....at least that's what Marcus calls me. Well I had no clue that pants are frowned upon. And so I walked into the Kingdom Hall ignorant and basically offending a number of parishioners...or Witnesses...or followers. I am ignorant to the lingo, and as ashamed as I am to say this, I was always one of those teach your kids moms that you slam the door shut or hide so they don't leave a copy of the Watch Tower at your door..
Second to that offense is the fact that everyone speaks Spanish, not English and except for my mother-in-law, his widow, wife #2, Marcus and the kids and I, not a single other family member came. Over 250 people attended his memorial especially since it turns out he was an Elder, like standing room in the hall over the intercom, sobbing, emoting and I sat there completely emotionless because I didnt' feel right....plus no windows and no crosses or religious icons of faith sent me into a catatonic state of disbelief.
I find my religion, my faith is rooted in my personal relationship with whatever that belief is and while I love the feeling I get from genuflecting at church and taking Communion, I don't feel that my personal religious purpose is to absolutely dedicate my life to the church....it seems so strange, so alien to me to live your life being told what to do, when to do it to the point of losing your own identity.
But then I accept the fact and was in awe really of the dedication these people have to their religion....I mean maybe in some ways I feel its almost on the verge of a Jonestown type atmosphere, but I didn't see any Kool-aid so I know it was at least safe for now...
Fast forward to an ass numbing ride back and then we are here busy preparing for Charlotte's birthday party....a really nifty and groovy spa day in Katy with 8 little girls who in one overnight at the Sheraton West taught me how great medical science is to have evolved with birth control. That the NuvaRing is the next best thing since the Bacon Shake at Jack in the Box, and the best part of the whole awesome fun filled weekend....2 things. A) I got to send all those snotty ass bitches back to their snotty ass mothers and B) I now have a deeper and complete with heaving sigh of relief moment because I realize Charlotte is not nearly as screwed up like these other kids....not only was she on her best behavior and completely thankful, but the crap these kids say....let's just say mommy and daddy don't want to know their little bitty blow habit, parental bickering, and kids in therapy moments were shared as if discussing the next Justin Bieber video. I mean maybe its me, but every time I wish I was rich, I have to reconsider because the issues these kids have make me happy that we're poor...And most of all it made me realize (I guess I am managing to weasel in #3) that my mother blows my mind with the sacrifices and shit she does for me, my sister and my kids....she made this one of the best birthdays that Charlotte has ever had...hands down. For that moment on Saturday sitting in that spa, Charlotte was the girl all the others envied....and it was wonderful to see her enjoy something I couldn't otherwise have given her.
Needless to say we were exhausted when we hit the sack on Sunday, and I think even the anticipation of her actual birthday on Monday wasn't enough to keep her from falling asleep at 7:30 at night.
Then Charlotte rang in her 9th birthday the next day, Monday, and I lay there that morning thinking back to that day at 1:45 am when I finally pushed the little bugger out, and remembering in that moment that everyone in the room (save for the asshole whose DNA she shares) came together...it was like I had given my dad, my mom, John, and most of all myself a purpose to life we hadn't had before....Don't mistake this for some noble holier than thou attempt at idolizing myself for having a child...I won't start popping them out right and life because its my purpose or because its God's will....But in that quiet moment in that delivery room I felt like this shift in balance, and I looked at my parents, and then into her deep blue eyes and I knew nothing. Absolutely nothing would ever be the same. Ever. And it scared the living shit out of me. And she still does. But in a good way. Like in that put your arms out and spin until you cannot spin anymore and fall over keeling with laughter....
That day was her day to shine. Because she is walking, talking, laughing proof that of my salvation. Because she is absolutely unequivocally the reason I am alive today. Because she is one of the most awesome kids you will ever meet, and she deserves that one day to be the center of it all. So many days, so much of her life is played out being some fixture in the background of everything else, and between having Max, and the shit at work, and PTA, and her dad, and just time to breathe, it can be completely fucked up and unfair that she is left out in the cold. (not literal in a CPS knocking on our door with frost bitten kid way).
It would have been even better if she had gotten a call from her father....and not at the last minute as an after thought as what happened while we were eating dinner at CPK....She spent the rest of last week waiting for a card that never came, and the sinking realization he didn't really give a shit to begin with....Don't get me wrong...she got the Toms she was so desperately wanting, and the feather in her hair, and some cool stuff...none of it made a difference. It was the thought. It was that her Paki, my dad who I have numerous times bitched about his selfishness called her at 7 am, my parents, her great-grandfather, her baby brother, her step dad all celebrated in some way with her....we all remembered...how can we not? Our lives wouldn't be the same without her..
Two weeks of no entries, now going on 3 and I don't know if I still have your attention, but if I do then know this isn't going to be that much longer....My hand is getting tired and I need to wrap it up so I can actually write about something fresh and cool...and maybe a little funny? Anyway-the week ended with this awesome opportunity, thanks to a great gal, Jennie Orellana, to write a hip hop blog for Act Badd Productions...something that seems totally the polar opposite of me, but is really part of my former drug addled self I can mesh and merge into my life now...besides, it gets my foot in the door of something so much more with my writing.....if you know me, you'll know I would give anything to write for the Houston Press or some awesome publication..
oh-and that neighbor who got shipped off to rehab leaves a vacancy in my complex and God knows I could use the extra $200 referral money to buy more birth control or feed the kids I have, so if you need a place let me know!
Otherwise....peace out, dawg....ok-so that was a half ass attempt at using cool lingo and I better just stick to old school style....so please stay tuned tomorrow when I get back on track....say a few Hail Mary's for me .....
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