girlymac's Xanga

Friday, March 13, 2009

Fri, 13 Mar 2009 07:10:14 GMT

Xanga has very little draw to me lately. I read my subs, but blogging doesn't stir me as it used to.

I've been down with the super-flu that is circulating for almost 2 weeks now. I have lost an absurd amount of weight during that time - enough that my dr. is threatening hospitalization if I lose more. I can't do anything but sleep, shower, and sleep some more. My time clock is all messed up and I'm unable to discern night from day.

Work....don't want to talk about it. Thinking perhaps it's time to move to a new industry as education has also lost its rewards. I'm sick to death of worrying over legislation cutting funding for my job. I've begun weighing the worth of my position against the anxiety it causes. I'm sure anxiety plays a HUGE part in my illness.

None of you would recognize my kiddo right now. She's suddenly this glamazon, all legs and arms and curves. She's only 12! She left this morning to go to a luxury resort in Bend for 4 days of skiing and snowy fun, so I miss her. I can't believe my little girl is almost as tall as me and beautiful to boot!

I realize it's 1 am, but I've slept a large portion of the day.

Many things are on my horizon, I just need to be well enough to do them. Exciting but incredibly scary at the same time. You will all be the first to know when it comes to fruition. I'm terrified writing that statement as it's no longer "if" but "when."

Goodnight lovlies.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes....

Tue, 17 Feb 2009 05:22:38 GMT

I'm trying to make my xanga more attractive so I will want to come here. I think I'm happy with this, it projects how I feel these days.

Yeah.

I'm dealing with a lot of feelings these days.....I feel lost in my own skin, so it's not just here.

Monday, February 16, 2009

Mon, 16 Feb 2009 05:12:57 GMT

You know that lovely sweater you bought years ago and loved it for a long time, then it suddenly became uncomfortable and you just can't stand it anymore?

That is what Xanga feels like to me these days.

Hmm.

His name was John...

Sun, 01 Feb 2009 22:13:01 GMT

...and he was my father. I have spent my life wondering why he chose not to be a part of mine. Unfortunately, it appears that question will never be answered. Yesterday, I was contacted by a kind person who found a forum post from 2000 on ancestry.com. He recognized my father's characteristics as someone who lived with his parents, and contacted me. After exchanging information, we realized he was the person I was looking for. My father, John Charles Groves, born 1949, died two years ago. He had not contacted anyone in our family in over 17 years. The only contact I had with him (that I remember) was a series of phone calls in 1986. We both cried on the phone when we heard the other's voice. I was to meet him after those calls, but it never happened.

Today I am mourning the father I never knew. I am so sad that I was too late to find him before he died.

My way of dealing with things is to write them out, so please forgive me if any of this seems scattered.

John was born to my grandmother, Frances Moore, in 1949. She had married my grandfather, Charles Groves, only a short time before she got pregnant. Charles was a cook in the Army during WWII, and he came home to find his wife had left him during the war.....all she left was a divorce decree and a hefty monthly child support payment. Somehow, Charles and Fran found each other and they married. They owned a small diner in Douglas, Wyoming when John was born. It wasn't until after Fran was pregnant that she found out Charles was dying. He had a fatal liver disease, and drank heavily to ease the pain from his disease. He died not long after John was born. Fran was bitter towards Charles....his selfish need to let his name live on through their son left her alone in hard economical times.

During their marriage, Charles' friend Chad was a constant visitor. Chad was also in the Army during WWII, but he was captured and held in a Japanese prison camp...I believe it was called Corregidor but I'm not sure. In any case, when he returned home when the war was over, he was painfully thin and haunted by the psychological damage the Japanese prison guards inflicted on the prisoners. When Charles died, Fran and Chad became close friends. Chad was married, but his wife was a terrible housekeeper, cook, etc. so Chad spent all his time away from home. At one time, he even asked Fran to talk to her about it. Naturally, Chad left his wife and not long after, he married Fran. At the time, Fran had a teenage daughter (my aunt Peggy) and John, who was not yet through puberty. Chad had 3 sons and 2 daughters. When Fran moved to the ranch after their short honeymoon, she found herself suddenly thrust into parenting Chad's sons. The daughters chose to live with their mother. Chad's demons came out after the ink was hardly dry on the wedding certificate, and he began drinking heavily. Fran worked in the county courthouse, and barely brought enough money home to keep food on the table. If Chad worked, he lost the job quickly due to his alcoholism. Things got much worse unfortunately....he began abusing Fran both emotionally and physically.

The details beyond that point aren't clear, but sometime during the late middle school/early high school years for John, they made a huge life change and moved to Anchorage, Alaska. Chad's abuse continued, but spread to John as well. Chad constantly belittled John for his asthma and allergies....calling him weak and worse. Fran told me of a time when John took a loaded gun from Chad....a gun that was pointed at her. That was the last time Chad ever threatened John, but Fran's abuse continued.

Sometime in high school, John met a young girl named Cathy. She lived with her alcoholic mother and was her younger brother and sister's caretakers. Cathy gave birth to a son just before she met John....a son she gave up for adoption as she had been raped by one of her mother's boyfriends. She and John soon developed a close relationship despite Fran's protests. She wanted a better future for John, and could see that he wouldn't achieve it with Cathy. Fran was hopeful when Cathy moved with her siblings to Washington that he would get on with his life, but he decided to follow Cathy. They were married when she was barely old enough to sign the papers herself....and not long after, Cathy was pregnant with me.

I was born the day Fran retired from her job on the Alaska Railroad. She has always called me "the best retirement gift ever." Both John and Cathy worked several jobs just to keep a modest roof over our heads. Not long after I was born, John and Cathy moved to Grants Pass, Oregon for unknown reasons.

Fran always told me that John adored me. He took more care of me than Cathy, who spent her free time smoking cigarettes and reading. In her defense, she always held down more than one job to make ends meet.

After the move, they struggled again to keep us fed. Cathy was never a good housekeeper, and John was used to a spotlessly clean house. The less Cathy kept house, the less John would work. At the height of their discontent, Chad and Fran decided to come outside (an Alaska term for leaving Alaska) and settled in Grants Pass. It was around that time that Cathy and John decided their relationship wasn't working, and they split up. Cathy kept me, of course....and John disappeared. I was told by both Fran and Cathy that he was a part of the Gypsy Jokers then....he went by the nickname Crazy Legs because of his height (6'5").

Cathy struggled even harder to keep things together for us - she waitressed at the old Red Baron....sometimes working until 3 or 4 am. I grew up with babysitters and became a latchkey kid once I entered school. Cathy fell into drug abuse and alcoholism....the early years of grade school were a blur of different schools and different babysitters as her life spiraled deeper into the partying abyss. Thankfully, she met my stepfather, Mike, in time to turn things around. They married, and eventually he ended up legally adopting me. Things were pretty good until Cathy started drinking again, this time becoming a full-blown alcoholic. Mike was a long-haul truck driver, so he was very rarely home and never for more than a few days at a time....so when he was gone, Cathy buried her troubles at the bottom of cheap wine bottles and whatever drugs she could get her hands on. This went on for a couple of years, but since we lived way out in the country no one truly knew what was going on. That is, until Cathy had a car accident while drunk and nearly killed one of our neighbors.

The judge that presided over her trial "threw the book" at her, making her an example of the new drunk driving laws. She spent a year in jail, serving her time for attempted vehicular manslaughter among other charges. I was rescued from Cathy's family by Fran. I went to live with her and Chad during that year. At first we lived in Brookings, but because Chad wanted to continue their winter tradition of snowbirding, we moved to Wickenburg, Arizona for 4 months. I was always unhappy changing schools so often. The only bright spot was I was able to communicate with John, which Cathy had never allowed before. Unfortunately, I never got to see him face-to-face, only spoke with him on the phone. At the time, he was living in Tucson, Arizona with his new wife and her son. We were so close, yet never got to see each other.

Once Cathy was released from jail, she moved back to Washington to restart her life. She entered AA, and insisted I be sent to live with her. We lived a hard life....we had a one bedroom apartment which meant that she slept on the couch so I could have the bedroom. She waitressed at a restaurant 3 miles from our apartment, and she walked to and from. Not long after I joined her, she persuaded the owners to hire me as a mascot (I wore a lion suit and passed out balloons to kids). I was 12, working 16 hours on weekends. I too walked to work as we didn't have a car and Cathy had a 10 year hold on her driver's license as a part of her punishment. We lived too far from a bus stop, and the bus lines didn't run close to the restaurant anyway so we walked. We also didn't have school busses in the district we lived in, so I walked 2 1/2 miles both ways to school. In an average week, I walked 37 miles. We never had any money as everything went to rent and paying the huge fine Cathy was required to pay to the state of Oregon from her accident.

Cathy and I never found a happy life together. I held it against her that we had to live such a hard life, even after she met her third husband Jack. He moved us to a nice home and Cathy and I quit working at the restaurant. I started working as a nanny and joined the drill team at school, so I was never home. Things were at least harmonious until Jack became ill with cancer. Within a year of his diagnosis, he was dead. Cathy turned to drugs again, spending many days stoned out of her mind. It became so unbearable that I ran away from home. I hid out at a friend's house until I could find someone who would take me to Portland, where we would meet Fran and she would take me to Mike's home in Grants Pass. Mike had heard of the problems Cathy was having and invited me to live with him.

It was during that year that I heard John was looking for me. I had enough turmoil in my life adjusting to life with Mike's new wife and trying to finish high school, so I decided against meeting him. Not long after graduation, I moved to the Oregon coast to take care of Fran after her cataract surgery. I ended up having a few adventures and then settling back into life with Fran. I married and gave birth to Faith. By 1999, Cathy had died of a heart attack, and everyone in my family had lost contact with John. I divorce my husband, and moved back to Grants Pass to start my life over.

I actively began searching for John in 2000. I wrote messages on geneology forums and spent hours researching his name (John Charles Groves) on internet searches. Fran and I even hired a private detective in hopes of finding him, but to no avail. I worked in government student loan collections for a few years, and even used the tools we had there to try to find John. It was as though he had just disappeared.

Yesterday, I received an email from a person who had found a forum message on Ancestry.com I had written in 2000. Nine years later, against all odds, this person reached out to me and let me know he thinks he knew my father. We exchanged information, and soon it was clear that we had a match. I was immediately exhilerated, and then struck with terrible grief. I had written John off as dead years ago....even Fran thought he was dead. He had not contacted anyone in our family since 1990, not long after Chad died a horrible death from diverticulitis.

John Charles Groves died 2 years ago. I am devastated that he chose to live his life without ever trying to find me. I spent my life longing for the father I never knew. Fran told me he was a good and kind person, and that Cathy had told him all those years ago that I was not his child. I can see her saying that, she was a very vindictive and poisonous person when angered. Fran says the only reason he would have given me up the way he did is believing Cathy. Had he gotten to know me, he would see how much I am like him. Fran says it's uncanny how I smile and make faces exactly like he did.

There are so many unanswered questions in my mind as I write this tonight. Why did he look for me all those years ago and then give up? Why did he disapear from everyone's lives? Why did he die alone when Fran and I missed him so?

Tonight, I just want to tell my dad that I love him. I don't care how his life turned out, what mistakes he made or things he was ashamed of. He is my daddy, no matter what. I want to tell him that I've loved him all my life and would give anything to spend 5 minutes with him. I want to hug him.

It will never happen. He is gone and my life will go on. I will never be the same knowing that he is gone and I can't tell him how much he always meant to me. I wish I could hug his legs as I did when I was a baby.

I love you daddy. I wish you had given me a chance to show you I cared.

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Wed, 28 Jan 2009 06:35:05 GMT

I need to figure out how to keep this lighting on me all the time....

Monday, January 26, 2009

Mon, 26 Jan 2009 22:24:33 GMT

So I'm taking rat poison. No seriously - they have me on Coumadin, which originally was a rat poison. While taking it, I have to be careful not to bruise or cut myself, as it thins the blood so much that i could bleed to death without knowing it. Isn't that just fabu?

If that weren't enough, I also get to go every 2 days to have Nurse Ratchet draw my blood so they can see how much the drug is affecting my system. I am a major needle-phobe, so this is rather like my own person hell.

I need a Manhattan and copious amounts of chocolate.....stat!!

They have HOW MANY kids????

Sun, 25 Jan 2009 17:44:51 GMT

I've been watching 17 Kids and Counting on TLC recently. I'm constantly astonished that there isn't chaos in their house. In fact, it seems like everyone is so serene and content with their role in the family. Their house is AMAZING....it's hard to believe they can make such a huge space so homey. I've seen the money-saving practices and it still doesn't seem real to me....they make their own laundry soap, perm each other's hair, shop at thrift stores......then they go to the grocery store and the bill is nearly $2,000! How do they do it?

I know it's probably awful of me to think this.....but I wonder how much of it is a show for the cameras. It isn't that I don't wish them happiness....but come on! It seems systemically impossible that a family can be that large and all of them are normal, right? I feel like a jerk writing that, because I truly hope they are the way they seem on the show. How sad that they are anomaly.....families are supposed to be happy and content.

That said.....I cannot imagine having that many children! One is hard enough for me!

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Wed, 21 Jan 2009 21:52:31 GMT

Yeah.

My body is falling apart on me. Still having 1-2 dizzy episodes daily....I'm taking Meclizine to make them less severe. Too bad it also makes me practically narcoleptic.
The IV that was put in en route to the hospital somehow managed to get infected.....my left arm is swollen from elbow to fingertips and hurts like HELL. Nothing makes it stop hurting except holding it over my head. Ever see the demented-looking secretary who held her arm in the air? Yep that is me. Doctor still doesn't seem all that concerned, which concerns me. Infections spread quickly through the body....of course she gave me Keflex which might as well come with a side of Monistat (you know what I mean girls). My body is screaming "GET SOME PAIN MEDS STUPID!!!" but I'm not going down THAT road again. If I still drank, well at least it would kill the pain right? This "healthy" road is pretty rocky so far.
Oh, and in the rush to finish a design project that was needed in DECEMBER, I forgot to take my Requip. 3 am brought me thrashing around like a fish out of water. Am exhausted today but I bet I will be wide awake at midnight.

My bedside table looks like a geriatric's medicine cabinet.....seriously:

Effexor XR - taken for severe anxiety
Meclizine - we already covered that
Elavil - taken for PM nerve pain in my throat
Klonopin - same as above (only taken when throat pain is unbearable and I can't sleep....otherwise it gives me a major daytime hangover)...if you knew the irony of that drug you would laugh
Lunesta - for insomnia nights....like Klonopin, I only take it when I absolutely cannot sleep as it gives me a hangover
Requip - taken for RLS
Keflex - now for infection in arm
Skelaxin - taken occasionally for lower back (injury from car accident last July)
Mobic - same as above

Now doesn't that sound depressing......*sigh*

Saturday, January 17, 2009

Sat, 17 Jan 2009 08:51:04 GMT

Things are a bit scary right now.

Saturday (last week) I started having dizzy spells. They weren't anything big, just a little woozy and then they were gone, fifteen seconds at the longest. By Monday, they hadn't gone away so I figured I would see my dr. They get me right in Tuesday, dr. checks me all over and aside from some pronounced liquid behind my left ear drum, nothing seems out of the ordinary. After about 40 minutes there, I get back in the car and head home. As I was waiting to pull out on one of the very busy main streets, the worst dizzy spell hit me. Thankfully I was stopped and just waiting for traffic to thin, because I couldn't focus my eyes for a good 3-4 minutes. The only way I know how to describe it is wildly shaking your head back and forth.....except my head wasn't moving. It was truly terrifying, and I had to work hard to keep from throwing up. Once I finally stopped spinning, I turned around and went back to the dr. I must have looked on the verge of passing out (I sure felt that way), because they grabbed me immediately and put me back in a room. I was shivering from cold but had sweat running down my face. The nurse who took my blood pressure said it was super-low; 97/65. I was ashen white and shaking like a leaf over the severity of the episode and terrified of it happening again. They had me sit there for a good 20 minutes, and against their advice I drove home. There was nobody to take me home and I couldn't leave the car, so not sure what my options were. I was fine getting home, but had another bad episode not long after getting to the house.

Wednesday, I cautiously drove to work, sticking to the backroads and not swinging my head back and forth (which seemed to trigger the episodes). I was fine until I stood up to help my volunteer with something, and was hit by the worst one yet. I stood with my hands over my eyes for a good 5 minutes, shaking off nausea and trying to center myself but to no avail. My co-worker called 911 and even though the episode was over, I couldn't open my eyes as the light was like sticking a red hot poker into my eyeballs. The EMTs wheeled me down and got me into the back of the ambulance, all the time with my eyes covered (mostly because of the light sensitivity, but also out of mortification). The ride to the ER went like this.....turn corner, throw up. Turn corner, throw up. Go me. Oh let's not talk about the IV line in my hand.....hurts like a *bleep bleeep*. Once the ER staff had me settled in, the fun stuff began. They gave me Valium, Phenergan, and another med for dizziness that I can't remember. Via that line in my hand that now felt like someone had shoved a garden hose into my hand. After a while, that little trifecta of meds did its job and they released me. I barely remember getting home, but once I was here I slept most of Wednesday and most of Thursday. I was awake a lot of Friday, but once the early afternoon rolled around, I was back asleep.

I cannot stay awake and it's starting to worry me. I'm still getting the dizzy spells, but haven't had a bad one since the one before the ER. I just woke up from falling asleep around 6.

I feel really lost and frustrated. I am bone-tired all the time, and it's a fight to stay awake. I'm getting around 18 hours of sleep A DAY, and I'm never hungry. I still don't have a solid answer as to what is wrong, just that I need to rest.

*sigh*

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Tue, 13 Jan 2009 19:38:46 GMT

Hmm.....I'm in a mood today.

I'm sitting here in my office, looking out at a very foggy, very cold day. My office building was built in the 1890s, so it has huge double-hung windows (I believe they are 10-feet tall by 4 feet wide). I'm enjoying a searing hot cup of java (hazelnut breve) and ignoring the ever-growing pile of work that needs doing.

I find myself wondering how I got here. Here being a single parent, struggling to make ends meet and not getting anywhere but to the next day. I had such dreams when I was young and naive. I was well on my way to achieving those goals too....that fell through when I married my ex-husband. In a matter of hours (literally), I found myself in a relationship that could only end badly. I never saw that side of him when we were dating....heck, I knew him for 3 years before we married, you would think that side would show. But no, I toughed it out for 4 years before I realized he would never change and things were just getting worse. I cut my ties, made new goals and started over.

10 years ago I was already planning my way out of that relationship. I had a good, solid list of goals that would lead me to a respectable level of status, income, and personal satisfaction. I haven't achieved a single goal on the list.

Today I want the life of comfort and security so badly I can hardly stand it. I don't want to be someone's assistant....I want to have MY OWN assistant. I don't want to have to rely on others to pay my bills - I want to be able to help others with theirs. I want stability, happiness.....a beautiful home that is MINE (not rented) where I can sit looking at the gray, foggy day and be thankful that I can enjoy that moment without having to worry about responsibilities.

I know those are selfish wishes, but dammit....I've had it with mediocrity. I think my daughter and my grandmother deserve to live in comfort and not have to worry along with me.

Last night I was asked "which would you choose - wealth or beauty?" The answer required no hesitation. Wealth was my answer.