CAUTION: Woman In Progress

When I first brought Milo home to live with me after Daddy died, I wasn't sure how it would work out. He was an anxiuos little guy who had never really been away from his home with Mama and Daddy. The first few nights were so hard on both of us. He paced and cried and begged to go home. It took my aunt working with the vet get some anxiety meds to help calm him in order for him to finally accept that my  home was now his home. It only took two nights of meds for him settle in and from there on, he was my baby brother roomate.  I've always loved Milo, since the moment Mama and I picked him up.  He came to us from a shelter in North MS at a year old. His name at that time was Webster. No reason was ever given as to why he'd been surrendered and we could never figure out why anyone would give him up. He settled into Mama and Daddy's home as though he'd always lived there. He was already housebroken and had just enough puppy energy to keep them on their toes but was cal...

I've got a lot rattlin' around in the ol' noggin this morning. So much to think about, to worry about, to pray over...So much making my spirit restless and my soul weary. I'm basically a mental mess. I can't talk about it to anyone so I'll leave it here just to get it out of my head and into the world...or the void, as it may be. A couple weeks ago my sisters and I had a "sisters" day, enjoying lunch, doing some window shopping at a new vendor mall, grabbing iced coffees at a local coffee shop and just doing the talking and hanging out that sisters do. Somehow the conversation got on to Sis1's (oldest sis) "ability to hear" or her intuition or whatever. She claims that the night Mama died she heard Mama come to her and say "I love you. It's going to be alright" or something like that. She said when she talked to her therapist about this she said she wondered why Mama came to her and not to Sis2 or me and her therapist sugges...

For years I had a love hate relationship with Mother's Day. It was such a stressful day for me, truly. All the planning ahead figuring out what to cook, the preparation, and then the cooking and cleanup afterwards. It wasn't that my sisters didn't help, they contributed food, but as the lone single, childless sister the bulk of the responsibility fell on me. And they're mothers, too, so I didn't feel right asking them to do too much. I did it because I love my mama and my granny and sisters. I did it because it made me feel useful and gave me a way to participate in a holiday that didn't belong to me, no matter how much Libby felt like my child. I did it because I was afraid if I didn't, no one else would and Mama deserved better than that. Before I took over planning and cooking there were several Mother's Day where no plans were made until the day of because Daddy isn't a planner. Oh, he always cooked her breakfast, for as long as I can remember. A...

I think I will always think back to Summer of 2021 as one of my favorite summers ever which I know is weird to think or say because it was the summer after Mama died. But that summer we rallied around each other and made time together count. I took off random days from work and Daddy and I would meet up with Sis2 and "the kids" (They're not kids anymore) and we did stuff. Went out for lunch. Watched movies at Sis2's house. Went to Academy sports and walked around with Daddy while he shopped. We went to the theater and watched scary movies and ate popcorn. Emmy came over by herself and we took her to eat and paint pottery. We went fishing and let Daddy bait all our hooks. We celebrated Daddy's birthday and Granny's birthday and the 4th of July. Daddy and I had Daddy/daughter dates at the local diner. We were all freshly vaccinated and threw ourselves out of quarantine, I guess you could say. We'd been apart for so long during the pandemic and we lost so muc...

 I finished a book Saturday. A whole book. If you've known me for any length of time or if, by chance, you knew me when I started this blog ages ago, you know I used to be a voracious reader. Avid book worm. I dabbled in writing fiction, I loved the world of books so much. I discovered the wonder of reading at a young age and most of my elementary and high school friends (and anyone who crossed paths with me during college) rarely saw me without a book in my face.  I read during classes, in between classes, at home, at work...yes I used to sneak a book out at work sometimes if the book was particularly riveting. I was a true book-a-haulic. I got teased a lot in high school, in a good natured way, for the number of books I'd read and re-read in any given day/week. I always won the "most books read in a year" award in high school, typically reading over a hundred books in a year.  As an adult, I loved books and reading so much I joined a reading forum which made me a lo...

 I'm still alive. I survived what I feared I wouldn't, only by the Grace of God and anti-depressants. I wish I could say that life is hunky dory, as my mama used to say, but it's just a never ending limp through the world where I'm dragging my bum knee and depending way too much on coffee shops and retail therapy to keep me from spiraling too far back into the abyss. Anti-depressants can only take you so far and the Grace of God, while perfect, only truly works when I let it.  While I doubt anyone is still monitoring this blog, let me catch you up on what's happened since I last checked in two years ago. If nothing else, maybe it will be good for my mental health to finally get it all written down. A month and a half after my last post here, Sis1 woke me up with a phone call one early Saturday morning. BIL, the brother-in-law I considered a brother, and have loved since I was 17, left her. She came home from a hair appointment the night before to find most of his th...

Well, we made it through Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the New Year. We had an ok Thanksgiving at my Granny's house with the extended family on my dad's side and then my sisters and I cooked up a big Thanksgiving meal at my parents' house the day after. Sis1 and Emmy came and stayed most of the weekend. While we were up there, we also decorated the house for Christmas because we knew we wanted to have Christmas morning there, as well.  Sis1 and Emmy came the day before Christmas Eve and we went to breakfast Christmas Eve morning to carry on the tradition Daddy and I had had for the past 13 years or so. It was a tradition Daddy used to have with my Paw-Paw Joe until Paw-Paw died and then Daddy picked up the tradition with me so we had to carry it on. I missed having him there, though. He, like me, LOVED breakfast food. He always got the hungry man platter with pancakes and bacon and eggs. His eyes would light up like a kid's when they'd set that giant pancake down in ...

As a follow up to yesterday's post... To add insult to injury, Sis2 found out in a rather off-hand way last night that my dad's dog, Chrissy, who we had let our great aunt, G, adopt died WEEKS ago and nobody thought to tell us. I even explicitly asked yesterday if they needed anyone to take care of Chrissy while Aunt G was in the hospital and all I was told was that "everything is covered." Did everyone just think we wouldn't care to know she'd died? The only reason I didn't keep Chrissy with Milo was because she needed extensive one on one care and since my aunt is retired and stays at home most of the time I knew she could give that to her. I didn't give her away because I didn't care about her. And I already knew Chrissy was in bad health and also 18-years-old so I knew her time was short so it's not like I'm mad that she's dead. They shouldn't think they'd need to hide it from me. It just really, really hurt and pissed me of...

 One thing I never really considered before my parents both died was that apparently, my only tie to any of the rest of their families was them and once those ties were gone so was my tie to everyone I ever thought I could count on.  I grew up with strong family ties. Every holiday spent with both sides. Mama had four brothers and two sisters. I have 20 cousins on that side. My dad had one sister, two aunts, and I have three cousins and five cousins, once removed on that Daddy's side. I spent every Christmas, Thanksgiving, Fourth of July, Easter, birthday, milestone event, etc. with these people. I thought we were all pretty solid.  But after Mama died, we pretty much stopped hearing from anyone on her side. Even the two aunts we'd always thought of as second mothers. I think I heard from one aunt twice in two years before Daddy got sick and another aunt a handful of times. One uncle once. But other than that? Crickets.  Right after Daddy died his sister checked in o...

 It's been a wild ride these past several months/years. I still don't feel entirely like myself but I think I'm finally starting to heal. To be entirely honest, I finally gave in and let my doctor prescribe a mild anti-depressant, primarily for the anxiety I've been battling. I had become so irritable and anxious and irrationally angry I wasn't really able to be around people without getting really bitchy or feeling like I wanted to crawl out of my skin. I'm still struggling some with irrational irritability but it's not at as often or as extreme as it had become. I'm finally coming to a point where I can think about my parents and Libby without having a complete breakdown. I can look at pictures and feel more joy than sadness. I can go whole days without replaying the last three weeks of Daddy's life. I do still wake up in the wee hours of the morning sometimes with the last two weeks rolling over in my mind with all the heavy what-if's and that...

 I feel as though the more I try to be normal the more life reminds me that I'm not "normal" anymore. I hype myself up to do things I used to do like participate in work things like group photos and pot-lucks and social things but leave the experience feeling drained and miserable. I feel myself shrinking into myself as soon as I'm around people and the more I try to pull myself out and be present the worse I feel and I feel as though the people around me are either oblivious to my even being there or just think I'm a wierdo. My friends have apparently adjusted to this new me, though, so I guess...yay? Ugh.  I got up this morning and put on a full face of makeup and straightened my hair and put on what I thought was a cute outfit for the big group photo we were taking for social media today and then when I got out there I immediately wanted to leave. And then the pic was posted and my eyes are closed and all the fat rolls I've gained over the past three years ...

 I wish I could say that I'm back and feeling great, but I'd be lying. This grief might be what finally takes me out. I just can't shake the sadness. Everything makes me want to cry. My prayers feel like useless words spoken into an empty sky. I feel useless and unloved. I'm lonely in a way even I don't understand. It isn't as though I just want to be around people. I have sisters and friends willing to fill space but it's not that kind of lonely. It's like an ache in a place I can't quite reach.  I miss my parents. I miss Libby. I miss my pre-2020 life. I long to go back to a time when I just had regular depression and not this truly hopeless, infinitely sad, yet also numb zombie-walk through life that I feel stuck in now. I want someone to hug me. Like a big, no holds barred bear hug like Daddy used to give me. I miss affection and someone who cared about how I felt. I miss spending time with people who just wanted to be with me and not because the...

 I'm well aware that life can always get worse. No matter how dark the days are, the darkness can always get darker. So I try not to dwell on all the crap things going on and move through life thankful for what is not bad. A count your blessings mentality, if you will. But some days, man...some days as I sit in my grief and try not to think about all I've lost or what and who is missing from my life my emotions get the better of me. This morning, not long after I got to work, I sat at my desk and cried because my coworker and I are being moved from our semi-private office to an open area with four-foot high cubicles and 30 other employees in August or September and I don't want to move. I like my semi-privacy. I like the quiet. I like that my desk is tucked into a corner and I don't really see anyone while I'm at my desk. The thought of being in a big open room with four-foot high cubicle walls fills me with anxiety. So I sat at my desk and cried about something tha...

 The Sunday after my birthday heralded the beginning of the end of life as I knew it. In the wee hours of the morning, Daddy showed up at my house needing to go back to the emergency room. He'd tried calling me multiple times, but my phone had been on silent because I was tired of getting texts from my friends. We'd had my "birthday party" Saturday and I had been trying to be fully present with my family and they the friend group text was blowing up with just idle chit chat. So I had silenced my phone and forgot to put the ringer back on before I went to bed. And trust, when I realized my dad had to come to my house in the middle of health crisis to get me up to take him to the ER, I was devastated. My dad has been my top priority for the past two years. So yeah I was devasted that I missed that.  But we made it the ER where they x-rayed his chest, pumped him full of lasix and decided to admit him to prepare him for stents in his heart later in the week. So Daddy and ...

Yesterday I had to take my dad to the emergency room. He's been having problems breathing properly for a couple of weeks now. Up until yesterday it mostly happened when he was trying to sleep. But yesterday morning he texted me while I was at work saying that he needed to do something. See a doctor. Something. So I called his cardiologist because he'd also been having heart palpitations and some shoulder pain. Cardiologist couldn't fit him in until next week so Daddy chose to go on to the ER. He's typically a very stoic man and sucks it up until he's nearly dead so for him to WANT to go to the ER without any hesitation scared the crap outta me.  I've been living with the fear of losing him for years. Between all his heart problems, his leukemia, etc. it's not an irrational fear. But ever since my mom passed the fear has heightened so you can imagine the state I was in yesterday. It didn't help, either, that it was around this time in 2020 that I was in t...

The hardest part of losing Libby,,,other than her being gone...is that this grief I am grieving alone. With Mama's death, I at least have my dad and sisters who understood and commiserate with me. We all grieve Mama differently, but we grieve together. With Libby I feel as though I'm grieving alone. They loved her, yes, but in that abstract way that we love people we don't spend a lot of time with. Which is understandable because she lived with me, not them. She was bonded to me and I to her. We spent 16 years together. I built my life around her. She was, for all intents and purposes, the center of my universe. I made a lot of my life decisions based on her needs. There are things I didn't do because of how it might affect her. She was--and still is--the first thing I think of when I wake up in the morning and the last thing I think about before I go to bed.  I see their eyes glaze over when I try to talk about missing her. I have felt their tiredness of my sadness so ...

 I've been so consumed by my grief over losing Mama that I haven't really talked about Libby here in a while. To be honest, I've been trying my hardest to live in denial for the past year and a half or so. She's been deaf since sometime in 2020, at least, but she and I had both adjusted to that fairly well. But then sometime in 2021 I noticed that she seemed to get disoriented sometimes. At first, I chalked it up to maybe her eyesight not being all that great but then it became obvious to me that not all of the disorientation was eyesight related. Her behavior really started to change. It was small things at first but over the past year she seemed to fade into a different dog. She was still her, just different. And it was so gradual at first that it took me a while to realize just how much she'd changed. And then she started struggling to get onto or off of the furniture, so I started helping her...which she hated but submitted to. Libby was nothing if not independe...