A Spring Day at Birdie's House!

It is so beautiful outside it was impossible for me to stay in and rest.  I did some weeding, cleaned the hot tub and did a few dozen small jobs that I can't even remember.  What I do remember is I was outside and the birds were and still are chirping as if it were their last day to make such an awesome sound. Many of you are still talking about unending cold and snow so I took pictures to share my Spring. 

This is Brianna. 

 Say hello to Treebeard.

This same little bird was at Linda's house a few days ago. It flew 4, 462 km.  It did! It is has gone back again so please expect a visit, Linda. 

Our shed.  It is so big and a great shed!

The little black winged-creature is a Mason bee.  I am breeding them in my backyard. 

Chives.  They are from last year and growing again and smell heavenly!

My boy moving rocks. 

Remember last year's rain chain that I made? It is still together!

Daffodils and mini Carnations. 

My boots.  I actually bought a new pair last week because these ones have holes.

My outside chair.  It is so comfy! See the tears on the seat?  The Ungrateful Bastard did that.  On purpose and for hate's sake. 

My daughter made this wee bird house when she was about 5 years old.  I love it. 

Mason bee houses.

Stuff.

Tea light candle holder with spider's web! 

Millipede cloud running across the sky. 

One would think with this many bells he would not have even the slightest chance to kill a bird.  The Ungrateful Bastard still manages to do it. Isn't he a nice stripey cat, though? 

Hope you enjoyed a little Spring being sent your way!

The last few days I have been feeling a post coming on but I keep hesitating to write it. I do not want to offend any of my readers in the U.S. However, I have to say what I feel.

What is going in in the U.S. right now is just unbelievable.  Specifically, I am speaking about the decision to not make a decision. More specifically, there is a select group of people who are not allowed to marry the person of their choosing. 

Martin Luther King wrote this letter from the Birmingham jail.  I know it is wordy but please read it slowly and don't skim. 

We know through painful experience that freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed. Frankly, I have yet to engage in a direct action campaign that was "well timed" in the view of those who have not suffered unduly from the disease of segregation. For years now I have heard the word "Wait!" It rings in the ear of every Negro with piercing familiarity. This "Wait" has almost always meant "Never." We must come to see, with one of our distinguished jurists, that "justice too long delayed is justice denied."

I read this and my frustration increases.  How long can the right to marry a person you love be put off? 

Which brings me to the second part of my post.  

Last week I read a post about being whether or not I am proud of my country and why or why not. You know what? Yes, dammit I am!  In Canada we have Universal Health Care and anyone can marry  the person they love.  It goes without saying that there are some things that I do not make me proud to be Canadian but these two issues alone make me love my home and I fly a flag in front of my home with pride.  I am a child of the earth first and my love for all people comes before my love of Canada. The world would be a better place if we could take away all the imaginary lines that make a country and separate us.  But since those lines are there I am proud to live in a set of lines where discrimination is against the law.

Yesterday while helping my son with his homework we were talking about the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms which was written into the Canadian Constitution in 1982.  

Section 15 - Equality Rights

1. Every individual is equal before and under the law and has the right to the equal protection and equal benefit of the law without discrimination and, in particular, without discrimination based on race, national or ethnic origin, colour, religion, sex, age or mental or physical disability.  (The courts have held that section 15 also protects equality on the basis of other characteristics that are not specifically set out in it. For example, this section has been held to prohibit discrimination on the grounds of sexual orientation.                       
2. Subsection (1) does not preclude any law, program or activity that has as its object the amelioration of conditions of disadvantaged individuals or groups including those that are disadvantaged because of race, national or ethnic origin, colour, religion, sex, age or mental or physical disability.

Are you still with me? That makes it unequivocally clear. 

My wish today is that the powers that be in the U.S. will stop saying "wait".  

One Week Post Surgery

Another day has just about passed. I slept until noon but kept busy puttering and helping my kids with homework.  I cleaned the hummingbird feeder, took off the down duvet off our bed because it is getting too warm.  The flannel blankets are still on and well as two cotton quilts and a throw. I don't even know what I did all day but it is now 5:30 and it feel like I have been going all day. But I haven't because I sat in the sun as well. It was a beautiful day.  

There is so little to say after not really going anywhere and doing anything for a week.  Tonight I get to have a bath! Yippee!  I am going to fill it with Epson salts and just relax.

Normally I do not watch a whole lot of TV but I have watched a fair amount this last week.  What is it with all the crap that is on TV?  All the reality shows are unbelievable!  Why do we give these people so much attention?  There was just a preview for a show about people's strange addiction.   Fuck!  The grown fucking man that wants to be a baby?  And who is paying so that useless piece if shit can stay home and act that way?  There are so many people out there that need disability benefits and are not getting them or need them increased.  And if you want to eat dryer sheets you are fucked individual. Let's start programming on people that are not a drain on society and get up everyday to create positive in the world.  Maybe I could start watching TV if there was something on besides a woman that drinks her own freaking urine.

 Clearly I have way too much time on my hands right now. 

Commandment Number 8

I forgot to confess the most dastardly of sins.  I stole something.  A hospital gown.  When I was in the hospital I was wearing a gown and it was so comfy!   So I stole it. Actually, I got my husband to get a clean one and that is the one I stole.  At home I wear pyjamas.  There hasn't been a nightie in my night time attire in over 20 years. The one I stole wraps all the way around so my bum doesn't hang out and because I am not very tall it goes to my shins.  I had every intention of returning it but now I think I might just keep it.  Or not.  Guilt will make me give it back.

Yesterday we went to the bakery and I got some chocolate hot cross buns.  Whoever decided to put chocolate in hot cross buns deserves to be nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize. Be it either in chemistry or medicine, I don't care but they are good enough to change the world. I hope they ate some before the ruling in the U.S. Supreme Court today.  

Today I planned to stay in my pyjamas  hospital gown all day but I remembered I have to take my son to an appointment   It is probably for the best because it is after 2:00 and I feel very gross and lazy.  Normally I don't have a problem with taking it easy but I have always been one to at least get dressed at some point during the day.

My dad brought over my papa's WW 2 medals and I have looked up what they all mean but there is one that has me stumped. It was given after the war was over but I am not sure what the reason.  Will have to keep looking.

I am going to write a quick post because my boy is waiting for his computer.  

Feeling better by increments. Today I got my broken computer ready for shipping, went to the dollar store to get Easter and Birthday cards for the people I love and then to the bakery for chocolate hot cross buns and other goodies.  I am totally bushed now.  And you know who just showed up? My fucking Aunt Flo.  God, I hate her. She is a moody bitch and shows up at the most inopportune times. Never invited. What kind of bitch starts showing up when you are 12 and drops by every month for the next 40 or so years?  She always wants chocolate when she is here.

Today I thought it a good idea to go and get a few groceries.  My daughter came along and did all the lifting so I thought I would be fine.  It was a terrible idea!  By the time I got to the front door of the grocery store I was tired.  Anyway, we grabbed a hundred dollars worth and I very glad to be home.  What was I thinking?

My kitchen sink is clogged.  I feel sorry for it because being backed up is a drag.

Had a 2-hour nap and could have kept sleeping and sleeping and sleeping.  Need to have a shower.  I have had a shower everyday since surgery but I stink.  What is up with that?

My bottom hurts so I have invented a little way of sitting on my lower back with my legs stretched out on the ottoman.  Fuck, I look so damn sexy. Just need to release some gas and my husband will want to have sex with me.

God, I am so boring. I have nothing to say.  Instead I will tell what my kids did today. Pulled the damned invasive ivy.  Swept the carport. Cleaned the driveway of pinecones.  Swept the deck. Plunged a sink. Made dinner. Filled the bird feeder.  

OK, I am going to go have a shower to remove the stench. 

Nothing in There for Six Weeks

I am so bored.  My ass hurts.  I have to pee every 20 minutes.  Taking a shit has become blogging fodder.  My hair needs to be washed.  Last night I spent about 30 minutes trying to decide if eating a banana would help with constipation or make me more constipated. 

Outside it is a gorgeous sunny day and I am was going to try to go out in it for a bit. Spring is trying her hardest to show.  Knowing the weather around this corner of the earth (the Pacific Northwest) we are in for a lot more rain but for now I will enjoy a momentary lapse.  

Well, after I wrote that paragraph my feet got kicked out from under me and I had to go back to bed.  Now I am beginning to see why everywhere else I would be kept in the hospital for 2 - 4 days.  Even though Canada has Universal Health Care they try to save money in other nifty and non-patient centred cost-saving measures. It seemed like a good idea to get dressed this morning but then I got really, really tired and could not find the energy to get undressed. Instead I rolled myself back into bed and tried to read but the book was too heavy to hold so I went to sleep instead. 

 And what is with being weepy after surgery?  I feel all lonely and sad.  I am being super clingy on my husband who must be getting sick of me by now.  

Oh, this was funny.  As I was getting ready to go home my gyneologist gives my husband a knowing look and says. "Nothing going in there for the next six weeks"!  Ha!  

The Other Dirty Deed is Done!

Birdie is thrilled to announce that she produced a decent sized shit this morning.  Giddy-up! The rest of the day I slept because it was truly an exhausting ordeal.  The medication I am on is nasty and I can't decide if I would rather be in pain or totally out of it.  I actually prefer the pain but there comes a time when I want to sleep. 

I am still on my son's computer because mine is broken.  What the hell is a mother board?  I don't know and I don't really care but it needs to be replaced to the tune of $313.59.  meh The other option is getting a whole new laptop but I figure this is cheaper.

When I was in the hospital I wrote a blog post on the back of part of my care plan but now I realize it is the most boring post ever.  I sang praises to the nurses and doctors.  Oh, I forgot! I was also very happy to have a working TV and telephone.  Apparently my extended insurance paid for it.  It was even nicer to be sharing my room with a woman because there are times when you just don't want to have a boy anywhere in the vicinity.  There were two boy nurses but they were so nice and professional that I didn't even think about it.  It was more than a little strange to be in the hospital bed than being out of it.  Normally I am the one caring for the person in the bed. I was very aware of how much I needed done for me.  I wasn't allowed to get out of bed so I was stuck having to ask for everything.  At one point I was very aware of what a pain in the ass I was being.  Oh, well.  Now I am home and being a pain in the ass here.  

That is all for now.  Time to read what has been going on in blogland.  Thanks for all your funny and loving comments. xo

I am home and did not die!  Yippee!  There are far too many good books to read and gardening to do to want to die.  Surgery went just fine.  I guess there were some problems because it took 2 1/2 hours instead of 1 1/2.  I should have been out of recovery at 2:00 but was there until 5:00 because of a miscommunication from my gynecologist.  When I finally got to the floor I was famished and at the entire meal which consisted of a piece of chicken a little bigger than my thumb, 1/4 cup of corn and 1/4 cup of white rice.  I was supposed to have blueberry loaf cake but got ice cream instead.  I was still so hungry so my husband brought up Chicken Pot Pie.  
I will write more of my adventures later.  The most exciting part of the last two days was being able to pee!  Now I just a bowel movement and then I can be completely happy.  That part is stressing me out because it is big deal when it comes to taking a shit after surgery.  
At the moment I am using my son's laptop so I will catch up on your blogs soon.  xoxo

A Post Before the Reorganization of the South of Birdie

Now, isn't that a title?  Surgery tomorrow at 9:45 a.m.  Check in at 8:15. I can't say that I am not a little nervous.  I want my mom.  As in MOMMY! 

Went for a drive today and I spent a lot of money on books. A lot of money.  The last 5 days I have spent over $150.00. My excuse is I am going to be laid up for 6 weeks but as an reader knows, it is just an excuse. 

My computer is back in the repair shop so right now I am using my husband's dinosaur that takes up half the room.  OK, not half the room or even close but it is not my laptop.
  
My skin is all dried up and itchy as a dog with a flea infestation.  The hospital gave me this awful smelling soap and it has removed all moisture from my skin.  I have to do it again in the morning before I go into the hospital.  There are probably no antibacterial properties at all to the soap.  It likely works on the premise that nothing can live where there is no moisture.  

Earlier I took a picture of the Ungrateful Bastard being nice and sleeping on my lap but he took off like a cat on a hot tin roof as soon as he heard that the canned cat food was being served.  This week I went to Costco and bought him a big ass bag of cat kibble that needed a fork lift to move but is that good enough for Norbert?  Yeah, no.  Evev if he even suspects there is a less than a weeks worth of food in his dish he starts  to whine and howl. 

OK, I am off to bed.  Need to take a few an Ativan.  Will post when I get home from the hospital on Thursday or Friday. Because I am a true hypochondriac I am thinking I may die during surgery but I hope not even though I didn't want to live about a month back.  

Gardening Time!

 The last two days have been glorious!  The sun is shining, the sky is blue and the earth is warming up.  I have been digging up invasive bluebells by the bucket load.

  And the worms!  The are so wiggly and wonderful! 

 And do you like my boots?  They have holes in them but they are my gardenin' boots.  And then there is the sweater.  My gardenin' sweater. 

Another cat  photo bomb.  Swe all the bluebells to the left? They whole garden was full but they are all gone now!  Yay me!

Today we had a professional in to give my tree (Brianna) some love.  She was startled by the chainsaw but is happy with her new look. Actually Brianna is her own tree but I call her mine. 

Also today.... I got my daughter's new contact lenses, cleaned the bathroom, did two three loads of laundry, picked up my laptop at the repair shop, went to Costco, got my eyebrows waxed, got my bangs trimmed, mailed a package, got my daughter some tiger balm and had a visit with my dad.  (Note - it was not my dad that died but my papa, my grandfather.)  I am off to make dinner!  

  

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jog

Home again from the Gordon Lightfoot concert.  It was excellent but a little subdued.  He doesn't appear to be well.  He appeared to be unwell with perhaps a cold.  Or maybe I just noticed because I work a lot with the elderly.  If I were to write a sentence in a medical communication I would say, "Patient is pale and appears listless. Not overly talkative today. May be getting a cold. Please monitor." But he can still sing for a man of 74 and it was a great evening.  His music is the type that speaks to your soul and I had tears in my eyes at more than one point. Here are some pictures. 

Bonus points if you know who this is.

If You Could Read My Mind, Love

Well, I took more pictures but they didn't turn out too well.  I don't usually take a lot of pictures at concerts because I like to be in the moment.  Here is a picture on Norbert.  He had just watched a program on PBS on ring-tailed lemurs and liked how they hook their tales around stuff.

This is me looking less disheveled than I usually do.  I find it weird that I walk around thinking I look OK then I see a picture of myself and realize, not so much. 

We went out for dinner and I had Yorkshire pudding that was almost the size of my head.  Add a Phillips Chocolate Porter and YUM!

Here is a picture of my papa. He was about the age my own boy is now.  (17/18) Getting ready to go off to a war that he would never talk about after he returned home.  He was injured but refused to talk about it. I am told though that he was very proud of this car. 

And it is so nice to be home with my husband to my kids and the cats and my space on the love seat.  Dinner is cooking and I am content. 

Here I am in Vancouver.  North Vancouver to be specific.  Gordon Lightfoot in just under 4 hours.  I have been awake since last night at 6:30. It would have been a good idea to have a nap but I had a cup of coffee earlier and now I can't nap so I will end up being awake for about 30 hours after all is said and done.  And because I am so tired I have nothing witty or interesting to say.  The humour bank is empty.  Empty!


OK , here is a story instead. When I was in kindergarten and up to grade 3,  two of my best friends were boys.  One of the boys name was Kamaljeet.  Kamaljeet was from India and used to go on trips and bring back peacock feathers for the entire class.   He and I used to hide inside the classroom while the entire class was sent outside.  We would hide under a huge orange desk and hold hands while we giggled together. His skin was very brown but I never noticed.  My other best friend was a boy that would forget to wear his shoes home even in the pouring rain.  He loved to lay on his tummy and spin and spin and spin on his desk.  Bobby was a slow learner.  I never noticed.  Both boys moved I guess because I don't remember them after grade 3 and neither of them are in my class pictures.  What was so beautiful back then was not even noticing someone was different.   Life back then was so pure.  Kamaljeet was just a boy that I later noticed had brown skin and Bobby was just a boy that taught me how to spin on my tummy on top of my desk.  (It was really fun!) What I wouldn't give to go back to those days when my eyes and ears were clean and had not been shown that people are different.  Who did I learn the differences later on?  Not sure to be honest.  It wasn't at home because I don't  remember a single racist or unkind word about anyone in my home.   Was it the teacher that sharply reprimanded Bobby for his glee and silliness?  Was it other school children that called Kamaljeet a Paki? Oh, that word even hurts to write.  

As an adult I am not without my own prejudices   If I find out someone is on welfare and has the ability to work I have a lot to say and it is mean, nasty and judgmental.  There are Vietnamese in my community that I judge with one stroke of the brush. Here is the thing.   I don't want to be this way but at the same time my self-righteousness comes out  and I feel entitled to my beliefs.  I am also very ashamed because love for all starts HERE my friends.  It starts here.  

Stuff

A bit of sad news.  My Papa (Grandpa) died on Monday.  It is not really sad because he was 90 and he had dementia.   Every time my dad went to visit him he asked how my mom was because he would forget that she had died.  My dad would always tell her a different story about what she was up to but never that she had died.  This was my suggestion because I think it is cruel to keep telling a person with dementia things like that. I once got in an argument with a religious person who thought it is always wrong to lie and thought we should keep reminding him every time he asked about my mom.  Anyway, he had a good long life.  He was a great man and great Papa.   All the nurses where he lived adored him because he was so kind and sweet.  

Well, it is one week until surgery.  Yesterday I went to the pre-admission clinic.  The nurse took almost an hour to tell me all about the surgery.  This surgery is way more complicated than I thought.  I was thinking it would be a bit of a breeze but apparently not. meh 

Right now I am watching an obviously repeat program about the earth ending on 12/12/12.  I bet the people who dedicated their lives to this belief feel pretty stupid now.

Oh, I forgot to mention this.  My therapist doesn't think I am angry but just irritable   Ha!  I find this amusing.  But it is also the truth.  So many things piss me off.  She says irritability is a sign of depression.  I thought I knew a lot about depression but I didn't know that irritability was a sign.  So I am kind of like the Incredible Hulk.  Everything is fine and dandy until I get annoyed. She suggested I try meditating so I am doing  21-day meditation challenge. It has already started but you can start now on day one. Anyone want to join me? 

What I Have Been Thinking About the Last 24 Hours.

Here is a list of shit that has crossed my mind during the last 24 hours.

• Tonight I get to work one less hour!  If you are reading this don't forget to set your clocks forward an hour.  
• When I was growing up my brother and I would attempt to play board games like Monopoly.  We never finished a single game because they always ended up with game pieces flying and the board being flipped. I always ended up crying.  Some of my best memories are of running to my room and slamming my door. 
• My dad used to let us have water fights in the house.  When my mom would get home from work she would be really impressed at how clean all the floors were.
• I used to have a dog named Alex.  He was a poodle and weighed in at about 10 pounds.  Alex regularly picked fights with dogs much larger than him.  One time he got in a fight with two German shepherds that ripped him in half.  Like one half in the front yard and the other half down the street.  The dog was fucking immortal because the vet sewed the two halves back together.  I shit you not.  Every single picture we have of him he is in some sort of cast or bandage.  We ended up "sending him to live on a farm" when he was like 30 years old and he smelled like rotting death.  He was blind and could barely walk but still liked fighting other dogs so we didn't think he needed to go before that. 
• I had another dog named Roxy that was a small mixed breed that hated to be inside.  It was like panic attack for a dog when we brought her in.  She wanted to be outside even in the the dead of winter.  Her fur grew in really, really thick and she slept in a basket in the garage. One day my dad accidentally ran over her with his truck because (obviously) she wasn't very smart and didn't know enough to move out of the way.  Her eyeball came right out of her head.  The vet (who made a lot of money off our family) sewed it back in but she was never the same.  One week when she got old my dad was going to take her to live on a farm too but instead she keeled over dead.  When my dad found her the next morning all four of her legs were sticking straight out.  I think she must have been just standing there looking around at shit with her one working eye and bam! she just tipped over dead. I kind of didn't like patting her when she was alive because she smelled like fucking death and you couldn't wash the reek off. Patting her would induce the gag reflex.  Her fur was all oily and shit too so it not only reeked but it felt gross. 
• Speaking of dogs going to live on a farm.  My cousins had a St. Bernard named Heidi that went to live on a farm. My mom told me so.  I wasn't until I was about 35 that I finally figured it out.  Then again I believed in Santa until I was 19 so that is not saying much.  
• My tongue hurts in one spot.  It is probably cancer.  Every time I have an unexplained ailment, (which is almost everyday) I think it is cancer.  Why? Because I am a hypochondriac   If you think you are a hypochondriac but don't think every sickness you have is cancer than you are not a true hypochondriac. 
• When I was growing up we had a cat that my mom got for me and my brother after she divorced my dad.  It was yet another animal in the line of pets that didn't work out as planned.  One day my brother and I were eating breakfast and we heard all this scratching at the back door. (Now keep in mind that I was a terrified child to begin with and that peed my pants almost daily. The fridge coming on scared me as well at the toaster and the doorbell.)  Anyway, we heard all this scratching and of course we looked and the cat had crawled up and was looking at us through the window saying, WTF bitches, let me in! I totally freaked the hell out which sent my brother into a fucking panic and then he started to cry. Meanwhile the cat is still staring thorough the window all confused and shit.  My mom came running in probably guessing a murder was in the house. (Which wasn't too far from how she thought every day. She was convinced that we were all going to be murdered for real at some point. I think she was a little disappointed when she ended up dying of cancer because I know it would have been the high point of her life to be on Unsolved Mysteries or America's Most Wanted as the victim of a serial killer.) ANYWAY...the cat was still hanging from the door and was watching all this shit go down until one us opened the door and let her in. I am not kidding at all when I say one of my clearest childhood memories is that scratching at the door and her face staring at us. She didn't get to go live on a farm because she got ran over by a car. 
• Right now I am wondering if I have bi-polar because last week I wanted to find a lady-like way of checking out but now I am feeling mostly happy.  I think it is because I made a clear and definite decision to not go back to the grief support group.  I generally hate people and being in a group makes me feel awkward. To be truthful being around any adult besides my husband makes me feel awkward.  Besides it is kinda fucked up to want to go to a group where people talk about the worst shit that could possibly happen to anyone.  I will miss the cookies though.  I bet most people keep going for the cookies. 
• Another dog story.  When I was a grown up I bought a poodle that I thought would be a kick-ass dog like Alex. I named her Cricket. I fucking hated her so much.  I would take her outside to go to the bathroom but she refused to go.  Back inside she would go and into her crate.  Fifteen minutes would pass and I would take her out and again, nothing.  She would just stand there watching birds or the grass grow.  Fuck if I know.  This would go on all day until I felt like shit for locking her in a crate for 18 hours a time. The second I came back in the house from 75th time outside she would run and drop a load on my bed.  Sometimes I didn't know and would lay in it.  One time she crapped in my son's dresser drawer. I finally had enough after about a year and was going to take her to the rescue agency.  My mom freaked out because you never, ever, ever give up on a pet but I couldn't handle it one more day.  My mom decided to take her. The dog shit on her bed that night and my mom laid in it.  She phoned me and freaked out trying to imply that it was my fault.  (I thought it was the funniest thing ever.) She had that damn dog for about 15 hours then gave it to one of her friends who ended up thinking she was the best dog ever. Which is a lot like ex-husbands.  I think my ex-husband is a dipshit but his new wife thinks the sun rises and sets by him. 
• Ten days until surgery. As I have mentioned it is being done intra-vaginally. (Fuck off of you think that is TMI, it is my blog douche bag.) Strangely, I am really looking forward to the surgery because I am sick of pissing myself when I fart and being either constipated or having a dump come on and having .05 seconds to get to a toilet.  

Ah, here I am one post therapy session and feeling a whole lot better.  I didn't realize how much the grief support group was dragging me down.  In retrospect, I should have realized that it was not going to work for me because for one, I am not a group person. Two, even though I am never going to be over the death of my mom, I realize my feelings are not really directly related to her dying and death.  It is the ripples that it has created.  Yes, I am still miss her and a part of me died when I had to watch her suffer and die but that is not what is causing all the feelings of anger I am dealing with right now.  Now I am dealing with being very sad at how troubled so many people are and the dismal place the world is in. Sadness leads to anger.  For instance, I think that the Higher Power that is running this planet is not doing a very good job.  Yeah, yeah, yeah free will and all that shit but I think free will is a bad idea.  Anyway... I will work through this.  At least I hope I can because my feelings are very deep and intense.  Will see. 

Leonard Cohen was great.  I am adding him to Men That I Love list.  The list includes my husband and the Guy in the Puce Sweater From the Bookstore.  I would have married him because he totally rocked that puce sweater.  He looked like a university student that must have been the ultimate nerd in high school. He had dorky glasses and I think he may have forgot to brush his hair that morning because his curls were all plastered to one side of his head.  Seriously, I fell in love with him and told my husband so.  

Next week we are going to see Gordon Lightfoot.  That will be one more thing off my Bucket List.  After that will be my surgery on the 20th.  I am totally looking forward to having it because I need some time off work.  Give me an intra-vaginal surgery that is going to be incredibly painful just to get some time off work!  Bring it on. 



  

Off to a Therapist I Go

I called and made an appointment to see a therapist yesterday and though I am considered, "severely depressed", (34/50) she thinks that I am not beyond help.  I have another appointment next Tuesday.  She gave me some things to do but I am too tired to write them all out right now. She did suggest listening to some relaxation music when going to bed.  This is something I used to do years ago but it kept my ex-husband and my now husband awake.  So today I bought an MP3 player so I can listen to relaxing music.  I know for sure this works because when I work nights I listen to music when I come home and sleep during the day.

Tomorrow my husband and I are going to see Leonard Cohen in Victoria  It sounds ungrateful but I am not really excited about going because it is so much effort to just get out of bed in the morning.  My husband knows I get overwhelmed very easily and so we are planning accordingly.  It is really important right now that I don't overdo it and stay in a stable environment.  That means no loud restaurants.  No shopping in busy places. Going to bed at a decent hour and not getting up too early.  One good thing about having reoccurring anxiety and depression is you get to know your triggers and I know them all well.  The other things the therapist suggested is to stop going to my grief support group.  Last Sunday I didn't go and was about 90% decided not to go back anyway but it is nice to have it confirmed.

And as always, I want to thank all of you for your comments. I want to reply to each of them individually but it is a little too much effort right now.  Know that I love you and your words keep me going.  xo

This week I have been reading a book called, Shoot the Damn Dog.  First of all, it is excellent.  The author writes brilliantly.  One thing that she says that stood out is asking for help before you slide into the pit. But I don't know how to tell anyone that I feel like I am on the very edge of a breakdown.  Every day I get up, go about my day, take care of my kids. get groceries, cook, go to work etc but I feel at any moment I am about to fall (jump?) into the pit.

The damn grief support group has triggered this latest episode.  This week I was supposed to write a fucking letter to my mom. Seriously?  I can't do that.  I just can't.

Dear Mom,

The entire world has fucked up since you left. Dad is doing drugs now. You know the man that has always been a totally devoted family man? He never called me on my birthday last week or on (my son's/his grandson's) birthday this week.  To be honest I don't even know where he is right now. Somewhere in California. 

Since you died I don't know what to believe or think or feel. It has been 17 months and I am angry every single day. It is not even about the fact that you are dead but the ripples it created. But it is also about the fact that you are dead.

So, everyday is getting a little bit worse and I can't get the words past my throat to even tell (my husband). If you read this honey, I am going downhill really fucking fast. My panic attacks are the worst. Paralyzing.   What is that all about, you ask? Well, I am going to hell because God is pissed off at me because I am a sinner. Sinners go to hell and burn for eternity. Yes, either I am going to hell or I am not but I won't know until I die and there is nothing anyone can do to convince me otherwise. Jesus hates me this I know, for the Bible tells me so. 

I come home from work and I lay awake in bed in fear and I cry and cry.  My stomach is always hurting because it is in a knot. My shoulders and neck hurt all the time. I can't breathe for fear. My anger hums around me like a broken appliance. Always humming. Not noticed until I do and then it makes me feel like I am going to go completely mad once and for all. 

Love,
Birdie

PS- How is the being dead going?