saturday

I know it's Saturday by the count of pills in my pill box, no other way. I have been ill for two days now, staying in bed, Ashley Marie by my side. We have gone outside three, maybe four times and it is dreary, dark and cold. Thunder echoes in the distance as it starts to rain one more time.

Chicago is three weeks away and mentally I am more than ready, physically I have many questions that still cannot be answered.

My brother just walked in with his family and some guests. The explanation as to why I have been getting hateful looks from my mother all day. My brother Joel and his two boys arrived from Kansas City sometime last night. We have not spoken in well over ten years and today was not a time for reflections or what could have beens. I stayed in my room upon seeing them from a distance and heard the sounds that a chicken makes come out of my brothers mouth. All these years and his maturity is brought into question, by me.

I have nothing to say and feel even less and thus, write only for the purpose of a time line, no other.

approaches

I awoke to pounding in my ears, first the right, then the left and back again until the two were pounding in unison, the pressure building, telling me instinctually that a migraine of some significance was building quickly, fast enough to awaken me, make me take my medicine from pills I have been given to prevent and subside symptoms, to breathing medications in the form of a nebulizer so that I can relax my system and hopefully ward off that which sits in waiting, a migraine.

It could be arriving due to the drastic change in the weather that is taking place over a very short period of time, temperatures dropping in excess of forty degrees from the high yesterday as well as the worry the my father is to return home today, against the better judgment of his siblings, knowing that the ability to continue with rehabilitative therapy in a controlled setting, for at least another week, is something that he should be taking advantage of, instead of assuming that help that has not been arranged will find him upon returning home. The obstacles that stood in his way the first time he was released still remain, having been talked about their removal for days with no action being taken for it to come into fruition.

I shared my concerns with him the night before last and he appeared to listen intently and knowing that I was not the only one encouraging him to stay in a less than desirable place to obtain the care that he needs to gain some sort of mobility and independence, I am slightly taken back by his decision to move forward, demanding a release as he cannot be kept their against his will.

The thought of bickering and yelling between he and my mother helps my head none, keeping in mind that his sister still remains and thus it might be tame for a day or two until her departure at which point I will spend more time in the room I occupy to stay balanced and centered, counting the days until I leave for Chicago, wishing I was leaving on a permanent basis, locking the door behind me with Ashley Marie in tow, belongings shipped to a destination unknown. Instead, I will return to see that nothing has changed just like it had not changed in the years I stayed away as the routine my parents have created is theirs and anyone who walks into their home, follows their rules and thus, for the most part, this is the reason my siblings stay away as they cannot handle the stress, the yelling and the constant nagging.

Add my father's lack of mobility and his recovery and it makes for one hell of a ticking time bomb that could explode if the wrong words are said or if something is misinterpreted on either side, my mother demanding her time, my father demanding it and everyone else's too. The fact that the refrigerator was cleaned out and re-stoked with red meat discusts me but the thought that I will be expected to cook it, exhausts me and the last two months have been exhausting enough, me fighting infection after infection, having little energy except to accomplish the chores that I have to do to keep my things in some sort of order, rather than the clutter that consumes the rest of the house.

So, as the medicine kicks in I will take another stroll out doors and wait for the front to approach, a damp rain coming with it and expected to last throughout the weekend with temoperatures that will create a constant bone chill for me, something I dread before it even has taken place as I know the consequences and how easily a sudden drop as is expected combined with the other stressors I write about might be enough to put me back into bed, where I spent four days and nights last week and three the prior.

The winter has been long and the toll on my body great but at least I continue to breathe, which is reason enough to celebrate and feel grateful no matter what my body is telling me.

'so just remember...'

It is my father's desire to return home this Friday, having had two days of successful therapy. Two days out of seven weeks and he is convinced it is time for him to come home, not knowing that the same obstacles that forced him out of his home still remain as my mother made the decision to change nothing to make life easier for him, instead stating it was his responsibility to 'deal with it'.

And as I watched my Aunt work harder than any migrant worker, doing house work for my mother, I wondered why she was allowing my mother to treat her so poorly and I realized she was doing it not to help my mother, but for the sake of her brother, knowing his life here will be harder than it is in rehabilitation, my mother controlling what he will and will not do by her right of refusal, the same right she uses with me to trap and keep us tangled in her self made web of deception. Since she is the only driver she dictates when and where and anything else that has no interest to her is tossed to the side like a pair of dirty socks, expecting the two of us to bow to her demands and cater to her lifestyle, one of doing what she wants, when she wants because she can, knowing that her actions affect all who live here, knowing she holds the trump card, the ability to say no and keep the two of us at arm's length and trapped by simply saying, 'No' or screaming her indifferences for all the neighborhood to hear through looked windows and closed blinds and room after room of clutter, clutter that resembles the life she blames my father and now me for.

Life that makes her express her unhappiness, her 'why does it always have to be me attitude' as she searches through the clutter for a new deck of cards, embarrassed and unaccepting of those she has been dealt time and time again, for better or worse with my father and out of her spoken responsibility as a mother, constantly reminding me of all that she does for me as she tells me no again and again, doing what pleases her, on her time schedule and thinking little of the needs of others, expecting me to pick up the slack, the house hold chores and daily duties, reminding me that I would have and be nothing without her, as she searches for something else she has buried somewhere.

She begins another sentence with, 'so just remember...' yelling in a direction I try to dodge, a direction my father will be unable to as instead of getting stronger and more independent he chooses to come home early, a rush to judgment, much like his surgery and the painful recovery that has followed him since that morning he told me to 'hold down the fort', the morning I knew he was neither physically nor mentally ready to endure, time proving me right...

love

I greeted you yesterday as I always do and as you looked into my mirror you said nothing, responding in a pitch so low tat if I had not read your lips, I would have felt slided once again. You played this game as the day wore on. Coming and going as you saw fit, pleasing yourself and forgetting that there were people around you who would have been elated to be recognized, for you to share with or show any sign that you might care about anyone but yourself.

Instead, the energy in the house was thick, dark and dreary as the day was cold, the wind howling through the windows, providing a sense of bone chill, a chill that you had already instilled in your actions or lack thereof throughout the morning hours and continuing.

As the phone rang your tone changed and you spoke louder, sending a sign in my direction that others where more important, that my mere presence was annoying to you but I was able to see through you and beyond you to remain centered as I was shunned, disheartened and sad, not only today, but many days and unfortunately, probably many more to come, as you used your clout as the matriarch to manipulate and make those closest to you you feel that distance you evoked as you wanted empathy that I refuse to give as I know your ways too well, your game by heart, wishing you had one and were capable of allowing me to hear it beat.

Two years ago and a month or two, I arrived here to the same look I was given this morning, one I should be used to and accustomed to, but I am not as you are my mother and the love I have for you is deep, the bond unbreakable even as you try and pretend it does not exist, that I do not exist in your world as I show you happiness and will and hope and you want none of the above only pity and Pity you I will not as I find the concept sick, sicker than I am and as I watch those with superficial ties give it to you, you spark up and concentrate on the negative you call your life bringing in to question why you are so miserable and have been for longer than today or the time I have been here, but for years, many years that have shaped your attitude and persona into a cold hearted woman that has the ability to strike like cobra a slither away as if nothing happened, again and again to as many as you choose, especially me as I am part of who you are, the part you can no longer find.

The day ended with me caving, crawling under my covers, like a small child, whimpering and sniffling and finally falling asleep into an hour's worth of slumber as I awoke to wipe the tears from my eyes and to the licking of Ashley, telling me in her way that it would soon be alright and wishing that you would give that which you have been incapable and unwilling to give, love.

AT the request of several I finally am putting some of my thoughts down on paper as I have been spending a great deal of time in deep thought but using no outlets available to me to ward of the mental fatigue and drain that comes with thinking so deep and for so long. I have been ill, quite, ill for awhile now, off and on again, now on my fourth round of antibiotics trying to ward off the infections that plague me as my immune system continues to weaken.

Last week I spent three say and nights primarily in bed and was not even up to greet my father's sister, my aunt who arrived for a two week visit to lift his spirits and give me mother time she had requested to distance herself from the situation at hand, his rehabilitation moving at a snails pace, but still moving, many questions unanswered but those who will not ask the doctors the questions out of their own fear or laziness, the latter sounding harsh, but it definitely is a reality in my eyes.

I was asked if I needed anything from the grocery store two days ago only to be told what I had requested I did not need so I stopped and decided to get my own items rather than listen to the 'I feel like bickering with you' antics so often heard by my mother. I usually find myself walking even if it means stopping and puking along the side of the road just to get juices and yogurt to try and re-gain the strength and stamina I have lost rapidly.

My vacation to Chicago sounds and is becoming a reality that I look forward to. knowing my time away is well deserved and needed too. Sure I will miss my dog, but I will not be gone an extended length of time so the fun I will have can only strengthen my resolve upon my return and leading up to my departure. I am been very money conscious and am saving not only for the trip but so that I have some moneys in reserve as I find myself spending more of my money and accepting less from my mother as I feel it my duty to contribute all I can.

I enjoy the time I have during the mornings and early afternoon when I am here with the dogs and have to answer to no one, sometimes dreading the return as for some reason, there has to be screaming and a raised voice from my mother now that there is a third person in the home, much like it was prior to my father's surgery. And I realize that this is her way and something she has always done and the idea of being treated like and respected as an adult are out of the question in her mind.

It is bothersome, but it is more important I keep my CHI centered and balanced, spending more alone time in the room scouring the internet, getting ready for Spring and trying to stay warm in a house that is never heated above 65 degrees, even with a plea from my doctor to make it 'more livable' as the bone chill alone is creating a discord within my already depleted system.

My will remains strong but not as strong as it has been and it is my hope that upon vacationing I will completely re-focus and feed off the positive energy Momma Carole brings so that I can continue to live a bit longer.

The chill makes me dive under the covers much earlier than ever before and I am puzzled at how little rested I feel the following day. Its as if I never rested at all and with that, I will dive once again as I yearn for some slumber, possibly quality before I am awakened to take out Ashley Marie or my want for a midnight smoke.