No More Baggage To Carry **LONG**

The very last day of 2013 is fast approaching. So much significance is placed on both the last and first day a year – resolutions for the upcoming year, review and analysis of the outgoing one - that I always feel some kind of way about it. In the past I have gotten caught up in all that, I admit. But for the last few years I’ve really been thinking about this whole ritual, and how it makes me feel. Because I truly believe that each day, each moment is a chance, an opportunity really to start all over again, I have decided to do something different… just happens to be today!

You all know that I’m all trying to be the best person I can; being honest; standing in, speaking and  honoring my own truth; searching for ways to be as authentic as I can be. And you all know that I’ve been struggling, openly here, with who I now am and what my life is all about since I began living with some pretty horrible disease that regularly threaten to take me out. But I’ve only hinted at the other issues I’ve been struggling with, some for years and years, and some are only new revelations and insight into them. So in my continuing quest to live honestly and authentically, I’ve decided to do both a brain and emotion ‘dump’, clean out my emotional house so to speak, and lay bare some of my scares, some of my pain. Some of the things I’ve not wanted to address in any way, let alone publically via my blog, figuring that if I don’t participate in the bullshit, if I rise above it via my behavior (i.e. no response), then it will get better or just go away. But that’s not the case and I know better. All the crazy and absurd bullshit I’ve dealt with, or allowed, all the truths I’ve been either unknowingly or consciously hid because of guilt, or shame, or fear. That’s a big one for me, fear. Fear of what others might think, fear of how others see me. So now is when I start standing in ALL of my truth, not just some of it. And now is when I stop being afraid, no longer give a certain group of folk power, no longer give a damn about what they have to say or think. I’m going to dump it all out so that it’s on the record. For ME. Right here. Right now. Because I refuse to start the upcoming year weighed down by all the things I’ve been holding in.

I don’t write this for sympathy. I write this for my own healing. For me to control my own story. My own truth. I offer no explanations, no insights. Just some things that happened to me as I saw/see it with a little bit of emotion mixed in here. Bear with me as I try to make sense, keep in it some kind of order and not ramble on. Here’s some of my story so far.

As a kid I was sad and lonely most of the time. As a child I felt unloved, unwanted, and in the way. A burden to be endured with little value, let alone a voice (“children are seen and not heard”). Although never expressly stated, I felt reminded of this often. I was trotted out and made to perform on demand for friends and family for various and ridiculous things (“do a back flip!”; “run fast!”; “twirl on the monkey bars”), but most always for the purpose of making my parents look good for whatever reason. Yet as a parent now, I’m sure there had to be some pride involved in those performances, but I never felt it. I was always given a majorly heavy and guilt trip, especially from mom, if I didn’t cooperate. I was never to embarrass them either, well, mom definitely cared more about that than dad. Because of this I did my best to stay out of the way, to be good, polite with perfect manners, and I was always eager to please (or to prove my worth). It’s funny how much I remember about growing up, but what I remember more is how I felt while growing up, and many of the situations and encounters that made me feel it. 

I hate talking about the past. It’s painful. It’s confusing. It’s shady. But I will not carry it with me any longer. I have enough on my plate as it is.

My mom is a passive aggressive narcissistic overly dramatic master manipulator who’s the center of everything, and has a starring role as sole victim in every situation. Everything she does is deniable, her aggressive and hostile acts are paraded as thoughtfulness. Her selfish manipulations are presented as gifts. Criticism and slander is slyly disguised as concern, and overly dramatic guilt trips her specialty. She had all this down to such a science that whenever I tried to let anyone know what was going on, they’d never believe me. It was impossible because everyone adored my mom. My dad? I don’t really know how to describe him, yet I can easily explain his ridiculous behaviors. Yes, he’s very similar to my mom in that he’s selfish and self-centered, but desperate for attention, adoration and praise. I play the doting ‘daddy’s girl’. His ‘shadow’, his sidekick and keeper of secrets. That was my assigned role to play with him and also performance on demand for ego and appearance. I spent a lot of time with him when I was little (before brother came along really) and mom hated it. She was and still is jealous of the relationship she thinks we have. And the relationship we actually have? It’s difficult to be with him, talk with or to him, and he often leaves me devastated and in tears. I believe he knew mom was a bit ‘touched’, but he refused to act – he hates any kind of confrontation. “Just be respectful” or “Now that’s your mother” he’d say. Both have created this false reality of parenthood, a fantasy of their parenting track record of sorts, that always amazes me, and for years I played along, mainly out of fear and guilt, I helped perpetuate it. Especially as a young adult and adult; actually I continued the creation of the bullshit until very recently. 

Fear and guilt is a bitch.

Both lie, mom’s way more clever with it than dad, but I think he has her beat with creativity though! Thanks to their amazing and often fascinating examples, I became a liar too. I don’t think I was as good as them, but I lied like a rug for most of my childhood. I lied about big things (I didn’t do my homework because my mom was sick) and stupid little things (the amount of time I spent riding horses, which was a lot but I just tripped it), it was more than normal childhood lying, and I knew it. None of the lies I told were ever hurtful or mean, or damaging, or in any way brought about the end of nations and corporations, but often I lied just because. And wrong is wrong, period. Blessed with keen insight, I also knew why I did it. I needed to feel worthy, that I mattered, loved. (Probably my own parents’ issues just passed down?) But it left me feeling so guilty, dirty really, and way more unworthy than before. Thankfully I put an end to it all in the eighth grade because I could see how stupid it was, and more importantly, I felt guilty and could see that it got me nothing but trouble. Because of my fear around worth, I became a problem solver, ‘The Fixer’, the go to person for almost everything; I became a know it all do it all fix it all (like my parents), and tied my value to being able to solve the problem, or ‘fix’. This helped, but I still remained feeling unworthy and insignificant. 

My brother came along when I was almost 8, and I’d like to say that not much changed, because I continued to feel the same, just more so. More in the way, more of a burden, blah, blah, blah. Brother was a laid back baby and kid, didn’t kick up much of a fuss, mellow. I liked that and I liked him, but we weren’t close, nor are we now. He was sickly in the beginning, some kind of seizure disorder which he outgrew, but it was terrifying. I was so scared for him because he was so tiny, for my parents because they clearly liked him more (in my young childish mind), and for me because I needed him to be ok. I didn’t want to be left alone with mom and dad, and in my own ridiculous childish reasoning, he took the pressure off of me because all the focus was on him. He was a boy, he was the baby, and he was sick. The seizures wore off but being the favorite stuck. And please don’t think that I’m this bitter older sister who’s twisted over the favoritism of the younger sibling. Nah. Yes, we have very different experiences growing up. Yes, I often wondered why he caught passes, mostly got what he wanted, and didn’t have to change schools (I attended seven different school from 1^st to 12^th grades, I absolutely hated it). Yes, he was and still is well taken care of. But I hold no resentment towards him. I really don’t. What I do resent is how my parents treated us in regards to each other. They often pitted us against each other (“yeah, but your brother/sister did/said…” fill in the blank). Things got worse after the divorce, I think I was 10, mom was so filled with hate and bitterness towards dad, and he was all about ‘winning us over’. Brother was still very young and I always had to be responsible for him, his behavior. I was always the mediator between him and the parents, and ran interference for him, mostly without his knowledge. I was always the scapegoat when he couldn’t have or do or go (“sorry, you can’t because I had to send some money to your sister..” which was so not true. About 13 years ago there was situation where it appeared he tried to kill himself, he said it was an accident not intentional - I really don’t know, you know how families don’t like to discuss emotionally challenging situations/truths. That was one of the darkest times in my life. Both parents dumped all their shit on me for absolution. Dad needed me to confirm that he’d been a great dad; mom just wanted to take her side in blaming dad; brother didn’t even know what kind of war was raging outside the hospital. He probably has no idea how much I’ve done, sacrificed on his behalf, yet I have no idea what he really feels about me. And no, he doesn’t even know an eighth of my story. 

This is getting long, and I’m getting weary as I try hard not to re-live most of the pain and anguish. But I want to get as much out as I can. I have to. Again, just for me. I’m so tired of hiding, feeling guilty, and being afraid. Are these emotions reasonable? Nope. And I know this. But it still exists, and I know I’ll feel better once I start getting this out. So on with the show...

I’ve been through way more than so many of my friends even know about collectively, and I’ve been too afraid to tell any one person my whole story. Afraid to let someone in fully, and to trust that they’d take care of and honor my story. I’ve not known true friendship til I got sick because before then, all my relationships, including loveships, were always based on what I could do for them. There was little to no reciprocation; even my own marriage started out that way whether he’d admit it or not. Now I’m not saying I was a poor little lamb in the lions den. Most of the takers throughout my life didn’t necessarily start with the motive of getting as much as they could. Remember, I was in need of being validated and feeling worthy. 

Anyway, I’m struggling with finding a way to transition into my horrific high school years which was just more misery, confusion, and pain. Mainly because of my parents, honestly. I was a good kid and stayed out of any real or big trouble. Yeah I did dumb kid stuff, which usually got turned into an act of treason by mom; dad usually ignored it for fear of any kind of confrontation or having to get his parenting hands dirty. During this time I was raped and molested, both times by close family on my step-fathers side. A neighbor whom I always babysat for realized that something was wrong and what that something was. I felt so relieved and taken care of by her, but it only lasted for a few hours. Mom grilled me about what happened, then accused me of purposefully and intentionally trying to ruin her life, that I was jealous of her and all that she had. I was 16 and she was 37. Dad apparently found out, I still don’t know how, and somehow my uncle got involved and there may have been a confrontation. Then it happened again but by the son of a good friend of my dad. Based on all the chaos that went on with the previous situation, I didn’t say a word. All this led to me not trusting anyone but at the same time being open to being taken advantage of. I was still so very naïve. I became promiscuous, I guess, but not with the actual act of sex itself, but in using the promise of it as my power over the guy. I still don’t know what to call it really, and even though I wasn’t having a lot of sex, i still feel

Then there’s my college years and how I wound up homeless for a time while 2500 miles away from home, thanks to mommy dearest. Besides that scary and painful time, and the circumstances around why it happened, I really don’t have too many scarring incidents to expunge during this part of my life. Even though they were trying and extremely hard, it was an amazing time of self-discovery, where I learned just who I was, what I was about, and what I was made of; where I began to uncover my true value and worth, and learn the meaning of friendship. I had some amazing opportunities, experiences, and jobs – as a lobbyist, a 911 operator, a “house mother” in an extremely upscale gentleman’s club (I learned so much from this job!), and then one in particular that developed into my stratospheric human resources career. The best years of my life really! 

It began to hit the fan when I came home from college, with soon to be hubby in tow. Mom really didn’t like me anymore because I had started down the path of self-assuredness and knowing. She could see that I saw through her bullshit. But still, I was too afraid to act, she knew it, and the manipulation went into overdrive! She’d tell me she didn’t like the way I spoke to hubby, that when he left me, she’d take his side, and lots of other cruelties like that. She supposedly gave us some money for the down payment on our house – we weren’t expecting to buy, but had two massive dogs (see malik) at the time so no one would rent to us. She was in real estate at the time, brokered the deal and got a commission. She sly explained that she reduced her commission so we’d be able to get the house, meaning she had lost money in the deal. Well she just tacked on her commission amount to what we had to pay back to her, with interest no less (“that’s what banks do!”). As for dad, the plan was to graduate, come home and work for him. He’d teach me the ropes, and I’d take over and grow the empire he’d begun, but I had changed so much that I just couldn’t stomach his shenanigans any longer. I headed straight for the corporate ladder and began a great career. I continued to dabble at his office, mainly because my name was all over the business. I didn’t understand at the time, too afraid to ask questions, too afraid to brook disappointment, then feel the guilt. He loved bragging about how involved I was, how great I was at handling things. But he never let me do anything of consequence, more importantly, he never taught me anything. Most of what I’ve managed to learn has been on my own, but he’s good at taking credit. Like how he used to tell everyone how he paid for college. Yes, he did what he could do and sent me a few bucks from time to time, but I worked 3 jobs simultaneously for several years, received multiple academic scholarships, and paid off 2 different rather large student loans while still in school.

I came back from college and all my worldly travels, completely changed. I was large and in charge. Most of those old behaviors were gone and I couldn’t go back, and took no bullshit from anyone… except my parents. I was still stuck in those old patterns with them and I just didn’t know how to break them. Then I had ladybug and got sick soon after. 

Your life and the way you see things changes dramatically when you’re told you only have so much time to live - especially when you have a husband and very young child. Everyone acted appropriately and accordingly, accept mom. She doesn’t believe I’m sick, and has gone out of her way to let me know she could care less. She told me as clear as day on more than one occasion that if I actually was sick, then she’s glad of it because it was time for me to grow up; that she hoped I’d noticed that she had no interest in helping me out, “being there for me” (once I got sick) because I needed to “buck up”. Once I had ladybug, I began thinking about all the things my mom had done to me and not done for me, and I became overwhelmed. I realized that as a mother, there was ABSOLUTELY NO FUCKIN WAY I could do to ladybug what she had done to me. PERIOD. Plus all that I had/have been through healhwise, I could see the madness with such clarity, it was amazing. The turning point was when my grandmother was dying not that long ago, and mom showed her ass. Everyone got to see just how hateful she could be towards me. Finally. 

This pretty much brings you all current. Yes, I’ve left out some major drama, but don’t want to turn this into a “Poor Angela” post. There’s just so much and I all I really want to do is shed some light on some of the crap I’ve been too guilty and afraid to say aloud about my family. I’ve taken no shit from everyone else except my parents. 

It has taken me several days to write this and yet I still feel like it’s too much and not enough. But I must remember that this is just the beginning.

I will no longer feel like a hypocrite. I declare that I am no longer fearful, I will no longer worry about guilt around my crazy ass parents. I am no longer giving a shit about how they feel or what they think if and when I call them on their bullshit.  Yes, I’ve been through some shit that’s tougher than them. Rape, molestation, homelessness, hunger, being given 18-24 months to live, chemotherapy and dealing with ongoing life and death health issues. But I’ve come out on top. And I will continue to come out on top. 

 I’m not going to get all caught up in resolutions because I don’t do that anymore. But I have started a list if things I want to get done, accomplish, explore and experience for the upcoming year, but I’m keeping them to myself. However I will say that 2014 is all about me. Me living and speaking my truth 100% fully and out loud. It’s about me increasing my faith; figuring out what the pieces of my cross are (Matthew 16:24-26) and dealing with them openly. This year is all about me doing. 

Thanks for always being here for me.

 Be well ♥

We Got A Love Thang...

Today is my wedding anniversary and I’m going to let you in on some of my random thoughts and feelings about him, about us, and just some of how he is…

Wedding on the beach at sunset in Ocho Rios

Gosh I am in love with my husband. I love him. I truly do. And it has nothing to do with familiarity due to time. He’s the strong silent type - physically, emotionally, and character. That’s so sexy to me. And I know he loves me, adores me without question. All of me. COMPLETELY. I don't have to hide. He kisses my boo-boos. He believes… no, he knows I can do anything. He thinks I’m pretty. I think he is FOINE. We flirt with each other…. A LOT. I am his queen and he is my king. He is my biggest fan and loudest cheerleader. My personal bodyguard and protector. I don’t ever have to worry. He knows that I trust him to lead our family because he knows I have his back in the most fiercest of ways. We trust each other with our lives.

Musee D'Orsay Paris 2008

I love it when he sees me struggling to make it up the stairs. He comes behind me and whisks me up in his arms, quietly, gently. Yes, he’s sexy to me, still after 22 years. And I am to him. Don’t get me started about the lovemaking…. Yeah, still. Even after 22 years. “Dayum!”‘Nuff said.

I love the way he looks at me when he thinks I don’t see him. I love how hard he works for us. Though not the best communicator, he’s tender and loving. He loves our daughter in the way a dad should - active, engaged, and concerned. He combs her hair almost better than I can, and I love the way he looks at and watches her. He loves to laugh, sometimes too much, and always looks for the bright side no matter how pitch black it actually is. I love that he tempers me like chocolate and helps me get and stay balanced, sometimes with just a glance my way. A patient student, he allows me my mistakes while I figure out how to show him how to love me. He really does listen, even though he ignores most of what I say. He does not suffers fools, believes in femininity yet loves a strong woman. Has no problem donning an apron or hand washing my bras.

In first class on an Air France flight 2011

I love it when he works in the yard, or on the cars. I love his arms. His shoulders. His legs. I love cuttin his hair with clippers or shaving him with a straight razor and cream. I love his 3 o'clock shadow. I love when he gets in someone’s ass for being disrespectful. That bass in his voice.... yes.

We’ve been through it these last several years with my health. I mean things that would rip most marriages apart, but yet we are only stronger; we love and appreciate each other more and more. He can be amazing. 

Again, he is not perfect. I am not perfect. However, we are truly perfect together (most of the time, lol!!).  

Happy Anniversary to US!

 

what do you do when he HATES valentines day?

you love him anyway.

yes, i must come out of the closet with this one. my dearest hubby HATES valentines day. he feels it has now become way too commercialized. and i get where he's coming from and i agree. really. the love you have for someone should be celebrated everyday. in many little and big ways. and he and i do. now, i'm not the mushy cheezy kind that gets all into it either. it's just that.... well...

he's made it extremely clear that he's not either. and it's been difficult for me these 17+ years with him. to be with someone i love who is violently opposed to this day of love. now don't get me wrong... he has totally come through on this front in ways that has blown my mind and also has left an "awwwe...he is amazing!" on the lips of friends and family. but you see, he's very public with his show's of love. other than love making, it's very minimal, and i usually have to initiate most forms of affection. it just doesn't occur to him...unless it occurs to him.

i am an affectionate person. not needy. just affectionate. not necessarily into "pda" (public demonstrations of affection), but reasonable and relevant shows of affection. hand holding. a rub here, a gentle touch there. and my favorite---great, mindblowing, intriguing, intimate, casual, soul bearing, matter-of-fact, "hey babe, how's your day?...well..." conversation. yes. conversation. its like foreplay for me. especially anything deep and intense and revealing..any topic..just deep and intense and revealing. but that's not him. mr. passive agressive.

so.. i got a couple of beautiful bouquets of flowers delivered to me beginning yesterday. my favorites. the card that came was anonymous, but the words were wonderful. something about being strong, courageous, inspiring, beautiful... all the stuff you'd want to be on a card that was with delivered flowers. i immediately suspected my daddy. that's totally like him!! but no, him it was not. i was very suspicious of hubby because i had figured that he had given in. after all, they were a combination of my top 2 most favorite flowers.

nope. not him.

my gut agreed with him. those were'nt his kind of words. and he would have NEVER had flowers delivered to me. NEVER.

so fast forward to today. this time rose came. and the card a bit more intimate. with talk of my sexiness, and how tinking of me makes them a happier person. that they love and admire me from afar. .... what the hell?!?

nah... had to be juan.

nope. not him.

this time he got a bit huffy puffy at the fact that i asked him intensely if it were him this time or not. "well, send them back" he said. lol!

i called the flower company and they said they'd check to see if the sender wished to stay anonymous. they did. but, the customer service rep did let slip that it was "a man" sending all the flowers. i am definately intrigued. theflowers are gorgeous. and i find myself wishing it was juan, not some far off admirer. i also found myself wishing that he gave a bit more of a damn than usual.

so, i was able to get my vday fix. beautiful flowers, sunshine, hugs and kisses from my ladybug and a card from my daddy. eventhough i didn't get it from the one i love. no cards. no flowers. no intimate dinner for two. no ... well, maybe some love making (of course he'll take that-but in his mind, it won't have anythhing to do with valentines day!!). what do you do when the one you love hates the day that you are to celebrate the love you have for one another all year long?

well, you love them anyway. in spite of themselves. because love truly rules. when you let it.

today is the day for LOVE---HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!!

be well :)

lifting the mask

The man with passive aggressive behavior has to have someone to be the object of his covert hostility. He needs a woman whose expectations and demands he can resist as he plays out the dance he learned from in childhood. He can never be angry or show anger but he will stick it to her in under-handed ways. he chooses a woman who agrees to be on the receiving end of his disowned anger. She, of course, has no idea she has agreed to this until it is way too late to turn back. He will resist giving her what she wants and needs which will set up a pattern of frustration in her and she will end up expressing the anger that he is unable to.

The biggest frustration in being with a passive aggressive man is that he never follows through on agreements and promises he has made. He will dodge responsibility for anything in the relationship while, at the same time make it look as if he is pulling more than his own weight and is a very loving partner. The sad thing is, the woman is be made to believe that she is loved and adored by a man who is completely unable to form an emotional connection with anyone, until it is too late. He ignores problems in the relationship, sees things through his own skewed sense of reality and if forced to deal with the problems, will completely withdraw from the relationship. He will deny evidence of wrong doing, distort what you know to be real to fit his own agenda, minimize or lie so that his version of what is real seems more logical.

He communicates in a vague way in an attempt to sandbag his partner. He is inconsistent and ambiguous. He will say one thing and do another and then deny ever saying the first thing. He doesn't communicate his needs and wishes in a clear way, expecting his partner to read his mind and meet his needs. After all, if she truly loved him she would just naturally know what he needs wouldn't she? He will always withhold information about how he feels or what he has been up to and you can bet he has a hidden agenda for doing so.

his ego is and can't take the slightest criticism, or what he percieves to be, and will turn it back around on his partner and attempt to make her look like the person at fault. if she confronts him about his behavior he will sulk and use silence or walk completely away leaving you to deal with the problem alone, or find a way to get back at her. a hurtful game of 'tit for tat'.

Don't ever expect him to live up to his promises, obligations and responsibilities as far as she, or the relationship, is concerned. Watch out though if he thinks she's done something to him though. He will dole out punishment that outweighs the crime and she will feel as if she's been hit in the heart with a sledge hammer. He will become excessive in his need to get back at her and can obsess on it until he feels that she's been dealt with properly.

Beware, a passive aggressive man will pull the rug out from under your life and as you lay with your head spinning. he will deny any accusations of anger you make toward him and turn them all back on you. He is a genius when it comes to appearing innocent and only having good intentions and he does this in an attempt to have you believe that he is only acting with your best interest in mind. He will NEVER admit to any wrongdoing, will make subtle ambiguous statements then deny altogether any hurtful intent. He will also do little subtle hurtful things like being late for a dinner date or forgetting your birthday, then deny any harmful intent, accusing the you of being overly sensitive. His game is to "get back" at someone he feels has wronged him by refusing any kind of cooperation with them. He will feign ignorance when confronted and will appear to be very hurt that you could think he would purposefully or intentionally do anything hurtful.

He never looks internally to examine his role in a problem. He has to externalize it and blame others for having shortcomings. He lives in denial of his self-destructive behavior, the consequences of that behavior and the choices he has made that causes all his pain. He will turn his focus toward others and all the wrongs they have done to him. He feels immense anger and aggression because, in his mind, everyone else is crazy. All this aggression and anger is expressed indirectly and covertly, and at great emotional harm/cost to anyone attached to him.

The passive aggressive man shows little consideration of the time, feelings, standards or needs of others unless it fits his agenda to do so. To him you are an object to be used as a means to an end. Your only value is to feed his own emotional needs. That's it. He will stand in the way of you getting what you need and will then ignore or minimize your hurt feelings and anger. He has no idea how to compromise in a relationship and when faced with the demand that he make a compromise you will get the silent treatment. He may be a workaholic, a womanizer, hooked on TV, caught in addictions or self-involved in getting his own needs met and not facing his own fears. He is angry where he shouldn't be and not angry where he should be. He gives away his personal power when he doesn't trust his feelings, he manipulates people with kindness, he makes excuses for those who deserve no excuses, and he displaces his angry feelings onto those who have done nothing to hurt him. He will regard a well-intended person with contempt based on his displaced anger and react in self-defeating ways. He is confused and can't understand why women get so angry with him. He feels others demand too much of him so resists in overt and subtle ways and feels deprived if he must give in to others. The man who copes with conflict by not being there has strong conflict over becoming dependent on someone else. He wants the attention and attachment that comes with loving someone but fears losing his independence to his partner. He absolutely can't be with anyone emotionally. He wants love and attention but avoids it because he fears it will destroy him. The man with passive aggressive actions is a master manipulator when it comes to getting his partner to doubt herself and feel guilty for questioning or confronting him. He's very talented at getting her to fall for his apologies, accept his excuses and focus on his charm rather than deal with the issue directly. He blames her for creating the problem and keeps her focused on her anger rather than his own ineptitude. He keeps his partner held hostage by the hope that he will change. How? He may give into her and clean up his act for several weeks after a blow up, but then it's back to business as usual.

- written by cathy meyer, and angela

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
these words are not all mine, however the feelings and experience is.


be well :)

checking in

hey there! all is well in my little valley. been a bit hectic though. chemo was, well, you know... chemo. and i'm up and ready for the last two coming this thursday and friday. so what's been happing with me lately? well...

let's see, most of last week is a big blur - really. now i do remember that my little jackie joyner-kersee/flo jo/althea gibson, bka ladybug, had a two day track meet last friday and saturday in tulare, ca which is very near fresno, about 4 hours away. HOT as HELL! it's in the california valley - all farmland. we loaded up the T5 (so sexy!) with teh lawn chairs, snacks, drinks and other misc. sutff the the two day adventure.

now, in the course of this trip, juan came oh so very close to getting my cane wrapped around his neck. i know i've talked a bit about how crazy he can be, and subsiquintly, how crazy he could (notice.. past tenst) make me. but i know know if i've talked about the fact that i've come to the realization that, in addition to his ocd/anxiety issues, he's got some real passive aggressive stuff going on too. fun. i'll leave this topic to another post. promise.

so, back to the cane getting wraped around the neck... like i was saying, he was ocd'ing while gettign ready to leave and i was starting to get sick because of it, so i thought seriously for a moment about not going, which i think that that's what he wanted. lol :) but no, i had missed her last out of town meet because that was chemo weekend, and she made it very clear that i was to be there... by her highness' command. so i grit my teeth, put my cane out of reach, and bared it.

my girl did fantastic!! she placed 2nd in the 200m, 3rd or fourth in the 400m, which is the first time she ran that event and in 105 degree heat! and then 3rd in the 100m. no 4x100 relay. i am so proud of her because this is her first organized anything, the pracices are a bit much for her age (3xweek til 7pm - she's normally in the bed by 7:30), and she's running against 7 and 8 year olds. so she's smaller and younger! go baby!!!

now, what else have i been up to? oh yeah, took a trip to the emergency room yesterday... and all is well. i had a bout with severe vomiting. just another hurdle, and i'm over it (wink, wink*). so now i'm just hanging out til round 3 and 4 on thursday/friday.

what did i do for father's day? stay tuned......

be well :)

paris, day 4

thsese pics are from days 2&3-> our first meal were tasty chicken sandwiches-the mayo was so good that i could have taken a bath in it!!; night time at the louvre museum, just beautiful; the construction going on right off our balcony >: ; a good dinner at a nice cafe a block from the apt.; the shot of us upclose when we were waiting for a bus that would never come (wheelchair issues!); and the gorgeous eiffel tower as we were walking back to the apartment.
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it's sunset on day 4 and we've been in the apartment all day. juan's been sleep for most of it and i've been on the computer fiddling around. it's been cold and rainy here, which means i've been achey, stiff, and hurting. but i'm handling it - heck, i'm in paris!. the travel and excitement of getting/being here in paris has caught to me, and i'm feeling it today, which is one of the reasons i decided to stay home today.

i'm a bit sad and am trying hard to shake it because i am in paris afterall!! but i am. why? well, i really am having a hard time putting it in words without sounding like an ignorant non traveler, whose unappreciative of being here in paris. but i'm gonna try, so bare with me...

firstly, it's been a bit hard getting around, mainly because juan insisted on bringing my wheelchair. we can't, or have been told that we should'nt take the metro in my condition (by my trusty TA friends), so we are lugging the damn wheelchair around on the bus. and paris IS NOT disabled friendly, AT ALL. and the chair either doesn't fit in many taxi's or they just don't want to take you. so it's been hard in that sense. plus, people stare very hard and wierdly at me. it's amazing in a way, in how they stare! it's so very uncomfortable. it's got to be because of the chair/cane, because there are tons of people in this city that look like me with a strange sort of astonishment and perplexity - as if i'm a fool to be "out". this morning i was on my way to the bakery for fresh croissants/bread for breakfast with my cane when a woman, in her 50's maybe, dropped her bag because she was staring so hard and in such a way that i thought something was wrong, so i turned around to look too!! then i realized she was looking at me, which i had a feeling anyway. well, i just couldn't take it anymore, so i asked her in french if something was wrong, "non", do you have a question? "non", was there a problem them? "non", "aahh" i said, "you must really like my red boots then....i do too! auvoir madame", i said ... in french. juan and i are feeling a bit discouraged about going out. and it's making me very sad.

and mind you, i speak french fairly decently, and understand and read it even better.

secondly, because of my mobility issues and how hard it's been to get around, we haven't been able to see and do as much as i'd/we'd like. for example, i haven't really been to the louvre and the musee d'orsay yet. oh, we got there fine. day one was because it was our first day out and about, and it i just didn't expect, nor allow for how difficult it would be. day two was my fault- i forgot the closing times for the museums and it still took us longer than i thought it would. in addition to the time it takes for them to figure out what to do with me, where to send me. should i go through this door or that one. if they have an elevator or not. little things like that. so by the end of day 3, which was yesterday technically, i was near tears! one night we waited for an hour, in the cold damp night waiting for a bus because they didn't want to pick us up with my wheelchair. i just didn't realize how difficult it would be to get aournd this beautiful city for someone with mobility issues. and now that i really think of it... we havn't seen anyone in a wheelchair!! they're a few with canes, but you can tell that they're more of a style statment than a necessity. so where are those with mobility issues anyway?!?!

then there's juan. he's fallen into one of his moods. i don't think he's finding paris to his liking. he's uncomfortable here. but really it's as he is in most places and situations that involve coming out of oneself, and being personable, and having to interact and communicate with others. he says it's the language issue. well, there are TONS of people here that don't speak english. here we are in paris. we flew first class. we have a fabulous apartment (albeit with hideous construction practically on the balcony!). we are literally steps from the eiffel tower in a beautiful upscale nieghborhood. WHAT THE HELL DOES HE HAVE TO BE PISSY ABOUT?!?!?!??? ok. i give to him the things i mentioned above - that it's been difficult to get around because of my wheelchair. and yes, he has to push and carry my wheelchair around (well, he's the one who wanted to bring it!). and yes, he's worried about how i'm doing with all of this, healthwise. I GET THAT. and yes, that's a handful. but we are in PARIS! A i am very frustrated with him. it's the same 'ole, same 'ole (see previous post in august), but in paris. come.... on. !!!! dude... we're in PARIS!!

ok, i've vented. i must stop now. yes, stop. because at least we are able to laugh about this stuff. yeah, he's in a funk. well, so am i. but he has a more valid reason to be in one, whethe i agree with it or not. he is just so worried about me, and that we are in a foreign country who see's my situation so very differently, that he can't even let go. ... yet (hopefully). we were on the bus, after finally being able to get on one, and it was the right one. and he looked at me to make sure i was ok. and he looked so... i just wanted to hit him and hold him at the same time. love and stubborness.

well, we have been able to do some things. like go to the louvre. not in it. just to it. we had comedy of things go on. it was open late, so no problem, right. well, i wanted to buy the museum passes since we were there, but no one could agree on where i should go due to the chair. we went back and forth thru the main hall so much, that it was time to go. they were quite polite about it though. we were able to go the arc de triumphe, but we couldn't go past the street level because the lift was broken and had been for many months. it took us about 30-45 minutes to figure this out. nobody bothered to say anything eventhough they saw i was in a chair because they were staring. now we were ableto take a stroll down the champs elysees(or should i say roll lol!) and had some discovery in between. we did make it to the beautiful and fabulous musee d'orsay, but had no time to look at anything but the toilette. this was my fault. bad timing. but then, things take much longer when you're in a chair/cane.

so far everyone here is very nice and i love them (believe it or not!), but then i do speak my fair share of french, and understand/read even more. heck, everyday at least 2 people ask me for directions-and i'm able to give it them!! {{LOL}}!! it's trips juan out. hey, what can i say?!?!

well, again. i just needed to vent a bit. i have though, reworked our last two days in such a way that should make up for the first 3. tonight we will go to a nice (hopefully!) jazz club for dinner, drinks, and music. tomorrow we will hop on a tour bus to catch everything we've missed going to individually, and not have to worry about the metro bus. then on tuesday we will spend all day at the musee d'orsay. well, at least these are my plans. we'll see!!

be well :)

killing me softly

since i've been sick, i sometimes feel like the people closest to me are trying to kill me, softly. no really. i know that sounds extreme, and for the most part they're not aware of it, so maybe the word "trying" isn't the right one to use here. but you get my drift, yes?

so who, might you ask? mom, pops, and juan. yep. them. mom, she's the obvious choice of course because her shit is a bit more sinister(see previous posts). but pop and juan aren't openly sinister, however they do know that they're buggin the hell out of me! they do things like dump they're stuff on me to fix or clean up or just plain take care of. and everything is a damn emergency! help, help, save me, save me, fix it, fix it!!

uuuuggggg!!!!


but it's not all their fault. you see, i've always been the one to fix or take care of everything for everyone. and be the peacemaker in the family. i gladly did it. because i was trained to since i was a little girl. the socicalization of a woman, i guess that's what you'd call it. i call it programming me to be a caretaker. a nurturer. teaching me how to put off my feelings, opinions, emotions for the greater good. it really was more important to care more about the other person and their needs, interests, etc. (it also didn't help to have a mom like mine! children were seen, not heard, not important). and over the years i had gotten pretty good at it. i even developed a phenomenal memory fairly young. to the point where everyone else depended on it too. people around me didn't have to think or remember because i'd do it for them (oh the irony! see previous 'health rant' posts). i became pretty damn good at figuring things out too, talking to people, just a plain smart cookie as everyone says - thank you God for that/this blessing. but yet a curse as well. most of my life has been about being pulled here, there -"angela knows... she'll handle it... ang will remember... she's the smart one... but you know how to say things.. how to talk to people, can you go talk to them for me." this shit can wear on a person. and it did. it's made me sick.

now i'm not saying my family's to blame for my health. i had allowed it, and even for a while after my diagnosis. but that was before some serious prayer and introspecion helped me realize that I had to stop all the madness. yes, everyone was selfishly pulling on me, but i had allowed it.

you teach people how to treat you.

i know i'm rambling, but bear with me, ok?.... so fast forward to last night:

pops called me on full blast, not mad at me, but hollering about some reports and spreadsheets at the office that i had our admin working on, that had nothing to do with him and what he had going on. so he kept aksing me rediculous questions about them, and absolutely would not let me answer. i couldn't get a word in at all. so i began to get that feeling i used to get when i was a little girl just trying to explain something to my dad and he wouldn't listen making me feel so very unimportant and even dumb sometimes. not a good feeling, let me tell you! so since my health flares are triggered by stress/stressfull situations and things, i snapped out of it, and told him to knock it off, that he will not talk to me that way, and if he really wanted to know what was going on, then he needed to calmn down and shut the hell up. well, i didn't actually say shut the hell up, but you know.... i wanted to so badly! he's still my dad and i don't roll like that, no matter what!

again, he wasn't mad at me at all, it was just his usual "help, i'm stressed, so fix it", or in this case "i'm stressed and i need to vent and dump on you". well no, not amymore. i can't afford it. my life is at stake. i love my family, but i will not let them kill me.

be well :)