Author: cmglife

Cooking Day Fiasco

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Today I began cooking a month’s worth of dinners. I’ve done a couple of weeks worth before, but never this big of an undertaking. I started last night.

Since I had a boat load of veggies to chop I bought a new razor sharp knife.  I was almost finished chopping buckets of onions when I started talking to Tristan.  Yep, you guessed it, I cut myself.

I spent 30 minutes sittinIMG_2033-1g in the living room trying to stop the bleeding.

I decided to pack it in for the night and slipped the knife into the soapy water in the sink.  I then forgot said knife was lurking beneath the dirty water.  I put my hand in to find the cutlery on the bottom and cut my other hand!

I spent another 30 minutes sitting in the living room trying to stop the bleeding.

Today, with the addition of band-aids on two fingers, I started cooking ingredients I had so diligently prepped the day before.  I looked down at one point and one of the band-aids was missing!!!  I had only made three dishes so I dug through them all.  I couldn’t find it!  I looked on the floor, in the trash and the sink of soapy water (minus the knife this time) to no avail.  I debated what to do…could I get away with it? No, I had to throw the three dishes away.

Finished the cooking and took Allison to an orthodontic appointment.  I had been sitting in the waiting room for ten minutes or so when the reception said to someone, “Do you smell onions?”

Quitting the Habit

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After drinking wine disguised in a mug last weekend I decided I should do something about my habit.  I stopped drinking on Monday.

Yesterday after an argument with John, I decided a nice glass of wine would be just right, and since I hadn’t drank in two days I could do it.  I went to the store on the way home and bought a box of wine. If I needed a glass it would be there. Turns out I didn’t need it!  Yippee!

The deeper question has yet to be asked, “Is it a habit or a dependency?”

I think it may be too soon to tell.  I’ve been drinking wine every night for the past five years.  It coincided with the beginning of my medication for Bipolar II.  I used it as a way to make me feel something because the medication seemed to squash my feelings.  Now I feel great with my cocktail (no pun intended) and enough time has gone by that I have adjusted to the new me.

Of course, the ultimate goal is always to lose weight 🙂 and that side effect will be welcomed with open arms.

Drinking in the Afternoon

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You know what I did today? I drank wine out of a mug so my son wouldn’t question me.  It was 12:30 in the afternoon.  I was feeling so depressed that I thought it might help. It was that second mug that finally put a dent in it.

I realize that the trauma of my mother dying is making me depressed. Very understandable. This may be the most normal reaction I’ve ever had to anything.

I have to get my act together. I think it’s the three weeks on overdrive trying to make her feel comfortable, help my family and come to grips with her dying. Now with nothing left to do I feel like I’ve fallen off the edge of a cliff. That’s when the  depression set in.

It’s “normal”, but when have I ever been normal?

Wallowing

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No more wallowing for me.

I’ve got a mountain of laundry to do. The kitchen is a health hazard and my appearance has a lot to be desired. I think I’ve worn the same three outfits for the last two weeks. I cancelled my hair appointment and my legs are hairy. Allison needs her mother back and Tristan should be able to ask me how I’m doing without me turning into a crying mess. The dog hasn’t been walked, I haven’t gone to work in two weeks and my Christmas tree is still up.

I am still in shock, but isn’t it time to physically rise up and start participating in my life again?

Hmm, no, not yet, not today.

Walking Through Mud

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Please excuse me if I my post is incoherent. I’m half-drunk with the wine I’ve been drinking since 10pm. I didn’t start out planning to get drunk. I was just trying to wait out my family in order to get some peace and quiet.

Oldest visiting daughter, Emily, went to bed at 10pm. Allison, the youngest, wanted to stay up until midnight. I let her stay up. Just as the ball dropped my husband came home!

After discussing the recent death of my mother, he wanted to know why there wasn’t a funeral. She didn’t want one.

He wanted to know why there wasn’t an obituary. She didn’t want one.

Why don’t I print up some photos and have them at the “Memorial”? She didn’t want that.

It’s hard enough trying to wrap my mind around what has happened in the last two weeks let alone try to experience it with someone who doesn’t understand the nuances and complications of my mother’s and my relationship.

It’s actually pretty simple to me, I loved her and I miss her already.

My Mum

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My mum died yesterday. I saw her body and the realization fell on me. She’s really not here anymore. I feel scared. That’s the last feeling I thought I’d feel. I’m a grown woman with a family of my own and I’m scared my mother isn’t here anymore. What if I need her?

Never Agains

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I am crocheting and thinking.  I crochet a dish cloth for my sister once every three or four years.  This one is a reddish pinkish color.  I contemplate whether it is a tomato or real red while my mother lies dying in her hospital bed.   All I have done the last three days is think.  I stare and think.

Someone said to me the other day when they found out that my mother was dying,

“Well, we all have to go through it don’t we?”

“No, “we” don’t”, I thought, “You have know idea how I am feeling. My mother isn’t like yours.  She is amazing, smart, funny, interesting. She makes you feel like you are the only one in the world that matters.”

I’ve been like this all week.  Anything someone says I take it as a personal affront.  Everything is just trivial now.  Bills, work, going the speed limit, laundry.

Does everyone feel like this when their mother dies?  I had no idea.  I was always sympathetic, but I had no idea it was so debilitating emotionally.  The sadness is almost overwhelming.

All those “never agains” just keep piling up in the back of my mind.

Terminal Diagnosis

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My mom was diagnosed with terminal ovarian cancer today and I want to rewind time to last Saturday when life was trivial.

We have had rocky times especially in the last fifteen years or so.  When I talk to her now in between her dementia and pain she is the sweet, funny, smart mother that she often wasn’t.  I am grateful that I can at least get that mother now.  Of course, that is what makes it even more poignant.

All that wasted time.

Stunned

Published on by cmglife

When I talk to my dad it feels like he is trying to protect me from the truth. I know he knows what it may be, but says it’s not smart to speculate, so he doesn’t tell me. He must understand how impossible it is for the human brain not to speculate when only given bits and pieces of information, not enough to form a complete picture. I know he is speculating, against his will, but he is speculating.

We were supposed to know last Tuesday and then on Thursday. All I have to rely on are quick cryptic text messages from my dad as the information trickles in from the medical professionals. In the meantime we are all looking up symptoms on WebMD and the Mayo Clinic website. Speculating.

Friday she ended up in the hospital, but was released and is now convalescing on my dad’s couch.

Monday. That is the day the labs come back.

Scared? Sad? My head is spinning, maybe I am just stunned. My mother used to be as strong as a horse physically. I never thought of her as old. My dad said he used to refer to her as an ant, carrying more than her body weight. Now she is so small and thin. Her hair is snow white and her skin is almost see through.

Our relationship has always been quite on and off. I had an old post that said how much it hurt when she stopped sending me birthday cards, but lately she has been trying so, of course, I welcomed her back with open arms.

I’m afraid she may have waited too long to come back and now she’ll be gone again.