Wednesday, 9 February 2011

Momma Said There'd be Days Like This

Yeah, yesterday was one of those days. It didn't start out that way, but it just seemed to snowball out of control so that, by the end of the day, I was bawling my eyes out in bed. I don't know if it's hormones (mine seem to be going nuts), something in the air, or just a build up of things that exploded into, well, a forty-five minute cry.

Looking back now, I think it was more of a build up. For the past couple of days, I've been feeling dissatisfied. It's been a long time since I've been in a funk, disappointed that I never became the famous movie star/singer that I'd dreamed of being as a kid, the one I moved to Los Angeles to be. Not that I don't love publishing. I do, but (and, yes, there is a "but") my first dream was acting/singing, and then I was going to conquer the publishing world. I was going to be a household name. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Sorry. I couldn't help myself.

Maybe the explosion was building since the morning when my daughter's teacher scolded me for not having my daughter in line in the morning instead of waiting for the kids to walk to class. (The school makes the kids line up on the black top and wait to go into the classroom. I totally disagree with this. What the purpose is to make them stand for 10 minutes before going into class is, I have no idea. But, most mornings, we are lucky to make it before the kids file into class. And... this is another rant. The stupidity of some of the shit they do at school.) Anyway, I watched my daughter do her presentation for her class. She's sweet. She's smart. She's beautiful. She's... shy. (sigh) Not that she'll admit to being shy, but she is. (That gene comes from her father because not one of my family members is shy.) So, while her presentation was sweet and cute and perfect for her, she tripped over her words, and I just wanted her to be a little more comfortable in front of people. And it's hard for me because I want to see her do well, be confident and unafraid.

The day progressed somewhat okay, I suppose, but we had a neighbor kid over for dinner. My daughter is a very picky eater. She's had some health challenges that have caused that. That fact doesn't make it any easier. Even when I know I need to mellow out about it, it's hard, especially as I watch the neighbor girl chow down on salad. (My daughter won't touch salad.) And that feeling of being a failure is building. You know that "I'm a bad mother, I've done something wrong, this is all my fault" kind of feeling that I think all mothers experience at some point.

The feeling of failure and depression is increasing, but I am still ahead of the curve at this point. Not to the breaking point, but it looms just around that corner.

To avoid that, I retreat into the back bathroom. (Mother Nature is calling, after all.) You need to know a little bit about the back bathroom, and the back room in general. It was an add-on (already there when Charlie bought the house), connected to the house, but not actually a part of the house until we made it part of it by inserting a door in a shared wall. We turned the back room into our bedroom. As a result, there is no heat back there. Fortunately, we live in Southern California and, while it does get cold, it's not unbearable. A space heater in the bathroom will do the trick when you're in there.

Our back bathroom is a three-quarter bath and tiny. There's just enough room for a toilet, sink, a shower, and space for two people to stand shoulder-to-shoulder without moving. (Where we live, a second bathroom, even a small one, is a luxury because the houses are small and were built in the 40s.)

Okay, now that the scene's set, I can continue.

So, I go in, turn the heater on, and sit down. A few minutes later, a two-inch cockroach races across the floor maybe a foot from where I am sitting. It scales the small space heater, stands on top, turns toward me, and checks me out. (Truly. It's facing me, and it's antennae are moving as if thinking about pouncing.) While it's doing this, I am screaming bloody murder for Charlie.

I am in a very vulnerable position here. My pants are down, you know, because, well, that's how it is in the bathroom. I stand up. It's still looking at me like it might jump at me. I am still screaming Charlie's name. I pull my pants up, and it flies (flies! AAAHHHHHH)... and lands on the wall. I am looking around for something to kill this thing. I am not letting that disgusting, and too intelligent, cockroach run around in my bedroom. There is nothing to kill it with... but my booted foot. I don't like the crunch sound it makes when you step on them, but there is no fucking way I am not letting that thing run loose in my fucking house. In my head, I'm screaming, "Die! Die! Die!" as I smash it with my boot. Another bloodcurdling scream rips from my throat when it flops on its back to the floor dead.

Needless to say, this morning, I am calling the exterminator... again. We've had an ongoing, on-again off-again battle with these damn things since the city had sewer problems and thousands of them streamed out of the manhole and scurried to our garage door, which just happens to be right in front of our garage, about four years ago. We had a problem for six months, and we finally got them--or so we thought. It started up again about three months ago, and no matter how much we clean, spray, and everything else, they are still here.

I thought they were gone. We hadn't seen any for a couple of weeks, and now this. (sigh) You know, I am afraid to open that small cabinet in the back bathroom (that bathroom is where we've had a lot of issues) because I'm afraid a horde of cockroaches will come streaming out and attack me. Perhaps not a realistic nightmare, but it scares me shitless.

Last night, I was ready to move. I'm tired of that, too. Moving isn't going to happen, though. (sigh)

Anyway, I go back out to the living area. Charlie disposes of the dead cockroach. It's time for the neighbor girl to go home. The daughter is throwing a tantrum, and Mommy is done. I am so done if you poke me with a fork, I might just explode.

But I don't. Instead, I sit silently, trying to break out of the funk. I can't. It's not working. By 10:30 when I go to bed, it's all over. I am angry, depressed, and crying. Charlie doesn't know what to say to me, but is trying. I am not being helpful. I need to vent...and vent...and vent, although most of the venting is going on in my head because some of what I'm thinking is best left unsaid and only intensifies the crying.

Finally around 11:30 (so it was an hour or so), I stop. I don't really feel any better, but I'm not crying and am too spent to do anything but stare into the darkness, trying not to think about the cockroaches. If I just go to sleep, they'll go away, right? I am being delusional, but I have to cope some how. I know I need sleep. Sleep will make things look better, right? Right?

This morning, I am much better. Tired, but better--and hopeful I won't have a repeat of last night.

Addendum: It's not that I'm ungrateful for what I have. I am grateful. It's just that life isn't exactly how I envisioned it at, oh, say, 18--which may be a good thing. :)


Tess MacKall said...

I'm not doing so well myself today. I'm sick yet again. Every thing at school is brought home to me. I feel like I have no life. My writing isn't going well because I seem to be able to start books but can't finish them.

My kid is sick and the insurance company won't pay for the damn MRI to help diagnose him.

So today I am very very depressed. And it's been slowly but surely happening for about a month now.

Crying doesn't seem to help me. I know tears are supposed to cleanse the soul. But no help here for sure. I'm going back to bed.

Sarah Masters said...

Awww, Marci. I understood your crying and staring into the darkness. Sometimes, even if we have health and everything else we're grateful for, life seems a pile of shit. It happens to all of us, whether we've got everything or not. It's just a human thing, but you know that anyway, and I so understand where you're coming from with that crying because yesterday--the past week, actually--have been days where I've wanted to either scream or cry.

I've done a lot of growling, haven't screamed (yet) and haven't cried--and I don't intend to, but it'll happen, I'm sure.

Sometimes a big fat FUCK YOU to everything works. Fuck the work--take a day off. Or even three. Fuck being everything to everyone--just be you for yourself. Sometimes we have to indulge or go crazy. Seriously, the world won't fall apart if you take a day off--and don't curse me, woman, because I know you and know you're like me: But the world will fall apart...!



Sarah Masters said...

Tess, you know I deffo know where you're coming from. I've spoken to you enough about the utter defeat I feel at times with this writing gig. Sometimes it sucks big hairy elephant balls--are their balls even hairy? Something to ponder/Google--but it passes and we move on.

You take some time off too. You've been working too hard lately with no time to breathe. Just be you for a day or two. Fuck about online, read, anything but WORK.


Anthology Authors said...


I so get where you're at. The health issues my daughter has had (seizures--her neurologist couldn't figure it out, but the second we got her on the alternative treatment, the seizures stopped) have been resolved by alternative means, but insurance doesn't pay for alternative. So any little extra, or not, I have goes to paying for that. And it's not cheap. It's so wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong!

All the tears did for me is exhaust me, which allowed me to go to sleep. I think it's hitting everyone. Something's got to give.

Faith said...

Okay, ladies, since we're airing our beefs and griefs in public, I'll share mine. I've only told one person this outside of my family, so hold on to your hats.

My oldest dau who has been my constant companion and my best friend, the one who has seen me go through two nightmare marriages before finding Mr. Right, met a guy and walked out the door one night with my grandson to never come back--and didn't tell me she wasn't coming back until four days later via a phone call. She's marrying the guy, but what's worse, is that she moved out of our big house to move in with him and his parents in a tiny trailer. WTF???

So add that to my feelings of publishing failure too, and the fact that I've been without transportation since the first of November, and now I have to sit here day in and day out without any company, no sounds but that of my own voice as I talk to Radar, my cat, or the radio playing. I stare at four walls all day five days a week or do more housework (that I get absolutely no help with but once in a millennial era) when all the writing/editing is done for the day, so I'm ready for the looneybin.

Cry? OMG, that's all I do nowadays. I sob like a damn baby about everything and I can't even talk to the hubby, my mom, my youngest dau, or any of my friends in person or on the phone because no one can understand me for the crying.


Anyone else want to post their woes today? LOL.

Faith said...

Oh, and I'm without health insurance too. Been without if going on three years now.

Anthology Authors said...

You know what's hardest, Sarah, is that the vast majority of my "close" friends are via the internet. You, Faith, Ruth are so friggin' far away. We can't go out for coffee or chocolate or just sit and hang. (sigh)

I sound like such a loser, but it's where I am today. (sigh)

Anthology Authors said...

Oh, Faith! Oh, oh, man! What the hell is she thinking? Oh, honey. Big, big hugs! I totally get where you are coming from about crying.

Anthology Authors said...

We have health insurance, Faith. We are lucky. Our health insurance doesn't cover anything that has been working for A, though. Not a cent. It's frustrating.

Faith said...

Trust me, I can't seem to stop. I wash dishes as I cry, I type as I cry, I take a bath, make supper, sweep the floor, do the I cry.

It's horrible and I feel like such a baby.

Faith said...

As for the bugs, do you have those cylindrical things that the company puts in the ground around the edges of the house's foundation to keep bugs from going in?

Anthology Authors said...

Huh? No, but it's too late. They are inside. There is no question they are in the walls. They do spray around the perimeter and in front of the garage, but it's way too late for that. (sigh)

Anthology Authors said...

You aren't a baby. You are grieving. And, btw, my companions are my two cats all day. On occasion I chat on the phone, and I do get out and swim. Thank God for that or I'd go crazy.

Sarah Masters said...

Well fuck me. So now I'm crying at Tess from another email and now you two!

Fucking elephant's balls.


Anthology Authors said...

We are just the happy ladies today. (sigh) I guess I shouldn't have posted my rant. :(

Faith said...

No, I think it was a good idea. I invited many to come here and read and the vent to us in return. Venting helps relieve stress.

Shiela Stewart said...

Oh boy Marci do I know how you feel. And I am so sorry you're going through it.

I'm having one of those years. Not days, not months, years where everything is going wrong. My daughter was diagnosed with Aspbergers and bipolar depression. has been cutting herself to feel. It's a daily struggle with her t get her to school, to get out of bed, to do anything. Therapy appointments coming out of my ass.

Add on to that, I was recently diagnosed as bipolar and am on new meds. Now, one of our cats, my daughters baby, is in the hospital and they're not sure how he;ll do. His kidneys and liver are backing up. My daughter will be devistated.

I've had plenty of days and nights where I sit in the dark of my room and think, "This is all too much."
But evey day comes anew and we plug on.

You are not alone.

Lisa Alexander Griffin said...

Life has never gone the way I want it to, so I don't expect a thing anymore. Don't have any dreams to chase. Spent all of my good years raising family and I don't regret it, but had I known life wouldn't get better with less struggle and grief as I grew older, I would have made different choices earlier on.

As far as insurance. I don't have any, period. Been struggling with a bum shoulder for over three months and waiting for a tax refund to be able to have it seen to. And, that sucks canal water because the pain is bone deep every single day. Can't raise my arm even as high as my shoulder, or out to the side.

Then add to that, all the family sickness I've been dealing with and I want to call it quits sometimes.

Crying doesn't help. All it does is swell your eyes and the problems still remain.

It's been a long depressing winter and I see no end in sight.

Sorry I can't make anyone feel better. lol.

Sorry to vent, but you guys got me on a roll. I'll go back to my cave.

Keith said...

My bipolar disorder is being treated pretty well...but I stay up half the night and don't go to bed until 2 am.

I know where you're coming from, Faith, about publishing worries----I still don't have a damn novel published. And I have three of them sitting on their PDasses because I just can't get over the fact that somehow, some way, I think they suck.

And with health insurance? Try having one that won't even pay for a dental cleaning. I've not been to a dentist in four years and have even written to (shocker) Maury FREAKING Povich about help for a cleaning. Just a darn cleaning.

My cat's flatulent and leaps around the house all night because (gasp) I can't pay $30 to have him neutered.

And Marci, good and bad news. I finally cashed one royalty check through my mother, the recent one; the rest are lost in the limbo of Storage-Land and I can't even use them now. There's a *giant* gripe right there.

And my lymph nodes are going so crazy they're the size of walnuts. Had bronchitis for three years now, and for the life of me I can't remember the last time they were even inflamed a little, so I'm wondering if my white cell count is severely low. I had a brother who died of cancer, so Lord knows it's in my genes.

Argh, argh, argh. I'd talk more, but I'm wondering why my weekly check isn't here and Father Gary hasn't called me to make an appointment and talk about my late husband. Apparently when you're going into the Catholic church, even having a late husband, you need to clarify everything a million different times.

*Sigh*...I know exactly how a life that doesn't feel fulfilled is...the highest point of this year is going to be that my birthday is on Mardi Gras. I'm not going to have another contract, not this year. I know my mind isn't going to let me submit my Neptune series to Wild Child. Something about it is just going to suck so badly I'll stop right in the doorway and run away.

Hugs, all. Big hugs. Seriously giant, rib-crushing, lung-destroying hugs. :o)

Keith said...

And even worse, this is NICKI. The stinkin' Google was signed on the wrong account. :o(

Fiona McGier said...

OMG, Lisa! I was just going to send along big hugs for everyone, until I read your post. Don't I know what you mean? I was the first one in my family to go to college, and got my BA in English because I love to read and write, and I wanted to be a teacher to help kids become better writers. Taught for a year, was told to "get a real job" by the bank official who temporarily deferred my student loan payments because I couldn't even make my car payments on a teacher salary! Spent years in sales, then wanted to stay home with the kids...had 4 in 5 years. Now 2 are in college and the 4th one wants to go in the fall...and despite subbing for multiple districts for almost 8 years, I can't even get any interviews. I got 6 W-2s last year because in 2010 I worked at 6 different p/t jobs...add them all up and it's less than my starting teaching salary back in 1979! Husband got laid off, then rehired at 2/3 salary. I work 2 p/t jobs now and make about minimum wage. Mom died from her dementia in early December, and I'm still reeling, because I had complete care over her for 4 years since Dad died, and I haven't had 5 minutes of not working to grieve.

M. Scott Peck in his book, "The Road Less Traveled", says in the first line: "Life is hard." If anyone ever told you different, they lied. You don't get to pick your only get to choose how you play your hand.

Quote on a poster: Some days it isn't even worth chewing through the restraints.

Quote on a magnet on my fridge that shows a sad looking dog's face: Sometimes I wish I could just pee on the whole world.

We all live lives of quiet desperation. Well...maybe not quiet. But we keep on keeping on because we don't have any other choice. Be strong, know you are loved by others who are dealing with their own personal unrequested sacks of shit.
Hugs aplenty to all.

Lisa Alexander Griffin said...

Most times we do suffer is quiet desperation, Fiona, but on occasion we let it rip. Like today. lol. Sorta regretting I even posted, but, oh well, not many happy people here today anyway it seems.

It's just sad when you work hard your whole life and there's nothing to show for it, and no one who appreciates the sacrifices you've made to make their lives easier.

I've given it my all in everything I do, friends, family and work. But it all seems to backfire in my face. lol.

Seems like you do know exactly what I'm talking about.

Faith said...

Nicki, hugs back! However, lol at the wrong sign-in acct. We've all gotta laugh at something, yanno? If not, we'd all lose our minds. I guess that's what "laughter is the best medicine" means.

Lisa, this health insurance crisis has got to be resolved, but I think the U.S. government is more interested in lining its own pockets than anything else.

Fiona, I'm so sorry about your mom. I heard a line in a bluegrass song the other night that helps me. I was having one of my black moments over my daughter and grandson when the guy singing said, "You've done the best you can do, so don't cry, move on." So true, but moving on can be very hard. Regardless, I often think of that lyric to get me through.

Lisa Alexander Griffin said...

So do I, Faith. But that's another can of worms. I don't want a handout. Just affordable insurance. And how can an every day Joe fork over over 1/3 of their paycheck for premiums? It's either eat and pay our bills, or live in the streets have insurance. WE can't afford both.

I'm sorry about Jade, but I went through similar with my oldest too. :( It breaks a mother's heart.

Melissa Bradley said...

Okay, I've been tearing up just reading these and I want to give each and every one of you a huge hug. So hugs from me to you.

Fabian Black said...

I think we all get days when we'd like to unpick our lives and re-weave them in a different pattern. I certainly do.

Given a choice I wouldn't suffer from bipolar disorder. I feel most of my life has been a tightrope walk between sanity and madness, yes people, there have been times when I WAS that nutter on the bus, the one people avoided sitting next to. ;)

Most heartbreaking moment of my life last year was when my 15 year old son started showing signs of depression and began self harming. I thought I'd done all the right things to make sure his life would be better than mine. I got him help asap, but I still feel like a failure.

The thing is we can't control everything in life. Sometimes all you can do is scream, shout, rant and have a damn good cry before picking up and carrying on.

BTW...cockroaches are disgusting, so every, every sympathy on your ordeal. I'm phobic about them. When I was a kid we lived in a house infested with them. One flew in my hair once, I screamed myself sick.

Jaime Samms said...

You mean even the great and powerful Marci has 'days like that'? My husband has been sick for a week with a flu or something that laid me out for a full day (and i almost never get so sick I can't get out of bed). Part of me loves him and feels bad he's unwell. Part of me is furious he can't just get better already and get on with looking after things.....Which is a horrible, uncharitable and selfish thought and I hate that I have it. But there it is.

Anyway, glad you're feeling better, Marci. I hope those days for you are few and far between. :)

Anthology Authors said...

Thanks, Shiela. Sometimes, I think everyone has these days. It's just part of the human condition. I have to say, though, my daughter had a very high fever last night. Her last seizure was brought on by a fever. Poor girl was so hot her skin was scalding. At 1:30 am, I was up cleaning the bathtub. I filled it with lukewarm water and immersed Dau and I in the water. Within ten minutes, her fever broke. She's still not feeling well, but she's only running a low grade temperature now and has a slight headache. She ate breakfast and is watching cartoons--something I never let her do.

While I hate seeing her sick, it was a quick reminder of what's really important.

Anthology Authors said...

Ah, Lisa, I think very few of us actually realize our lives as we first pictured them. I guess the important thing is that we try, don't lose sight of them, and continue to do what we love.

For me, it's singing, swimming, and publishing. Even if I don't become a household name, I can still enjoy what I love. :)

Becca Dale said...

Oh Marci, I could say all kinds of sweet things but basically days like that just suck. I have tried it all when I have such moments – cried myself sick, screamed, lashed out at my dear ones, run away, shopped, partied until I was too blitzed to care, ate until I wanted to throw up, you name it. The only thing I have found that helps is counting my blessing – no matter how cheesy that is. Although my highly intelligent son is wasting his life and his money on an education he cares nothing about and therefore does not attend classes, he is still funny and well liked and healthy and he will get past this. And it is his money and his mistake to make. Although my daughter feels frustrated by her classes and fears she will never become an OB-GYN, she will adjust or choose a different path and is capable enough to survive and thrive whatever happens. My husband keeps getting more handsome and I just keep getting older, but I am married to a sweet man that I find sexy as hell and he loves me despite our disproportionate hotness levels. It sounds to me that you have a great guy willing to clean up an annihilated cockroach, a beautiful and intelligent daughter conscious enough of her own health to avoid things she feels triggers issues, a lovely home with two bathrooms and a ‘private suite master.’ Unwanted house guests – true – but when you get sick of them you can smash them or have someone else poison them. And your family has a woman who loves them enough to worry she isn’t getting it right, one who makes sure that she is there to listen to a report or drive her daughter to school or appreciate that, even when he can’t do anything to stop a stress driven meltdown, her husband still cares enough to try. I think you are blessed indeed and, despite the totally human response to pressure, you are more than aware of it too. HUGS I hope the crying helped and your day/week gets better.

Anthology Authors said...

Oh, Jaime, I have days. More days than I care to admit, but most days I am upbeat and positive. I have to be. :)

I am the same way with my husband. Primarily, I think it stems from the fact that when I'm sick, I still have to do everything. When he's sick, he lays in bed and does nothing. So, I have no patience for that. (g)

Last time I was sick, though, I let him know it wasn't working for me, so he was much better about it. Of course, I had to turn into bitchitha to get the point across. (g) Obviously, that's not something I have an issue with doing. (g)

Anthology Authors said...

Ah, Nicki. I think all of us have our days, and we have to be kind enough and compassionate with ourselves to allow that. When it's over, we pick ourselves back up and keep going.

Anthology Authors said...

Peck is right, Fiona, life is hard. But I think attitude helps. Sometimes, maintaining a positive attitude is hard, sometimes, we need to let it all out, but what it all comes down to is our viewpoint on life. I know I have a hard time recognizing what I've accomplished and what I have. Well, mainly on those days when I am hosting my own pity party. ;-) Today is not one of those days.

Anthology Authors said...

Thanks, Melissa. You know, reading all of these comments on the blog really helped. It's good to know I'm not alone. :)

Anthology Authors said...

Oh, Fabian. I'm so sorry to hear about your son. One blessing from your experience is that you recognized the signs and knew the importance of quick action and getting him help. Not everyone would have known what to do or would have denied it was needed until too late.

Hugs to you and your family.

Anthology Authors said...

Becca, you are a wise woman. I do try to count my blessings. At those moments, I am past being able to do that. (Or wanting to do it, if I'm honest.) I have to let it run its course before getting any perspective. Usually, I am good to go once I do.

Nicki said...

Hey, uh, anyone know what happens when a pipe bursts upstairs from you? What does the plumber have to do?

Because the reason my cat was meowing at the door turns out to be a LEAKY PIPE----in my STORAGE ROOM!

Panic! Panicpanicpanicpanic----

That's a good gripe...that my landlady doesn't keep the apartment in good repair. My door has a broken hinge. :(