This is one grumpy old bitch who owes her family an apology, maybe?
There I’ve said it, no need to fear it anymore, right?
Ya see? I have this prevailing feeling of doom right about now, and I’m not sure what to make of it, so I figure I’ll just type my way through it.
Some things are scaring me, I woke with a start, fevered, sweating on the couch and I thought that the day was already new, and it was time to take my medicine. But it’s not, it’s 12:53 am, and I have this general, invasive, overwhelming feeling of doom.
I have the urge to urinate, but I just did, and it didn’t prove very fruitful, oh I went, but feel like I need to go more, I fear it but want it too. Fear the pain of it, the feeling of nausea and infected radiation that is caused when the poison in one’s system is not being flushed thou rally, properly, and it leaves the body pulsating with pain and longing all the way into the palms of the hands and other extremities too. The bodies reverberated longing to rid itself of poison. (Too many antibiotics killing off the good germs too I‘m thinking.)
I tell myself it just takes time. Time for the medicine to kick in, time for the massive amounts of water that I have been drinking to be absorbed and start doing their job of flushing. Time for my body to heal. And yet I fear the time, because with every moment that passes I think that something even more fluky may be happening inside of my body, and nothing can be done, until after Christmas to stop it.
That’s it, I don’t trust my body anymore. Today is the day before Christmas and I don’t trust my body to take care of it’s functioning anymore.
And today I couldn’t run hiding anywhere to get away from them, them, who I ruined Christmas for. Still a runner. “She’s a runner Logan, kill her.” (Aka had Mouse this year for the 23rd and the 24th so our Christmas was happening on the 23rd.)
They all look to me, the matriarch, to make Christmas happen, I think, anyway.
Them, they, my family. Yeah, them, I made them uncomfortable because I am sick, scared and not making Christmas.
Yeah, there’s them. I‘m ashamed because I couldn’t pretend that I felt fine, I’d let it go too far for that, I couldn’t put on a mature happy face and sing tra la f-ing la, all is right with the world, and I‘ll just reverberate in pain and silence so as not to make you feel uncomfortable on this special day.
I tried, I couldn’t. I couldn’t seem to remove myself from being the one who makes everyone’s Christmas, Christmas, either.
But why the hell not? Why couldn’t I be sick at Christmas? Am I that irreplaceable? (That’s me, always the drama queen.) Or at least if it ever happens again, could you guys please ignore me and let me snivel in peace, like a sick dog wrapped up in a blanket over by the fire where it’s warm? Free to lick, snap and whine at myself.
Specifically I think it was the questions that got me, though who can be sure?
Why couldn’t you let me cry here without asking me questions?
Questions that I couldn’t answer, like,
“Are we going to eat dinner or what, and if so, when are you going to cook it?” (Um, hey, remember me? I had the oral surgery with you last week, and yeah, you feel better, you’re twenty four, I’m a hundred and I’m still pretty messed up from all of that, and hungry? Honey I’m hungrier than a shit house rat right about now, feel free to make yourself and ME a bowl of soup, I would be most grateful and appreciative…) But instead of saying that I felt guilty and I cried, and you felt guilty and you told yourself that I suck, and I probably do, but not all of the time, and neither do you.
And I understand, you see I would have loved to make dinner for you today, and to make things special for you, but today I just couldn’t.
Today I was hurting and sick and I couldn’t hide it today. And today you wanted to make a special day for your little one and you needed me to help you do that. I’m sorry, and I know you are too, because I know you to your core.
“Where are your keys to your truck mom?” (I mean really, did you look at me? I’d have been hard pressed to find my ass with both hands right then, and you were asking me to find the keys to my truck? Hell, I couldn’t even remember the last time I drove my truck, oh wait it was yesterday when I drove myself eighty miles to get my damned tooth packed so I could stop crying long enough to, I don’t know, maybe take a breath of air without excruciating pain. I am such a martyr sometimes and I really hate that!) So again, instead of saying, “Please don’t expect me to get up and find anything for you right now, even if it is mine, even if I am the one who last had it, even if period. I can’t handle finding anything right now.” Yeah, instead I cried and shook and embarrassed myself with my poor behavior, I do that when I’m sick.
“Where’s the receipt to this thing a ma jiggy that you got me that I don’t really want and intend to return?”(See above…) But, instead of saying the above, I scrounged around finding my billfold, then scrounged around inside it looking for the receipt that I have somehow lost, and I cried, again because I couldn’t find the damned thing and now you are going to have to take a store credit instead of cash, boo f-ing hoo. (I also get a little sarcastic when I’m sick.)
“We know you’re sick, will you just lighten up and give us a break already? Stop crying for God’s sake, you’re freaking us out, and making Christmas a royal suck fest.”
When I know in your heart you were thinking, “We don‘t know how to make you feel better momma; we just don‘t know how to make the pain go away for you, so please stop being visibly sick, okay? It hurts us to see you hurt. ” (I tried, really I did, and I know my maturity level right about then was as close to null as it gets, I do that when I’ve been feeling sick for awhile, I revert back to the age of four, and I’m not pleasant to be around. I’m sorry.)
And there’s the question posed, and assurance given from a small child who happened to follow me into the bathroom, that I wouldn’t have missed for the world, except for not letting myself be seen in that way, maybe,
“Nanny, you alright? We will get you medicine little buddy, we will make you better, you’ll see, you’ll be feeling better soon.” All said to me as she rubbed my face while I awkwardly sat on the toilet stool. God/Goddess
bless small children…
And there’s the deep caring and love from one sister to another when Becky called me to see if she needed to come down here and take care of me, I’m guessing her boy had told her he overheard me crying when he was talking to Samps earlier on the phone, and she let me cry to her ad nauseum while she chanted soothing things to reassure me and told me she loved me.
Then there were the things that just happen in any family, sure they do, right?
Like little George opening her mommas one special gift, unbeknownst to everyone, a small pair of diamond earrings, and giving them to the dog.
“What the hell has Moses got mom? It looks sort of sparkly, um in a small box, or what was a small box…?” Whoops, Merry Christmas Anny, I’m sure if you follow that dog around for a couple of days, you know checking his excrement, you just might find that other earring…no need to thank me, merry Christmas hon….
And the Christmas clothes that I ordered for the kids guaranteed to be in on the 21st, still not here, so the meager amount of shopping that my money could afford, and that I actually felt like doing, looks even more pitiful, for lack of those ding danged clothes to show up.
In honesty though, I did the best that I could.
For real, not all that I would have liked to do, but the best that I could do in the situation given. And my behavior? Sucky at best, but the best that I could muster today, I’m afraid.
They will forgive me, that’s what families do, we forgive each other because we know each other deep down, where it’s important, and we love each other because of what we know, and sometimes despite of what we know, you know?
For gifts this year, I had already told the older two that I was not going into massive credit card debt, and they agreed, neither were they, so this is how it played out.
My older two, each got one item that they needed and couldn’t afford to buy themselves, a good pair of shoes and a warm quilt. One item that was special and they would never have been able to justify buying for themselves, an mp 3 player, and what was a small pair of diamond earrings, heh. A few items of clothing--please let them arrive before new years--and some smelly good stuff, because, like their momma, they too have a smell chemistry thing going on.
Little Samps, he’s getting one of those ridiculously over priced 360 x box machines, because all he asked for was an old x box machine so he and his brother could trade games, and of course you
CAN’T find one of THEM to be bought. I thought about getting him a Ps, something or other, it was only 130 dollars, but then we’d have to buy all new games, gads!
He did mention that he would love to have world of war craft if Santa couldn’t find an old x box, so aka got him that. I think Samps will probably pass out completely from the sheer surprise of all of that gaming fun, and I’ll just make that credit card payment and not worry about it, I’m thinking of it as an investment in his hand and eye coordination, and damn it it’s Christmas…
(I had put aside some money for Christmas this year from my career ladder moneys that I get at the end of the summer for the extra work that I do tutoring and making signs and stuff during the school year, but when dad got sick most of that was spent going back and forth to take care of him. I don’t begrudge that one bit and I am thankful that I had it to fall back on for sure, but it sort of set me short for Christmas, you know? Sure you know, all of us feel the financial pinch around this time of year. Sure we do, and we do the best we can and we go on from there.)
The little ones, were tickled with their gifts, they always are. A new baby doll for Georgie and an Elafun game, and a John Deer collectable tractor, and an incredible edible for Mousey, that was named something else, but I can’t remember. Oh, and some clothes too, not here yet, ding danged old Navy, you suck balls at Christmas time for telling me they would be here guaranteed…
So really despite my feeling like a heap of dung that has been ever so slightly set a fire in order that I might not offend anyone with my odious aroma, after writing this diatribe on being sick at Christmas, I feel relieved, the feeling of doom has lifted and I just went to the bathroom and oh my God/Goddess I was able to go without pulsating and withering, and yes Virginia, there really is a Santa Clause….
Why did I write this incredibly unattractive post? I’m not sure really, maybe I just felt like I should stand here naked in front of everyone in all of my shame so that I could be really thankful for all that I have, because despite how things may seem sometimes I really do have so much to be thankful for.
Maybe I wanted some sympathy? Probably, but most likely not too much because I feel so much better now.
And maybe, just maybe I wondered if you have ever felt this way yourself, you know, felt like if you don’t do it, it wont get done, and sometimes I want to run from the responsibility of making everything better for the people who I love, and just wallow in my own dysfunction.
I don’t know. I’m not even sure that this makes sense.
So now I just have to apologize to my family for being a grumpy old sick bitch yesterday and move forward towards the light, it IS a new day, almost now.