A little on what's been happening...

January 26, 2013
Sitting here in my room watching Pure Country, starring George Strait, on the DVD, playing Spider Solitaire, on my laptop, and burning CDs to my laptop so that I can later put them on my phone.  Terry, my most recent ex-husband is downstairs with the rest of the family.  He is uncomfortable in my presence so I come up here to hide away while he is here visiting.  I try to talk to him but he can’t seem to manage more than a yes or no or another one word answer.  He told me last time he was here it is because he loves me too much.
I left him the last time that we parted. Our relationship was always tumultuous.  From start to finish-and possibly still-our relationship was fueled on an energy that never seemed to lessen in intensity.
February 3, 2013
8:40 AM.  I am sitting on my bed, watching Law & Order, and playing Spider Solitaire.  Exciting.  This afternoon we will watch the Superbowl and eat chicken wings and chips.
Things just don’t get better.  Son-in-law B quit his job.  Once again.  Possibly for the right reasons but without appropriate backup plans.  Once again.  I could leave, but then again I can’t.  My name is on the lease.  I pay the utilities.  Without utilities S and the kids would suffer.  My name on the lease means I stay until we all go because B doesn’t take care of places he leaves.  He let Terry bring those puppies (4 pit mixes) here and they have made a huge mess that B doesn’t deal with personally.  It is just like with the boys and their playing outside without rules when he is here.  They make a mess they don’t clean up and they are destructive, as little boys can be.  They are boys so that is somewhat expected but B needs to guide them in the right direction and not fall asleep with no regard for what happens next.
I am depressed, stressed, and anxious and yes planning ways on ending this life that I find so hard and hopeless.  Did I ever have potential?  Did I ever have another destiny possible?  Is there any hope for redemption?
March 18 2013
Motel 6 in Rancho Mirage, CA. Down by Palm Springs.  Another botched attempt at an easier existence.  Nothing has worked out so far.  Been staying in motels for a week now.  Budget being eaten alive by motels and the truck.  No clear idea or plan.  B thinks we can just camp with these kids and no one will bother us.  These kids need a house and school.  They need a father who will bust his ass doing whatever is available to house, cloth, and feed them.  I love B but it pisses me off that he wants to always color outside the lines when it is the kids who suffer.
The septic tank, in the house we were renting, had begun to leak into the back yard.  This meant that we had to pack up and leave the house.  A blessing disguised in a mess.  We moved into a motel and began to plan our next move. That is where we are now.
March 28, 2013
B and S found a rent to own mobile home in Joshua Tree, CA.  We moved in last Thursday.  I am happy for them.  They will have a stable home now.  It needs a few repairs, nothing tremendous, and some paint but it is a home they can stay in for a while and make their own.  They made the deposit and the first month’s rent with the rest of their tax refund. B, of course, does not have a job and no plans on looking for one right now.  He is waiting for his friend to come down and they have plans to open a head shop in Joshua Tree or Yucca Valley.  But that won’t be until May and until then they have no income.  I will be paying next month’s pro-rated rent and the car registration, which is past due.  I have actually applied for a couple of jobs in order to have more money coming in.  S has also put in a job application.
I registered for online classes at Lake Tahoe Community College for the spring quarters and applied to Liberty University for my master’s degree in health and wellness.  Classes for LTCC begin next week.  Liberty will begin in the summer.
Next week I will pick up my granddaughters, who are still in foster care, for an overnight.  Since they are still in Jackson, CA, we will stay the night in a motel.  The motel has a pool for them to enjoy and then we will pick up a few DVDs and some Chinese food or pizza and have a movie night.
Their mother has called me and left a message that she is staying with friends in Placerville, CA.  She sounds better than she has in a while.  There is a court hearing next month where we will learn if the girls will go to West Virginia to my son’s or not.  I do hope so.  It has been so long now.
So much is happening right now.  So many changes.  But then life is about change.  I am trying to keep my hopes up and my anxieties at bay.  One day at a time, right?

Today

Today is the first day of the fall quarter.  I am taking four classes this quarter: Critical Thinking; Medical Terminology; Business Communications; and The Ancient Near East.  All online, of course.  I enjoy taking classes and learning new things.

Heading home.

Tonight my two grandsons and I board a Greyhound Bus and head home.  We have spent five weeks here with my beloved son and his family.  It has been a good visit, it is always a good visit, but home is good too. My son will be flying out to California in the morning with my two granddaughters who will be entering the foster care system tomorrow afternoon.  My heart aches.  I wonder if this feeling of hopelessness, sadness, and heartbreak will ever pass.

Update

My daughter called the police to report that I had taken her children and that she wants them back or she is pressing charges.  The police officer called to talk to me.  He was the same one that did the welfare checks on her and that I had talked to about this situation twice.  I updated him on the situation and my son talked to him and gave him information on what Child Protective Services was doing with the case and where things stood right now.  I wrote a detailed letter and sent it to the officer to include in his report.  Later that afternoon, two days ago now, we got the call we had been dreading.  California CPS was taking the girls back to California and putting them into foster care until they could transfer jurisdiction to West Virginia.  My daughter told CPS she would rather have the girls in foster care than here in West Virginia.  She is angry.  She is cruel and manipulative and selfish.  She is still seriously mentally ill but she is also these other things.  My granddaughters are being hurt over and over again by the actions of their mother.  My son and my other daughters and I will continue to do what we can to gain guardianship of the girls.  Pray for us, pray for them.

Continued...

My daughter is with him.  Or she had been since his release from jail on August 3rd.  They finished moving their things out of their apartment and into storage and picked up her belongings from the tow yard where they car she crashed is being held.  Then they got a motel room in Auburn, California and spent at least the weekend.  She texted me that she wants her children returned to her.  I told her to call the social worker in charge of the case.  She told me that I was going to ruin her life if I talked to the social worker and that if the girls were not returned to her she would go to the police and report me for kidnapping them.  She doesn't seem to understand what has happened, is happening, or what will happen next.  She wants her family back.  I want her sanity back.  I want him to leave her alone while at the same time I don't want her alone.  I want her safe and getting the help she needs.  I want to rush to her and take her in and never let her go.  But, I can not control the situation and I can not make her better just by wanting it so. 

Sadness

My daughter has a mental illness.  She has bipolar disorder with schizoid affect.  She suffers audio and visual hallucinations.  She doesn't take her medications as directed and instead she self medicates with drugs that worsen her illness.  She has experienced a great personal tragedy this past year, the disintegration of her fifteen year marriage due to her husband's "inappropriate behavior" with their two teenage daughters.  When her daughters told her what was happening she did everything she was supposed to do; she called the police and protected her children.  My daughter and her daughters spent months talking to people from the police, the district attorney's office, the local women's center, and victims assistance.  My son-in-law was eventually convicted, branded a sex offender, sentenced, released with time served, and put on parole.  Then he called my daughter who was in a state of mental deterioration.  She had not been taking her medications as directed; she told me that with her husband gone she didn't need them anymore.  The balancing act she had been practicing for most of the last year was precarious at best and when he called the balance beam tilted and she fell off.  She talked to him as he pleaded with her to believe that he was innocent.  She wanted her family back.  She was hearing voices.  He knows how to manipulate her, especially in her mental state.  She took off with him (he cut off his monitoring bracelet) leaving the two older girls with me and taking the younger girl who is eleven.  She was gone two weeks before they returned to the area and things began tumbling down on her head.  He was arrested and put back into jail where he spent three weeks. The voices in her head were louder and reality slipped away.  She ended up leaving her youngest daughter in a McDonald's and crashing her car.  She spent eight days in a psychiatric hospital then was released without a safe place to go and without proper medications.  My eleven year old granddaughter is now in a children's shelter in California while her two sisters are with their uncle in West Virginia.  My daughter is still hearing voices.  She is convinced that computers are reading her mind and that terrorists are stalking her.  She believes the only safe place for her is with her husband and according to her they are planning to be together after tomorrow.  I am currently in West Virginia and won't be able to get back to California for at least a week.  I text my daughter and call every day and wait to hear from her.  I feel helpless to help her.  I don't know what to do.  I love her and am scared for her and heartbroken thinking about the way she and her children have suffered, are suffering.  I want to cradle her in my arms and tell her that it will all be alright soon, to tell her to give me her pain the way I did when she was small.  But I can't and she can't give me her pain because her pain is wrapped up around her mind holding her hostage.  I pray everyday for answers, for advice, for anything that will help my baby.

Woes

It was a crazy trip from Carson City, Nevada to Charleston, West Virginia but we are here.  Tuesday, July 10, 2012 we headed out from Reno, Nevada on Amtrak's California Zephyr which would take us to Chicago where we transfer to the Cardinal heading to Charleston, WV.   The five of us boarded the train loaded down with luggage and bags of food to get us through the two day and three night train ride.  We had settled into our seats and finished a dinner of turkey sandwiches when the text came from my eleven year old granddaughter, the younger sister of the two granddaughters traveling with me.  She said her mother had dropped her off at a McDonald's in Sacramento.  She was told to call the police and wait right there.  I immediately sent texts to my son and my two other daughters this latest event.  My son and youngest daughter got on the phone and began calling Sacramento police and sheriffs.  My oldest daughter, getting ready to board a plane to Arizona from San Francisco, was on the phone with my son and me.  Then my phone rang.  It was my granddaughter who said she was fine and then handed the phone to a sheriff who told me that after my daughter left her daughter at McDonald's she had apparently crashed the car she was driving.  Physically she was bruised and had some cuts but otherwise okay; mentally she was not.  At that time it was not known whether the crash was accidental or intentional. My daughter was taken to the hospital and my granddaughter would be picked up by CPS and kept safe until arrangements were made.  This all happened a week ago now. 
Since then it has been several phone calls back and forth between all of us and CPS and the sheriff.  My daughter was moved to a psychiatric hospital for evaluation and immediate care.  My granddaughter is currently in a children's shelter until temporary custody arrangements can be made.  There was a preliminary court hearing yesterday and there will be another on Friday.  My daughter will be in the psychiatric hospital for at least two more weeks then I have no idea at this time what will happen.  We are hoping that she will get ongoing care, perhaps an inpatient program for a short while and then a half-way house until she is stable on her medications again.  We will have to figure out a living arrangement for her as she no longer has her apartment and no one in the area to stay with.  We are hoping that her youngest daughter will be joining her sister here in West Virginia but need to go through CPS and the legal system.  We have been able to speak to her in the shelter each day and have sent her a few changes of clothes and a stuffed animal so that she will have something of her own while she waits.  

I can't write anymore about this right now.  My mind and my heart are filled with sadness and worry. 

"Power"

"Power"

Living   in the earth deposits   of our history

Today a backhoe divulged   out of a crumbling flank of earth 

one bottle   amber   perfect   a hundred-year-old 

cure for fever   or melancholy   a tonic

for living on this earth   in the winters of this climate

Today I was reading about Marie Curie:

she must have known she suffered   from radiation sickness

her body bombarded for years   by the element

she had purified

It seems she denied to the end

the source of the cataracts on her eyes

the cracked and suppurating skin   of her finger-ends

till she could no longer hold   a test tube or pencil

She died   a famous woman   denying

her wounds

denying

her wounds   came   from the same source as her power

-Adrienne Rich, 1974

Update continued...

After summarizing what has happened lately I should now say how I feel about it.  With that I am having a hard time, a hard time identifying the feelings involved.  I feel numb most of the time lately unless, of course, I am so stressed out that I am crying.  I would say that underneath this numb feeling I am sad, angry, and frightened.  Sad that my daughter is suffering from a mental illness that she sometimes, and too often, self medicates.  Sad that she has had such a difficult year, that her marriage has dissolved and that the man she has loved for all of  her adult life has betrayed her and her daughters.  Angry because she won't take responsibility for the situation she has created because her pride stood in her way.  Angry that she is now taking her ex-husband's word and feelings over those of her daughter's.  Angry that she does not call her daughters enough, does not want to talk to the oldest when she does call, and does nothing but blame others when she talks to me.  I am also angry that she has made me responsible for moving and storing her possessions and for posting and selling those things she doesn't want any longer and then not being there for those interested in buying them.  Angry at myself for making myself responsible for these things. Frightened that she will take these girls back before she is stable enough.  Frightened that she will remain in association with those who use drugs.  Frightened she will allow her ex-husband back into her life betraying even more her daughters, his victims.  Those are the feelings that lay beneath this numbness that more often takes hold of me.  The stress has become physical.  I have gained weight despite the efforts I take- eating a healthy wholesome diet and walking at least an hour each day despite the constant urge I have to disappear into the solitude of my room and to pull the covers over my head.  My depression is palpable.  I continue to take my own psychotropic medications and keep my appointments with my psychiatrist knowing that if I don't take my own mental illness, bipolar-II, seriously I will not be able to cope with the hectic world around me.      


I leave for West Virginia in ten days and am so looking forward to the trip.  We, four of my grandchildren and myself, will be taking the California Zephyr to Chicago and there we will transfer to an Amtrak train to Charleston and my beloved son, his gorgeous wife, and my two amazing granddaughters.  As I have already told you in earlier posts I live with my youngest daughter, her husband and their eight children.  We plan on leaving Carson City before the end of the year and finding a place for ourselves in the Charleston, WV area in order to be closer to my son and his family.  I have always wanted to live on the East Coast and we hope that at some point we can purchase a little land in New England; land enough to farm a bit.  For the present I am just so looking forward to the trip and putting a little distance between my daughter and myself so that she can find her path and I can step away from my co-dependent tendencies.

Update

Life moves on.  Since last I wrote, we have moved into a new apartment across town and two of my granddaughters from my second daughter, Renee, are spending some time with us.  That makes thirteen people here. ten of them children.  Renee has a mental illness.  She is bi-polar with schizoid affect.  She has hallucinations, both audio and visual,delusions, and paranoia.  She has recently gone through some very difficult life events and life changes.  Her fifteen year relationship with the father of her children has ended because of his inappropriate behavior against two of their daughters.  He has been convicted and is now a register sex offender.  Both my daughter and my granddaughters were in need of counseling but my daughter refused the offer of help and declined counseling.  So, no one talked about what had happened.  My granddaughters have been traumatized and betrayed by their father and let down by their mother.  My daughter did everything she could to see that he was punished but neglected the need of counseling for her daughters and for herself.  She became the sole support of her household for the first time in fifteen years and  became the person responsible for running the everyday affairs of the household.  She began dating soon after the relationship ended, often recklessly.  She surrounded herself with the wrong kind of people, people that put her at risk.  Once her ex was released from jail he initiated contact with her and despite the restraining order in place she communicated with him. She stopped taking some of her psychotropic drugs and replaced them with illegal drugs.  A little over a month ago she called to ask if I would stay at her place with the girls while she went to Reno with some friends. I arrived at her place on the arranged date to find my daughter had left two nights before taking the youngest girl with her and leaving the two older ones telling them that she wasn't returning and that they needed to stay with their uncle or their aunt.  The girls were upset and afraid to tell me so I did not find out for three days.  I called my son and talked with him about the situation and he advised me to call the police and report what had happened.  I did.  I was told that since she had left them in my care there was no criminal act and that I should just do what was needed to keep the girls safe.  I didn't hear from my daughter for several days despite several attempts to contact her by my son, my oldest daughter, and myself.  When finally we heard from her she said that she was overwhelmed, that she had been hearing voices, and that she "just couldn't do it anymore."  She believed she was doing the best thing for herself and her girls.  She didn't reveal where she was or how she had got there but we deduced she was in Idaho with a friend.  How she got there was still a mystery.  She wanted me to put her things into storage.  She hadn't paid her rent and the apartment would have to be vacated by the end of the month.  The girls still needed to finish the last two weeks of school so I would have that time to pack and move things into storage.  I did what I could.  She had neglected housework for some time by the time I had arrived and things had gotten pretty bad.  I packed things up but left the house for her to clean and left what I couldn't fit into the truck as well as her things and her youngest daughter's things.  I am on a fixed income and the cost of the moving truck was a hardship on both me and my daughter and son-in-law that I live with.  But, we packed up the rented truck and move things into storage.  My daughter showed up at her apartment the day after we had left it.  She was upset with the state of the place and that there were still things left for her to deal with.  I felt, and my other children agreed, that I had done more that could be expected.  We feel that she left without thought for her daughter and that she expected others to take responsibility that should have been hers.  She blamed others for her actions and for her inaction.  We let her know that had she asked for help we would have been there for her but that the way in which she handled things and the way she had left her girls was not right.  This is over simplifying the situation and all that was said between us but so much was said that can't be reported verbatim.  She informed me, once she was back, that she had left in her ex-husbands car, that he somehow got to her, and that is also how she returned.  She also informed me that he had cut off his ankle bracelet and was running from parole.  It is our assumption that she left with him, that things didn't work out as she had planned, and that they came back to pick up where they had left off.  I do not know if he is still with her at this time but she does still have his car.  She has until the end of the month to vacate the apartment and has no idea where she will go to then.  The two older girls are here with us and the plans are for them to accompany two of my grandsons and me on our long planned trip to West Virginia to visit my son and his family and for them to stay with him for the next school year at least.  But, with my daughter things change daily and we must prepare for anything.  I do not want to give my granddaughter back to her at this time.  I believe, as do her siblings, that she needs to get back onto her meds and to seek psychiatric help for the issues she is experiencing.  Life is happening and the best we can do is take it one day at a time while trying to do the best we can for my granddaughters and hope that my daughter finds her way.

How does one kick start a new life?  I wish I knew.

Down & low

When I started this blog I had the best of intentions as to keeping up with it and being interesting. But that was many moods ago and I find myself increasingly depressed and feeling hopeless. I take medications for this but they don't seem to be helping much these days. In fact, I am wondering today why I bother at all. And I do mean at all. At least today. I find getting up and going through the motions of the day tedious, trying, and tiring. I want to lay down, close my eyes, and sleep long and deep. But I don't sleep much these days either. My mind races, my thoughts scattered at the same time they are obsessing over things out of my control. I am lonely. Lonely for someone of my own. I live in a home with nine other people and I am lonely. I need a hug. I need someone to want me. I miss love. I am fifty-five years old and lately I feel old. How will it be to grow old alone? I had always thought I would be with someone through these years. Like my parents who were together fifty-six years. But, it doesn't look like that will happen for me. I can't seem to hold onto love. And it isn't just love. It is my life. I have accomplished nothing and look forward to nothing. Nothing except closing my eyes for the last time. Fatalistic, yes. Wishful thinking, yes. I have told my kids I will hang around and let nature take its course but it doesn't stop the way I think, the way I feel, the way I yearn for release.

Moving On

Today Mike and I officially and for always broke up. It is time to move on. How?

This has not been a good month for my family. My youngest daughter is fighting for custody of her oldest son. She is fighting a man who has not been in my grandson's life for twelve and one-half years. My grandson just turned thirteen. She is fighting a man that spent seven years in prison for statutory rape of a thirteen year-old girl. My daughter was fourteen when she got pregnant. She is beside herself with grief and fear that this man, this registered sex offender, will get partial custody or visitation with her son. At the same time her second son, ten years old, has just been diagnosed with scoliosis; her five year old daughter has an appointment with a cardiologist; the four year old has severe food allergies; and the baby, six months old, has craniosynostosis, a condition in which the soft spot closes too early. Her older sister, my second child, just found out that her husband of fourteen years has been "inappropriate" with two of her three daughters. He was arrested a week ago and will have his preliminary court hearing next week. Lives disrupted, innocence cheated, dreams shattered. Then there is my oldest daughter's half sister (from a different mother) who is twenty-eight and has just been diagnosed with a rare form of cancer.
Reality bites and bites hard. But, life goes on. You do what you can to make it through each day, to maintain a sense of the positive and to forge ahead despite the urge to pull the covers over you head and sleep the pain away. My daughters are strong women, stronger than they know, and they will come out of these trials stronger, and they will protect and love their children through whatever comes.

Friends

I have just realized that I have no friends. I have my grown children; but no friends. In my past, I would go out for a drink after work with one or two work associates or with one of my sisters-in-law, but, no friends. How can it be that I have lived fifty-five years and I am friendless. Oh, on her birthday and at Christmas I send a card to the woman that was my best friend in high school and a few years thereafter;but, that is it and we do not talk or email the rest of the year. I would like a friend. Someone to chat with, to tell things to; someone I don't have to fear will repeat my tails of splendor and woe. Someone to take long walks with on a sunny day or go to a movie with. The last movie I saw in a theatre was "Julie and Julia," and that was with my son, and it was at least five years ago. Are there others like me who wish for a friend and don't know the first thing about obtaining one, let alone keeping one?

Last weekend was spent in the nation's capital, Washington DC. Driving into DC, seeing the Washington Monument come into view, and knowing that I would soon see the seat of our government and all the wonders of such places as the Smithsonian and the National Mall I was nauseous and at the same time overjoyed with anticipation and expectation. These are but a few of the photos from the day. What a glorious city, what a colored history, full of triumph and defeat, honor and shame. God Bless America.

So, jail is and isn't like what you see on television or in the movies. In 2006, I had the pleasure of being locked up in South Lake Tahoe, El Dorado County, California and the displeasure of being locked up in Yerington, Lyons County, Nevada. In the Tahoe jail I made friends and worked in the laundry. There was a sense of camaraderie I didn't expect but came to appreciate and was grateful for. Having never been in trouble before and certainly never in jail before I did not know what to expect and was frightful going in. But, I soon lost my fear and became integrated into the life of the women's pod. I must give a shout out to the COs (correctional officers) of El Dorado County because though they took their jobs seriously they did not treat the inmates with contempt or disrespect. I applied for and was given a job in the laundry which made my five months there fly by. I worked from 7:00 am to 6:00 pm six days a week. With a job there are privileges, such as, a private cell, an extra mattress, pillow, and blanket, and regular coffee while working. We were also given food stuff and sundries without having to purchase them and we were able to watch television and listen to the radio. Of course, jail meant orange suits, cavity searches, and hand and ankle cuffs but these were tolerable in El Dorado County. Lyon County Jail was a different story. From the minute the transport officer arrived till the time I was released there was nothing redeeming about Lyon County Jail. The cavity search was demeaning and black and white uniform, three sizes too big and raggedy, made one feel like a member of a chain gang. The COs were verbally abusive. The female pod was small and packed with inmates sleeping in the day room on pads once the bunks were full. An inmate was not allowed to speak until spoken too and had to face the wall when a CO was in the pod. The COs were all men and sexually harrassed the female inmates. One day an inmate asked if it were snowing outside and the CO said "no, but it can snow inside." Then he, and two other COs, brought in cans of Comet Cleanser and covered everything, and I mean everything, with a thick layer of white cleanser. We then had to clean it up. It took hours to clean and in that time we were not allowed to rest or have anything to eat or drink. The women incarcerated with me in Lyon County were not the same temperament that I had met in El Dorado County. They were harder and less apt to accept a new person into the fold. I stayed in my cell the majority of the time and read. Though I spent only two months in Lyon County it seemed longer than my time in El Dorado. It was during my time in jail that Mike relapsed for the first time and so I didn't see him or talk to him often. My only visitor, other than Mike, in El Dorado was my second daughter who visited once. In Lyon County I had no visitors and the only person I talked to was my son. I did correspond by mail to my family outside and am grateful for all the support I received. Though I am regretful of my actions that led to my incarceration I am grateful for the experience and for the psychiatric help I received inside. I was put back on meds and my mania was managed. It was inside El Dorado Jail that I made my first contact with the therapist that I would see for the next six months and she was wonderful in helping me to come to terms with what had happen. I was put on probation and part of probation was participating in the Behavior Health Court program. This program was designed for offenders with mental health issues and monitors the progress of those in the program as they transition back into their regular lives. My time in the program was invaluable as I came out of jail without a job, close to losing my apartment, and into a relationship with Mike who was fully in his meth and alcohol addiction. The time since then has been filled with ups and downs and I am still trying to find a way to be at peace with myself. This is what this blog is about, my finding peace with myself again, my forgiving myself, and my finding a place to call home.

Truth

In 2006, I spent five months in jail. Flashback to 2003, my mother in the hospital in Carson City and me living in Belmont, California with my husband and working at a job, as an alcohol and drug counselor, that I loved. But, I loved my mother more. I quit my job, took a job in South Lake Tahoe for much less money in order to be close to my mother. My husband stayed behind to ready the house for sale. Just as things began to come together to make the transition easy my mother passed on. My beloved mother, my hero, died. My husband was still in Belmont. I was in Carson City staying with my sister, a late stage alcoholic who my husband had lately spent a month helping out because she had fallen and broken a hip. Now I was staying with her. Not easy. In the next couple of months I would take her to the hospital to detox twice and try without success to get her into rehab. My husband finished the house and put it on the market then joined me in Carson City. We found our own place and for several weeks things seemed to be going in the right direction. Then the bottom fell out when I discovered that he has relapsed. I found myself intimately involved with two active alcoholics, both of whom were abusive--my sister emotionally and verbally, my husband emotionally, verbally, and physically. So much had been happening in my life, so many changes and losses and I had began to cycle manically. I had been diagnosed with Bipolar II several years before but with my life running semi-smoothly I had stopped my medications and now without them I found myself either running higher than a kite or falling into hopeless depression. The cycling was erratic and cruel and after a failed suicide attempt I left my husband and without options went to stay with my sister again. From the frying pan into the fire is how things went. My sister was drinking more than ever and arriving home from work after a day of treating alcoholics and drug addicts I would then have to deal with her. Twice I had to take her into the hospital to detox and the one time that I managed to convince her to enter a rehab she spent one night there and then left because they wouldn't let her keep her makeup. When I couldn't handle the situation anymore I found a weekly motel in South Lake Tahoe and eventually an apartment. It made more sense to be on my own and closer to work. But my sister's condition only declined and no one else was willing to help her. I made welfare checks by telephone on a daily basis and went over the hill once a week to make sure she was alive and well. Then the day came when I arrived at her home to find the police and an ambulance there. She had gotten drunk and was running naked around her backyard. The neighbors called the police and the police called an ambulance. She went into the hospital, into intensive care, where they detoxed her. She was in ICU for a week. She refused another inpatient rehab so I offered to help her find an outpatient clinic. She stayed sober two weeks before I got a call from her that she had fallen again. She didn't think it was serious but I drove over the hill to check on her and found her lying on the floor in her own waste unable to move. Again I called an ambulance. She had dislocated her shoulder and broken her hip again and once more she needed to be medically detoxed. For me things were going from bad to worse. I began traveling back and forth from South Lake Tahoe to Carson City twice a day to maintain her house and her pets during the six week period she spent in first the hospital then the rehabilitation clinic. Once she left the clinic I would take her to physical therapy three days a week before going to work. At this same time my youngest daughter lost a baby and spent a week in the hospital with a blood infection undergoing several blood transfusions. These were long days and trying times for me and I entered a prolonged manic phase. I couldn't sleep or eat. I lost thirty pounds in six weeks. And got myself into trouble. She had given me her gas card for traveling, her check book for household bills, and her credit card for household and pet supplies. In my manic state I began to shop during the night buying all kinds of things that I don't remember buying. I certainly don't have storerooms full of items purchased. My daughter tells me I would show up at odd times with groceries and household supplies. I bought tires for my sister's SUV just to buy them. I shopped at Walmart and bought ridiculous things I didn't need and didn't keep. I was spending $50.00 a day on gas traveling back and forth from South Lake Tahoe and Carson City. Then one day I crashed. I entered a depression that wouldn't go away. I wrote a note to my sister telling her what I had done, I drove to the Sheriff's department and told them what I did. I quit my counseling job and took a room service job in a Tahoe casino-hotel because I didn't feel worthy of my work anymore. And I waited for the s**t to hit the fan. Police showed up at my door, handcuffed me, and took me to jail. I was bailed out later that night but the snowball was rolling and nothing would be the same again. The day before I was to go to court I rented a hotel room and attempted to asphyxiate myself. I had been researching suicide for weeks and was sure it would work. It didn't and so I took the stockpile of pills I had acquired and alcohol and went off to try again. I did not want to live. I did not want my children to look at me with disgust and disappointment. I had never been in trouble of any kind before and I didn't know how I would handle it. I just wanted to die, to leave before I could inflict anymore damage on those I loved. The pills and the alcohol didn't work. I woke up covered in my own vomit in my truck that was under three feet of snow. I gave up. Again. I drove into town and to my daughter's house. From there I called the police who picked me up and took me to the hospital. I was then transported to the county psychiatric hospital, where I stayed for two weeks, then off to jail (Later I will write about my jail experience). I am now a convicted felon. I have finished my probation and paid my restitution. I hold myself fully accountable for my actions and for the consequences of those actions. My life will never be the same. I can no longer do the work I once loved. My oldest daughter doesn't talk to me. I no longer associate with my siblings, or should I say they no longer associate with me. In fact, I just found out a few months ago that my sister died in 2008. I can understand why no one let me know but not why they didn't let my children know. Today I am trying to put my life back together. While I was in jail I saw a psychiatrist and went back on my meds. When I got out I began what would be three years of therapy. I am still on my meds. I still think about dying every day but I won't act on those thoughts again. I saw the sadness, the heartbreak, my suicide attempts caused my children and I can't bear to cause them any more pain. My life is not where I want it to be but life is a process I am willing to work on. Writing this down is part of that process. I haven't told anyone outside my children and my therapist my story. I don't know what tomorrow will bring but it can't be any worse than yesterday and someday I will find my way home. Someday I will be able to hold my head up again. Someday I will like myself again.

mike

Mike and I were together seven years. There were some very good times in the beginning and scattered through the not so good times but in the end the not so good times won. It is so like the song "When Love Goes Wrong" sung by Marilyn Monroe in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. Here is a link to that song: http://www.metrolyrics.com/when-love-goes-wrong-lyrics-marilyn-monroe.html The blues, they hit you hard when love doesn't go right and you wonder which direction you should take. Do you continue on the way you are going in an atmosphere of ever increasing tension waiting for love to turn to hate or do you decide to go you own way, to leave your lover behind and perhaps preserving at least in memory the love you once shared?
Mike and I had different priorities at the end. His was with his father in Idaho, spending some time with a father he hasn't known for the past twenty years. Good for him. I would give anything for another day with my parents. My priorities are also rooted in family but they are also rooted in self. I would like to find a way back to myself. At the start of this blog I wrote that I was in search of a home and this is still true. The difference today is that I am in search of a home that I have realized is within and now I need to find a way to define that home within. I do want to find a physical home as well but finding my spiritual home is even more important and is one that I must navigate myself. My family, my children and grandchildren, may serve as buoys along the way but it is my boat to keep afloat.

west virginia

I arrived in West Virginia two nights ago. I am here visiting my son and his family. My two granddaughters here are as gorgeous and delightful as ever and my daughter-in-law is ravishing. The flight out here from Reno, Nevada was not without its trials and tribulations but I made it and for that I am grateful. I am here for a month and then will return to Reno for my oldest grandson's thirteen birthday.
While I am here I hope to see more of West Virginia then in previous visits. Madison, where my son lives, is a small town but not without it's splendor. I hope to visit the town hall and the library. I love libraries, large and small. I am an avid reader and just love the smell of books, old and new, and the welcoming sound of a turning page. No Kindle for me, I want to feel the page and hear the crackle of paper. My son will be taking a week off from work so that we can take a weekend trip to tour the New River Gorge Bridge.
In the past I haven't posted as often as I would have liked but I hope to be consistent this time. I do hope I have a reader or two out there. I am hoping for some feedback.