Posts from the ‘Vent’ Category

My Day thus far

Drowning in stress. Running around like a chicken w/my head cut off. & trying to find a way to help Gavin before we all go insane.

* posted on the fly w/o the use of proper editing tools 😉 *

~ Lizzeann

Honesty: My Story: Dear Mary,

Dear Mary,

I watched Glee tonight with Rob. I *heart* Glee! It’s one of, if not my absolute favorite non-cop/criminal related shows. Tonight part of the plot was about Rachel and her search for her birth mother who gave her up for adoption to a gay couple. Only it wasn’t so much Rachel’s search as it was Rachel’s Birth Mother’s desire to know her daughter.

I used to daydream about a reunion like that for us. You would look for me. Then we would be reunited. And have a happy reunion. A  happy relationship. Sure, it would be bumpy at first and bumpy at times because all relationships are sometimes. We would be okay though. We would still be family though.

What I don’t understand is; twice now in my life, you’ve pretended you wanted to know me. Twice now you’ve started to get to know me. The second time you went so far as to meet my family. Only to blow me off in the end.

That’s right, twice now you’ve done this to me! What the hell???? What is so wrong with me? Why is it that you said that you would get rid of my other three siblings if that’s what it took to keep me away from you? You blow me off and I don’t bother you. I don’t talk to you. I don’t have anything to do with you once you blow me off. I pretend as if you don’t exist. You are dead to me. I only speak your name to my sister, my husband or my therapist when I’m trying to make sense of your insanity. Something that’s truly pointless to do because really I’m a sane person seeking to make sense of the insane. Although this actually brings me to something I need to speak with you about.

You blew me off. You cut me out of your life over some imagined thing I had done. Not to you, mind you but to Trisha or Charissa – you weren’t sure which. The last thing you said to me on the phone was:

Me: I’m not going to keep defending myself when it doesn’t do any good and all it does is anger you more.

You: I can’t talk to you anymore! I’ll call you back when I’m not so angry!

Then you hung up on me. That was 2 or 3 days before Easter and you still haven’t called me back. Despite the fact that I had called you a few times and you ignored my calls. I had texted you a few times as well – all ignored. The only text you didn’t ignore was the “Happy Easter” text I sent mostly out of some sick sense of guilt because technically you are my “mother” and “I should”. I didn’t expect a response. Imagine my surprise when I received “Same to you”. I guess technically that was the last thing you ever said to me – “Same to you”.

I hate you for that. For getting my hopes up the second time. I fought against it. Especially because I had Rob and Trisha this time. I didn’t have that kind of protection the first time around. But this time, I had the benefit of Rob to back me up and pick me up when I fell – and I did. I also had the benefit of Trisha’s lifetime of experiences with you. Even with all that, I still got my hopes up. Between text messages, your willingness to help with Gavin, the few times you took me to breakfast…Can I just talk about those few times we had breakfast or lunch together?

I was like a star-struck kid. I was terrified of saying the wrong thing or doing the wrong thing. I was sure that if I made one wrong move you would write me off again because I had embarrassed you or because of some other unknown slight. I even opened up to you about this when we were sitting in the Cafeteria at the Children’s Hospital while Emmett John had his ABR. Do you remember what you said? You said that I couldn’t say the wrong thing or make the wrong move. That I was worrying about nothing and I should stop. Yeah, that worked out well for me, didn’t it? You wrote me off in the end anyway.

I’m going out of order here but it’s my letter and I’ll do what I want to. Besides, let’s be honest for a moment. You read Rob’s blog. You don’t read mine. If you did, you wouldn’t be pumping my sister for information about Emmett John after he fell down the stairs because both Rob and I posted updates. But I digress.

The first time around, I admit my hopes were up from Go! There was no way they wouldn’t be. You were my birth mother. I had been searching for you for 4 years! Posting my information on every free Adoption Registry I could find. Doing anything that looked like it might be the slightest bit helpful to an adoptee searching for her birth family. If another adoptee had told me to dance by the light of a silvery moon and you would appear, full of love and thrilled to see me…I’d have done it.

I didn’t have any protection the first time. I had an ex-mother-in-law who didn’t understand why you mattered. And I had an adoptive family who either hated me for hurting my Adopto-Mom or simply hated me because they viewed what I was doing as an attack on the family. Like they weren’t good enough. A few of them were bold enough to vocalize their opinions – painfully so. Most kept their opinions to themselves and just gave me “looks”. Again, like most things in my life, the only one who even tried to understand me, my motivations, my emotions, or anything else was my Auntie Paula.

Read more…

Sleep is *highly* over-rated

At least that’s what I’ve been telling myself these past few days as Mr. Emmett John has gotten stuck in this 1am screaming, wailing, flinging jag. Plus when you add some Fibro induced insomnia it’s a BOGO. Everyone loves a BOGO, Not!

Last night he woke up at 1am. Did a little screaming, wailing and flinging until 2am. He and I relocated at 2am to the living room. He stayed up watching “Toy Story” until 4am while I dozed proped my eyelids open with toothpicks. Then we slept from 4-6am, which is when Elliott Richard woke up.

And now we are dancing again…

* posted on the fly w/o the use of proper editing tools 😉 *

~ Lizzeann

Heat and Sensory Integration Disorder

There are days when Sensory Integration Disorder is the absolute bane of my existance!

In all honesty, I’m being 100% serious here. Emmett John’s unwillingness to wear any clothes what-so-ever 99% of the time aside, Summer is the one time when Sensory Integration Disorder drives me batty. There is absolutely no way for me to tend to all three sensory diets at the same time, which is the only way Rob or I will get any sleep.

Gavin is cold all the time. Even when it’s 99 degrees outside, he’s “cold”. We fight with him over the ceiling fan (“It clicks and I think it’s going to fall.”), the box fan (it hums), the comforter (“I need it!”) and his clothing choices (sweats). If his sweats aren’t available, he’s been known to go around the house – in the summer – wearing his winter coat! He doesn’t even like the windows open – not that we can anyway because it’s a big, ole falling hazard for Gavin who likes to stand in the window.

Elliott Richard is more like your typical kid only he’s hot all the time. It could be -10 degrees outside and he’s hot. He wears coats only because he knows he has to. Heck, he wears clothing period only because he has to and half the time he won’t keep his pants on to save his life. Occassionally, he’ll leave shorts on but more often than not he strips down to his shirt and underpants as long as he’s comfortable in his surroundings. This is how I was as a child.

That brings us to Mr. Emmett John. He is just like Elliott Richard, only worse. If it’s cold, he sweats. Not just a little bit either, buckets of it! If it’s hot, he sweats. If it’s a perfect, cool Spring/Fall day, he sweats. But if you try and cool him down at all – be it with a fan, air conditioner unit or removal of clothing – he will continue to sweat buckets but will get cold. Once he’s cold, he insists on being covered up with a comforter even though he’s still sweating buckets. Emmett John is the one I often leave home without his coat on because I just feel so bad putting a coat on over his clothes when I know he’s already so hot.

As much as I love and cherish all three of my Boys, these disorders – Aspergers/Autism, Sensory Integration Disorder etc – that have spectrums and are never the same way from one child to the next, are seriously getting on my last nerve.

* posted on the fly w/o the use of proper editing tools 😉 *

~ Lizzeann

@#!* morning?

Well, here we are again faithful readers…it’s 3:00 a.m. and I am awake (If only just barely.) with Mr. Emmett John.

Ducky isn’t involved this morning. So she’ll live to see another day. Although I could do with a good scapegoat right about now. (lol)

Emmett John woke himself up. Then he tried to get out of bed by climbing over Rob’s head.

We stopped him from getting out of bed. All Hell broke loose.

He was sort-of awake. Just enough to scream loudly enough to wake the dead – Elliott Richard and Gavin included.

He kept screaming so we came downstairs. Now he’s sitting on my chest watching “Toy Story” while I fight to stay awake.

This pattern/routine has got to go. Period. Bye-bye. See you later. End of story.

* posted on the fly w/o the use of proper editing tools 😉 *

~ Lizzeann

you’re kidding, right?

Why Lizze, why are you awake and posting at 3am?

I wasn’t awake. Then suddenly, I was.

I was having a cool dream. (It was more like a nightmare but one of those ones that you just knew was getting good. Kind of like a horror/drama movie.) Then suddenly, I wasn’t.

Ducky.

Elliott Richard’s demon spawn cat/ninja thing ruined it!!

She woke Emmett John. Who woke me.

Then she bit my toe and ran off!

Too late, Emmett John is awake. He wants a drink.

Then he pitches a holy fit for some reason known only by him and his God. Before finally curling up with my feet and passing out again! ???

Now I’m awake. He’s asleep. Ducky may have to die if this becomes a regular thing. And here we all are.

Damn cat.

(PS No cats – including Ducky – were or ever will be harmed in the making of this – or any other – post.)

* posted on the fly w/o use of proper editing tools 😉 *

~ Lizzeann

weird space

I’m in a funk. Tonight there were 2 loud noises that sounded a lot like gunshots. I don’t know that they were gunshots – they just sounded like gunshots. Odds are they were fireworks since the 4th of July is right around the corner.

Either way, they put Miss Maggie Sue into a tizzy and then she just cowered on the couch with Rob and I. I was okay with that because I was worked into a tizzy myself. My heart was racing – I thought it would beat right out of my chest. I knew – logically – that I was safe and nothing could hurt me. Emotionally though, forget about it! I was terrified and on the verge of a panic attack.

I’ve been in this funk for a while now. My entire life I’ve struggled with depression. Of course, really, who can blame me with the life experiences I’ve had. But still, it’s hard.

It’s difficult to do much of anything at this point. I want to sleep all day – which by itself isn’t a huge change; I’ll give you that. But it’s a general feeling. Like I had posted on my Facebook page earlier:

Feels like she’s screaming in the middle of a crowded room and no one sees or hears me.

I have friends and family who love me. They support me and I know these things. I don’t feel them right now though.

I know I’m depressed. And stressed. And over-whelmed.

I know that it could be worse and there is an end – at some point – in sight.

I know that I would probably have an all-out massive panic attack/mental breakdown. If only, I weren’t so damn strong. If only I knew how to let go and give up – just a little bit. If only, I could stop thinking of others long enough to stop thinking period.

But I can’t do any of those things. I’m stuck here. Feeling drowned and alone. Hoarse from screaming where no one sees or hears me. Lonely and unloved because I know who reads this blog and will “hear me” but I also know who doesn’t read it. So they won’t know how I feel. They won’t know what I’m going through. And so I’ll be ignored and misunderstood again.

Because I can’t quit.

And I won’t speak up outside of these words on a blog lost in cyberspace.