Well, well...

Long time no see. Almost two months. And in that two months things have changed.

So, last time I was a few days away from seeing Lucero. Best show to see by myself, hands down. It was completely awesome. I'll never regret going to see them.

And, on the way back to my car, I spent hours talking to The Roughneck. He's the guy who works in the garage at church. I've known him quite some time, he works all the time and I saw him at the Big Music Fest back in March. Well, turns out he started asking questions then about me and the idiots there told him a bunch of crap. Didn't change his mind. He walked me to my car and asked for my number. He called the following Monday. We've been inseparable ever since. I am definitely not his type of girl. I'm older, taller, divorced, have a kid. I'm not blonde. And still he loves me and wishes to take care of me. He does take care of me. And Little Man. He already loves him like he's his own.

We all know I don't introduce my precious kid to people I don't think will be around in 6 months. Hell, there are friends of mine with whom I've been friends for years who haven't met him. So, this is Serious. Big time serious.

I've all but moved in with The Roughneck. Or he's all but moved in with me. It seems we're splitting time between his apartment and the house. There's some roommate drama at the apartment to deal with plus I have Little Man this month, so we're staying here. But there's drama here. Big ol' make-me-wanna-scream-and-run-and-not-look-back drama. He wants to help with that too.

Why is he The Roughneck? Well, he calls himself that. He's a maintenance man, a jack of all trades. He's a bit more country than I am. He's got tattoos and hangs with the boys. A roughneck. He's got good values and a nice work ethic. We match even though we're so different. He calls me The Princess because I'm spoiled and don't like to get dirty. So, we're The Roughneck and The Princess. Everyone who knows us is happy for us. An added bonus is my mom really, really likes him. Way more than the Ex-Huz. Oh, and The Roughneck hates BF. Hates. It's great.

So, coming soon to a church not near you...wedding bells perhaps? He's got a plan all worked out on when he's proposing and he won't tell me. Everyone else, yes. Me, no. And so I say we're unofficially engaged because he wants to do it right and give me everything I want and deserve. That means waiting to officially ask me and me officially say yes until a ring is present. And he's got his eye on one. We'll see how it plays out.

I'm currently sick. Yay for mid summer sinus infections when there are big plans on the horizon. I also have made The Roughneck sick when he's about to take 3 days of vacation to just be with me. I'm a great girlfriend, huh?

Don't stop Believing.

You know, I was going to come here and write about how down I've been feeling and how I'm kind of wanting to turn back into a hermit, but I'm not going to. I think I'd rather focus of the good right now.

I really just want to put on good music and jump around being silly. It's a good change from this morning when I almost bawled in the car and couldn't (and still can't) figure out why.

What else is good?

Semester is over! Granted, I only took one class, but it's finally over. I hope. I'll be going in this afternoon to check my grade on the departmental exam and I'm hoping I don't have to retake it. That would suck. But, I did win a prize for having a perfect score on the daily quizes, so that made me happy. And I like the professor so much I'm taking a class with him in the fall. Speaking of fall...

If I take 4 classes this fall and 4 in the spring, I'll graduate with my AA degree. Awesome. Then I'll transfer to Big College and finish up. This goal is driving me, I can't wait. Seriously.

Ok, you know what has me super pee-in-my-pants excited this week? LU-mother fucking-CERO tomoroow!

I seriously need to be better at writing. I've just been super busy. There are tons of people coming and going at all times of the day for my grandfather, who is still be his stubborn self, but things are better. A good thing.

Lots and lots of good things. I keep telling myself things are great, I'm doing fine. I'm finally starting to believe it.

Didn't I already say this?

Scenario: Boy likes girl, girl agrees to date boy. Boy is very sweet, but girl just wants to date and doesn't want to be his girlfriend and says so. Boy sends message and ends with "I love you." Girl flips her shit. Completely normal, right?

Because, seriously, it made me angry. Combined with his passive aggressive Facebook statuses, it's a little much. As in, if he couldn't see me, his status would be "having a shitty day" or "what a crappy day" or "not in the best of moods...but oh well, right? It's not like it matters." And then, after I told him why I was mad, they changed to "wow, I feel like an idiot" and "what a shitty day. I hope tomorrow is better."

I am very tired of men folks pinning their happiness on me. Perhaps I'm taking it wrong, but that's what it seems like to me. Maybe it's because I don't wear my proverbial heart on my sleeve or because I play it close to the vest, but Jesus H Christ on a cracker, could he be any needier?! I appreciate that he was honest enough to tell me his intention to date me seriously. I thought he'd appreciate my honesty when I said I didn't want to be anyone's girlfriend, I like how my life is right now quite a lot.

In talking to RepoGirl about the situation her response was "maybe you should date him." Hello? I am. "Well, only him then." Wait, WHAT? You're my BFF and you're taking his side? Because he dropped the "I Love You" bomb, I should just date him? She is so off her game, it's disturbing. Because, let's be honest. If I *only* dated the guys who said they loved me, well....I'd have dated a lot more than I have.

I'm not going to apologise for not wanting to be his girlfriend. He and I were best friends 12-15 years ago. We dated for a short time. I don't remember it much, because honestly, I was his girlfriend in name only and I'm pretty sure I dated two to four other guys during that time. (My mom gave me the best advice early in life: "Date, don't get serious with any one boy.") 10 years ago we didn't have the technology available to kids today. Instant messaging was still something you had to pay for. There was no Facebook or Myspace. Notes on paper, passed back and forth in hallways, on buses, through multiple friends, was the preferred method of communication. Text messages and cell phones did not exist in our high school world. And if your friend lived in far South Town and there was no car, no same school to pass notes in? You called on the phone after school and prayed to not get busted after 9 PM. (I had, and still have, a 9 PM phone curfew.) You sent real letters, through the mail. Kids today have it easy. And in some cases, I think that easiness translates to having it worse. You know what, I got off track. Let's go back.


I'm not going to apologise for how I feel. I don't really feel anything for Bosnia, not romantically. I agreed to date him to see if something would develop. This "situation" has thrown up the steel bomb shelter around my heart. I cannot, and will not, deal with someone like this again. Tennessee was enough.

He is 95.

You know why my blog always talks about whichever dude I'm into at the moment and never any heavy stuff? Because this is my escape from the heavy stuff. But, I'm so fucking angry and hurt that it has to go somewhere, so here.

I live with and take care of my 95 year old grandfather. I have lived with him practically my whole life. My mom has done all of the housework and groceries and EVERYTHING that whole time. Even when he wasn't living with us, she'd clean his house and buy groceries. Does he support me? Sure. He bought this house for me. I don't pay rent or utilities. He pays my car insurance and until last October, my gas. He has paid for school and books, not all of it, but some. But I don't not help out. I have worked. I've used my own money for home repairs. I took care of getting a new roof put on after a hail storm screwed ours up. I have driven him to doctor's appointments. Made sure the water was turned off in the kitchen, locked the front door, SHUT the front door. I have dealt with paying his bills when he has needed help. There isn't anything really that I haven't done, wouldn't do or am currently not doing to help him. (Ok, so I draw the line at wiping his ass and showering, but, I'm sorry...I just can't. But I'd be the one to call the home health aide.)

Things turned rough in July. Mom, Little Man and I went on vacation. Not far away, not without notice. We told him where we were going, left Post-Its with number on the cabinets. I arranged for my (non bio) sister to come in EVERY DAY to check on him. She lives in far, far South Town from here. She did it anyway because she loves him too. We were gone two or three days before he started calling around trying to find us. Saying he didn't know where we were or anything. Untrue! Notes on the cabinets. My aunt calls my cell phone and asks me to call her. When I do, she rips into me for leaving him there with nothing and him being worried and he has no food and blah blah blah. Did I mention she's in Arizona and has NO clue what goes on in this house? I had already talked to him, he was fine. Called my sister and she repeated he was fine. He had been bringing food into the house. Her boyfriend had taken the trash out, they did dishes. Everything was fine, he had just forgotten we went out of town. My grandmother was upset, my great aunt three towns up the road was upset (and she knows nothing either because shewon't lower herself to visit or spend time with anyone here). My great aunt who lives less than a mile away was coming by and bringing food. He was FINE. My aunt threw a giant hissy fit and said she was going to put him in a home. She cursed at me and Mom. When I told her she couldn't treat me that way, she screamed at me "I'll talk to you however I want you ungrateful little bitch." And I hung up on her, turned all the cell phones off and went on my way. I returned her Christmas present to me, I returned my grandmother's present to me, and I barely spoke to my aunt when she was here.

Present Day. My aunt has been trying to force my grandfather into a nursing home, to go live with my 95 year old grandmother who can't take care of herself, or to move to Arizona to live with her. She came down to take him to my grandmother's in March and had a helping hand in taking his keys away, which she now denies. She does not have daily interaction with him since she lives so far away and visits for 30 minutes twice a year, if that. Her daughter lives in this town and refuses to visit. She did not know he was on oxygen, she did not know about his health. It, frankly, is none of her business on a day to day basis. All she should be concerned about is "Is he healthy? Is he fed? Is he happy?". And the answers are yes, yes, and yes. How do I know? I drive him to the doctor and go in with him. I shop for food and, while I don't always cook it because he likes soup from cans, I do cook. And if he weren't happy, I'd know that too.

My grandfather will be 96 this year. He has atrial fibrillation and his heart fills 45 percent of his chest cavity. He has survived prostate cancer. He has untreated Parkinson's because it was just diagnosed, but he's had it for years. His memory is not good. He sundowns. He is shaky while walking, yet refuses to use a cane or walker despite being told to by doctors. He is on continuous oxygen, which he also refuses to use all the time. Until March, he was driving. His doctor says he does not need to be in a nursing home, he wouldn't last 60 days. I believe this. He is stubborn and does not want to accept help. He does not want anyone to clean his piles of stuff or get rid of anything. I understand this, it's part ofthe dementia.

Why do I help? I love him. I don't want him to be unhappy. I want him to retain as much independence as he can. Will I continue to help? YES. I do his laundry, drive him around, cook. Everything he will give up and let someone else do, I DO. I consider it an even trade.

Where am I going with this? Today Adult Protective Services came to the house, on an allegation that I (and my mother) am neglectful and abusive. He told the woman that these allegations are unfounded but that I am his primary caregiver. I am 28 years old and am fully responsible for my entire house. Why does it matter that he named me? If they decide to press charges, I am the one who goes to jail, who is punished. Oh, and my entire extended family hates me. Not only have I been named a bad mother, now I am just a bad person.

People ask what I do for a living. How do I answer that? I don't get paid for this. I just say I'm an elderly care-taker. I never get paid, I don't have benefits, and I NEVER have time off. Even when I am gone from the house I worry. "Did he leave the stove on or burn something up? Has he fallen? Is the water running, the door open?"

People ask how I cope. My answer? It's an honest one. "My liquor bill has gone waaay up." I've never been a big drinker, ever. These past weeks I have used every invitation to go out, to get away.

In 15 days I will go see my therapist. I will pay her $125 for validation, for her to tell me that I am a good person, more people should be like me and there is nothing wrong with me, perhapsI should not drink as much. $125 for something MY OWN FAMILY should tell me. I'd rather take that money and leave. Except I can't. If I leave, he dies. How do I balance it? I don't, I can't.

I'm tired of being that girl.

Long time, no see. Lots of bs has occurred. I'm just gonna jump right in.

I'm so tired of being that girl.

And now, an oldie, a blast from the past. Guy adds me on Facebook. Haven't seen him in almost 10 years, when he dumped me after band banquet. I'll call him Bosnia. Anyway, we hang out St. Paddy's Day. He tells me I really hurt him, he was really mad at me for a long time, but he got over it. Um, hello? He dumped me. Which he says is because I told him I was only going out with him on a dare. Entirely possible, but unlikely that I'd tell him that. I do have tact, jeez. But now he says he's good, we're good. And then tonight he says he'd like to be with me sometime in the not too distant future. Because he's never stopped caring.

So tired of being the girl everyone falls in love with and never gets over.

I don't want a boyfriend right this minute. Or even in five minutes. I just want to hang out and have fun. I don't want to answer to anyone. I want to be myself, not worry about pissing someone off by going out with someone who isn't them. Also, I don't want to have to go out when I don't want to, or answer my phone when I don't want to, or to text back when I just want to sleep or whatever.

I suppose I'm that girl because I'm nice. Really. For all that I try to say I'm a heinous bitch, it very rarely comes out and I usually feel awful after. I don't make fun of people, I don't say 90% of the shit I'm thinking in my head outloud. I'm a flirt. I'm pretty. (And modest, too!) I don't know WHY I'm so ... whatever it is I am. Because, honestly? I'm not interested in most people. I have a love, a long-term love (see Boy Wonder), that will always be first. And, I'm not easy to deal with. People seem to think I'm kidding when I say I'm high maintenance, demanding, picky and that I like to play mind games. I'm not kidding. But it never matters. They laugh it off. Or, in one case, the guy wanted to know what mind games I'd be playing so he could play along. Yeah, dude, that's not how it works. He was deemed "not fun" very quickly. Also, he reminded me of the ex-huz and um, yeah NO. I'm the fucking boss, ok?

In other news, I seem to be allergic to all narcotics save morphine and demoral. I had my wisdom teeth out Thursday and the dentist gave me Tylenol 3 since vicodin makes me scratch my skin off. Guess what? So does Tylenol 3 now. Yay! And you know, they don't just hand out the good stuff. I'm screwed, I guess. More benadryl for me.

Had to work big big big music fest this week. Well, before I had my teeth out that is. I've lived in this town 20 years and have never been. Went to my first showcase ever! It was nice. I wish I could have gone back for more, but there's always years in the future. By the way, check out Smokekiller and Jen Lane, both from Canada. They're pretty rad. Total sweethearts, too. I snuck into his set, but had to miss hers on Friday.

I have to pee now. Too much damn iced tea. Toodles!

Hiatical

Right, so, I'm going to be taking a hiatical. Now, I know that's not a word, but deal. I'm not going on vacation (OMG, hold on. I have to change the channel. Taylor Swift is on.), I'm staying right where I am. I'm not going on sabbatical, because I'm not taking that long off and this isn't my "career."

And I just like the word "hiatical."

I'll be back. Eventually. I just need to clear my head on some stuff. I'm still reading and commenting. I'm still doing @ replies on Twitter. (If you think I should follow you on Twitter and I'm not, let me know.) I'm just not being very active.

Thanks for everything, y'all. I mean it.

Fertility and Me

I've been giving a lot of thought to fertility the past month or so. It is something I struggle with pretty much daily, and sometimes I don't deal well. Let me take it back for you.

I got pregnant when I was 18, almost 19. Looking back, this in itself, was a miracle. I lost that baby at 5 weeks. I only knew I was pregnant because I took a pregnancy test. If I had not done that, I wouldn't have known. After the miscarriage, that ob/gyn said I had a small ovarian cyst that would go away on its own.

After several years of being on birth control and knowing I wanted to have a baby, I stopped taking them and we started trying. After trying for a year, my ob/gyn (the old guy whose name is on the door) had me start charting my cycles. I never did see any changes in temperature or anything else that is supposed to signal ovulation, but then again, I was only 21 or 22, so what did I know?

In April of 2004, I had an ovarian cyst burst. I suspect that I had one burst earlier, while I was at work, but it wasn't quite so bad. I was in a barely staffed office, so it was a holiday of some kind, and it was some of the worst pain I've ever experienced. But, I couldn't leave, and really, it just hurt when I breathed deep or moved, so I stayed. I thought perhaps I had pulled a muscle and I don't know how I thought I could have done that by sitting on my ass all day. My gp doctor agreed. Then came the big one, the one that sent me to the ER in an ambulance in the middle of the night. And when they did all the tests, they found, not one, not two, but more. Including one the size of an orange, or a baseball, or a grapefruit. Right on my ovary. And if that one had decided to go, well, there's a good chance I would have died before getting to the hospital.

So, I go back to my ob/gyn, who refers me to someone else in his practice, someone younger. And that doctor, when he looked at the sonogram, he said "Wow, it must really hurt to have sex." He could see that it was bad. It was at this point, he made a tentative diagnosis of endometriosis, pending a laparoscopy.

I was 23. I went through chemical menopause. I was told I'd have to have a complete hysterectomy by the time I was 30 or 35. That I was infertile. After my surgery, the diagnosis was firm.

I was told I had three months to get pregnant or my chances would return to zero. I got pregnant the first try. But to hear that I would have a zero percent chance? At 23? That I'd have to have a hysterectomy by 30...

After I had my beautiful, wonderfully big child, Doc told me I should have my kids back to back. Because of that looming deadline. I told him that unless he was paying for everything and helping, he could forget it. I wanted them spaced out, every 5 years or so.

My son turns 4 in June. I have baby fever. I am, once again, infertile. I will never have a baby without medical intervention.

I have a lying body. And that's what it is, a lying body. Month after month, cycle after cycle, lying to me, making me think there's a chance. There isn't one. I feel, I am, broken. There is no hope there.

Now, now there is a possibility of another hormonal thing wrong with me. And the treatments I've already done, the pharmaceutical ones, are horrible. As in, if you put me on another SSRI, I might just actually stab myself in the chest instead of just thinking about it. Hormone treatment just makes the original endometriosis worse. Therapy has helped some, but every month, I still have these episodes. Directly related to my lying body. There is another treatment, a permanent one. To have a hysterectomy.

I am 28. I want another child, to carry it, to conceive it, to love it. I do not want to think about having a hysterectomy. I am not yet 30. I hate my lying body, but I am not ready to give up, not yet.

I look Fantastic.

I may or may not feel fantastic, but I sure as hell look it. And the day is dreary and gross, so perhaps I will bring someone some joy because I look so great.

I've been out with Repo Girl and Miss M this past weekend. That was fun. Went for drinks and then some karaoke after. And then Repo Girl and I went repoing last night and that was some freaky shit. Why? Because we went out to the rural area and that shit was dark and there were some houses straight out of Chainsaw Massacre out there. I figured out why she brought me though. She's all, "They lynch people out here" and I'm all "I know you, don't think they won't lynch me" and we start laughing. And then she makes a U-ey at one of those creepy houses and I'm all, "I'm pretty sure the white chick dies in Texas Chainsaw Massacre, too." We did find our car though and all was good. This was my first hooking so it was exciting.

Saturday was the Ordination of a close family friend, so I went to that. It was awesome! (Minus the whole part where I got a bit turned on. I mean, for Chuck's sake, I was in church.) I'd never been to an Ordination before and it was very positive and moving. And honestly, I love her so much and think she's a great person, so she'll make a phenomenal priest.

I know there is a video of me doing Detachabe Penis at karaoke, but Panda made it private so I can't link it. Yes, I did Detachable Penis. Because, how awesome is that? And then I got up with another friend and did Achy Breaky Heart. Sadly, JPanda was not there to pick my songs and so I was left with Repo Girl to help me pick. And she listens to some right shit. Like, I like Madonna, but only 80s/early 90s Madonna, not mid-90s/early 00's mediocre Madonna. I also realise I am a gay man in a woman's body. OH! I got invited to a gay bar for the first time ever Saturday, but didn't go because I wasn't feeling very well. I was tired. But that's the first time a gay dude has invited me to go! I am sorry I missed it.

So, there's a slight update. I need to remember to write, I'm just such a damn private person that this is sometimes hard, you know?

It was over before it even began.

A reminder for the future:

Do not announce your happiness as it will turn out to be fleeting.

Merry 2009, y'all!

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

Where there is injury, pardon;

Where there is doubt, faith;

Where there is despair, hope;

Where there is darkness, light;

Where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;

To be understood as to understand;

To be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;

It is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Also, I am feeling better. Thank you.