Two Sparks and a Fat Guardian Angel Weed

"Are you my guardian angel? You look just like a weed I picked on the side of the canal and I thought it was beautiful," said one of the patients to me. Over and over and over.........oh, and over and over and over again.............never a dull moment in the mental ward ~~ :o)

A quick update on my Brother. I visited him at the mental hospital last night for one hour. He wasn't doing so great physically, mentally or otherwise, but he was actually relieved to see me.

Physically he's a mess. He was shaking like a person with severe hypothermia, hard and uncontrollable. His heart is unstable, with a racing 180 beats per minute average and blood pressure doing it's own sky high to rock bottom acrobatics. His kidneys are close to shutting down and his liver may be kaput. The normal detox medicines aren't doing enough to stabilize him, so he was on 10 minute intervals of checking vitals by the nurses and they were thinking about transferring him back into the medical ward to have him monitored by machines. (I said..."what are you waiting for? A heart attack?" which is a very real possibility)

They were perplexed by his lack of response to normal detox meds, but once they finally understood through me and my Brother his actual daily intake of alcohol, they realized they weren't dealing with the 'normal.' For me, I'm tipsy and giddy off 1/2 a glass of wine. Ben was up to a case of Captain Morgan's Rum (thats 12 bottles!!), chased with case after case of beer per in days, sleep was occasional short pass outs. 99% of  humans would die from alcohol poisoning from a margain of that intake, but not my Bro~~

Mentally, he still wishes he had died and ended his suffering. Which personally I think is good, because normally he would be charming the nurses and test takers into a pleasant euphoria of 'cured' and he would be out on the streets in a couple of days. For once, he's maintaining honesty. As of last night, he just didn't have anything left in him to live....but I hope that changes.

I did see Ben smile, ever so slightly, because of a patient who hovered like a bee to honey next to us. This man was convinced I was the messiah, a guardian angel sent from the heavens above to break him out of the mental ward.  He was also convinced I was a weed, a beautiful weed, but a weed nonetheless. His insistence that I was a beautiful weed is what triggered a small smile from my Brother.....priceless, I'll be a weed anyday if it sparks life into my Brother!!!  This patient promised me he would pick me some flowers if I wouldjust tuck him under my coat and sneak him out the locked doors.

When I hugged my brother good-bye, he did toss one more spark of life at me, he said, "You feel good, my nice and fat guardian angel." Now, under normal circumstances that should be an insult to 100% of us female gender humans, but to him it meant I felt healthy. The fact is, I'm 5 foot 8 inches. He is just shy of exactly 6 foot. I weigh 138 pounds.. Right now, my brother weights 131 pounds of skin and bones. He hadn't eaten a single thing in 6 days, and lost another incredible 26 lb. between hospital stays. When he's healthy, when he's ok, he weighs 170 lb. on average. I told the nurses to fatten him up~~

~~~~~~~~~~

Now, I have something to say, to all of you.
I wrote no comments please on my last entry.
I didn't want anything.
You ignored my request, repeatedly through comments and emails.

~Thank You~

Want and Need.
Two entirely separate definitions, but can produce the same results.
When my daughters say, "I don't want any medicine." I will say, "You may not want medicine, but you need medicine and I care about you, so your gonna get it from me."

In a way, you all did the same thing.
I realize now, I didn't want sympathy, or pity or drama inspired anything. I didn't get that. I got good old fashioned medicine of the caring and compassionate kind filled with heart and kindness and hope.

A wise mentor of mine says...
Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a present and not giving it.

I thank You.



Edit: Thank you to Julie and first commenter. I just called the hospital to check on him and he was transfered back to the medical part of the hospital right after I left last night. This is a new hospital for me to deal with, in a city away from me. The two mental wards in my city were full Sunday night, so they transported him 40 miles away. New system, new nurses, new doctors, new hospital=more frustrations. Getting information over the phone is like extracting a tooth from an cat who wants to keep it's teeth. After 5 transfers, the best I could get was "The doctor is seeing him now, yes he lived through the night. No, I'm not sure if he is still critical. Blah Blah Blah" 

 

52 minutes....20 seconds

My advice is, skip this entry........and I usually give good advice :o)

I have never really spewed forth drama in this journal. Personally, I could do without it on the whole and avoid things in life that could be potentially drama filled......like the plague. I am, in business, in family, in day to day, in dealing with friends and pets and kids and anything else, I am the level gal, the even Steven, nary an outburst, nary the drama kinda person. So when I am faced with a problem I cannot solve and I'm hanging onto the last shred of my cool, calm, collected persona, I find myself completely at a loss for direction.

This drama type shit is made for someone else, someone else who thrives on it and comes flying out of the corner with her phone attached to her ear and a phone tree bigger then a sycamore. I just can't do that, hate doing that, won't do that. But I can write......Tonight is simply my recording of a night I doubt I'll forget, for me.

This evening, after wafting around my home in flyfishing euphoria, I got a phone call that was so heavy, such a burden, and so awful, I felt mute for exactly 22 minutes after I got off the phone. My Brother, the alcoholic who I knew was spiraling into oblivion called to say Good-bye. He was crying, which he never, ever, never, does. When I realized what he was saying, what he was doing, what he was about to do, I did what a person like me does, record it. I wonder now if that was twisted of me to think of doing, but I sat at my computer and like a good little secretary I typed almost every word he said...while I tried to reason with him, influence him, save him....but typed anyway......just in case they were really his last.

I don't know if anyone reading this has ever heard the voice, the words, of someone who wanted to end their life at the time they were actually standing on the very brink of doing it. Until this night, I hadn't. Now I have the hard copy. I guess there's good things in life, and there are really bad things. And tonight, I officially submit in my journal, proof of the really bad things. The really sad things. The devastating things.

I need to keep it. The voice of alcoholism at it's worst. Life at it's worst. Pain and despair at it's worst. A burden on my shoulders that I can't begin to explain. A choice I had to make that I never, ever want to make again.

My brothers words:

"your talking to a dead man
I'm dead
Your the last person I'm ever going to talk to and I'm just glad it's my sister so I can tell you I love you. I have no choice, alcohol has me, every piece of me.
Nobody is here, when I need someone the most
I'm finished.
Don't cry at my funeral, I've caused enough tears
I'm really hurting Bec'
Tomorrow is nothing, I could care less about it
Tell Mom and Dad how sorry I am
if you calls the cops, I'm dead before they knock down the door
your overthinking bec, if I go to the hospital again, I still will want to drink when I get out
why did I even call you....I don't care anymore.....all you want me to do is go the hosptal
If you call the cops, I swear to god it will be too late
If you dare show up here I will slash my throat, see if I can do it, I swear I will
I got nothin left, nothin
Stop trying to talk me out of this, I just called to say goodbye, I'm done, I love you, I'm sorry
shut up, screw you....I mean, not screw you, cause I love you, but I'm done
I'm done I bought the knife today just for this
Instead of a year without seeing Mom and Dad, it's a life
If you call the cops, you kill me for sure
They want a year away from me, they can have a lifetime
I don't know why I called you, I thought you would be my sister and let me die in peace
your committing your Brother to suicide hell if you try to help
I'm sorry for Mom and Dad, for putting up with me and all that I'm through with this I'm done
1) there's nothing I would do to hurt you guys 2) well, I guess thats it
Alcohol chooses me, when you see me and Mom and dad in my coffin you'll see a guy who once mattered to someone .....you can't help me, I got no way out. You just don't understand. I don't know why I called you, your not helping, I thought you would understand my goodbye....your confusing me....forget it you know......just I need a chance to come back around..you know....don't call the cops or anything weird. Forget it, they can't help me, you don't understand....well Mom and ddad don't want to see me they aint gonna see me alive again........stupid move, I'll be a dead man on the spot....your my sister...the closest family I got that will talk to me......I got no other way out, nothin....aint gonna happen...I'm done....I don't have any choice anymore, it'snot the matter if you drink you lose, if your done....I don't have that choice, it chooses me. I don't have choice. You guys will never know until I'm dead, I'm totally dead it chooses me, I don't choose it. I'm hurting can't you hear it in my voice, it's over, it's done. I just thought I would I would Say I love you, it's done, don't call the cops. It's real.
You can't help Bec, it's over, just let me deal with it. I'm gonna do it or I'm not. Thanks for being there to help me. And thats it. basically, sorry, sounds like I need superior help, but no body can help me but me. I'm the only one that can help me, but I can't do that cause alcohol rules my life. It's not a matter of mind over matter, or a choice, I don't have a fucking choice, thats what you guys don't understand......thats them, those AA people hugging and kissing thats not me, I'm beyond that. I got no where to live, I'm through with my job, I got nothin. I'm gonna put the knife right through my throat.
so whats the point so fuck it. Screw it, I'm done. I love you. I'm sorry yo ugotta see me at my funeral. not that you have to go, I'm sorry I just don't ......just don't call the cops, the knifes in my throat and I'll just shove it through if I hear even a knock on the door.......hospital or whatever. Either let me get over it or I'm doing it. .......the bible, I tried reading that bible you gave me, it doesn't help. I'm gonna let you go, I've wasted way to much of your time. Let me cope with it. deal with it. do you understand. Your brothers in hell, going to hell I love you bec I gotta go now   click "
52 minutes........20 seconds conversation Between Ben G****** and Rebecca H****** his sister on Sunday night between the time of 9:00 p.m and 10:00 p.m. Rebecca's words ommitted

22 minutes. I sat at my desk watching the minutes click away, paralyzed. Call the cops, risk having them storm in on him and have him plunge a knife through his throat, or let him do what he needed to do, find the peace he's begging for....or hope he didn't do anything.

22 minutes is a very, very long time to stare at a clock. I didn't call anyone, I didn't do anything but stare at my clock. I've never been in a position where I felt such responsibility for something so important. Choices, the very thing I live and die for, can be so simple, or so unbearable.

Choice: to let him do what he wanted to do by not doing a damn thing..........well, I decided that was a really fucked up thing to pack around on my shoulders for life. Choice: call the cops and have him plunge the knife in exactly as he said would happen if I called the cops. Another fucked up thing to have wrapped around my throat like a noose for life.

It took me 22 minutes to pick the lesser evil of two life sentences for me. I called the police. I told them what Ben threatened. I jumped in my car, went to his hotel and parked across the street to watch what happened. I knew, ambulance bad, only cops good.

But this is where things got screwy. In a matter of minutes 7 police cars came, parking away from the hotel. Sneak, quiet mode.  From my view I could see them crawling around like ants, but I saw them go to the wrong hotel room. I saw them extract, calmly and simply a man out of this room. I was confused and didn't think it was my brother, but kept watching. Then, police crawled around some more and finally busted into my brothers room.

He didn't accomplish his threat. In his drunken state he dived for the knife, but didn't get the job done quickly enough......the police officer told me.

The thing is, I realize now, that had I not called the police, my Brother would have certainly seen the police lights once they pulled into the parking lot, for the other man. Evidently, within minutes of my call, another call came in about a man who was beating up his wife in another hotel room. If I hadn't called, my brother would have seen those lights and most likely assumed I had called the police and they were there for him. He could have done his deed and no one would have known. He never knew they were there until they already had the door flung open. Thankfully.

This is probably the longest and horrid post I've ever made. Who knows. I'm a dead thought walking right now anyway, I'm bone weary, mind exhausted and everything else you could stuff in a bottle of hell dealing with my Brother.

Although I prevented something tonight, I know all I've done is prolong the inevitable. Unless I can finally persuade the state to keep him, long-term, since the idiots declined our motion for State Institutionalization earlier this last week. I need sleep. I can no longer think straight.

I would like to thank everyone for all your comments and emails of support in regard to my Brother over the last few weeks. They have been very appreciated and helpful.

But tonight.........please

No need to comment on this post of record, it is what it is. A problem I cannot fix, avoid, or rationalize. 

Never Had A Bad Day....

~I have never had a bad fishing~

Of all the profound things I could place on my death plaque, I've decided I'm going simple and easy. I say death plaque instead of gravestone, because I have no intention of ever being buried in the dirt. Dirt is where the worms are, and I'm quite certain my irrational fear of worms is so strong, so ironclad and soul ingrained, it will transfer in death. The thought of being trapped in a coffin thats rotting away to give the worms a new mansion and rotten flesh food, makes me seriously nauseous.

I made this official decision today while walking along the greenbelt that follows the local river to go flyfishing. I started noticing several trees and benches that had sweet little dedication plaques next to them and I paid attention for once. It's perfect: torch me, toss the ashes in the river and then buy a bench and slap a plaque next to it. Presto, I've left a mark on thy world to step on.

Fishing was the only choice I had today. After being terrorized Friday night by one said Brother and then last night, being terrorized again by something much smaller, completely out of control and just as sinister as my brother, I needed a mental break.

The thing is, although I've already mentioned I'm terrified of worms, I really am one of those 'tough' chicks. Meaning, minus the worm oddity, nothing really scares me. I fear nadda and have no problem hanging with the toughest of the tough. But last night one single little creature had me at my wits end. It terrorized me.

I had settled, naw, more like collapsed into bed. Given the week I've had dealing with certain 'said' things, sleep hasn't come easy and I was officially exhausted. I had closed my eyes, I was counting sweet sheep when I started hearing unusual noises. My girls are with their Dad this weekend, so I knew it had to be the pets. I tried, unsuccessfully to ignore them. The noises wouldn't stop. So finally got up and stomped out to the front room to give every single pet within sight a piece of my mind.

When I flipped on the light chaos broke out. Two cats instantly came flying out from somewhere chasing a single solitary mouse straight for me. If it had been a worm they were chasing, I would have screamed, ran out the front door and booked a hotel for the evening, but I figured I could handle one mouse. Besides,I had reinforcements. I have cats. I have a few cats. I won't admit the actual number here, because I'm not sure what number actually constitutes an 'official crazy cat lady' and I never wanted to be one of those.....so the point is---I had back up of pure feline mousing ability. Or so I thought.

Two hours. Thats right. Two hours, with every piece of furniture moved, over turned, tipped over and all out removed from the main hunting arena of the house. My cats would wait patiently each time this monster moved locations while I scooted, threw furniture and scared the little demon to a new location. Oh, the cats got hold of it every once in a while, but I discovered none of my lazy cats are true hunters, none possessed the killer chomp I was counting on. Sadly, I've accused each and every one of them as PETA versions of real cats. All they wanted to do with it was play, and that hissing mouse wanted nothing to do with that game.

Finally I took matters into my own frustrated hands, fired the cats without pay, and although I will spare this journal the details, I can say that little mouse finally dealt with someone who isn't of the PETA variety. Me.

This is why I needed to fish today. This is why I fished for hours and hours and didn't care that the only thing I could hook was icky white fish and the occasional moss bottom. It did not matter one single bit to me.

I finally had a glorious, beautiful day. Even if my 'said' brother came pounding on the door tonight, or another mouse invaded my home, I know when I go to sleep tonight I will be thinking of nothing but the beauty of the river and the peace I feel when I am casting my line across the water.

Today, it is all good.

~I have never had a bad day fishing ~

Irrelevant Details

Ahh the quandary of details.

Here's the problem with details. On the solitary level. I believe, if one partakes in the self sided conversations for too long, one tends to wallow around in said issue long after it has dissipated. I, being of sound mind and common daily practice, does not like to influence the fires of potentially drama based problems. Does not like and actually accomplishing, are two different things. On this individual level, the battle of self (thought) indulgence is admittedly a tough fight. Draining self thoughts are worthy adversaries and they rarely wave white flags of truce. Meaning, inside my head, civil war is a constant threat.

I got that scenario down pat, solid, well executed, ya for me. However, sometimes a problem just won't go the hell away. A problem you never asked for. A problem you had no hand in creating etc etc..... even when you sic the police on reoccurring problem it just keeps coming back for more and more.

This week, my problem, my drama and my own flesh and blood is back with a vengeance. I've kept the details to myself, because this problem, this so called brother of mine, has no one other then myself to call and unleash on. Legally, because of a protection order granted this week, he can no longer harass my parents and for that I am VERY Thankful. I can handle it much better then they could, or should, or have already. Today, I am tired of dealing with him, again. 

Details, oh the glorious juicy tidbits. He was spit out of the system once again, booted from the mental hospital with a neat little stamp called 'discharge.' He called me to come pick him up. I declined. Officially he is homeless. He walked to a dank dingy hotel riddled with fleas and god knows what else. A stray dog has a better chance then him, at least strays have the animal shelter to be taken to.

The calls started in. I ignored 90% of calls, however I did agree to take him some personal items. First visit reveals beer cans and a whiskey bottle hidden under the blanket I sat on. I removed myself immediately from hotel. More calls, a few fights, blah blah blah, the list could go on and on. Messages from hell, messages begging for forgiveness, declaring his love and full of despair to messages full of rage and vile threats. Last night was the breaking point once again, and I feel I was given no choice but to call the police, words are powerful and if someone in his state of mind threatens killing people, as a simple human I see no choice but ask for help from the authorities.......again.

His last call, a message on my unanswered phone, was one of fuck off and die to me for sending the police to his hotel. His parting words, "I'm going to die in this hotel and it will be your fault" I don't think he'll do it until he officially runs out of money and alcohol, but I could be wrong......

Lovely.

I wonder, even with him and his extreme to this concept, why people in tough situations can always find a way to blame other people for their actions. I hate blame. I also loathe excuses and people who avoid personal accountability. Even a small child can understand the principles of cause and effect. Action and consequence. I've done some actions that produced some clear reactions that I don't love (regret is more like it), but accept as mine and mine alone.

I wonder today, how I will feel when he finally ends his personal hell on this Earth. Will my non-action and refusal to give him a home, answer his calls at his beck and call, give him money, calling the police, and refusal to subject myself to the deliberate hell he's created, produce a reaction deep down inside me of regret and guilt when the end comes? The boy in a 32 year old body is screaming for help right now and I feel no choice but to let him keep screaming.

Today, and again, I am trying to convince myself that I will try, should, and can be at peace if he makes such a choice. Maybe if I say it enough, affirmation style, when it happens I will internally believe it. It's worth a try I suppose.

Details are so irrelevant to a situation like this, unless your talking to the police or stuck in an Al-Anon meeting. What I'm truly left with is a bag of emotions that aren't the type I like to embrace, pack around and flame the flames into a bonfire. But bonfire it is, and I crave some water just as much as my brother craves his poison.          

Tags: alcoholism

15 And Proud

My oldest daughter turned 15, middle of the teens, halfway to 20's, center of teen universe, this weekend.

For the mathematicians, I am 34, turning 35 in May, which equates to: I was a statistic on the books of teenage pregnancy for my generation. Although, at the time I didn't quite understand that because I was old enough to vote, live on my own, done with school, but nineteen (and unmarried, which instantly made me a no good tramp in the eye's of goodie two shoes) lumped me in with the shaking of the head, sympathy for my unborn child and general bad looks, plus the cool check mark in the teen pregnancy books. After I had her I couldn't wait, and I mean counting the days-2 1/2 months worth, until I was a respectable 20 year old and I could wear my Mommyhood proudly.

If I had listened to public opinion, my daughter should be a promiscuous, struggling, no good human being and a blimp on her generation destined to fail and be a burden. She was born to a Mother who was a teen, unmarried, just a high school degree, penniless broke, who gasp, used state aid for exactly 8 months to monetarily survive. I'm happy to say, I proved them all wrong, wrong, dead wrong.

I admit for 12 years I dreaded, had nightmares, worried and hated the notion of her turning into a walking zombie of teenage hormones, tyrannical potential and the hateful possibilities every parent can conjure in the mind. I assumed, based on perception that was just the way it would work, urban legends dictated my imagination!

For reason only a parent can understand, I had this vision that the day she turned 13 all my good parenting would sink into oblivion, I would witness an exorcist movie type phenomenon and she would turn into a version of the daughter I once knew. When she turned 13 I braced, but she didn't morph, spit green vomit and her head stayed on straight. When she turned 14, I held my breath, but every day she was the same sweet daughter I had raised, no out of this universe demon voices came from her mouth and I never needed to tie her to the bed. Now that she has turned 15 I feel good, I feel proud, I am no longer afraid.

I've realized circumstance does not dictate a destiny. Situation does not direct an outcome and predictions only happen if you believe in them. I should know, all the cards of presumption were stacked against little Shelby and I the day she was born. I know much of the world believes most children being raised today are no-good, ungrateful little shits who will eventually burden society. I'm here to say I despise that ignorant assumption. To say that insults me, my daughters, and the other parents who work very hard at raising good decent children.

The fact is, doesn't every older generation say that about the generation coming up through the ranks?? People thought the world was going down the toilet with my generation (80's teen), and according to my Mother, her elders were frantic watching her generation going through the 60's, those crazy hippie kids. I have no doubt that same mentality goes down and down through history. Generations change, people change, dynamics are constantly shifting.

I can look today and find awful teens, I can also find horrible people in their 20's, embarrassing to my generation 30 year olds, despicable people in their 40's and burdens to society folks in their 50's and so on. Age draws no lines in the fact some people are good and some people are bad. Thats why I refuse to tell my daughter, and her peers, that they are bad, awful and a disappointment to society-based on public assumption.

Aren't we supposed to believe in the children? Aren't children what make the world go 'round? No one would take an individual child and tell them point blank they are nothing but a liability to our future, so why generalize the lot of them by saying it in newspapers, coffee chats, gossip on the phone and so on? Why perpetuate such a negative assumption? If a child is out of control, the fault lays squarely on the parent who raised them. Even then, there are exceptions, good parents who's children take mis-steps! If a parent is lazy and doesn't care about their child, there is a good chance that child will struggle and become the statistic that forms public opinion. However, for every struggling teen I've come across, I can praise 10 more for being good kids and I think thats what people should focus on.

To talk to Shelby and her friends, I can tell you, nothing pisses them off more then hearing they are lumped in with a few strays. They are proud of their achievements, they work hard at their activities, school and various other causes they have taken on to help the world. To listen to her and the others, I puff up in admiration,laugh at my old fears and feel very good about the future. Very Good Indeed. This year I am excited to see what my daughter accomplishes and I have no doubt our foundation, the one we created together from the day she was born, will hold steady and firm. And to the people, society, who said when Shelby was born we were both destined to be a burden, well, you know exactly where you can stick that opinion :o)

Happy 15th Birthday Shelby
You amaze me today, as much as the day you were born.

For My Personal Entertainment Value

I was Looking Beyond the Cracked Window this morning, so I have no doubt I can blame this Collage on Jodi. (insert mischievious grin) MY SORTING OUT PLACE has been at odds lately. Honestly, my Inane thoughts and insane ramblings have been playing a nasty game of rugby inside my Golden Silence. Many days lately There is melancholy in the wind and sorrow in the grass, but I know this will pass.............

The Wisdom of a Distracted Mind can both enlighten, or make a person feel like " I live in soap land " On both of those notions, I would like to officially nominate my RandomThoughtsConnected for Oscar consideration. The majority of the things I think about leave me perplexed and asking myself, "Am I thinking that" ??? Sometimes it's enough to make a person think I'm Going Sane in a Crazy World and then I feel much better.Perhaps we all need some sanity and crazy to compliment each other!

Some days I have Frosty Thoughts, and some days I have No More Appetite for Destruction. A calm settles over and I think about just Rebecca, or Just Mary, or just Kristen's Cosmic Fabulosity and I have no choice but to smile. Because, Life Is Full Of Surprises and I can't predict what I'll be doing tomorrow, I can try, but the fact is I could be sending Postcards From The Edge, or I could be waiting for Sunshine Colorado Notes to head my direction.

I like that about life, one day I can feel Separation Anxiety, and the next day I'm filled with enough  Courage to feel like I can save the entire world. Some day I may be reading a published book called Daughters of the Shadow Men or one day I may take a trip to experience Life & Faith in Caneyhead. Tomorrow I could  pass in the street, the man who wrote Diary of Rock-n-Roll Men. Who's to say?? Life, as I see it!, is full of potential and possibilities I haven't even begun to experience.

I think it's critical that everyone takes the time to do An Analysis of Life. Take time for More Reflections.., search under the couch and start a DUST BUNNY CLUB OF NORTH AMERICA..........why not? I think we are all worth it. Sometimes our Detached and Indifferent Expressions can make us feel downright blah. But from that important elemant we can all sew a A Crazy Quilt Life. It's up to us what patterns and Random Threads we use.

Listen if a friend says "let me tell you about  My journey with MS" or wants to tell you Porch Stories . Look when someone points out The Sunrise and the Sunset. If a friend comes to you and opens their Dear Diary, appreciate it for all that Dear Diary2 is worth. Remember HOPE FLOATS and time goes through our hands like Grains Of Sand.

There is certainly a time to RebukeTheWorld and there is certainly a time for a Moonlight Drive. I think everyone should take a Northern Trip and participate in an Aurora Walking Vacation every once in awhile. I believe everyone has a Secret Garden that needs attention and it's Worth Watering from time to time!!  Pluck from that Bowl of Cherries and notice Those Eyes That the Cherubim Drew. I think it's worth it...........every single day.

By The Way.. this was brought to you by a lady who likes to indulge in Adventures of an Eclectic Mind!

Have a Wonderful Weekend~~ and Never Forget......Carpe Diem - Seize the Day !!!!!!!!!

P.S. You guys have some wonderful Journal Titles, if I missed someone, well, sorry about that :o)

Indigent

My last mental vomit still stands, I feel rather passionate and close to said topic. My brother did live through the weekend, however, he did not make it through the weekend a free man/zombie.

Meaning, after a tenacious homefront battle, heartbreak, blood was shed, a swat team complete with guns drawn were called in, many tears, and a finale worthy of my expectations, my brother was drug off by the hero's with a badge, to another mental ward.

He's Indigent. The states word, not mine.

Anyway, I'm tired of thinking about, dealing with, and mourning for him. I'm feeling indigent towards him and his problems. I suppose that happens when you have to witness someone like him continually hurt and make life a living hell for other family members, for myself, who have never done anything but help, love and support such a person.

Sometimes, disgust and anger reign supreme. In this case, every time the reality movie of this weekend reruns through my mind, I feel an intense desire to beat the shit out of him. I'm no saint, never claimed to be, and compassion/love only goes so far. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I gave a friend of mine an unexpected (on her part) piece of my mind this week that I fear will go down in the history books as a bad choice. Hindsight is always a fun mind avenue to entertain. I now feel that my reactions were based on the simple fact my perspective has been altered dramatically over the last month. With a friend murdered, dealing with my brother and various other oddities, my perspective overload spilled over into dealings with most people. So my normal reservations in giving personal opinion broke through the gates of nonjudgmental listening and I let her have it. Whoops.

The thing is, and I'll use one of her tragedies as an example, if the worst that is going on with a person is their spouse paid a bill 3 days late, or their Mother calls to ask how life is going (and that annoys friend) I'm probably not a good person to use as a sounding board right now.

It just takes a few bad experiences, a few rotten apples to roll across your path to really notice how bloody insignificant the majority of peoples complaints really are. There have been days lately that I would give anything to be simply worried about something as irrelevant as an argument, or an annoying person -friend-co-worker-family-neighbor..........

Bite my tongue, I told her to grow up, stop letting the little shit consume her time and energy. I suggested she should be grateful she has people who love her instead of constantly picking apart every single solitary thing they did. Yep, perspective overload runneth over. Our conversation did not end well.

Sometimes I think, some people would rather be miserable then find the good in each day. I do not comprehend this. What purpose does this serve? Even if something annoys me, I only need to look to 10 feet in front of myself to see things could be much, much worse. I think because I grew up with a Mother who's mantra was always "things could be much worse" if I sniffled or whined about something, I learned to look past little things that can irk or irritate a person. I don't think she was wrong. I really don't.

I give her credit for my mentality when it comes to looking at life's problems. How could I not.......she was the one, who through tears, watching her own son hauled away bloody and screaming by the police this weekend remarked, "it could have been worse, much worse"....................

** edit note after a few comments, my friend didn't know what happened this last weekend with my Brother. I typically keep all things about me, my life, the goings on to me, myself and I unless they are good things.**