Getting Back to Good...

I've been doing a lot of reflecting about myself. Who I was and who I have become now are two different people. I'm not happy with who I have become. I've never been so insecure and complaisant.  I've never been a quitter but in a sense, I have quit.

I have several posts in drafts that never seem to make it on here. I don't really like my writing anymore. It's rushed and jumbled just like all the other thoughts in my head.  My mind has raced for as long as I can remember, but the parts where I can't remember things or form a sentence are new.

Last week, while I was out grocery shopping, my mom had a free reading of her aura done.  She insisted I give it a try. I sat down and said nothing as the woman went through my reading. She showed me where the colors insisted I had strong ideas of how the world and things are supposed to be (check). She told me that I loved to love people (hmmm....).  She told me I had a good heart and was a person who liked to laugh but hadn't been able to in a long time.  She showed me all the black and told me it represented people who were against me and suppressing my joy and happiness.  She told me I was under a huge amount of stress and asked me what was wrong with my shoulder. At the time, nothing was wrong.

I decided to confide some of my stress because in the background my mother and grandmother were arguing behind me in spanish loudly. For some reason my grandmother decided it was ok to spit anywhere now. UGH.

So my mom was disgusted (of course). I was embarrassed, but c'est la vie. I mean what can I do but clean up and apologize?  Anyhow, I got that look and I realized that is part of my problem.  I will never be just a mom like everyone else.  Or even just a person.  Even though I have aged so much in the last 4 years, I still look younger than I am. I am that poor girl with the jacked up family. I get pity stares because of my life. The woman asked if she could give me a hug and she whispered in my ear that she thinks she can help me.

I didn't feel this bad about my life when everything started.  I didn't realize it was person after person who made me feel bad about my life.  Made me feel like I've wasted my life.  I had so much potential and this was what I was doing with it. As if this was a bad word.  

It was me...past tense.

I fell into it and I fell apart.  I wanted more but I gave less.

I fell into the pity party because every time I tried to pick myself up, I got kicked back down again and it started to take me longer and longer to get back up.  RA was the last straw because I felt even God was kicking me when I was down.

Last night and all day yesterday I had a major flare up.  It was my fault. I've been in denial about the RA and wasn't taking my pills.  I screwed myself.  As I laid in my recliner trying to breathe, I tried to figure out what I was supposed to take from all of this.  What was my lesson?  

I forced myself to do things,  my mom drove me so I could go grocery shopping. On the way there, the window had been down and my hair had blown across my face with one strand teasing across my forehead causing it to itch almost unbearably. I tried to make a joke of it because I was afraid to move because of the pain. My mom reached over and pushed my hair off my face. Tears sprung in my eyes. That voice told me this is what I had been reduced to and for what purpose? How was I supposed to help when I couldn't even do for myself?   

I was always the type to keep pushing through all the crap. I had to be the best. I had to prove that I wasn't like the family I came from.  All I had was my faith. I did things blindly and without question because I thought it was what God wanted of me.

Now, I am just lost. Trying to find all the pieces so I can put me back together again.  That in the midst of raising 5 troubled kids,  taking care of my husband, my mother and grandmother.

I'm not looking for pity.  Maybe I'm not even trying to understand why anymore.

But I know something has to change, and I know that I have to make it happen.

Hitting the wall..

Ok, so let me just put it out there.

I am struggling. For purely selfish reasons.

I don't like anything right now and I can't seem to do anything right. Everytime I go to do something I end up discovering yet another thing the kids have destroyed. Most of it is my house. I HATE it.

My house is important to me. It took me forever and a day to be able to own a home and I was the first in my family to do so. Now, truth be told. The kids have turned my beautiful home into a shithole.

ARgh. I said I wasn't going to cuss. I hate living in a dump. I put my life savings into this place. Hubs and I both did.

I can't come to grips with the fact that I was one of those rare people who put myself through school while working full time with no breaks since graduation...for TEN years. No life, no summers, no nothing. I didn't even own my house a year when all this went down. I barely had finished earning my degree. My entire life shut down. Poof! Gone! The End--Sucker!

I can't come to grips with that. I just can't. It's like all my hopes and dreams are just shattered. I feel that God abandoned me a long time ago. I still kept pushing forward like an idiot. No matter how many times I was pushed and kicked. I just got back up and figured it would all work out.

I just can't fool myself anymore. I know one RAD kid can do some damage but calculate 4 RAD kids and a teen. I've had to play electrician, drywall installer, plumber, etc... It's getting to me because my hands don't work much anymore. The simplest things like installing an outlet faceplate brings me to tears.

Every penny I spend to replace something or fix something is just proof positive that I will never have children of my own. Because the money to do that is being wasted. They are destroying things faster than I can fix it. I don't even know how or when. I suspect the stuff I'm finding may have happened b.c. (before cameras) but I'm still dealing with recent stuff that the oldest is doing because she is lazy.

It may seem like I am shallow and throwing one big pity party... but it hurts for me to visit blogs sometimes. I get so happy to see families--successful families, happy times, just glimpses into other people's lives and to know I will never have that. I have been cheated. It hurts and it makes it hard to come back.

I'm just a fool, because even if I could do things differently. I don't know that I would because even though I feel like I am dying inside, I don't think Hubbins or the kids feel that way about the life and home that I am providing. Even though I lose it now and then, I still try to keep things together enough for them.

They all have missed out on so much of the same things I have and I keep trying to make sure that it doesn't completely pass them by. Even that stings a little.

The worst one yet

So the Friday before last, I was not in a good place at all. Not even close. I was having what I thought was a bad RA flare up...but it only got worse and didn't leave until Thursday night. I f'in hate it.

I am in pain. Toes, ankles, hips, wrists, fingers, elbows and shoulders in total pain and just like that- Bam! It's gone. Like a freakin' switch was flipped off or something.

I don't have insurance. Why? Because when I tried to sign up at work they told me I didn't make enough money and referred me to the state and when I contacted the state I make $60 over so I don't qualify...so where does that leave me?

My middle fingers on both hands have started to turn and at one point during the week my finger between my pinky and my middle finger was nearly pointed inward towards my middle finger...this on both hands. I don't know how it works but that part is less noticeable right now.

I'm always tired and I feel sick. I have what I imagine hot flashes feel like. I feel like my head is on fire at times or like right now as I type...my hands are on fire.

It's a total mindf&%*...for lack of a better word that truly encompasses what I feel right now. All the things I have to do that require my hands, all the things I want to do and all the things I love to do. All require my hands.

I keep thinking about how excited I was to be getting away from my dead end job in a dead end town and how finally my life was mine and the world was opened to me. I can't quite see where I lost it all but it definitely feels like it was yanked away in the blink of an eye.

I've always been a fighter, but this time...I just don't want to fight anymore.

I don't see anything worth fighting for. It's all gone. There is nothing left.

I hate feeling this way...

I got a card in the mail Saturday from one of the kids old social workers from our state. It made me feel nauseous. It was just a thinking of you card but...

I was puttering along just fine pulling my house back together when it felt like a ton of bricks had hit me. All my projects scattered throughout the house mid way through... it's a train wreck here. I am rearranging my room, rearranging the kids rooms to move them into separate areas. I'm also still staining and polying my desk and the new kitchen table. The big round one that is supposed to encourage sharing, teamwork, and equality.

The computer/game room is a disaster. I'm pulling Hubbins' computer and desk out of there and moving it into our room and setting up that room as a classroom with computers and everything.

With my RA flare ups, I have to do as much as I can while I can still move because in most cases I lose like three days. Not to mention the fact that mornings are pure sluggish hell for me to be able to get my body to do anything.

I don't plan to start school for my kids until after labor day and end in mid June. They've been working all summer on math and reading and are going to get a break, even if it doesn't coincide with the other schools in the area.

I guess what all this amounts to is I feel fear. I know if they were to come here they would not be happy. They would not like the way I am raising my kids nor would they understand it. They would not like the condition of my home. Even though I am obviously working on things and making changes. Some how, in the past, it seems I was expected to snap my fingers and get things done.

I hate this. I hate it with everything. I am tired of being judged. I hate having to open up my home to the judgement ( Hubbins' also has a caseworker who makes visits.) I want my privacy back and I want to be able to work on my home and feel secure. If I can't feel this in my own home where am I supposed to be able to feel it at?

I KNOW I am probably blowing things out of proportion but a huge part of how my house ended up like this was trying to hide clutter and stacks of paperwork (that I hadn't been able to get to) from the social workers to begin with. My house was pristine when the kids came and as they got comfortable my house began to look, well, like kids lived here. There was constant comments about the clutter, when before there was comments about the neatness and how I did it with 5 kids and taking care of Hubbins.

I'm trying to pull it together. I really am. We've outgrown this house and there is nothing I can do about it but organize and unfortunately with organization, at least as far as I know in my own case, comes what may look like destruction before the end result. Ya know?

If anybody would be a good judge of my home, it would be Hubbins' home health nurses who come out twice a week. I was embarrassed to have them come to my house but as projects are being completed they notice and tell me how well it's going. They also know that I am the only one doing things around here and that I am just one person and they tell me so. One of the nurses did foster care for special needs kids in the past so she knows the drill. Of course, they also see the new projects that take the place of old projects too. I joked with them last time that maybe I would have a project done when they came this coming week.

Do any of you guys feel this way or do you not have this problem?

Didn't mean to worry anyone.

Hubbins is still alive and well. If Hubbins were sick or dying, I would post it here. I wouldn't blame God for that, but I'd probably blame myself first if I could even function. I know it may seem morbid, but because of the way I have reacted to the past loss of my best friend, I really worry what's going to become of me when I do lose my Hubbins.  If I will be able to bear it. So I work on training my mind for when it does happen. When he does leave me. I don't even know if it would make a difference, me working on accepting it's inevitable...not him leaving. *blush* 

Second, the kids are all still here being themselves. I don't know if I will ever be able to bring myself to a disruption. I  keep thinking that if I , as family, want to strangle them sometimes...how will strangers deal with them and what will happen if they are killed by a person who was supposed to love them? I know they were all physically and mentally abused while they were in the foster system for the short time they were there. I know *I* won't kill them. lol  Sooooo, this is it, no matter how much I kick and scream about it. 

What I'm having a hard time expressing is my split with God. Forever and ever I was the person who believed no matter what. My faith in God was unbreakable. Even when the church turned me away, I never blamed him and I always believed there were reasons. Through all my abuse, through all my pain, I bore it for God after all, he sent his only son for me.  

But then I got to the point where if I could trade places with Jesus I surely would because at least I knew the pain would stop sometime and I heard he had a happy childhood with friends and family and all the things I can never expect to have. 

I was ok with the fact my childhood was gone and never existed. Hell, I was even ok with making it through my teen years and all that crap I dealt with. I gave my 20s to making sure my family was taken care of...but my 30s ...life was going to begin at 3o. I would have a family. A real one.  

But then this happened and I started to feel resentful but still clung to the fact that I would maybe have some of my 40's left and can move on in my 50s. But now Rheumatoid Arthritis? A condition that will probably land me in my own personal wheelchair by the time I hit my mid 40s.  I just can't any more.  The camel's back is broken.  

My life has turned into one big episode of "Are you kidding me?" I wanted to be a success. I don't mean monetarily either.  I wanted to find happiness. Something that seems to elude my family. I can't even see that far because for all I know in an hour my arm won't function or I won't be able to walk and I will still have to figure out a way to make it all work and get Hubbins in bed by a decent hour. I will have to wonder if the fact that my arm could not be lifted without me seeing white hot pain may have caused Hubbins sore to regress because of the time it took me to transfer him or even to get him in the sling to transfer him. 

I worry that this disease will progress faster than it already seems to have. I worry that I will end up in a chair and have to depend on others to take care of Hubbins and I see the way the kids disregard Hubbins because they have the attitude "What can he do about it?"

So here I sit, sometimes in excruciating pain and I don't see a solution. I can't even see having a family of my own.  Kids who hate me aren't a family. And now, on top of money and procedures and who's going to help, etc... etc... I see the door for parenthood and our own family slamming shut in our faces. If only I were infertile, it wouldn't be such a blow. I could accept that. 

So I am angry because I don't think I am asking for too much. What I am asking for isn't only for myself. It would change the lives of 6 other people as well. I've done everything without question and I have lived my life the "right" way. I can't imagine my cussing would warrant the life I have led and my cussing only began 4 years ago. Seriously people, that is the extent of my badness. I'm not exaggerating either. I haven't really "lived" a day of my life.  I've rarely ever asked for anything and this one thing...can't be? 

Since I asked for this one thing... I have gotten progressively worse. Since my bitterness and anger has escalated. I faltered here and there with my arguments with God but I hadn't lost my faith. Until that day. 

It's not to be compared to a child who didn't get their way or someone who made a bad choice and now must suck it up and deal with it.  

I am so sick and tired of people hiding behind God for everything or even blaming God for everything. But then I realized I am just as bad because I've been waiting for God to meet me halfway. I would never do that with anyone else so why should He be the exception? I never did that before. I don't know when things changed. 

I only have myself to count on. It's just me in this world. The End. I've known that forever and yet I waited. 

I don't know if my relationship with God will ever be repaired.  I guess it's between Him and I and time will tell. 

But for now, I am standing on my own again.  I will fall and as usual I will get myself up and dust myself off and put my foot forward.  I won't wax poetic about God thinking I'm strong enough for all this or anything like that. But this song...this song, as weird as it may seem makes me think of my journey with God these last 5 years.  It has explicit lyrics... so send the kiddos on their way...

because I'm sick of the last post being up...

I've tried writing posts to explain what is going on here, but instead of a post it looks more like a swear word handbook. 

I guess I am not ready to write about it yet. Maybe in a few weeks when it's said and done. 

Tomorrow I am going to try to give Hubbins a break. He hasn't left the house since December because of his pressure sores which still haven't healed.  I was so convinced if he stayed in bed they would heal so I made a deal with him if he stayed in bed until Friday I would take him to see a movie.  No real improvement but he stayed in bed. I know tomorrow isn't Friday but I figured it would be better than Friday since all schools will be let out. I'm going to drop him and the oldest off at the movies so they can see the Star Trek movie.  I get to come back home with the other 4. I had plans to take them to a different movie, but they just can't pull it together and I am NOT about to spend $60 so we can just get up and leave before the movie even starts. I didn't even tell them about it so they couldn't sabotage it. 

Anyhow, I have a post I need to write about how CDQ hates me. Honestly...the feeling is mutual right now. Totally.  Let it be known that I am declaring my feelings right here and right now that this child will be a serial killer if any of them ever become one.  She is so hateful and she never does anything wrong and she lies as the day is long and of course she would be the one to develop at 9 years old. She's dying to have sex already. All I need is a 10 year old with a kid. She'd happily spend the whole day masturbating if she could. 

I have to admit that some of what she wrote gave me a good chuckle because don't you know I've called her a misfit and she's just a lonely misfit?  Yeah...like I've ever used that word in my life or orphan for that matter. Guess those historic diary books I allowed her to check out at the library are coming back to bite me in the ass. She's just looking for ammo against me. You'll get a good laugh when I tell you what her ammo is.  

One good thing, the oldest is starting to open her eyes. She went on and on about how she wasn't going to do this or that with her kids. I think CDQ's journal entry was an eye opener for her with what I am truly dealing with, plus she had a few half days at school recently which had her home at lunch time so she could see exactly what we deal with. I think she's scared and she's sad because she wants a "normal" family. I feel for her, that's all I've ever wanted too and now I've gone and ruined any chance of that. 

Tomorrow is the last day of school for the oldest. Whoo hoo. 

Next week, life begins. 

Calling it like I see it...

I wrote this post on January 6, 2009 and I have seen it get a ton of traffic and wondered why. I just found out today, the original title, an idiom I had used has been used for racist remarks. I had no idea.  In my world the word is a garden tool. *sigh*  So, I'm renaming this post to be what I intended just in case the traffic was coming through because of the political climate of today. After all when I went to search the terms meaning, that's all the crap that came up.  This post was all about me and nothing or nobody else.

Thanks.
~S

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Before the kids came and before Life Goes On..., my blog was called Diary of a Freak Magnet because that's how I felt.

I could be walking down an aisle at Walgreens looking for Vitamin C and have a lady come out of the restroom and tell me that she almost "shit herself" because they took so long to open the door and well um, she even bled. *wide-eyed stare*

Or being locked in my office by a co-worker (who I thought respected me and considered a friend ) who was trying to convince me that he could teach me how to party and that I should have children because of the "quality of person" that I am.

I've had a stalker who used to call my house and play some song with lyrics about "between the sheets" and sit outside my house at night leaving crushed cans of beer out on my curb. I've even had what I believe was the maintenance man come in my apartment, eat my food, move my magnets, and use my toilet with out flushing.

Those are just a few incidences. I've never fit in where ever I have gone. I can't say that I ever tried really hard either and I'm not too shy to call a spade a spade if you know what I mean? Because of my family situation, I tended to stay away from people when I was younger. In Jr High and High school I wasn't really allowed to go anywhere or to talk on the phone. My stepfather was really possessive of me. I stopped trying to make too deep of friendships because I couldn't explain why I wasn't allowed to use the phone or go to their house. Besides by the time I was 16 I was spending a good chunk of my time raising my step sister's kids and taking care of my sisters. Consequently, I knew a lot of people but wasn't really close to anyone.

As an adult now, knowing that I need to setup a support system with my roles as caregiver to my kids and husband, I've tried to reach out but again because of the circumstances that I am in it makes it tough. Other than internet friends, I literally have no one. No family. Nada.

I feel like I am in this limbo. I know I am married and have kids, but I don't feel it. I've wondered if the kids weren't relatives if I would feel like I had kids. Even though my sister is a rotten whore, she's still their mother. It's not a place I am trying to take. I always said I would never have kids and my mother would ask why I said that and I didn't know why, I just would answer "well, none of my own anyway."

Where this leads to is audacity I guess, the audacity of other people. The other day, the home health nurses were out to check hubs sores. They always ask about the kids and if any are biological. I always say we didn't get a chance to have kids. Most often the other person will say "well now you don't need to, you're set and you didn't even have to go through labor" and they will chuckle.

They just assume we don't want to have children of our own or need to. We have plenty. But I do want children of my own and granted I know that I am able to have children but we don't know if Hubs can. I still feel like that has been taken from me. I've always known that if it came to Hubs not being able to have children, I could live with that. But this way, with these circumstances, it's just cruel.

Those who don't know our situation with the kids or even my husband always assume that my husband and I never stop going at it or if they know my husband's condition than I guess they think I never climb off him or something, if you know what I mean? Especially during the span of November- March. In November we have two children of the same age (right now that is 7.) In January, one of the 7 year olds turns 8 and then we have two 8 year olds until February. Then in February when one of the 8 year olds turns 9, we have two 9 year olds until March. It always comes up and I don't know why having 5 children makes so much more of a difference than the typical 4 that I see out there.

I don't know how anyone else would take it, but I find it offensive and I tend to think those people are assholes. Even if it's in jest. But that's my opinion. I just get tired of it. Sometimes it makes me angry because I just want to be normal and I just seem to basically want what other people want. I don't want to be picked out of a crowd, I'm not trying to draw attention to myself or my family circumstances. I'm not special. I'm just trying to be.

Not Sinking In...

The kids have been with us for 2 years and 2 months today, yet it still feels like a baby-sitting job. Their biological mother was supposed to get them back. But the more I think back on it, it's just too easy and too convenient.

Yes, I've adopted them, it's now been 3 months. But it's hard making that transition. The transition from Nieces and Nephews to "Mom" and "daughter" and "son".

The Boy: "Mom...Mom... MOM....Mom.MOM.....MMMOOOOOM"
Me: *thought* what is that noise? *shocked expression* crap that's me! "What SON?!?" The word sticks in my throat. He pauses mid step. I've never called him that before. He looks back and as he passes the doorway to go into his room, he has a huge grin on his face.

I feel that moment was the very first time we connected.

Before they came, I used to look in on the empty rooms, set up and waiting for their arrival. I thought of what would happen if they stayed with us forever. I never thought they would have so many disorders or traumas. But I thought after their mother lost one child, she would learn something and latch on to them and do right by them.

Here we are, I thought wrong.

I also never thought that when they lost their mother, I would be losing mine. But in that sense the kids and I are the same. We never really had a mother or a father. Now they will. If I can just wrap my head around it.

If I can stop catching myself whenever I say I have 5 kids. And stop pausing and thinking "Holy shit! I have FIVE kids! Even as I type this, I'm still incredulous to it all. I mean will I ever adjust? Will I ever wake up? It's all so surreal.

Is this a normal reaction? I know when most people adopt, it's an expectation to be forever and to be parent and child. But what about relative adoption? or fosters with no plans of reunification after failed attempts or termination of parental rights? Is it a shock for everyone?

Punk'd

I've rented Punk'd from Netflix, and I gotta tell you...some of that stuff, I can rival. lol

Not as in I could Punk some one better but boy have I lived through some stuff where I've been wondering if I am being Punk'd. Ashton says these people should know, but I'd chalk it up to life if some of that back to back stuff happened to me.

Today was an ok day. It started off with Poufy breaking her glasses, her 8-day old replacement glasses, clean in half. The lense won't even stay in. The insurance isn't going to replace them again, especially 8 days after they just gave them to her and I don't feel I should be obligated to buy her another pair. It's ridiculous. So, I duct taped them. Let her feel it because it's not ok. RAD or not. I told her she needed to practice looking past the duct tape. You know what she did? She happily proclaimed she could see right past it already. I said good because when school starts she needs to be prepared and that's when the light bulb came on and she realized what she had done--to herself.

She also peed herself bright and early. So, we decided since she is acting two and the therapist says that her progression will start from the day we got them (2 years ago) we are treating her like she is 2. I've gotta tell you. Watching her open mouthed gaping at being treated like she is two is entertaining and sad.

Sad because it's all new to her...being two and being treated like it. Entertaining because you know, a two year old can't do nearly as much as a 7 year old. Nope. Bike riding, not really. Eating by oneself, nope. Playing outside with the big kids, uh uh. Or desserts, because in my book, peanut butter chocolate kiss cookies ARE NOT for two year olds, not like say---apple sauce or something.

We might even resort to a crib, we've got a brand new one, ready to build back from our make believe days of planning for OUR own kids. I guess that will never happen now. At least I can't see how. Yet another way, Jo was able to ruin our lives with her loserness.

It's really a double-edged sword, isn't it? I mean they could treat us worse if we were total strangers but they still treat us badly because we are relatives. Plus, we don't get the true luxury of being Mom or Dad. Because, face it, it's strange.

Anywho, just a rant thrown in there because I am dealing with the oldest as I write this and well her straight out bitchiness. Is there a more appropriate word for a tween?

I try to let it roll off my back and not take it personal, but being a punching bag really isn't my thing.

The other thing that is bothering me is that I had this strange dream. In my dream, I found a baby, a newborn preemie looking baby in a trash can in a public restroom stall. There was something wrong with it's leg, it was bruised and hurt.

I took the baby and I made it strong and she looked healthy but I was always afraid someone was going to come take her because she wasn't mine.

That's my life. In a nutshell. I worry, if I don't buy Poufy new glasses will they take her away? My kids wear grubbies in the summer, they are wearing pants with holes in them because they are outside learning how to ride bikes. I take them places like that because well, who wants a stack of laundry? They aren't dirty. But will anyone ask me?

I already felt like that before the therapist pulled all the crap about Poufy's weight. Does anyone else feel like people are watching and waiting for you to make a mistake?

Mini Awakenings

I'm sitting in my room on my bed. Holding back foolish tears. At least I think they are foolish.

I won't lie. The transitions from being single and independent to married and than 5 kids has been hard. Not adding the kids problems and Hubs health problems. But I used to be smart. I used to think. I used to do things when I wanted to without a second thought.

I know whaaa whaa whaa!

My life isn't bad but it also isn't what I wanted.

As I stood in the kitchen smooshing (yes, it's my word) the trash to fit more in because you know trash bags aren't cheap and all I was telling Hubs about the "Crazy" changes in the W@l-M@rt Frozen section. Yeah....*CRAZY* like the new foods they were carrying, frozen pizzas and new treats.

I heard myself. I couldn't believe that was what I had to talk about and the way that was something crazy in my now too small little world. Tears sprung to my eyes. Is this what my life has become? All my hard work to make sure I become someone or something better than what I came from and it comes down to a new frozen ice cream cupcake with BOTH chocolate and white cake? Is this it?

Hmmm, there was real whip cream and chocolate sprinkles, can't forget that can I?