March Forth

This morning started out pretty good.  Caught up on a couple blogs.  Win.  Email volley with Audrey.  Called my dad asking what Audrey could do about arterial blockage.  Audrey had a damn heart attack last fall and has an artery in her neck that's 50% blocked but insurance won't fix it til it gets to 80%...EIGHTY PERCENT  (I hate you insurance company).  My father is one of the best homeopathic doctors to ever live on the planet.  One phone call and we got recommendations for a Castor Oil pack and bioflavinoid supplements, specifically quercetin (write that down, Audrey...again if you have to).  Win. 

Caught up with an old friend for a minute who was inspired to boot plastic from her kitchen after reading Plastics Make it Possible.  Dude, I got readers (note the use of plural there...ha!).  Awesomeness.  Thanks for emailing, K.  Win.

Got a call from NBF1.  HairButchery lopped off four whole inches when she said "trim please" the day she's leaving for her cousin's wedding weekend.  ACK!  And she was on her way to find new makeup at fine retailers in her greater metro area looking for a better customer service experience.  I said it sounded like good, therapeutic material.  She was making changes, investing in herself, learning from experiences about what she would and would not stand for in the future!  [Crickets]  No really, shit like this used to happen when I was in therapy all the time and I'd look at it as a symbolic representation of my, y'know, "growth process."  I know it sounds like I'm completely full of shit...but really.  Yeah.  I don't think she bought it.  Fail.  (but it's still true)

Talked with Mama about X's condition.  Still ain't got outta bed yet (two days now).  He took somma them ibuprophen so he ain't got a fever.  So no hospital trips in the near future.  Tie.

Had a meeting about Thing 2 at school today.  The third meeting this year.  For Things 1 & 2, 2nd grade has proven to be a 180 day Festival of Hell academically.  Thing 2 is going to officially be evaluated for a learning disorder for the next "up to" 65 days.  (??? he made it to the final round of gifted testing last year?)  They don't have a single clue what the problem is but assured me I don't have to medicate if it's ADD (yeahthanks, and good fucking luck trying to make me).  And it's not uncommon to be gifted AND have a learning disorder.  great.  What I did not say was this:  Could the fact that his father is dying of cirrhosis have anything to do with this? Is this just a phase he'll grow out of? Do you people bore the shit out of him and he doesn't feel the need to impress you by adding 17 + 3 for the 30th goddamn time this week or writing one more excruciating, regurgitative sentence about the precious Plains Indians?  What I kind of said was this:  Alright, I've got the extensive questionnaire so you can decide if my kid belongs in a zoo, you have my cell to call me for the next five million meetings from here to June, you're welcome for now knowing that March 4th is the only day of the year that is also a command.  kthxbah.  Fail.

I left playing out the imaginary conversation where I mentioned liver transplantation.  That conversation spun into an imaginary therapy session with my fave counselor Claudia.  In my head, Claudia asked how that made me feel.  Suddenly and completely unexpectedly I almost burst into sobbing as I drove.  Oh shit. There's the crying I haven't done in weeks. damn.  (Note to self: Do not erupt into blinding tears while operating heavy machinery in lunchtime traffic.)  Claudia is a sneak attack like that sometimes, she's really good even when she's imaginary.  I got some things to process here.  Fuck.

Came home after mindless, mandatory errands.  Checked email.  NBF1 didn't have the best rest of the morning at her multiple fine retailer's beauty counters (read: clown makeup).  Audrey had been fb stalking with interesting material.  Read Jennifer's Paradise blog about counting her blessings and then. I fucking. lostmyshitallovertheplace.  Locked myself in my room and wept for half an hour.

I am scared of what is going to happen next.  I don't know if I can handle it.  I am weepingly, sobbingly, monster-in-the-closet terrified about what "everything is possible" nightmare from hell X's probably-this-year death is going to bring out in everyone related to me by blood and marriage. 

The outlaws are going to blame me.  Trust me, they will.  They shouldn't but I swear to god, they will.  I know it isn't my fault.  If it were my fault then I could fix it.  I can fix sooo many things but I cannot fix this!  He has been perpetually drunk since age 16 for cryin' out loud but he switched from beer to liquor in 2000 because of the stupid Atkins diet and the carb thing.  He chose dieting for the first time ever in his life because (get this) I was the one who told him if he ever got all the way up to 300 lbs he HAD to lose the weight because I didn't want him to die...he got all the way up to 300 pounds.  [shakes fist at Atkins]  As the azaleas bloomed in the Spring of 2000 he truly, deeply, spiritually and literally chose his poison.  It was cloaked like Splenda in the tricky guise of Doing Something Healthy. 

Hey, irony?  Usually I love you but today?  Fail.