Letters to the Universe

I don't really feel like talking about much.  I'm in a dead zone in anticipation of the anniversary.  I'm lacking all emotion, shut down to the purely logical self who only reacts when necessary. 

That being the case, let's focus on things that make me crazy (other than my husband, my dead father, my life as I currently live it).  Issue number one:  Please, America, please stop using the word "fricking" and "frigging."  I hate to be indelicate, but if you find yourself so drawn to a variant of the word "fucking," please just use the real word.  

Issue number two:  Stop using the word "awesome."  

I can't tell you how incredibly annoying it is to hear these words constantly coming out of America's collective mouth.  Pick some new words, folks.  And while you're at it, use the correct definition of said new word.  "Awesome" means inspiring awe and showing or inspiring awe. 

This works out well.  I get to be cranky without working up any real sturm und drang. The last time I heard someone on television use the word "frigging," I seriously considered going out to my local gun store, purchasing a side arm and committing an Elvis.  (Gun stores here stay open 24 hours a day because I live in a state that's just barely domesticated.)  I ulitimately decided that shooting the television just lets the "frigging/fricking&q uot; people win. 

If we're so unhappy with the state of education in this country, why don't we all get a copy of Roget's Thesaurus and come up with some inspiring new words to bandy about?  At least the children would have some passing familiarity with other word choices.   Shift the mind out of neutral and engage those brain cells before they die from neglect.

America held hostage day 1725

Bushism of the day:

"This morning my administration released the budget numbers for fiscal 2006. These budget numbers are not just estimates; these are the actual results for the fiscal year that ended February the 30th."—Referring to the fiscal year that ended on Sept. 30, Washington, D.C., Oct. 11, 2006.

Well, what the hell.  I might as well keep track. 

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A holistic information site for all types of cancer.

http://www.iconmag.co.uk/ " title="http://www.iconmag.co.uk/ " target="_blank"http://www.iconmag.co.uk/&nbs...;

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• Most popular press articles suggest a link between the winter holidays and suicides (Annenberg Public Policy Center of the University of Pennsylvania 2003). However, this claim is just a myth. In fact, suicide rates in the United States are lowest in the winter and highest in the spring (CDC 1985, McCleary et al. 1991, Warren et al. 1983).
• Suicide took the lives of 30,622 people in 2001 (CDC 2004).
• Suicide rates are generally higher than the national average in the western states and lower in the eastern and midwestern states (CDC 1997).
• In 2002, 132,353 individuals were hospitalized following suicide attempts; 116,639 were treated in emergency departments and released (CDC 2004).
• In 2001, 55% of suicides were committed with a firearm (Anderson and Smith 2003).

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Before anything else:

http://www.komen.org " title="http://www.komen.org " target="_blank"http://www.komen.org ;

Even when I'm not actively thinking about it, somewhere in my brain, I'm counting down the days until the anniversary of my father's suicide.  Wednesday. 

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Wednesday was just wretched.  Prepping for the colonoscopy is like self-induced torture.  Fortunately, the stuff I had to drink was better than the concoction I used to have to drink...a gallon of.  (I'm leaving the grammatical construction, even though looking at it drives me crazy.)  Then I had to get up at 6:00 with no coffee.  No coffee!  At one point, I actually thought to myself, "I can't believe I'm mature enough to make myself get up and do this."

I was fully awake for the whole thing, which did not make me happy.  Nothing like being aware that some guy is sticking a camera up your butt.  I numbed out.  That works.  My surgeon doesn't like to do anaesthesia because it can cause a dangerous dip in blood pressure.  My blood pressure yesterday fell below 100 for quite a while, so I guess I should be grateful that he only sedated me. I should be, but I'm not.  The best news is that I didn't have any polyps, which means I won't have to have another test for 10 years.   

The trees are losing their leaves now and, outside my second-floor window at work, I can see my squirrel friend traipsing around through the trees.  It's one of the only things I like about fall and winter.  S/he was born in the attic of a church that's visible from the other window in my office.  I used to watch the litter come out and play on the roof.  At least I think it's one of those guys.  

S/he likes to take an afternoon nap lying flat on one of the branches of a tree.  It's amazing that it doesn't fall off.  It's also extraordinary to watch several of them playing chase through the trees.  

The squirrels that were at my parents's house used to take pears from the trees and try to bury them.  They would dig and dig, then roll the pear into the tiny hole.  Of course, they never managed to dig a hole even remotely large enough.  Sooner or later, they would just decide it was buried enough and leave it.  They were pretty dedicated for a while, though, and they never figured out that they would never be able to actually bury any pear.  Squirrels are just naturally optimistic, I guess.  That's probably why so many of them end up dead in the street.   

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Just a short post today.  I finished up the first part of my work project just in time to miss a couple of days at the office.  Yay me! 

I'm fasting today in preparation for a colonoscopy tomorrow.  My dad had cancerous colon polyps, which makes me about 40 times more likely to develop cancer than the average person whose family has no history of the disease.  I have to do these things periodically...just to make sure.  I was whining to my surgeon about having to do it and he said, "Well, it's better than the big C."  I couldn't have said it better myself.  That didn't make me want to reschedule less, though.

I know it's breast cancer awareness month, but here's my little pep talk about colonoscopies.  Everyone should have one at (or before ) 50.  If all is well, then you don't have to have another for 5 years.  If they find polyps, they remove them during the colonoscopy and do a biopsy.  You'll probably need to do another procedure in a year.  If the polyps are cancerous, you've just saved your own life.

People tend to avoid doing these because the prep is so horrendous, but I suspect dying of colon cancer is not a fun way to go.  Audrey Hepburn died of colon cancer and I noticed some celeb (sports, acting--who knows?) is currently being treated for it.  

Anyway, this is a no food day, which is problematic for most people, but I don't really like food all that much.  

Aside from that, there's not much interesting going on in my head today.  The brain is taking a work break after the tension of the past several days.  I had to get the project to a certain point before the end of the day today.  All is well now and I can relax. 

Back on Friday. 

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"One is not born a woman, one becomes one." ~ Simone de Beauvoir

Hubby had the dishes done at lunch and dinner.  His, not mine, that is.  As I noted before, I always do my dishes immediately after use.  He cleaned out the refrigerator.  He offered to pick up a prescription for me.  Yay for him!  Now if only he would get a job. 

Have I mentioned I took a test on the BBC science page which purports to help you determine where your thought processes fall along a gender continuum?  You know, women are traditionally better than men at some things and vice versa.  I ended up exactly in the middle.  An androgynous thinker...must have something to do with all those boy toys my dad gave me when I was a little girl.  My friends got dolls and I got helicopters.  Hey, with my dad you just played with whatever you got and didn't complain.  That's probably why it's always been so abundantly clear to me that gender lies along a continuum.   Maybe I should be grateful to my dad for that.

In fact, I've had a couple of therapists ask me if I had any gender confusion.  No.  I've never wished to be anything other that what I am.   I've never wondered if I should have been a boy.

 I'm just hard to categorize for many reasons, my bizarre upbringing notwithstanding.  I think that's one of the reasons people have difficulty understanding me.  I'm not like everyone else.  None of us are, really.  We're each unique dazzling manifestations of God's infinite creativity.  If only we could all always see each other that way...what a gift that would be. 

When I've taken the Myers-Briggs Personality Tests, I always end up being sort of evenly split between thinking/feeling and perceiving/judging, although I clearly have a preference for  judging .  There's no question that I'm an introvert...I scored very high on that scale, but I'm able to act like an extravert.  Many people who don't know me that well actually think I am an extravert.  I'm also highly intuitive.

I'm different, alright.  I'm not always willing to admit that; I long to be uncomplicated.  It just seems like life would be a lot easier sometimes, though certainly not as interesting.  

The work project calls.  It's been a challenging week for work.  I guess I'll go be challenged some more.

Just in case you'd like to take these tests, here are the links:

The BBC Sex ID test:  http://www.bbc.co.uk/science/...

Myers-Briggs Personality Test: http://www.humanmetrics.com/c...

America held hostage day 1714

Bushism of the day:

"One has a stronger hand when there's more people playing your same cards." ~on holding six-party talks with NorthKorea, Washington, D.C., Oct. 11, 2006 

Breast cancer awareness month:

http://www.planetcancer.org/html/index.php" title="http://www.planetcancer.org/html/index.php" target="_blank"http://www.planetcancer.org/h...

A site specifically for young people with cancer of all types. 

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"The majority of husbands remind me of an orangutang trying to play the violin." ~ Honore de Balzac

We've been eating dinner in shifts at my house. Wolf is too out of control for us to eat at the same time. I generally end up sitting beside Hubby at the dining table, distracting Wolf's attention with lots of pets. Occasionally, he gnaws on my arm. After Hubby finishes, I ususally put some peanut butter in Wolf's Kong and toss it into his crate. When he trots in for one of his most favorite foods in the world, I close the crate door and he makes himself happy for a while, trying to figure out how to get the peanut butter out of the magic hole in the Kong. I eat in relative peace.

On Tuesday, I didn't eat enough during the day and, by the time Hubby was ready for dinner, I was starving. I had started to shake a little. The crate thing wasn't working with Wolf, so I took him outside and tried to eat my sandwich while holding onto Wolf. I decided I won't be doing that again.

Yesterday, I sat on the floor again and waited while Hubby read the newspaper and ate his dinner. When he was finished, I got Wolf's Kong ready and tossed it in his crate. Unfortunately, Wolf finished before I did and started crying. I mean loud, high-pitched, relentless crying. I could see Hubby in the other room in front of the computer, holding his fingers in his ears. I ignored them both and continued to eat.

After a few minutes, Hubby came into the dining room and stood in front of me, fingers in ears.

"I have to eat." I was more than a little exasperated. "I can't hold Wolf and eat."

Hubby went over to the crate and let Wolf out. Wolf immediately went into hyper mode, jumping up on Hubby and trying to chew on his arm. Instead of having the puppy cry, I was having to listen to my husband screech, yell and curse the little guy. He gives me yet another annoyed look because I was still eating and not rescuing him from the dog. I ignored him and finished my dinner.

I have a real thing about having the dishes done before bedtime. For me, it's disheartening and disgusting to wake up in the morning and have to face a sink with dirty dishes. I've shared that info with my husband many times. Late last night when it became apparent that Hubby wasn't going to do the dishes, I went into the kitchen and washed them. When I came back, I sad down on the sofa next to him and said, "Thanks for doing the dishes, ggirl." I said it with a smile on my face and in a teasing tone of voice.

"Well, I think I do the dishes as much as you do, " he said.

"Yes, you do them more than I do. They're your dishes. I always wash dishes immediately after I use them." It's not so much a matter of discipline as it is just my personality type, INT/FJ.

He didn't respond. I could see he was reviewing recent history in the hopes of refuting my assertion. Well, of course he couldn't.

"You know, I don't mind doing the dishes every once in a while." And, in fact, I don't. "But you know, I've got this huge project at work that's very intellectually taxing. Then I come home and have virtually all of the responsibility for taking care of Wolf. I'm really tired a lot." I was just waiting for him to comment that I was the one who wanted the dog. When he says it (and he will at some point), my response is not going to be friendly. I've dealt with the consequences of many decisions he's made without my support or, sometimes, without even consulting me. He'd be well advised to not travel down that path.

"You know, I've been thinking lately that you don't seem very grateful for all of the things I've made possible in your life." Like being able to write a book or being able to participate in theatrical events. The list is endless really. Twenty years of me working and him doing exactly as he pleases. I was working up steam.

"I just wish you would, every once in a while, ask me if there's anything you can do for me." You'd have to be deaf to not hear the pain in my voice. I didn't mean to sound pained; I just wasn't able to effectively filter it all out.

Still no comment from my husband. When I related the story to my mom, she said, "Well what could he say?"

I don't know. Thank you? I'm sorry? I'm an inconsiderate, self-centered man?

It was getting to be my bedtime and I was wrapping things up.

"It's part of why I'm so depressed. And why I feel so hopeless about my life." With that, I stood up and went into the kitchen to get Wolf's Kong ready. I shut him in the crate, came back to the living room where Hubby was still sitting on the sofa and told him it was time for me to go to bed. I finished turning out the lights and we hugged before he went upstairs.

My mom came over this morning and let the dogs out. Wolf and Sheba immediately started noisy Husky play in the backyard while I continued to get ready for work. They woke Hubby up, apparently. He came downstairs and let them in. Wolf, of course, went nuts. He started jumping up and Hubby started yelling and cursing. My mom ignored him.

I don't have time in the mornings to rescue Hubby from the dog. I went about my business. I could hear him trying to get the leashes on the two dogs to take them for a walk. I have no idea why. Sheba does her bathroom business in the backyard, as does Wolf. I guess he was looking forward to another opportunity to yell and curse.

When I got out of the bathroom, my mom had let the dogs out again. I could hear Hubby in the kitchen, opening the ibuprofen bottle. Great. Before I left for work, I went upstairs to say goodbye. Hubby had deposited himself back in bed.

"Do you have a headache?" Just inquiring, you know.

"No, I couldn't get to sleep last night," he said.

I passed up the opportunity to point out to him the many times I've been unable to get enough sleep but somehow made it to work anyway.

"Well I hope you feel better. I'll see you in a little while." I hugged him and went to work.

America held hostage day 1713

Bushism of the day:

"You're one of the outstanding leaders in a very important part of the world. I want to thank you for strategizing our discussions." ~ Meeting with the prime minister of Malaysia, New York, N.Y., Sept. 18, 2006

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"In order to really enjoy a dog, one doesn't merely try to train him to be semihuman.  The point of it is to open oneself to the possibilityof becoming partly a dog." ~ Edward Hoagland

Wolf and I are continuing to work on "down."  He's doing well; he's a very smart little boy.  I was taking him for a walk on Saturday morning and a fellow dog-walker stopped to ask me if he's a wolf.  I picked the right name for my little guy.  I tried to take some photos this weekend, but we were unable to get him to sit still long enough to do that.  He's just a whirling dervish.

As for me, I look like I've been on the losing end of a bar fight or something.  Hubby let Wolf out of his crate Saturday morning (I think it was Saturday; life is just one big blur for me these days) and, not being a morning person, I groggily walked straight into the door.  I've got a very nasty cut on my foot and a four inch scrape/bruise on my thigh.  Wolf chomped down on a finger by accident last week and chomped down even harder on the same finger this weekend.   The entire top part of my finger is purple and swollen.  I've got various bruises and cuts everywhere.  Hubby's always afraid people are going to think he's inflicting the damage.  Everyone who knows me knows that is most definitely not the case. 

I came by to feed the office kitties this weekend and found my beloved big gold cat hanging out.  I always used to call him "Good Boy, " so I started calling him that as I slowly moved towards him.  Every time I said "good boy," he rewarded me with a meow.  He was too afraid to let me get too close to him, but that's okay.  I'm just so glad he's still alive.  He's been gone for months, which isn't all that unusual, but I can't help but worry a little about him.  My mom kept telling me she thought he was fine and I agreed--he's definitely a survivor.  Still, I dreamed about him regularly and called his name every day for months.  I had to say a little prayer of thanks for his wellbeing and his return.

Friday, I cried most of the hour in therapy.  We talked about my dad.  Even though the rational part of me knows that there was nothing I could do, there is still a part of me that hangs onto "if only I had...."  That sentence has hundreds of endings.  There's a whole range of things I might have done, but without a doubt, some of them may have resulted not only in his suicide, but in my mom and me dying, too.  The truth is that there was nothing I could have done.  My therapist suggested that it might have been the best thing that could have happened for him.  That's certainly possible.

Meanwhile, I'm still lost in my own darkness.  I would never kill myself, though.   I know too much about how it feels to be a survivor.  I'm still unable to get beyond this profound sense of hopelessness.  The upcoming surgery is a part of it and it's also the source of random anxiety.  There's been so much pain this past year and there's more to come.  I try not to worry.  Worry doesn't help anything.   

There's more to say, but I have to get back to my project, which is one of the few things in my life that's going well.

America held hostage day 1711

Bushism of the day:

"I will not withdraw, even if Laura and Barney are the only ones supporting me," ~ talking to key Republicans about Iraq, quoted by Bob Woodward

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BC Cancer Agency

http://www.bccancer.bc.ca/PPI/TypesofCancer/Brea st/default.htm " title="http://www.bccancer.bc.ca/PPI/TypesofCancer/Brea st/default.htm " target="_blank"http://www.bccancer.bc.ca/PPI...;

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"Reviewing has one advantage over suicide:  in suicide you take it out on yourself, in reviewing you take it out on other people." ~ George Bernard Shaw

The work project is moving right along and I'm having a pretty good time.  Unfortunately, I have a streak of obsessive-compulsive disorder and I'm having trouble focusing on anything else.  I've been trying to remember to check in on my blog friends, but other than that, I'm driven. 

This week has been wretched.  I've been depressed and anxious and frustrated.  Last night, it finally dawned on me that I need to get out of that mindset.  It is within my control to some extent.  I meditated for about 20 minutes and managed to see around the obstructions that were blocking my view.  It's still a mystery and a miracle that we're here.  It's good to celebrate that.

Memories of my dad keep rising up unbidden into my consciousness.  This year is worse than it's been in a long time.  Remember him on the edge of that darkness breaks my heart.  I know my father didn't deserve the love and forgiveness I gave him.  Nonetheless, I'm sorry for him.  I'm sorry he was never able to really grow up, that he never knew me and that life didn't give him many choices.   I wish it all could have been different, not just for me or my mom or his other abandoned children.  I wish it could have been different for him, too. 

I've been suicidal myself--off and on since I was around 11.   I know what it feels like to be sucked into the vast darkness and to want to let go.  Because of that, I still wish I could have held him here long enough to find adequate psychiatric care.  Things are what they are, though, and my suicidal tendencies arose from my father's behavior.  It's important that I not forget that.  Certainly there is a genetic tendency, but when there's constant, intense trauma heaped on, it's inescapable.  So I always arrive at the same place.  I'm so sorry, Dad and, by the way, thanks for fucking up my life.

Well, so much for the miracle and mystery.   

America held hostage day 1708

Bushism of the day:

Well, I think if you say you're going to do something and don't do it, that's trustworthiness."

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Get breast cancer facts:

http://www.getbcfacts.com/index.asp?source=429" title="http://www.getbcfacts.com/index.asp?source=429" target="_blank"http://www.getbcfacts.com/ind...

Risk factors you can not change:

gender

age

genetic risk factors 

family history

personal history of breast cancer 

race

abnormal breast biopsy

earlier breast radiation

menstrual periods

treatment with DES 

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http://www.thebreastcancersite.com" title="http://www.thebreastcancersite.com" target="_blank"http://www.thebreastcancersit...

Breast cancer fact of the day:

Breast cancer is the most frequently diagnosed cancer in US women, with 211,300 invasive and 55,700 in situ cases expected in 2003, accounting for nearly one in every three cancers diagnosed. It is also the second leading cause of death in US women; 39,800 deaths are expected in 2003. 

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October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month.  In observance, I'm going to regularly post some links to informative sites. 

National Breast Cancer Awareness Month 

http://www.nbcam.com/ " title="http://www.nbcam.com/ " target="_blank"http://www.nbcam.com/ ;

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October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month.  In observance, I'm going to regularly post some links to informative sites. 

National Breast Cancer Awareness Month 

http://www.nbcam.com/ " title="http://www.nbcam.com/ " target="_blank"http://www.nbcam.com/ ;

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"I long to accomplish a great and noble tasks, but it is my chief duty to accomplish humble tasks as though they were great and noble. The world is moved along, not only by the mighty shoves of its heroes, but also by the aggregate of the tiny pushes of each honest worker." ~ Helen Keller

I've abandoned hope for the job.  The problem, of course, is the fact that he hasn't had a "regular" job in 20 years.  Would you hire him?  Probably not.  I mean, when I've interviewed people who've been away from the job market for much shorter times, I've been concerned about their ability to deal with other employees (which can be so challenging) and whether they will actually even show up every day. 

He's found another job online for which he plans to submit a resume.  It's a development job.  Hubby did some minor development-related work many, many years ago.  He will be competing with people who already have jobs, most of which are probably in a similar capacity.  Hubby doesn't see this and was talking up the advantages of this job over the one he didn't get.  It's close to home, for instance.  I'm just going to have to break down and tell him --again--about how the job market works.  He probably wouldn't even get an interview for this job.

He just needs to get a temp job and work there for six months or so to establish a new track record.  I've told him that many times, but he still won't apply at a temp agency.  He thinks he should be earning more money than most temp jobs pay.  Or rather, most temp jobs he could get.  His computer skills are very minimal.  At this point, I think he should apply at places like Starbuck's or HEB (our local grocery store), but he doesn't want to risk the possibility that his friends will see him doing menial (he believes) work.  That really pisses me off.

Aside from laziness, I don't understand why it feels better for him to continue to make me support him than to get a job--any job.  Working here has been humiliating and demoralizing for me.  I can't not work here, especially now that I have this ongoing breast cancer thing.  I don't have the luxury of deciding some job isn't good enough for me.  He has someone to depend on.  I have me.

I'm really depressed about it this morning.  And I'm depressed that we're going to have that same talk I've been having with him for a year or so.  Furthermore, he doesn't contribute at all to housecleaning chores.  He doesn't try to train Wolf.  He won't learn to cook.  Somebody please get a gun and shoot me.

Shooting.  That reminds me of the looming anniversary of my dad's suicide.  That contributes to my depression, even though I may not be actively thinking of it.  Last night, sort of out of the blue, I started remembering the final six months of his life.  It always breaks my heart.  It breaks my heart even though I know it was, in part, cowardly to leave my mom and me to struggle to continue. We had to deal with the financial fallout he decided to escape.  Thinking about this is just too overwhelming today.  

Today is one of those days when I can't figure out why I struggled so hard to get through cancer treatment.  I guess one of the answers is that it hurt less physically than dying of metastasized breast cancer would.  

I guess I'll get started working on my project.  At least it's a distraction. 

America held hostage day 1706

Bushism of the day:

"My job is to, like, think beyond the immediate." ~ Washington, D.C. April 21, 2004