Grandma's House

My Grandmother is 97 years old. she is an amazing person who has lived in the same 3 bedroom 1 bath home for over 70 years. Until two weeks ago I thought that she would spend the rest of her life in that home. But living alone at her age, and the loss of her sight, has become to much for her so she will be moving into an assisted living center at the beginning of next month.
I was very surprised that she had made the discussion to leave her home. This is a place that she and her husband built while they lived in a tent on the property. It's were all 10 of her children were raised and where every Sunday me and my brothers, sister and cousins could be found playing in the trees, watching the cows, and eating grandma's fabulous treats while the grownups visited inside. We use to watch my grandfather milk the cows in there barn and gather eggs from the chicken coop. They had a horse named Gypsy we would give apples to in the fall. Her home was always safe and warm. Pleasant and very clean. For me their house was always Christmas Eve and grandmas backed beans and ham. I can still see us all there, standing by her piano, each family singing a song. Christmas eves have never been as memorable or fun as when I was at grandmas house.
I seldom visit her there anymore, but I am sad that the house and land her and my grandfather owned will no longer be hers. I am glad she will be in a safe place were she will have the help see needs. And I am so grateful for the time spent there with them working and playing. For the hundreds of wonderful memories that I have of her and my grandfather in that house they built .

Sometimes I wonder If People think.

My Grandmother is 96 years old. Last Wednesday night she fell, drug herself to her phone and called my mom. My mother and I went over to lift her up off the floor and set her a chair. She was very weak and could not help at all. We sat and talked for awhile and checked for injury's. Fortunately other then some bad bruises she was fine, but still to weak to stand or walk on her own. So we stayed got her to the bathroom, helped her into her pajamas, and put her in her recliner where she spends her nights (I should mention that she is legally blind and lives alone).
My grandma is also very religious. She hates to miss church for any reason short of death. By Friday she still could not support her own weight(84 Lbs.) for more then a few steps and their was no way she was able to get in the car without being lifted. My mom can't lift her. So she was very upset that she would have to stay home from church that week. This is where I opened my big mouth. I told her I would take her to church so she didn't need to worry about it. I can get her in and out of the car and do all she needed to get there. My grandma was very thankful for that.
Sunday came and we were of to church, I would need to stay for all three meetings(she/we are LDS) and I was not looking forward to it, but I knew my grandma was. I have some anxiety about going to church because of personal reasons.
So there we are sitting in her first class and one women felt she needed to share about a neighborhood Christmas party that they served alcohol at. She kept saying what a wonderful party it was. She knew some of the people who were there were also "Mormon" not active and drinking. Her tone and the rest of her story was very judgmental toward "those type of people". I was hurt by her words, it made me feel unclean, and not want to be there at all.
That class ended, I helped my grandmother do what she needed, and her next class started. I sat through it too. Thinking of the first class most of the time. Did the women in the first class know anything about the people she seemed to be judging? Did she know she could be hurting several of the women in that room with her words? Does she understand what forgiveness is? I wasn't mad at her.... OK I WAS mad at first. But my thoughts went straight to "typical Mormon, judging everyone that isn't as perfect as they are". However as I sat there I thought about the Mormons in my life that have not judged me, the ones that relies we all do things that we regret. We all have our own choices to make, and they may not agree with yours, but that is OK and you might still be worth knowing and maybe even liking.
So let think before we react!

Think before you stereotype a whole religion by the careless comments of one.
Think before you judge someone else for their actions.
And
Think before you offer to help take your grandma to church :)

Memories

Memories are strange things. Do you remember what you did last week on Tuesday? I don't. I don't remember most peoples names, I can't seem to recall them sometimes even if I know the person quite well. Things my daughter has told me half an hour before, gone. Drives her nuts! Bugs me too sometimes.
So why is it that we can, with seemingly perfect clarity, Remember some things that happen in our childhood, or when there is a catastrophe? Why do smells bring us back to a special moment, or even a mistake that you can't seem to forget(or forgive)? The mind is an interesting and sometimes unkind thing.
Do you remember where you were when The Twin Towers fell? I do, I was going to get my marriage license
How about when the space shuttle exploded when lifting off? YUP, Heading to my brothers to babysit his kids.
What about where you were when President Reagan was shot? I was in My 7th. grade math class.
I know where I was in August of 1981. I know I have never been fond of Georgia (specifically Atlanta) since then, and have never ever wanted to return there.
I remember my sister slugging me at my grandfathers funeral because I was not crying (I was 5 years old). And my Aunt Mary teaching me to do "here is the church" hand game to stop me from crying after being punched.
I remember a young women leader that took a special interest in me.
I remember vague images and people filling in the blanks for me as a teen the day after. And as an adult.

Even though I'm not the brightest crayon in the box, I do know there are scientific reasons for all these lovely things we remember. But I still am constantly amazed, irritated and sometimes angered by my memories. It is incredible to me how a sent can bring back happy thoughts of camping trips or holiday gatherings. Or a touch, maybe even a word or laying down a certain way, will send a flood or memories that are overwhelming.

I have memories that come back at the strangest times. Some pleasant, some not so much, and some horrible.
So why is the human mind so incredibly amassing, yet so unforgivably cruel?
What do you remember? Why do you remember? Sometimes I think some memories are just best left alone. I have tried many ways of leaving some of mine behind, they just come back. I can't leave them or they wont leave me. No matter what, or how, I try they always seem to find me when I lest expect it.
Memories are really very strange to me. I'm happy for most, and tired of hiding from the rest.

God in a Bottle

Tuesday I woke to an anxiety attack. Perfect! My attacks seem to have an A or B to them. A: I really need some hand holding (literally), while the ugly runs through my head and goes away. Or at lest subsides. As much as I know I need that, I am always afraid to ask. The first thing I think is oye! not again, I do not want to ask someone to dill with my drama. And I do not want to cause unneeded to stress for other people. SO, I want A and am scared to ask. Brilliant! So I usually opt for my plan B. I run. Running for me usually involves giving in somewhat to the noise in my head. My head, I have found, should not be unsupervised most of the time. It has lead me to many stupid things for as long as I can remember. Which I can always point out when having my meltdowns and make them worse.
Tuesday I ran. I took a bundle of wood up the canyons and decided I would go for a walk in the snow to think. Then I would build a fire and write or read.
The canyon was very quiet. No people a bit of snow covering the golden fall leaves and the sound of the river running down to the valley below. It was so calm, and I was not. I built my fire.
I cried for awhile, wanted some advise and solace and found neither. I really just wanted a hug, and to talk. But how do you do that when you are trying your best to pretend you are alright?
I know what is causing most of the problem. ME. I know what a shock! I am so unable to find me that I am falling farther down the rabbit hole until I my never get out
So here is the deal.

1. I don't know/like who I am. My solution is to drink. which for the most part I have been pretty well at hiding again

2. I don't know God or what my relationship is with him. This makes me anxious, and I take lots of medication trying to deal with that anxiety. Or I drink.

3. I am scared of what I might find if I start looking. Once again my solution is to drink or take my pills(sometimes I do both)

Even writing this and thinking about it is making me want a drink to just make it all go away for awhile. I am afraid of what I will find. But I do know If God is not in my bottle.Maybe I shouldn't be

Happy Fathers Day Dad

Today is the day to honor the fathers in our lives. I know some wonderful Father/Husbands out there and to you HAPPY FATHERS DAY! My Father is not here anymore to celebrate with. He died on March 14,2008. I still miss him very much so on this fathers day I am thinking of him. I am also thinking of my children, two of whom loved him very much and one who never got the chance to meet him.
When I think of him I am often very sad for them. My oldest son  never got to have his grandpa see him be a lead in his high school play, or watch him walk on graduation day. They were going to go to the Oprah together the year he died. They shared a love for music and theater. He missed him very much on those occasions. My daughter was grandpa's favorite. He took care of her when she was little and I had to work. He taught her to read. My dad was a volunteer at this is the place state park and she would go with him. She would always tell me when grandpa made her a tuna sandwiched. And they would go for walks together. She loved her grandpa very much. She also had the opportunity to go to her high school graduation this year. In memory of her beloved grandfather she wore a dog tag with a picture of the two of them together. On the back was written "grandpas favorite angel". That is what dad always called his grand kids. They were his little angels, and they all knew it.
Since his death I have given birth to another baby boy. It makes me sad for him to know that he will never get to go camping with grandpa, or listen to him tell "The Three Billy Goats Gruff" while sitting on his lap. I very good Friend of mine who was there at my side for his birth told me that she felt my father would be delivering this baby to me that day. I would like to think that that is true. I hope my father met and held my beautiful baby boy. I think he would like him very much. And it makes me sad to know what he is missing without his grandpa here.
I love my dad, and I miss not having him in my or my children's lives.

Here are some fun facts about my dad.
he was the youngest of two children (that lived to adulthood) both boys.
my dad is one of the best story tellers EVER! we would sit on his lap and listen to all kind of stories, but the favorite and most commonly told was The Three Billy Goat Gruffs.
Every year we would pack up the van and go on vacation to a national park of historic site. I have traveled to 49 states with my father. all of them in a car.(OK Alaska was a cruse. but we drove to Vancouver to catch the boat)
He had a great sense of humor and was always kind to people.
He spoke 3 different languages, usually all at the same time and when giving you directions when driving on vacation.
He loved his children and grandchildren very much.
Every anniversary and on valentines day my mom always got flowers.
My dad loved roller coasters. The year before his death we went to Virginia Beach and bush gardens. My dad road all the coasters with his grand kids
He would always tell us that japan surrendered during WWII because that is the date he received his draft notice and they didn't want him coming over there.
If you knew my dad, you loved my dad. If you never got the opportunity to meet him, you truly did miss out.

Side Walk Chalk

Do you remember side walk chalk?
All the colors. Fun lazy summer days when you and your family or friends would draw all over your driveways. No skill was really needed, it was just a fun mess! We would make flowers, harts with arrows going through them and hopscotch pads to play on.
As my children grow I would go out with them and draw. We would do Easter eggs and baskets, try our best to make bunnies and the usual flowers and hearts. No matter what they made it was a beautiful masterpiece. One of the first places my kids learned to start writing there names was on the side walk. And I have always loved seeing the neighbors kids creativity with their chalk.
Yesterday a friend of mine aloud me the opportunity to stay with her kids for about an hour. They are all beautiful and fun to be around. and they had something I needed. Side walk chalk.
I am struggling lately and Life for me is unappealing. But in all the gloom They gave me one whole hour of joy, friendship, love and
Side Walk Chalk!

I don't want to be here

I am here. I don't want to be. Is that a bad thing? I don't think it is. Is it bad that I am saying it out loud, instead of just leaving it alone and pretending that everything is fine? That is what most people think I am sure. But I have been fighting this for weeks now and it seems to only be getting worse. Each night when I get in bed, I hope to not wake up. I am angry when morning comes and I cry. I was hoping to have never come out of the surgery I had two weeks ago, obviously that went wrong also. I am not looking forward to a future. Do I make plans for the month ahead? Yes. I just don't care if I get there.

I'm not writing this to complain about my life and how horrible it is. In fact my life is better then many peoples. I also don't want anyones pitty. I just don't want to live anymore. I am tired and I am done. I was showering the other day and started to cry because the thought came into my head that I just wanted to go home......... I don't know were home is for me. I was scared and lost and comming to the end seems right.

I think the worst part is the fighting the physical and mental pain that is constant. Even if I am doing something I enjoy I feel out of place and will start to panic. I don't understand any of it. So why can someone who can look at their life and say, for the most part it is good, want it so badly to be over?

I have seen my doctor (not at all an easy thing for me) and have new medications I am taking. I have been told I should feel better in about a week to ten days. I don't know that I have that much fight left in me. Not to mention that I have several people in my life that think I should just be able to snap out of it. That makes it more difficult to look for or get help. If you have a loved one where I am don't judge, you are not helping.

I did not write this post for any reason other then to get it out of my head and into the open. I am fighting to not take my life, but at the same time am hoping for an end soon. I use to wonder how people could feel so hopeless. Now I just wonder how the hell to make it stop. And wish the end would come soon