Sunday, June 21, 2009
Gordon and Snowy, Rest In Peace.
However many steps I take forward, I always end up going backward.
On Thursday I spent the day with my mother and her new boyfriend Paul. I gave her a shawl that I knitted for her, which she loved. We went to therapy, which went well. We went to lunch, she had 2 glasses of wine and so did I, but it was OK. We looked at apartments, and she thought I deserved to live in a better place than any of those that we saw. She wanted me to be happy. That night we got caught in a crowd and I hugged her and told her how much I really love her, how I used to be embarrassed by her when I went out with her but that now I was so proud of her, I was proud to be her daughter, and I was so grateful that she cared about me.
And I meant everything I said. All of it. I still do.
She said she loved me too, and I knew she did.
But still, that night while I was driving home I stopped to get gas and also bought cigarettes. I burned my left arm and right hand 5 times. I wasn't depressed, I wasn't crying, I was a little drunk but no more than I am on other nights I go out, and other nights I don't end up wanting to harm myself. Or if I do, I don't do it.
But for some reason, on Thursday night I did hurt myself. I burned myself badly.
And that really scared me because I wasn't feeling depressed, I wasn't feeling angry at myself. I was amazed at how well things went that day. Has my urge to punish myself become unconscious? How can I fight it if it's gone underground and I can't even recognize it's there?
Also, Friday night we went out to dinner with my friends and all was going well until Mom mentioned that Gordon died in March. She and Gordon dated from 2001-2006, and he was one of the few people that took my side and helped mediate when things got rough with mom. In 2008 when I was living in Florida and working at Office Max he came and visited me often, and asked how my mom was doing and how I was doing... he was such a good man. He always told me he thought I should go to Johns Hopkins University.
I couldn't believe it.
I started crying and couldn't stop (despite the fact that we were at one of the fanciest restaurants in town, so fancy it wasn't even IN town), and then I got a text from Charles saying that Snowy had died as well. Snowy was our household pet for a long time, we got her probably in 1992 or 1993. She almost died, attacked by our dog Carmen (who had actually killed our previous kitten) but then Carmen got sick and died and so Snowy lived the rest of her life as a mean, traumatized pet. When I started dating Charles in 2005, he was really in love with Snowy despite the fact that she was as mean to him as she was to anyone else. As my dad's Alzheimer's progressed, Charles took responsibility for taking care of Snowy.
In August of 2005 when I moved out to go to college, Charles continued to go to my dad's house to feed, clean up after, and attempt to play with Snowy.
Even when Charles and I split up in spring of 2006, Charles still cared for Snowy. And my dad, too, they got along well. When Charles got an apartment that summer he got his own cat, Leo, (seen here with Hilary) but still as soon as my dad would let him, Charles adopted Snowy and until a couple weeks ago I guess they were all one big happy family. Charles said Snowy was very sick the last couple of weeks, probably from her kidneys, and he had to put her down yesterday.
Anyway, if she lived to be 16 or 17 I guess that's a good lifespan for a cat.
I feel bad devoting more of this entry to Snowy than to Gordon, but I don't know all that much about Gordon. A few things about Gordon that I do know for sure: He loved me, and he loved my mother. He was funny and honest, and he believed in me and wanted to help me. He did help me, me and my mother. There are several occasions I can think of where my mother and I would have killed each other if he hadn't been there to calm us down. And we probably wouldn't have ANY relationship today if it weren't for him.
No offense, but my mother has just about as many issues as I do so one must be a saint to deal with her, and Gordon certainly was. Unfortunately, prostate cancer got him, and fast.
Obituary for Gordon Brown Jr.
A thought just came into my head. "Why did Gordon have to die? He was such a good person, I wish I could have died instead of him, I have nothing to offer the world and I'm just miserable all the time anyway." Then I caught myself. "No, I do have a lot to offer, I have a great future ahead of me, I can and do make people happy. I am happy myself very often, though some people don't see it. I enjoy my life, and I'm not giving it up."
That's progress, right? That's definitely a good thing to be thinking.
Now, if I can think like that, why did I stab myself repeatedly with lit cigarettes on Thursday night, before I heard any of this bad news? I wasn't crying when I did it, I wasn't listening to Elliott Smith or anything sad, I was just driving, listening to Beck. and I just couldn't help myself.
I couldn't help myself.
But I have to help myself... If I don't, who will?
On Thursday I spent the day with my mother and her new boyfriend Paul. I gave her a shawl that I knitted for her, which she loved. We went to therapy, which went well. We went to lunch, she had 2 glasses of wine and so did I, but it was OK. We looked at apartments, and she thought I deserved to live in a better place than any of those that we saw. She wanted me to be happy. That night we got caught in a crowd and I hugged her and told her how much I really love her, how I used to be embarrassed by her when I went out with her but that now I was so proud of her, I was proud to be her daughter, and I was so grateful that she cared about me.
And I meant everything I said. All of it. I still do.
She said she loved me too, and I knew she did.
But still, that night while I was driving home I stopped to get gas and also bought cigarettes. I burned my left arm and right hand 5 times. I wasn't depressed, I wasn't crying, I was a little drunk but no more than I am on other nights I go out, and other nights I don't end up wanting to harm myself. Or if I do, I don't do it.
But for some reason, on Thursday night I did hurt myself. I burned myself badly.
And that really scared me because I wasn't feeling depressed, I wasn't feeling angry at myself. I was amazed at how well things went that day. Has my urge to punish myself become unconscious? How can I fight it if it's gone underground and I can't even recognize it's there?
Also, Friday night we went out to dinner with my friends and all was going well until Mom mentioned that Gordon died in March. She and Gordon dated from 2001-2006, and he was one of the few people that took my side and helped mediate when things got rough with mom. In 2008 when I was living in Florida and working at Office Max he came and visited me often, and asked how my mom was doing and how I was doing... he was such a good man. He always told me he thought I should go to Johns Hopkins University.
I couldn't believe it.
I started crying and couldn't stop (despite the fact that we were at one of the fanciest restaurants in town, so fancy it wasn't even IN town), and then I got a text from Charles saying that Snowy had died as well. Snowy was our household pet for a long time, we got her probably in 1992 or 1993. She almost died, attacked by our dog Carmen (who had actually killed our previous kitten) but then Carmen got sick and died and so Snowy lived the rest of her life as a mean, traumatized pet. When I started dating Charles in 2005, he was really in love with Snowy despite the fact that she was as mean to him as she was to anyone else. As my dad's Alzheimer's progressed, Charles took responsibility for taking care of Snowy.
In August of 2005 when I moved out to go to college, Charles continued to go to my dad's house to feed, clean up after, and attempt to play with Snowy.
Even when Charles and I split up in spring of 2006, Charles still cared for Snowy. And my dad, too, they got along well. When Charles got an apartment that summer he got his own cat, Leo, (seen here with Hilary) but still as soon as my dad would let him, Charles adopted Snowy and until a couple weeks ago I guess they were all one big happy family. Charles said Snowy was very sick the last couple of weeks, probably from her kidneys, and he had to put her down yesterday.
Anyway, if she lived to be 16 or 17 I guess that's a good lifespan for a cat.
I feel bad devoting more of this entry to Snowy than to Gordon, but I don't know all that much about Gordon. A few things about Gordon that I do know for sure: He loved me, and he loved my mother. He was funny and honest, and he believed in me and wanted to help me. He did help me, me and my mother. There are several occasions I can think of where my mother and I would have killed each other if he hadn't been there to calm us down. And we probably wouldn't have ANY relationship today if it weren't for him.
No offense, but my mother has just about as many issues as I do so one must be a saint to deal with her, and Gordon certainly was. Unfortunately, prostate cancer got him, and fast.
Obituary for Gordon Brown Jr.
A thought just came into my head. "Why did Gordon have to die? He was such a good person, I wish I could have died instead of him, I have nothing to offer the world and I'm just miserable all the time anyway." Then I caught myself. "No, I do have a lot to offer, I have a great future ahead of me, I can and do make people happy. I am happy myself very often, though some people don't see it. I enjoy my life, and I'm not giving it up."
That's progress, right? That's definitely a good thing to be thinking.
Now, if I can think like that, why did I stab myself repeatedly with lit cigarettes on Thursday night, before I heard any of this bad news? I wasn't crying when I did it, I wasn't listening to Elliott Smith or anything sad, I was just driving, listening to Beck. and I just couldn't help myself.
I couldn't help myself.
But I have to help myself... If I don't, who will?
Labels: death, family, mental illness, therapy
posted by skweeds at
6/21/2009 03:03:00 AM
About Me
- Name: skweeds
- Location: Knoxville, Tennessee, United States
I have outgrown my unsatisfiable wanderlust. My capriciousness has cooled off, and I'm making mature and responsible decisions right and left. What has happened to me?
Previous Posts
- ghost brain.
- hatred.
- Writing on Writing
- Nova - Hunting the Hidden Dimension
- Something HILARIOUS! Play on "craigslist"?
- Lakeshore Mental Health Institute: Part I
- in other news.
- How to convert .lit files to .htm on a Mac
- Can you feel the darkness shining through?
- That lizard is so cool I would follow him on twitt...
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I'm so very sorry to hear of your losses. It's good that you can find solace in the good memories that you have of them.
It sounds as if you may have been told, or made to believe, in your life that you don't deserve anything good. That also is a lie. I was led to believe that lie when I was growing up, and it caused me have no self-esteem for many years, and to allow adverse things to happen to me that I didn't want to happen, because I didn't think that I deserved anything better.
I'm a big collector of words of wisdom" so if I may, I'd like to leave you some words from Oswald Chambers: "...draw on the grace of God in your moment of need. Prayer is the most normal and useful thing...in all these things, display in your life a drawing on the grace of God, which will show evidence to yourself and to others that you are a miracle of His. Draw on His grace now, not later. Let circumstances take you where they will, but keep drawing on the grace of God in whatever condition you may find yourself. One of the greatest proofs that you are drawing on the grace of God is that you can be totally humiliated before others without displaying even the slightest trace of anything but His grace." :-)