Sunday, September 7, 2014

I Grieve

I’m now looking for a grief counselor.  I can’t sleep or function well.

I can’t explain the whole situation here as I will continue to honor my word and not to use any information that could identify members of my family by name or situation.  Let it be understood that I had been asked by my father and step-mom, to house my father after the death of my step-mom, and not for the first time over the years.  I lovingly accepted this task.

I knew that I didn’t get along super well with my sisters and brothers nor do they with each other.  But where once there was acceptance of our differences, Goth or otherwise, now there is none on their part towards me.

I find it almost funny that the Goth in the family is loving, forgiving, kind, and accepting of the difference in people and the ‘good Christian’ ‘we love the world and all people in it’ vanillas are not.

We just don’t think the same.  Not just for my Gothness either.  It wasn’t the black I wore or the paleness of my skin that got this all started.

In the end it was a simple misunderstanding blown out of proportion and into a war that brought this family relationship down.

I said something commonly meant to soothe the dieing.  This was misinterpreted and offense was taken.  As I was unaware at the time it occurred (This person chose to continue to act as if all was right and good.  That the plan was going ahead as first discussed when I was around, and no other family member told me of the rift or changes so that I could try to fix hurt feelings and restore understand again.) I continued to soldier on with the tasks allotted me making ready for my father to move in.  No attempt was made to clear this up or inform me of the changes that were being made for my father to move in with my sister.   No attempt to stop me from making expensive and difficult changes they all knew were in the works to my home to accommodate him.  No trial for my perceived slight.  No benefit of the doubt.  No chance to fix things with my step-mom or anyone else before she died.

Instead the family as a whole chose to think the worst and work against me.  My efforts at family unity in trying times were mocked behind my back and torn down in the end.  My integrity was questioned.  I was ostracized.  I was personally vilified, reviled, and sentenced to mental and emotional torture.

I was not the only one who was treated badly at this time.  But my being on the spot made me the major recipient.  The others got the lighter sentence of being cut off as dead.

The thing of it was that I am and never have been against the change of plans.  Instead I think they are right and good for the persons involved.  It was the asking me to be involved when I was clearly not wanted from the start, and then vilifying me as if I was the instigator and usurper.

Not one of my siblings or their children or grandchildren wants to have any sort of relationship with me at any level now for the hurt I supposedly planned and caused.  This in turn means I will never see my father again.  I must go through them to even speak with him in the future.  This will not be happening any time soon with feelings on their side running so high and I am too raw to allow another attack in the near future.  And as my father is old and in ill health, (for even I am a senior citizen), it is not likely to happen in his lifetime.

I grieve.  I grieve the loss of a loved one.  I grieve the lost understandings.  I grieve the loss of once loving caring relationships.  I grieve the loss of family, dysfunctional as they are, but still family.

I grieve.  But it is not a good loss or loving good-bye.  It is a much harder task to cope with.

I grieve.

Thursday, September 4, 2014

Sometimes, You Just Don't Have a Clue

It’s all over and I’m back in town.

My step-mom died.  Hard on my Dad and others of the family.

I was older and moved away, I had kids of my own by the time they had met and married.

She didn’t mother me but she did try to guide me.  I had considered her a friend.

I was wrong.


The funeral was nice on the outside, the family dynamic of two families mixed but very separate made for tension on some levels.

Other family feuds and squabbles made for interesting play time among the mourners.


I like a good funeral.  And lets face it I do have all the trimmings.   This was anything but a good funeral.

To the casual observer it was a nice affair as these thing go.  But the knives were out and after blood behind the scenes.  They cut into each other with gusto.  No one was spared.

I avoided some drama by being a ‘vanilla normal’ but still got shafted in the end by contrived accusations.

Family can leave the nastiest scars on ones heart and soul.

What happened to these people I called family?  They grew bitter and abusive while I was loving them from afar.  I called and asked after them and their children.  I sent them pertinent news over the years.  I offered help when I could and gave it even when I couldn’t afford to.  I may not play well with others but I do try to be helpful whenever I can.


I walked into a room full of strangers who, I learned, didn’t want me there even thou they were the ones who asked me to come.  I was bated by smiling faces to a knife fight and all I had was flowers in my hands and love in my heart.

I went and I did my duty to the end as a daughter.  I left as an orphan.

I went a sister of five siblings and step-sister of two.  I returned as an only child.

I don’t even care to try to clear up the mountian of misunderstandings at this point.  Years of he said, she said behind my back has built up to an insurmountable degree.

I wasn’t there at the time and became the ‘odd man out’ scapegoat somewhere along the line.

My step-mom is burried along with most all of my family relationships far away in the place I grew up but is no longer home.


But now I am back at my own home and safe from their hatred.  Cat on my lap, dog at my feet, husband at my side, knitting in my hands, and bandages on my heart.

Another chapter of my life is over.  The scars will heal.  I will survive.

And not to worry they are not invited to my funeral so they will not be a bother to anyone else who plans to attend when the time comes.

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

On Time and Watching

I am glad that I came back to blogging the other day.  It was not to find a place to vent or ponder thou I do those things here too.  I came back because I wanted to visit friends and maybe find a few new ones.


Timing makes being here now a necessity.

A relative is dieing.  Health and age play a role.  But this is not always the case.

I ponder death often.  It sits in the corner of the room quiet…  Listening…  Waiting…

This doesn’t mean that I court Death.  But we are friends of a sort.  I am not depressed or suicidal.  Only aware.

I know Death because I’m old enough to have seen it many times.  I’ve been in the room as older relatives have breathed their last.  I have buried my own child.  I have held their cold lifeless hands after that last good-bye.

I have also looked death in the eye.  Three heart attacks behind me and a few close calls with allergy attacks has made Death all too real for me.


And now I am brought back to the place where we are on watch yet again.  The parade of relatives and friends march on by.  Some look around…  peeking in corners to see just how close death lurks.  Others are afraid.  They keep their distance so that Death can’t come too close… or brush their arm in passing.  As if Death may accidently take them too.

I know that there is no escape.  I am happy to wait.  I am not foolhardy.  I take no risks or chances.

I do not court Death… But I am aware that Death is never very far off.  Daily the news tells me of the latest celebrity death, or accidental death, or murder.  No, not far at all.

Life comes with an expiration date.  No one gets out alive.  Accepting this is not easy for some, but we all must admit that it is true.

It is the sadness and loss that hurts the most.  We tell Death ‘Go away!’ ‘Don’t change my plans for a future once imagined with this person.’  ‘I want to write a future and make plans without your interference.’   But Death is deaf to our pleas.

So we hurt and are sad, we feel the loss and pick up the pieces.  We cry, hold hands, listen to each other.  We wait…  to feel better…  for it to be over…

We wait… for Death to move from its corner and claim another life sometime soon.   We are feeling helpless and all too vulnerable as we wait.

Friday, August 8, 2014

Facebook isn't Real Life

Now that I’m creeping my spidery self back along the web again.  Pun intended!

I’ve found some interesting ‘new to me’ blogs.  I hope to find others in the limited time I have each day to play in the flower garden of blogdom.

Its great to know that Facebook hasn’t killed blogging altogether.

I personally do not like Facebook.  I find it a money making, intrusive, gossipy, …   Well, Don’t get me started!

I only spent one day there and had to go hid under my bed for a week.

Its this ‘friends’ business.  A thinly cloaked method of stroking ones ego to control ones mind or loosen ones tongue.

I do not need Facebook to measure my self worth.  I do not have to say the right thing, play the right games, or do whatever the current thing of the day is, to accumulate more and more ‘friends‘.

People have been led to believe that saying personal things is quite okay to do.  Lives have been wrecked.

I have personally lost relationships over this.  Relatives that after running out of secrets of their own to spill move on to secrets of others to feed their need to find something new to say or gossip about on Facebook.

All with a ‘This is a good  thing.’ air because, ‘It can’t be bad if I have so very many ‘friends’ now that I’m interesting.’   To hell with the consequences of ones actions.  That is someone else’s mess to clean up.


(Don’t get me wrong, I know that many people are truly there for perfectly reasonable reasons.  They don’t tell or engage in malicious gossip.)


And then there are the Games there.  With the people who bother the heck out of others to play a game.

This isn’t a one off game of the moment.  It is a commitment to play day in and day out boosting each others scores.  Enabling each other to gain greater power and levels.

I use to love playing these types of games, minus the Friends aspect.  You can’t find one of these types of games on the market any longer unless you go to Facebook to play.  And Facebook constantly harasses as you play to buy, buy, buy more points.  Real money for nothing really.  A chance to get ahead in a game.

To me Facebook feels like place full of addicted people praying on others.

I’d rather spend my time on real friends and self improvement in mind, body and spirit.

Friday, August 1, 2014

Ukulele Torture, Of Sorts

So, Like I said a few days ago I’ve purchased a Ukulele.  Just a cheep starter Kohala.  Not known for their quality.  Cosmetic flaws and such.  I had to reduce the action on it also.  (For those that don’t know and care.  That means making the strings closer to the neck so you don’t have to push so hard to make the chords.)

But I do have to say that the one I got has good sound and excellent resonance.  Meaning it doesn’t sound all that bad.  Fairly good really for a cheep Ukulele.

So I dressed her up.  (Still deciding on a name for her.)  I got out my markers and did a little scroll work on the front.  Added a few stickers numbering the frets, (those little bars across the neck) and under the strings reminding me of the keys the strings are tuned to.  G C E A  My dog has fleas.  (What ever that is suppose to mean.)  Now I had a good learning instrument.

And off I went.  Contorting my hands into the odd assortment of positions meant to make music from a stringed instrument.

The first few days were nothing less than torture.  In a good way of course.  But still, I do have to replace the cotton wool used up in the ears of all those in hearing distance.

And two months later I’m playing my favorites along with the obligatory Uke standards in a reasonable manor and having way too much fun doing it.

Now the torture is only one way.  As my song preference is not popular with the neighbors, they will just have to keep on closing their windows for an hour a day until colder weather hits.  

What started this Ukulele Mania is a bit complicated.  First off my grandmother had and played a Ukulele.  (Not strange for her generation.)  and I loved hearing her play it as a kid.

Second is my eclectic tastes in music.  Few things I don’t like there.  Thou they do run to the dark and odd side of things.

Third is my sense of humor.  Enter the Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain.  I’ve enjoyed them for years.

http://youtu.be/dKpzCCuHDVY?list=PLy-nEelStADPlE9Bl76hHieQzedJv9yOE

I’ll just let you go and watch them while I get back to playing the Masochism Tango on my Uke.
Link to Tom Lehrer doing it here. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TytGOeiW0aE

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Life: I Love It!

I guess it was my post title that made people think I was not doing well.

I am doing great!  Health is good.  Attitude fantastic!

In most all aspects of my life I'm having a gothy great time!

Nothing is perfect of course.  It wouldn't be life if it was.  But I'm not complaining.  Its just a fact.  You know that as soon as you turn around a flec of dust will fall, the dishes won't wash themselves and something will need to be put away, straightened, or fixed.

Life: the moving river of stuff one deals with at any given moment.  I love it.

There are challenges, quiet peace, laughter, pain, contentment, frustration and enlightenment all open to our experience.

And than there is creativity!

Crafting, writing, sewing, knitting, crochet, cooking, singing, playing an instrument, dancing, designing, decorating...

You get the idea.  Everything from adding your own special touches to making something completely new.  It just adds a richness and texture to living.

Its just a part of what I look forward to each day.

So here I sit.  Rose colored glasses firmly in place.  And although much is black in my vision.  That is just the color of things, not my attitude.

Monday, July 28, 2014

On Not Dead Yet

Its been a long time.  I don’t know if anyone is still out there that cares, but here goes.

I'm not sure if I'm back to a daily, or even a weekly blogging experiance, but I have decided that I do need to update here on occasion.

My sign language skills are coming along.  I can converse with a toddler.

We won.  The Compressor Station was stopped.  We breath free semi-clean country air.

After my third heart attack: I have lost some extra weight.  (Need to continue to loose more.)  But I am living much healthier lifestyle over all.

My crafts have turned mostly to toys for the grandkids.

I’m into reading mysteries of late.

I bought myself a Ukulele two months ago and I have given myself a strict hour a day of practicing schedule.  I love it and have gotten fairly good at it already.  The list of songs I can play to grows daily.



My camera broke so pictures will be limited here.  I can still take pictures with it, but the focus is messed up.  So most of the pictures I take wind up unusable.  (Picture above is of Mary Picford not one of mine.)

All in all, life is a good thing.  I try to:  Forgive and forget.  Learn something new.  Live, love and laugh... each day.

I do hope all my blogging friends, readers and bloggers, are doing well also.