So damn tired

Maybe it’s the dehydration. I pee next to nothing in the morning, a cup or less, but who’s measuring? My brain isn’t working right, I feel bloated, stupid, foggy, slow. My body hurts. My head hurts.

My temper is moderate. I take medicine when I remember, when I get angry, when I go through my day muttering swears and cursing everyone around me. When I remember. The swears and sotto voce name-calling are so normal now I am afraid I will say them aloud. It scares me. Who am I?

A friend going through a crazy period took refuge with his sister and her husband for a while. He turned the husband into the enemy. Nicest guy you can imagine, the enemy. Agitated incessantly, tried to turn his sister against him. Soon, of course, this had an effect. Nicest guy in the world got pisssed and started acting not so nice. What a surprise. Friend said, At least now I know who he is under his skin.

Do you? Is what someone will do pushed to extremes who they really are, under their skin?

Another friend was in a show. Another actor baited him constantly in rehearsals, calling him names.Pussy, Litte Man, Loser. Director did nothing. Directed him to stop her. Guy finally shoved her off the bar (it was a prop–show was set in a bar). She wasn’t hurt, but screamed bloody murder about abuse, called the guy’s gf and tried to enlist her. But is that really him, under his skin? He is kind, gentle, thoughtful. Driven to extremes.

She, on the other hand, that is what she is really like.

But is this is really me? This bitchy, fat, space case? Okay, I am a space case, and a slob. I can’t seem to keep things organized. But the rage, that’s a symptom. And stress will deplete your system so bad, the liver takes a hit and out comes the anger. When I am healthy, I am not like this. Maybe the other stuff is all symptoms too. So how do I get healthy? I can’t take this. I need a vacation.

The summer retreat was great–I didn’t hate anyone for a good two months after.  But that’s all worn away now. I feel fragile and teary.

It’s all got to stop. I have things to do.


League up

I went to a party the other day. Drive 350 miles to do it, too. Was worth it. I have forgotten what it’s like to be in a room full of bright, fun, creative people.

It’s time for a change. I want to feel more relaxed and effortless. I know it has more to do with me inside than the world outside. It’s a mindset shift for a start. Then it’s going to have to catch fire on its own because I am pretty fucking tuckered out.


Losing it…

This last weekend really took a lot out of me. I lost Sunday. I lost Monday, taking everyone to various docs (mom to doc as planned. AFTER we get home from there, where he could have easily asked someone to see him, he asks me to take him to ER. ANOTHER 3 hours lost).

I managed to get what I needed done for Tuesday, bare minimum, but done. Last night I sat on the couch after I got home while mom babbled. Now tomorrow most of the rest needs to be done.

I have one day. My brother did not go to bed until 6AM. I know, because I got up at 5. How the fuck does a guy who was so sick I had to take him to the ER get better by staying up all night? How does he take any kind of care of mom, which is his job here, when he has no sleep? I can’t do what I have to in the time I have. I can’t do it even more with her talking to me incessantly. It is not possible.

I get up in the morning and there is piss in the toilet, which is now always crusted and filthy from man-pee who doesn’t flush. I am not a housekeeper. My toilet never looked like this before. Lady pee just doesn’t have the same effect.

I just can’t fucking take this. I have to. But I can’t.

My brother has to go. But I can’t do this alone. The gal is coming from the program we applied to. If these people don’t help me, I don’t know what I am going to do.

I so want to honor her wish to stay with her family.

I need a way of managing this that keeps me balanced and sane. This constant state of stress is killing me. I have things I could do that would help (like dance), but I don’t do them. The level of inertia is staggering. I feel complicit in my own suffering. It’s a horrible feedback loop. I need help, god. I do. Please help me. Soon.

The semester ends on Friday.  This episode will be over, for better or worse. But there’s just going to be another one after that.

The chaos is never going to stop. It’s inside me.

I have to stop.




Like all the other posts are not venting.

Today all three of us have infected teeth. How do 3 people have infected teeth all at the same time? My brother’s been so sick for two days that I couldn’t go to work today. He went upstairs to lie down and passed out on the landing (thankfully didn’t fall down the stairs).

Unfortunately, I have to grade 43 portfolios before Tuesday. Today is Sunday. They take not less than 15 – 30 min each. Math not your strong suit? That’s 11-20 hours of hardcore focus. I have none. Plus I need a lot of space to do this (at work I take up two full size desks), and there is no suitable space at home.

So I am now sitting next to my mom, who is babbling constantly, even though I have put on music she likes. I will have to put on an old movie to hold her attention.

So that’s my day.

It will be over soon enough. But it sucks today.

Thanks for reading. I hope your day is a little better.

A fresh perspective?

Well, that’s kind of a lie. I don’t have a fresh perspective, unless you count fresh as saucy, rude, etc. I am so fucking tired all the time, and so angry. I have to take a lot of medicine to stay sane and not scream at everyone. What meds? Not lithium or anything like that. I take a mix of 1 part each milk thistle, astragalus and dandelion.I am to replace the dandelion with celandine, but I have been too lazy to order it. Anger for the most part is a symptom of imbalance. Stress is hard on the liver. Though sometimes it is a valuable survival mechanism. The trick is telling the difference.

Anyway, I’ve been getting up super early to have time to myself, so I can write and whatnot, which is great. Today I got up at 5:45 though, which is now pretty common for me, and my brother was still up. I didn’t say anything except “goodness, you are up late,” but I was thinking a lot of black thoughts. He often goes to bed at 4am (I hear him), so this was late even for him. But that didn’t stop me from wanting to scream at him. Plus he was on his laptop on the couch. First he took over my nice fancy computer chair. I worked at the kitchen table. Then he took over the table-without relinquishing the chair, as it is still surrounded by his shit. So now the only place I had to work was the couch. Now he’s working on the fucking couch. Everything bothers me. I am so prickly.

I hate myself when I am a bitch, too. It is so unattractive. I hate everyone. My bro is a cranky pain, and when i m just as bad if not worse, I can’t hate him with a clear conscience. Plus it’s just a bad, thoughtless habit, to expose others to my craptastic mood. But there I am, muttering unkind imprecations, not even under my breath 24/7. It’s just wrong. Plus I’ve been talking to myself–out loud. Bad sign. So something has to change.

Hence the medicine.

It helps a lot.

My astrologer told me I’m entering ANOTHER EFFING SATURN RETURN (she’s ayurvedic, so the system is different). Fuck me, right? She told me to take out the trash. I had just told a friend my biggest problem was that I don’t take out the trash–literally or figuratively. I’m drowning in garbage. I know that’s my problem on the inside as well as the outside. I just don’t know how to do that. I never have.

I’ll let you know how it goes.



PS, I am not totally crazy, and often quite pleasant. Really.



So here is the promised update, which, yes, took a long damn time. Why? Because I do have another life, but more importantly, SHE NEVER STOPS TALKING. She never used to be a motor mouth, but in the last maybe year? She just never shuts up. She murmurs, so you have to listen–and you have to listen, bc she gets huffy if you don’t respond.

Worse, almost all of it is made up stuff, total delusions, which are far more real to her than every day life, and which unfortunately tend to skew towards being held captive, the people all around us (there is no one here), who are going to steal her stuff and even her seat on the sofa if she leaves it untended long enough to go pee.

I can’t fucking think with constant babbling. She is worse than a television and it is so toxic and dark much of the time it boggles the mind. When we go for a drive, which we try to do every day, she is either explaining to me how every house e pass she used to stay at at or lived at or owned, and she has a house around here someplace that she loaned to a nice family who needed a place to stay and maybe they will give us something to eat if we show up. The rest of the time, any time we pass a wooded hillside (and they are everywhere), she explain how she had to escape off the mountain after she got dumped there and was held prisoner and had to crawl on her elbows to get out of there…

PLEASE. There was no mountain! There was no escape! I am am familiar with her life story. So this is all some kind of traumatic imagery but I am at a freaking loss to deal with it.

Then there is my germaphobic OCD completely crazy brother who is living with us to help out. God bless him, because we would both be dead without him. But omg, he is a bad-tempered pain in the ass who is afraid to be left alone at my house (though apparently any other place on earth is fine), so I can’t even take her out of the house by ourselves, he has to come along to anything we do or get left alone with her. And he is channeling our dad, who was a shit parent, and it’s not a pretty picture.

He is obsessed with the idea that she doesn’t wash her hands after using the toilet so she is spreading e-coli all over the house. It’s true she doesn’t wash her hands (she used to put expensive cream on her hands and didn’t want to wash it off, and the habit stuck), but she is so personally fastidious that she cannot bear to have anything on her hands, or face, or anything–it all must be wiped fully and carefully away. Aside from that, her health is great, so it’s just not that big of deal. No one is immunocompromised. It’s all a lot of bullshit.

But he now has this obnoxious, elaborate ritual of reminding her not to flush so he can go see if she pooped (since she’s forgotten by the time she gets out of the bathroom), and then he takes her into the kitchen where he badgers her to wash up and snaps at her when she pushes up her sleeves, since in his eyes her sleeve is now a festering hotbed of e-coli. He could give her a hand wipe for chrissakes. But no.

He won’t touch anything she may have touched, using one finger to grab anything. It is so insulting and demeaning it makes me want to spray him with a fire hose. He’s basically Asberger’s so he has no idea unless I tell him that anything he’s doing is driving me insane.

Plus he likes to cook. But he likes to cook basically slop, which takes him ages to elaborately make things that were once good into overcooked slop. And he doesn’t want me to cook–he prefers to be in control of everything. And he likes to have dinner at 9 or 10 pm by which time she should be in bed, blah blah blah, whine bitch complain.

But he is here and I can go away and do things, which otherwise I could not do. A devil’s bargain. It is better than when he wasn’t here, and that is a fact. But I spend most of my days in a state of rage, trying to be nice to be these people. And that is not good.

AND my massage therapist, my ace in the hole, to whom I was going to bring mom to remove some of this leftover trauma shit, DIED. Out of the blue. Like, REALLY out of the blue. So now I have no backup at all, and she made the medicine that keeps me sane and not shoving the old bat down a flight of stairs (and keeps me from having another gall bladder attack). And I am out of medicine.

Pray for me, my friends. This is some kind of turning point in my life.

Saturn is retrograde, so I am thrown back into my second Saturn Return. I am still not sure what the hell I am supposed to learn out of all this (don’t have a mother?). I think it is about self-care, since I have basically NONE, and feeling sorry for myself leads me to eat things that are bad for me. I gained 20 lbs early in this ordeal, and they haven’t gone anywhere. All the trauma work I did previously is helping me stay sane and self compassionate, but I can’t get much of anything done.

I’m writing a book, but have been stalled again for weeks. I feel bad leaving her alone with my brother (and leaving him alone with her), but I can’t get any work done here.

For my own sanity, I have to detach from all this. She usually knows who I am but often thinks I am part of the staff here (staff? What staff? It is a house with 3 ppl in it). However the less she knows me the farther away I can drift. I don’t mind her living here, I mind feeling trapped by it. I mind having to be on call al the time. I mind her getting up at 6AM. That is MY time.

And yes, i do love her–we were so close for so long. It’s heartbreaking to see this happen. It’s terrifying to think about what’s going to happen to me. I do hug her a lot and love her a lot. But it would take 24/7 hugging and I don’t have that in me.

What do I want? I want my mom to be and feel safe and happy, warmed by love. I want to feel footloose and fancy free, grounded by my home but able to move easily in the world. I want to get my work done and feel good about my accomplishments. I want my concentration, my focus, to bring my gifts to the world and help others find and treasure theirs. I want to dance and enjoy life, visit with my friends, and meet cool new folks who become part of my circle of joy.

The GF is still hanging in there, and thank god for her. The BF is still hanging in, though I rarely hear from him. He is planning to move here after he retires. That’ll be interesting. I’ll keep you posted…

Thanks for reading. I appreciate your time and thoughtfulness.

May we be free from suffering. May all beings be free from suffering.

It just got stranger…

So yeah, I’m still here. Only now my brother is here, too. Oh Jesus. So I have my demented Mom and my cranky, germaphobic brother who is afraid to be left alone in the house. I’ll be back in a bit.

The GF thing is going pretty well. She’s a gem. Even helped me take care of my demented Mom.

Dementia, on the other hand, SUCKS. I mean it’s bad. I have been care taking my Mom 24/7 since the fall. Oh. My. God. Please do not make me go through this. Someone just shoot me. The anxiety, the paranoia, the stubbornness, since 9/10 of the time she has no clue where she is or who anyone is. I mean, she can’t remember anything, so maybe it’s not so bad for her, but it’s a pretty piss-poor quality of life. When she’s in a bad mood (read: constipated), she rants that she wants to die. Frankly, that would make everyone’s life easier, and when I was a kid she always said she would rather die than be helpless (and actively planned to off herself when the time came), but it takes a lot of effort to die before your time, and not being able to remember anything for 5 minutes does put a damper on one’s ability to carry out plans. Oh, wait, she can remember her delusions just fine, and will insist upon them for months. But I digress…


Maybe if I were a better daughter and sacrificed my entire life to find fun things for her it would be better, but I have a job (thank god I don’t have to show up very often), a business, and am taking a couple of online classes. My plate was overfull before she came along. I cut back in the spring, so now I’m broke AND overstressed. Plus we are out in the sticks at my house, and there not very much to do there, no matter how good of a daughter I am. So I play a lot of music on the stereo. She likes music.

My brother came for a week so I could have a vacation. I went to NYC and attended a couple of workshops. I need a few more breaks this summer. I can then maybe manage the fall. But that’s it. So that’s my story.  Not sure how to move this forward. She would despise any kind of nursing home. It’s a dilemma. For me, it’s about overcoming resistance and doing art anyway, despite not have a single moment to myself to think or do anything. In that way, I am losing this battle. My brain goes on strike, being in the room with her ALL DAY (and she wants me to sleep with her at night, too). So I don’t know how this will pan out, but I have my work cut out for me, that’s for sure.

Pride Week

So, if you have been hanging on for the last however many months waiting to hear what happened next, I had a convo w my BF, re-established that what we did apart from each other was up to us, and got a girlfriend. Because, it must be said, that getting another man just spelled TROUBLE, in big bold letters.

I really do believe that men can smell each other on you, even if it has been a month and several showers later; that he was more concerned that someone else would have a bigger, harder dick and he just didn’t want to hear about it; that, too often, men want to own you (or you want them to); and that, when it comes right down to the motherfucking wire, that he would think me having a GF was hot, but me having another guy would be NOT. Some thing are too easily broken and impossible to fix. 

And sure, you can argue all you want that I gotta do what I need to be me, but in this case, that’s what I hadda do. And things might, of course, change; and I am down with that. For now, this works. Pretty well. For everyone. So I am now officially a Hot Bi Babe. If you don’t like it, get the fuck over it–it’s PRIDE WEEK!

My new GF is a stone lesbian, and a stellar human being. She has gallantly dealt with being a part-time (sometimes very part-time) GF, with honor and honesty. Refreshing.  And she likes buying me dinner. And the sex is fantastic. Woo-hoo!

On the plus side, I had recognized before I met her that I am indeed bisexual and polyamorous by nature.

On the minus side, I have not introduced her to anyone as my GF, and have told only a few ppl. I also asked her to keep it on the DL.

Now, there are several reasons for this. One is that I have a horror of being the object of gossip.

Two is that my BF said he didn’t want to know, and I want to honor his request. I have noticed ppl seem to have a driving need to tell others anything that might possibly hurt their feelings because they “deserve to know.” Excuse me? (It is true I did tell one friend that her man was wandering. I agonized over this for quite a while before doing it.  I finally decided she would want to know. She did. He was furious with me for not telling him first. He was right to be).

Three is, I don’t want to have the conversation, OK? I doubt that anyone will disown me for going both ways, and the majority of my friends really will not give a fuck. I also assume that little by little it will creep into their consciousness, and I will not have to discuss it–it will suddenly just be something they have always known. But if anyone is homophobic enough to think I might be now hitting on them, or staring at their tits, or whatever (and I am often in rooms full of naked women), I just don’t want to deal with it.

Four is, my orientation is my business. It’s a need-to-know basis. I don’t see that many ppl I want to fuck. Some of them are women. If I am interested in you, then you might need to know. Otherwise, you don’t. When asked, say on a survey, I put bisexual. There is never a box for monogamous / polyamorous, however. Tsk tsk.

So those are my excuses, um, reasons,  for not being a big hero with the coming out. I apologized to her, and she just waved her hand and said she did not need to make her personal life a political statement. Someone asked her when they could meet me. She said, “She doesn’t meet people. She comes over; we stay home and have sex.” She says she is grateful we get to have uncomplicated sex, since she usually dates straight girls and there is often a lot of conflict.

Which brings me to feminism (warning: soapbox ahead).

I went to the feminist GA last night in NYC. While I do know that many ppl are leery of the term feminist, b/c it brings to mind images of Andrea Dworkin insisting that any sex act not initiated by a woman is rape (does that mean one woman can not rape another?), I was surprised (and not a little annoyed) to hear that some so-called activists find the term Sisterhood unacceptable and exclusive. Also, The War on Women.  And even the word feminist. AND that some people still think staying home and raising your own children is UNfeminist. Occupy motherhood, people! One gal went on for a long time about how it pissed her off when men younger than she (specifically in Occupy) addressed her as Dear. She was not dear to them, she didn’t know them, so where did they come off?!

It saddens me to think that someone who identifies as a big feminist from way back should not understand that language is a container. It wasn’t dear that she objected to, it was the condescending disempowerment with which the word was filled.

One woman said that the word she got the most flack for was patriarchy. See above, re: condescending disempowerment. Fuck patriarchy. Smash patriarchy. Not that matriarchy is any better. See above, snotty, controlling, female-bodied activists. The extent to which we have ALL (male and female) been damaged by this paradigm is inherently hidden from us (you can’t see it until you see it, and there is always another layer to the onion). Feminism means that women are the social, economic, and political equals of men. Not better; not worse. Not more, not less. Raising your own children can be feminist idealism OR patriarchal subjugation; so can getting a job, not having kids, or getting an abortion–particularly if some man insists you do whatever.

I am pretty sick and tired of all of it, matriarchy, patriarchy, and all of those archies. I’m pretty tired of bossy people thinking they have the right to tell me what to do and how to think. More and more I am favoring ANarchy–which, in case you have been misinformed, does not mean No Rules, it means No Rulers.

Though, jeez, some of those anarchists are pretty controlling and annoying too. So I don’t know where we go from here. Ideas?






Redefining myself. Accepting power. Existing in compassion.


Things are changing. An update follows.