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After Thoughts

Jan 04, 2010 - 2 comments

I read another's journal that posed the question about pondering suicide, the intimate details of suicide and whether that was akin to being suicidal. I will admit to one suicide attempt, arguably 2.

I actively daydream about my own death generally, and by my own hand specifically. I sometimes think of suicide as the emergency exit road that you see of the side of highways that the large trucks can take if they are losing control.

I have visioned my self lying on my bed (with the Battenburg linens & lace gown). On the nightstand is a 3/4 empty bottle of Drambuie, a crystal ice bucket, an full ashtray and an assortment of pill bottles. There is a note that states simply "I'm sorry that I didn't do this for you sooner"

The problem of course with the first scenario is that children might find me and I would want that so

Scenario II
(which is ironic because before when I was not medicated I would jump on planes an go somewhere on a whim)

Anyway, I dream of throwing together a carryon suitcase etc, passport and flying off to the Caribean. Any where in the Caribean where the sand is white and warm and the beach stretch out with no people. I've got good tunes playing in my ears and I take the pills and get on a belly float and start floating out as far as I can go. I float at the time of day when the sun starts to set so no one notices as I continue out into the oceon. The pills are starting to make me sleepy and and I the belly float into the warm water.

But instead of us hurting ourselves in these grandiouse ways,we chose instead to take smaller tiny punches or pins at our self. Is that a slower form of death?


Dec 12, 2009 - 5 comments

My granmother passd away on November 29th. I penned this as a eulogy for her funeral.

Please & Thank You

Please Grandma, can I have a sleep over at your house?
Thank you Grandma for baking cookies and cinnamon buns with me.
Please Grandma, can I cut down some sweet peas? They smell so nice.
Thank you Grandma for the swing set in the back yard.
Please Grandma, can I eat all the peas in the garden.
Thank you Grandma for sewing my dance costumes.
Please Grandma, can you French Braid my hair? (again & again & again)
Thank you Grandma (& Grandpa) for taking me to Doctors appointments
Please Grandma can I live with you for a little while, things are kind of tough at home?
Thanks Grandma, tell Gramps I’ll turn the music down.
Please Grandma come up to Bonnyville and sew costumes for 120 students.
Thank you Grandma for not freaking out when I turned off the lights by mistake near Smokey Lake and there were 2 semi trucks coming toward us.
Please Grandma can you make curtains for my first home with my husband?
Thank you Grandma for moving the seat forward in the old Green car so you could step on the brake.
Please Grandma can I wear your wedding ring on my wedding day as my something old & something borrowed?
Thank you and Aunt Sally for teaching me how to jitter bug in the kitchen after a bottle of Baby Duck.
Please stop jumping up and down while I am telling you that I’m having twins.
Thank  you for introducing me to casinos and proving that you have always been truly a lucky woman.
Please Grandma, can my daughter come over for a sleep over. She likes to cuddle with you.
Thank you for betting with me on American Idol, Canadian Idol & So You Think You Can Dance. I’ve enjoyed my winnings.
Thank you Grandma for all that you have brought our lives, all the time we have shared, all the encouragement, pats on the back and the unconditional love.
Please rest in peace, watch over us, sprinkle some luck dust every once in a while and remember you are loved and missed.

I feel like I've lost my centre.

Grandmothers, mothers & daughters

Oct 01, 2009 - 3 comments

My 98 year old grandmother has been hospitalized for the past 3 weeks. Until then she had been physically capable of managing her own apartment, her own meals, daily care, quite astute, all her marbles and faculties in place.
She took to her bed. That sounds like such an old fashioned phrase, something that Sylvia Plath would do. She took to her bed and wanted nothing more than to sleep. She was barely eating, drinking, conversing or much of anything. She started to be confused about who people were or who had come by to visit or who had stayed the night or what had been said during conversations.
She told us recently that she wanted to move into a seniors Lodge, where meals would be prepared for her and there would be more socialization, even bingo and music. She's always loved music and singing and be a strong supporter of any of the grandchildren persuing voice, instruments or dance.  She was disappointed that there would be a four to five month wait.
The family started a 24/7 stay with her for about 10 days until her physician requested that we take her to hospital. By this point, she had become delusional, confused and disoriented. It's heartbreaking to see her, every time I leave the hospital, I sob all the way home trying to control my tears before I hit the front door so as not to upset my own children. I want to shield them from this pain, they are too young to deal with death, death of someone that they hold so dear, too young to see someone deteriorate to the point that she would not recognize them.
So nightly, or almost nightly, I go to the hospital and massage her feet and legs with rich lotion. She'll moan and say it feels good. I can feel the sinewy muscles relax over frail bones and her breathing relax deeper in her abdomen. She might say "L brought me up this lotion" and I'll whisper..."I am L" and she'll say "Of course you are".
My own mother is made of a different bolt of cloth. She tries to fix everything. She tries to correct every mis-statement her mother makes, tries to redirect ever delusion, every error of who was there and who said what. She thinks that if she does this, everything will return to its rightful order.  She has attempted the same thing with me and my bipolar disorder since I was diagnosed....if you just did this, if you just did that, you would be fine.  She is incapable of just rubbing my feet and letting me breathe deeply.

Bed bounce to wet bed

Aug 01, 2009 - 0 comments

Liam for the past three weeks has done the "bed bounce" of going from his bed to my bed and when I tell him to go back to his bed, he goes to his twin sister's bed, then she kicks him out and he comes back to my bed. If I've fully gone back to sleep, he'll crawl  in and cuddle. What this all means is that all of us have a bad night sleep and end up sleeping late (like 2 in the afternoon for the kids) *8 am for me but by the time that they get up, I'm exhausted. Last night I got them all into bed early which meant Liam was in my bed early, so early that he didn't go to the bathroom and wet my bed at 6 am.