Reaching out………..

My Mental Fuckery Blog:

Dear Dad,

Where do I even start……

There are things I remember as if they happened yesterday.  Remember when I was around 7 or 8 years old and I took that yellow tractor down what once was a dirt road we lived on?  I had that damn thing on full speed.  You came out to the road and yelled for me to get my ass back to the house.  I remember feeling so free and accomplished driving that tractor.  Just keep in mind your the one that taught me how to use it to cut grass, and even allowed me to go full speed around the yard ((me smiling)). 

I remember when we first moved to Florida from Ohio and stayed at a KOA campground until you could find a job and a home for us.  I was only 4 at the time, so I never really understood why we had moved, I just remember having fun at that camp ground. 

I was such a tomboy growing up.  Always loved the outdoors, climbing trees, swinging from the ropes you placed on a few of them in the front yard.  Then after rainy days, I would go to that dirt road and play in the mud puddles.  And then there was that time you had sawed through 2 trees so very evenly, attached a huge piece of plywood cut perfectly so they would be bolted down on the tops of those tree’s.  I didn’t know why you were doing it at the time.  Until one day I went into the backyard to see you made an incredible tire swing.  I had so much fun on that thing. 

I remember finally learning to tie my shoes all on my own.  It had been at the daycare and I was so happy about those damn bunny ears, but even more happy to show you.  I do know, when I look back now, that it would have been even better if you had seen me do it for the first time, but the smile on your face said it all.

I remember you would make mud puddles for me and my friend Jamie to play in and get completely covered in mud, wrestling around, and having such a great time. 

I remember my very first bike.  It was yellow and had those plastic string things coming out of the end of the handle bars.  We walked to the dirt road from the driveway, and that’s when I learned how to ride a bike, after a few falls that is ((smirking)).  Years later you got me a Mongoose bike, it was a bike meant for boys, but it was awesome!!  Since I was such a tomboy, it had fit my personality at that time.  Oh my gosh……..prior to these bikes I recall you got me one of those electronic cars that you had to plug in to charge.  I consider that my first time learning how to drive ((giggling)).  After the Mongoose came the feminine beach cruiser bike that I rode to school (Holly Hill Junior High).

I remember sneaking out of the house through my bathroom window and riding on that bicycle to go see my boyfriend.  I finally got caught (a few times, okay a lot of damn times) and you would booby trap that window and knew when I was sneaking out.  Man would I get in so much trouble.

Remember going to a few of the Florida Springs with me?  We set up camp at one of them.  I would be snorkeling and you took your walks.  And of course I would take my walks alone only to get stoned off a joint that I had brought with me.  Yea, I never told you about that one.  Wish I had.  At an older age that is.  Just like when I was in my early 20’s, I had confessed to you about the time while you were in Ohio on vacation and left the Oldsmobile parked in our other driveway.  I think you flew or maybe used another car.  I can’t recall everything.  Anyway, you and I were at Southturn, a great bar we enjoyed going to together, or meeting there.  I told you, “dad that one time you were in Ohio, well I took that Oldsmobile out for a ride.  It was too irresistible not to.  So my boyfriend at the time knew how to unhook the hose or wire that controlled the odometer.  I was like, hell yes!!!!!  He will never know because no miles would be counted.  After our journey with that badass car, my boyfriend reconnected the wire and I knew I needed to put a little gas in it.  So I went into the garage, there were a few gasoline jugs, so I went to the car and started to fill it, and that’s when I noticed that the [gas] had a tinted blue to it.  Then I was like OOOHHHH SHIIIITTTT, and realized it was the 2 cycle gasoline for the boat.  Thankfully only about teeny tiny about made into the tank.”  He shook his head and we both laughed. 

So many great memories, especially on Thanksgiving and Christmas time.  When me, Kim, and Cheri were at a very young age I recall you always hiding our Easter baskets around the house.  What was so cute and funny is that you knew I wasn’t much of a candy eater, particularly chocolate………so yea, my Easter basket was basically for you ((smiles)).  But Christmas I think, was your happiest moments.  Every year you would have such a delightful smile on your face as we opened one gift on Christmas Eve and then all of them on Christmas day. 

Then there were the teenage years.  I was such a fuck’n rebel.  You and I were so stubborn and head butted each other.  We were so very much alike.  But so many lies I had told you.  So many things, that in my head, I completely fucked up on that made you completely distrust me.  Countless times I ran away, moved out and then you’d still open those house doors wide open for me to come back in.  Was it out of love?  Or because I was your daughter and you felt obligated?  I will assume it was actually both.

So many memories, some gone or just lost in this fucked up head of mine.  But the memories I do have and remember, those are the one’s I cherish (whether good or bad), and will till the day I die and get to see you again.

I don’t know if you or any of the family realizes what your death did to me.  It affected who I was, and made my heart completely hollow.  If I could have only had the chance to tell you how sorry I was for everything I had done that may have hurt you.  How sorry for what I done to make you distrust me.  How sorry I was for not getting my shit together sooner. 

I know you knew how much I loved you.  We were not an affectionate family growing up.  As we all got older some affection finally started.  I would tell you I loved you.  We hugged a lot more.  It was a beautiful thing.  Our last hug was when you were in the hospital as well as the last time I told you how much I loved you, even though you were unable to tell me or hug me back.  It was a fucking tragic way of losing you. 

When they allowed me to go see you while you were still in the PACU (it was better for me to do that than any other family member due to fact I knew what to expect with all the tubes and drips keeping you alive) I held your very cold hand and silently told you how much I loved you and that we were all here for you.  But I also knew you were only physically there.  I told you it was okay to let go if there was anything still left in you.  As I did not want you to suffer.  It pained me to see you like that.  So many tubes and drips that I was all to familiar with.  Then that time came.  That time when we all knew what you wanted and didn’t want you to live like a vegetable.  So it was time for us to say what we needed to before they withdrew life-support from you.  From me, there were never any good byes.  I laid my head on your chest, where your heart was.  It was so strong at first, until it slowly faded and then it was gone.  To this day I still can hear and remember those strong heartbeats.  Words can’t explain how devastated we all were. 

I’m here right now to once again apologize.  I am so sorry I haven’t talked to you, out loud.  I do it great with no fear in my head, I just don’t know how to get the words out of my mouth.  To tell you how my day was or how irritating my husband can be ((smiling)).  To tell you that my Bipolar disorder explains sooooo much of the childhood crap I put you through, as well as my friends and other family members.  How I wish you were physically at my beach wedding, it was so private and beautiful, but the pain of not having you give me away or have a father daughter dance killed me.  Once the ceremony ended, we took some pictures.  James and I walked down to the water, little words were spoken, but as I stared out into the sea, I felt your presence with us.  I took a single flower from my bouquet and tossed it into the ocean.  Yes it was a beautiful wedding day, but not having you physically there hurt.

I miss and love you so much.  I know this is only a blog/letter, but it is a start.  Some how I’m going to try and attach the words spoken at my and James wedding.  I’ll probably have to copy and paste the damn thing……….as if this letter/blog isn’t long enough.

You are forever in my heart and memories.

There are no good byes, but until we meet again………  


If I speak, will he hear me……….

My Mental Fuckery Blog:

I think it was on my 2nd visit with my psychologist, you know, the shrink that doesn’t give out cocktails for us mental weirdos.  Anyway, we started talking about my dad.  She knows I’m not the religious type, nor is she, but she asked if I talk to him.  I looked at her and said, “In the beginning I spoke to him, small talks, I mean literally a one sentence talk.”  She asked why I don’t speak to his “spirit” and I told her I was too afraid.  There’s that fuck’n fear I have again.  It kills me that I don’t have conversations with him, but it kills me more that there would be no response back from him.  I mean, can he truly hear me?  One never knows.  Some people would tell me OF COURSE HE CAN HEAR YOU, HE IS ALWAYS WITH YOU.  Well shit I hope he’s not ALWAYS  with me.  Kind of creepy thinking your dead family member is in the bathroom with you while your sitting on the shitter, amongst other things.  But seriously, I really do want to have my own personal conversations with him, but it’s fuck’n hard!  I think about him often, and I hope that is something he does know.  To this day I keep my favorite picture of him and me in my car on the visor.  If I feel I really need him, thats when I flip that visor down and the picture stares down at me as I drive, that he is there……….or I’m just trying to block the damn sun from interfering with me being able to see where the fuck I’m going.  It was a conversation with the shrink that made me feel uncomfortable.  I’m not sure why, I guess because not just her, but anyone (especially my family members) would think I’m more crazy than speaking about teacups in my head.  It’s definitely something I will work on.

As far as my cocktail shrink goes, we have been switching my meds almost as much as I change my damn panties.  It’s ridiculous trying to stabilize my Bipolar disorder.  Sometimes I wonder if my body is just saying fuck off with this shit, lets just keep you miserable, than happy, than crying the next minute over Gawd knows what, have the ride of a life time in your pretty little teacups.  I’ll be seeing yet another doctor.  This time it’s an endocrinologist.  I have hypothyroidism and that shit can fuck ya up even more on top of the mental fuckery’s. 

My regular doctor, well it’s actually her PA, think’s I may be perimenopausal…………well ain’t that just fuck’n great.  So this Friday my vagina gets to be probed by an object bigger than a damn dildo.  I’m quite sure that will be a fun piece to blog about.  On a serious note, I sure hope they don’t find anything unusual down in that little cave we call vagina’s.  Of course not all vagina’s are little.  How do I know this?  In case you don’t remember I’m a nurse.  So that means I’ve seen more penis’s than a hooker and more vagina’s than a damn gigolo.  That’s a fuck’n lot of……….well you know.

Well I’m still on a long road of trying to get better.  I haven’t given up, although there have been some close calls.  And unfortunately it has started affecting my marriage.  My hubby is a GREAT man, but one can only take so much from a wife that doesn’t communicate, except only in my head.  A wife that can snap in an instant.  And a wife that lacks a libido.  I could go on, but I’m sure y’all get the damn point.  My hubby came with me to my last visit with the cocktail shrink and he seriously asked him if they made a pill for libido’s.  Naturally the shrink just smirked and told him “no”.  That’s when I started to cry a little.  No, not about the fact that there isn’t a pill for a woman’s libido, but the fact that I’m mentally and physically unable to give the love of my life pleasure.  Maybe I should become a chemist and make a fucking pill to help us women out that don’t want to fuck, or at least lack the desire too.  I shouldn’t really use the term “fuck”, at times we do make love to our spouses.  The other times we may try and act as if we are the characters in “50 shades of Grey”…………oh if you haven’t read those books, you have no idea what your missing.  Granted the damn movie sucked ass.  But I do recommend the books.  Who knows………… just might want a “red room of pain” in your home.

Well that’s all I have for now.  Okay that’s bullshit……….I have plenty more, but I’m just to lazy to keep typing.  I know I haven’t blogged in quite some time……..but I suppose you can say I let my mental fuckerys win part of the battle. 

Again, as I usually end these blogs.  Mental illnesses of any kind suck!!  But you need to know YOUR NOT ALONE.  Depression lies, being Bipolar is like having multiple personality disorder (not that I know what that’s truly like), and anxiety is like an unknown stranger that just wants to strangle you so you struggle to breath, or an elephant that decides to sit his fat ass right on your chest so you are not only having a hard time breathing, but your chest feels sunken in and your heart just wants to jump out.  Aside from living with severe anxiety and Bipolar disorder, there is another thing I suffer from………….fear.

Toodles ((peace sign))

Turkey day with Dad