Barrel of a Gun

The summer that my Mom and I ended up having our falling out certainly turned out to be a quite a bit more than a mere convenience for me as it turned out. While there had never been any question that we both had been heading down this path ever since my Dad passed away, I most definitely made the most of the opportunity when it presented itself to me and did nothing much to prevent its derailment. Even though we'd been at odds in the past over issues more serious than the one that I finally used as my excuse to sever our current relationship, by this point it didn't matter. Definitely the proverbial straw for me, as there were a number of very legitimate reasons why we could not, nor should not, continue on with our current relationship as it stood.  

At the same time, I knew that I was also motivated by the fact that there would now be one less potential distraction interfering with my current usage. By this time, I was having a difficult time balancing my active addiction with my work and social responsibilities, my family obligations, as well as dealing with the general day to day mundane stuff one tends to encounter as we drift through our lives . So with that stress gone for the time being, I was able to refocus more of my energies on what was becoming increasingly more and more important, and I don't mean work.

Ironically, about a month or so after my blowup with my Mom, I ended up receiving a temporary layoff  notice from my employer stating that I would be required, immediately, to take a leave from work of between 12 and up to a maximum of 16 weeks. At that time, I had been working for my employer, a software company, for a number of years. By the time I received this notice, our office had been reduced to a staff of just over twenty from a high of near a hundred and fifty employees less than a year prior. Even though I knew I was still a valued employee, I also recognized the financial duress the company was currently experiencing.

Plus, talk about timing. Bloody pathetic on my part, but reality none the less. One less distraction yet again. The writing was so on my wall and yet...

TO BE CONTINUED... 

Mommy Dearest

Over the years, my Mother and I have had, at best, a somewhat strained relationship, although for the past few years, we somehow were both able to put this to rest and have enjoyed what has very much felt like a normal and healthy one. To say this has been like a breath of fresh air does not even begin to do it any sort of justice. As this was something I had dreamt my entire adult life of having, I was careful to ensure I did nothing to jeopardize it, although I wouldn't have just accepted it without question had I felt that there might be possible negative consequences. In fact, in order to reach the previously unattainable, I had had to completely severe absolutely all ties with my Mom for near two years. Drastic action begets dramatic results it would seem.

Growing up, there was just Dad, Mom, my slightly younger brother and myself. When I was five, my parents decided it was time to leave the land of our birth, Ireland, to try our luck in another country halfway around the world, Canada. While I have some very vivid memories of this time, I certainly was far too young to fully comprehend the drastic, not to mention dramatic, changes occurring within our little family. Immigrating to a new country is daunting enough when one is young, single with their whole life ahead of them, I can't even begin to imagine the stress involved for a couple just a few years away from forty with two small children in tow! Not only this, but they had to do it completely on their own as no one else from either one of their families had done this, nor would anyone ever do it. 

What this meant was that neither my brother or myself had the luxury of being part of an extended family while we grew up. Although we had a total of nineteen cousins, we rarely ever saw any of them as an ocean separated us and still does. While we were fortunate enough to spend many a summer vacation visiting and getting to know them all, it was never quite the same as if we had been able to share our daily life on a regular basis with them. On occasion, I sometimes found myself filled with envy if one of my friends had the opportunity of being able to get particularly close to one of their cousins simply because they could - location...location...location.

Yet, in reality, as I grew up, this was really nothing more than a minor handicap because all in all, I was darn fortunate enough to have a pretty idyllic childhood. My folks were amazing enough and neither myself nor my brother were ever victims of any sort of abusive treatment. We were treated more than fairly, and certainly didn't lack for much of anything growing up. I seemed to naturally gravitate towards my Dad, while my brother seemed to be my Mom's favorite. I most definitely was my Daddy's Little Girl, and I surely managed to stay this way until he passed away in 2003. We shared similar interests and I always found it much easier to confide in him than I had ever found in my Mother.

While she doted on my brother who could do no wrong in her eyes, I struggled to simply get along with her at times. She could be overly harsh and critical of me if allowed, but as long as my Father was alive, it rarely happened. From time to time over the years, I'd find myself worrying what would end up happening to our relationship once my Father was no longer around to temper our behavior and treatment of the other. 

Then in 2002, my father was diagnosed with cancer. After his first month of radiation and chemo, he found himself getting weaker and felt that he could no longer drive himself safely back and forth to the hospital. As my Mother had never learned to drive, he asked me if I would drive him back and forth to his hospital appointments. Of course I agreed without hesitation but this also meant that I would be responsible with having to take him five days a week, every week for approx five to six months. 

Although this obviously greatly impacted my life as well as my own immediate family’s, I didn't mind doing it in the least and would gladly have done it again without hesitation. As some days I was required at the hospital for near eight hours, plus had to be there Monday through Friday, I quickly found it was impossible for me to continue to work full time while I did this. Luckily, I had an amazingly empathetic boss and was able to take a six month leave of absence without pay remarkably easily. Tragically, she found herself in a near identical situation with her own father a mere two months after me so...

I began driving my Father on a regular basis about the second week of July and continued to do this every day until just before Christmas of the same year.  My father managed to finish all of his radiation and chemo treatments a scant six days before Christmas Eve. Christmas that year was nice, although we already knew that my father had ended up not responding well to either one of his treatments and wasn't going to be really getting any better. 

This was confirmed before the third week of January had even started. In the interim from Christmas til this time, I had returned to work and was trying my best to settle back into some sort of routine. I was barely back at work, when my father was admitted to the hospital for what ultimately turned out to be the rest of his life. From the moment he went in, I made sure that I visited each and every day though it became increasingly harder to see him suffering so much as it got closer and closer to the end.

For the first time since I had been told that he had cancer back the previous June, I started to really feel stressed and overwhelmed. I often found it quite challenging trying to juggle a successful return to work while meeting my own immediate family’s needs - Sara was only twelve when all of this started and had yet to lose anyone close to her from death so...

At the same time, I found I was at the beck and call of my mother without the benefit of any safety net. As I knew that this was incredibly hard on her, I tried not to take some of her many and frequent outbursts personally . I got it. She felt powerless to help her life partner, a man that had looked after her now since 1956 and visa versa. All faults aside, they really were a truly magnificent couple who loved each other deeply until the very end.

OK, this entry now seems to have taken on a life of its own, so in the interest of looking towards a bit of a conclusion on the way to wrapping this all up, I'm not going to bore you with all of the specifics of what ultimately caused my Mother and I to have this serious falling out. Instead, the following anecdote should illustrate quite nicely what I was more of less up against.

By the time my father finally passed away the second week of March, I was pretty much overwhelmed with so many different emotions, never mind feeling so very, very tired. Through the last week of his life, I had spent every night at the hospital sleeping beside my father in a bed that his nurses had put together for me. The following day the only thing that I wanted to be excused from was having to take my mother to the funeral home to finalize our earlier arrangements. I was so very shattered that I just didn't have it in me to do this. As Jim and I had taken Mom there prior to Dad's passing, I figured now that it could be my brother's turn, especially as he had only visited him twice the whole time he was in hospital.

At the time, I really didn't give this request much thought at all, but it soon became quite apparent that perhaps I should have. My Mom was a little bit demanding of my time the first few months after Dad died. After working hard all week, I rarely had a chance to slow down once the weekend arrived as I was required to chauffeur my Mom around so she could get whatever errands she needed to get done. It seemed as if every place that I happened to take my mother, whenever she was offered condolences, she just had to stop so she could also share a particular story with everyone. 

All puffed up and proud, she told everyone who would listen what an absolute rock my brother had been to her, and how she wouldn't have known what to do had he not been there to look after everything the day after my Father’s passing. Canonization for sainthood must surely be around the next corner. Not one mention of what I had done for five months, nor even the last three months that he spent in the hospital. Nothing at all, nary a word, and, to make matters worse, she did all of this right in front of me, and not just on one occasion, but multiple times. I started cracking up in short order let me tell you.   

This was barely the tip of the iceberg and now that my Father was no longer around to temper my Mother's actions and treatment of me, I found our situation intolerable not to mention untenable. The longer it continued, the more I felt poisoned and shattered, and increasingly more and more depressed. Ultimately, for my own self preservation, I ended up having to sever all ties with my Mother. It turned out to be easier than I had ever imagined, and in the end I managed to avoid my mother and her abuse for nearly eighteen months. 

P.S. TO BE CONTINUED 

She's Now Legal Anywhere!!!

Last Sunday was my daughter Sara's twenty-first birthday. We had a very quiet and intimate dinner at my Mom's. Now that my brother, his wife and their four children live in Nova Scotia, there are just me, Jim, Sara and her boyfriend, Andre, Katie and my Mom. Only the five of us which was nice and relaxing, and completely different then our usual family dinners. As much as I adore my brother, the moment they all arrive, chaos ensues. His kids range in age from one to 13 now, and when we all get together they tend to get overly excited and start bouncing off of walls especially as the day goes on and they eat more and more sweet treats! So compared to other years, our celebration was positively subdued. It was an especially nice change of pace for Mom as she normally gets herself all stressed out over serving the dinner. To this day, I do not know why as she is a brilliant cook. She cooked a turkey to boot! We were also kind of cheating cause we were celebrating Easter as well as Sara's birthday. This way Mom wouldn't have to do it all the following weekend, plus now our time would be freed up to go to Jim's parents at their convenience.

There is a bit more that I wanted to say, but I just noticed the time and I have to dash. Shall be back later on today!

peace, love and happiness...

The Grass Is Never Greener

I love my brother to death and am so excited that he’s able to come home for a quick visit thanks very much to the generosity of our Mom. He arrives home tomorrow evening and will be spending a week in Ontario before he has to return to work down east in Nova Scotia. This time though his family will be following him a week later as they all finally are able to make this permanent move. He found a nice four bedroom semi-detached house to rent which he says is pretty reasonable etc. This is a tremendous relief to him as he has spent the past year stressed out to the max drowning in an every increasing debt load with no apparent relief in sight. I guess after spending the past ten months or so trying in vain to convince his wife that they were in an incredible mess financially, she has finally accepted this most unpleasant fact. Of course, only since her father sat  her down to talk to her a week ago does she believe any of this. WTF? After listening to some of the things that my brother has recently told me, plus some of the things that she has been saying, I now strongly feel that their living well beyond their means is something much more serious than an inability to stick to a budget. She seems to have an addiction of sorts, an illness it would seem.

Besides the $200 000 mortgage that they have, she has managed to accumulate close to $150 000 in personal debt alone. How is this even possible? They’ve got three lines of credit alone that total almost $103 000, plus about a dozen or so credit cards all maxed right out to their limit. They may own more for all I know as these were the numbers that my bro quickly rattled off to me the other night while we were on the phone. I kind of have the feeling that this is but just the tip of the iceberg. This almost seems worse than a drug addiction. She obviously is incapable of practicing any sort of self control either. He says that all she ever worries about is what her friends or neighbours would think if they didn’t have this or that or whatever…

I knew that she was the type of individual that always seemed envious of what others had. She rarely seemed satisfied with her lot in life nor was she shy in letting others around her know  how she felt. I also knew how very important it was to keep up with those proverbial JONES, apparently at any cost. I knew that she was concerned with appearances but I had no clue the depth of this behaviour. I know my bro has spent the past 15 years providing for his family like few other men would be able to, and yet, she continues to find criticism in what he does.

She was the one that made him take this job out of province. She applied for this job on his behalf, sent out his resume to the company that he now works for as well as arranging his interviews, etc. Like the obedient husband he is, off he went to a strange province with no benefit of any sort of family or real support, and for the past four months  has worked and lived like a dog with nary a word of complaint. Literally every penny he makes is sent back home, and how is he rewarded? Every night, he has to listen to her sob and cry and carry on about how hard it has been since he left, how she has to do all of the housework and gets no break at all from the kids. I guess she berates him and goodness knows what else – this according to my Mom who has been told all of this directly from the horse’s mouth herself! Apparently, she says a whole lot worse stuff but I’ve not got the stomach right now for all of that garbage.

Nor do I think any of this mess has really registered with her properly as just the other day she was telling my Mom that there was no way that she would live in a rental less than $3000/month, nor would she live in anything but an immaculately maintained home – this from someone who hasn’t a clue how to even do housework! She said that she wouldn’t take anywhere that already had carpet as she didn’t want anyone else’s dirt near her. Only hard wood or laminate would do. No townhouse or apt either. Goodness gracious. Wonder how she’s going to react when she sees the $1200 beauty her husband has rented for her? And, who is she kidding? The only reason she is accepting anything right now is she has run out of time. She is literally getting out of Dodge the day before the bank seizes her home, vehicle and then shuts down all of the utilities - this will happen when you fail to pay any of these bills for months at a time!

Karma. It’s a bitch. Not saying that she deserves it this bad but she did make this mess pretty much all on her own. Again, its my bro and nieces and nephew that don’t deserve any of this and yet, they’re the ones that end up suffering over and over. It is really so very, very sad.  

INCEPTION

OK…Need to count to ten before I continue. Should know better and yet…Just lost the entry I’d been working on for the past half an hour cause one of my husband’s computers is retarded. Actually its not so much the computer, as it is the bloody, stupid mouse he uses. GRRRR…He can’t use a normal mouse like the rest of the planet, no, he has to use one of those stupid and challenging ones with a scroll ball attached. And, yes, of course, its the mouse’s problem and not the operator! Duh.

OK. What I had been attempting to write about prior to my being rudely interrupted and sabotaged had been the announcement of us having actually gone to the cinema today to see a movie, something we’ve not done for a number of years now. My Mom, Jim and I decided to take a couple hours break from trying to shop in yesterday’s oppressive humidity by taking a bit of an air conditioned cinema break. We decided on seeing INCEPTION. It did not fail to entertain. It was everything that the critics have been going on about these past couple of weeks – almost. Just a small, a minor one really, complaint regarding the unneccesary length of the two main action sequences of the film. That’s all I’m going to say about that cause anyone intend on seeing the film while its in the theaters really should try to go as spoiler free as possible, and to say much more now would just be cruel and unfair.

One thing I can mention about the film, or more specifically the particular copy that the cinema got, is that about two thirds of the way through it…KABOOM…screen goes completely black while dialog continues on for an additional three or four minutes until nothing. Apparently there were some technical difficulties involved. We actually didn’t mind this little bit of an interruption as we took this opportunity to slip out for a quick smoke and bathroom break. Plus, for our troubles, we all received coupons to see our next movie free of charge. Sweet.

All in all, I ended up having a most surprising and pleasant day. Absolutely love these unexpected moments, and have now learned to truly treasure and enjoy each and every one that comes along.

peace, love and happiness…

Addict Children

When the girls moved out they took each of their computers with them - of course they did, especially as the computers were actually theirs. Sara's computer had always been set up in our living room because their bedroom was already overflowing with their stuff. It simply made no sense whatsoever to attempt to set up her own work station amongst this disaster of a bedroom. Even if we had tried, I've no doubt it would quickly have vanished from view, buried beneath all kinds discarded crap! Our living room, however, had space to spare. We set up pretty comfy station for them, with loads of room on the desk that we decided to use - it measured 60" long by 24" wide, and had a pull out shelf that ran  the length of the desk, although it divided into two separate pieces, plus a full bottom shelf to put the computer's tower and whatever else you felt like. What this meant was that with only the one computer/monitor on the desk, there was still loads of empty space over which was nice as it was then easy to keep neat and tidy.

OK, fascinating I'm sure that you're all thinking, but, really, SO WHAT? See, even though I have always had a perfectly decent computer that I didn't even have to share with anybody at all, I practically never went near it. While there was nothing remotely wrong with it, I utterly loathed where it ended up being located in the apt. Jim set it up in our bedroom right next to his. Now, we didn't have the same kinds of space limitations that the girls always seemed to face, but there were other things that prevented me from truly enjoying  using my computer when it was in our bedroom. Hmmm, when I pause to reflect on all of this, I suppose in hindsight, we probably should have invested in at the least, one laptop!

From the start, I much preferred using the computer in the living room. Unfortunately, the only time that I would end up using it was when neither one of the girls was at home. It certainly wouldn't have been very reasonable of me to demand time on theirs when I had a perfectly good one sitting unused in my bedroom! Another reason that I tended not to use it was the moment I sat down at it, time no longer seemed to matter. Seemed to take no effort for five minutes to turn into five hours! Even if my bedroom door remained completely open the entire time, just being located there tended to promote a feeling of being isolated and as such, not being readily available to either one of them. This was not at all what was actually occuring, but, as a newly recovering addict I became hyper aware of ensuring that my behaviour at any time did not suggest possible relapse. Of course, there were times when I had no choice. Certainly, the last time I got hit with the flu, the very last thing I wanted to do was leave my comfy bed for anything. Not to mention, I was the farthest away from feeling sociable at any level.

So, while either one of my girls were at home, I tended to drift between the kitchen, dining room and living room. If they didn't feel like hanging around anywhere that I happened to be, then all that they had to was go off into their bedroom or leave the apartment. Now that they're all grow'd up and living on their own, I don't have to worry if I feel like staying in my room all day! I can do whatever I want! Sound kind of like I'm the one who no longer has to worry about following their parent's house rules and not the other way around! Well, I'm certainly not going to lie when I confess that since its now only Jim and I, there is absolutely no doubt as to how liberated I've felt this past month!

I also had Jim liberate my computer from our bedroom, and had him set it up where Sara's computer used to be. So, to make an already long story even longer...what I had been trying to do was let one and all know that because of our changed circumstances, I expect to be updating on a more regular not to mention more frequent basis.

-----------

Now, its time to get to something just a tad more serious, as well as extremely important. There is something that I have been meaning to address for a very long time now, but haven't gotten around to doing it. My very bad!!! Over the past year or so, I've been noticing that there has been a pretty dramatic increase in the number of blogs out there written by parents of addict children. Their collective cries for help, relief, support and recovery of their beloved is truly devastating. Even though I, personally, am  myself a recovering addict, I have no knowledge of being on the other side of addiction such as they all are. That's not to say that I am incapable of empathizing with them, its simply that I've not had to view it in the same way that they do.  So, while I am not necessarily proud of this fact, I am certainly able to relate to the many stories they share of their children's misadventures. I hope to never be in any one of their shoes either, and am pretty sure that it is by the grace of God that both of my girls have managed not to succumb to the many temptations that these illegal substances seem to offer. I hope with every fiber of my body that this never, ever changes also!

Their children are also oh so very, very young to have to go through some of the things that they do. This aspect of their addiction, though, is extremely difficult for me to relate to as I had actually never even tried drugs at their age. While I had done some experimentation while at university, I never really did it with any sort of regularity until I was about a year or so into my first real job after graduation. Once I found out I was pregnant, I stopped immediately and never resumed until Sara was about eight or nine. It then took five to six years after this for my previously recreational use to turn into full blown, hard core addiction. Shockingly, I was able to keep this from practically everyone. My own mother never knew I even had a problem until I had been in Methadone Maintenance Treatment - MMT - for over eighteen months. Jim's parents found out even later - this tidbit ended up being revealed to them while he was still in the hospital after the stabbing! We never even had a call, a visit or anything to do with Children's Aid either in regards to Sara's upbringing. For all intents and purposes our addiction was invisible.

Now of course, most of the above needs to be taken with a grain of salt as they say! Addicts are consummate liars who also have a massive capacity to rationalize any sort of potentially unethical or illegal behaviour, and I am sure that I was no better, even though through these years, I had pretty much convinced myself that this didn't apply to me. This particular topic, though, is too complex to go into much more detail right now, but I will tackle this subject in the very near future.

But back to the parents...their ever increasing numbers gives one pause for concern as I suspect that the blogs that are currently out there are barely a tip of the iceberg. Where we see one, I'm guessing there are ten more. Tragic, indeed. Below are some of the ones that I follow regularly. As my links are not as current on this computer as they had been on Sara's, I know that there are a few excellent ones that I have overlooked - I apologize in advance for this oversight. By no means is it at all intentional. If you have a similar type of blog that is not in this list, please feel free to let me know so that I can update my links section. I encourage anyone that has taken the time to read this entry to also make sure that they take the time to visit the blogs that are listed below.

Addiction – In God We Trust

An Addict in our Son’s Bedroom

Andrew’s Addiction

Blinded By Love For J

Fight of Your Life

Heather’s Mom

Her Big Sad

Hurting Parents~Addicted Son

INTERVENE: A Community For Parents

Journey of recovery…search for serenity

Loving and Parenting an Addict

Mom of Opiate Addicted Son

Mom vs Heroin

mother of a drug addict

My Daughter’s Addiction

OXY and OPIATE ADDICTION-A Mother’s Story

Recovery Happens

Writing From The Inside Out

98 Pound Weakling

Pretty much from the very start, I've had a bit of a love-hate relationship with methadone - I took my very first dose of methadone in September 1999, nine years and two months ago. Now a decade ago, I was in pretty grim shape physically. I had allowed myself to waste away to near nothing, and at 5'7", I barely topped the scales at 105 lbs, so potential weight gain from this particular treatment was very much a non issue for me. Or so I thought. Within no time, I started to experience a rather dramatic metamorphosis and actually started to look rather healthy. A decade ago, this didn't really bother me all that much as I desperately needed a few more pounds on my body, but now I find myself in the middle of a most unpleasant and unsavory situation.

Funny, what kind of effects, a decade ends up having on our changing bodies too. I now find my self, at the ripe old age of 45, waging an ever increasing losing battle, not to mention having to deal with, until now, some really foreign emotions and thoughts. Its frustrating enough on its own coming to terms with this change, but having to deal with the accompanying boatload of emotions, doesn't help at all! For someone who had never had to give their weight so much as a second thought before all of this, this new reality has been monumentally difficult and stressful.

I've now since discovered how easy it is to be cavalier about weight and diet, et al when no problem exists. This should seem quite obvious, but surprisingly enough, it isn't at all. I've since discovered that its much easier to be without vanity when no struggle exists. If there is nothing to obsess over, there is nothing to obsess over. Now, unfortunately, I seem to have something to obsess over, and that something would seem to be the size of my jeans! I will admit though, that I am still not in possession of a scale so I have no idea what my actual current weight would be, or the actual number of pounds gained these past couple of years. Honestly, I really don't need to have anymore of this rubbed in my face, anyway. The fact that I no longer wear a size five or seven is pretty indicative of the amount gained that I certainly do not need any more confirmation, trust me.

OK, OK,  I know exactly what each and everyone of you are about to say to me now. I know that methadone alone is not the sole guilty culprit here. In fact, there is next to no research or findings or even studies stating that weight gain is even a direct side effect of taking methadone. Logically, I am all too aware of this fact, but, I am also very aware of the undeniable fact that I started to aggressively gain weight once I started Methadone Maintenance Treatment. This is a fact that is next to impossible to challenge! I get it. Suddenly, you're no longer on some endless quest to feed that monkey. After a few months on MMT, your life actually starts to return to what others take for granted, boring and routine. With this, your appetite returns and with a vengeance, although for everyone else, this is normal. Most probably, you even become more sedentary, so its really no surprise that the body ends up having such a huge transformation. Logically, I know this, but it still doesn't end up making my current situation any better.

I think what really bothers me even more than the weight gain, is the fact that I can't help but constantly stress over it. In the past few months, I find myself thinking about this more than I ever obsessed and agonized over drugs! Maybe I'm replacing one with the other. How's that for irony? Grrrr....I can't believe that I am actually publicly ranting and whining about my current situation either, although this just illustrates how depressed this whole situation has gotten me. My mother's constant comments certainly don't do much to help my self esteem either. There is nothing like a conversation with my mother to make me feel ten times worse than I already do. She has a knack for pummeling me ever further into the ground. Its not like I am a beached whale either - I am currently wearing between a size eleven and thirteen, with the larger size starting to no longer feel quite as tight as it did about half a year ago too. Each and every time I see her, she ends up fueling my self obsession with the weight, even if I've somehow managed to finally reach a place where I feel a modicum of peace.

OK, no doubt I could go on endlessly on this subject if allowed, but even I have to admit that I am starting to bore even myself! Enough already. Get over yourself! 

retail therapy and physio as world class events!

As Jim is now finally strong enough, yesterday he had his first physiotherapy appointment. We were only there for about an hour and a half as the initial appointment was just an assessment so that they could go on from here and develop his treatment plan. Starting on Monday, he has to attend this clinic for a minimum of six weeks, Monday to Friday from 1pm to 4pm. That sure is an insane amount of physiotherapy! Combined with the fact that this clinic is just shy of an hours bus ride one way, this means that he will be spending five hours each day minimum with physiotherapy. I know that he prefers that I accompany him to all of his appointments, and in fact, anytime that he leaves the house, but for this I won't be able to all of the time. Certainly, I will end up going with him for the most part anyway, but I imagine that there will be days that this will be impossible, as I will have my own medical appointments.

Even though this clinic is literally on the other side of town, the fact that we only need to take one bus - no transfers, cause I hate whenever I have to change to another bus - makes this journey that much more attractive. Also, there are enough shops that I like going to out by the clinic that it shouldn't be too hard for me to occupy the three hours. I guess that it could be way worse in so many other ways that this is a pretty small commitment when you stop to look at the big picture, so to speak!

Went shopping with my Mom and Sara today and our outing actually remained reasonably stress free considering the length of time we were out and about. As I've mentioned before, my Mom and I used to enjoy a pretty strained relationship, but this now seems very much, a part of our pasts. Even when we were in a constant battle, my Mom never failed to be overly generous where it concerned Sara, her grand daughter. I couldn't even hazard a guess on how many items of clothing she has purchased for her these near two decades. Most likely in the hundreds, and today was certainly no exception. Sara was only able to manage to hold on to one of her winter coats from last year, information that I only recently discovered as well as infuriated me. She absolutely swears that she has no idea where the other two disappeared to, and by the time that we had reached this part of our conversation, I wasn't even sure that I needed or wanted to know.

Two evenings before our scheduled outing, my Mom and I spent about an hour chatting on the phone. At this time, she mentioned to me that she had planned to buy Sara a new winter coat, and if the prices were reasonable then she was going to grab two for her. Now, no amount of protest from myself looked as if she could be made to change her mind so there seemed no point in continuing. Obviously, the more items that she gets for Sara means the less that I'll need to get for her in the future. And its not as if she can't afford to do this for Sara. My Dad made sure that my Mom would want for nothing once he had died, and from where I am sitting, he certainly seems to have been immensely successful in this regard. My Mom owns her condo and her condo fees are not only very reasonable but include the cost of all of her utilities. Other than these fees, the only other monthly bills that she has are for her telephone and cable.

One thing that I have managed to learn over the years is that there is no sense trying to go toe to toe with my Mom regarding what she will purchase during one of our many items, and today most certainly was on of those days! We really only managed to shop in one store today - Winners - as my Mom needed all of this time to buy a criminal amount of stuff for Sara, Jim and myself. Spending $679.00 at a "discount" outlet in less than three hours is quite the feat! I'm sure that if this were an Olympic event my Mom would be the reigning champ hands down!

She did get Sara her winter coat, plus two others! Sara made a few admiral attempts to dissuade her Granny from buying all three, but there was no way that anyone of us would have ever been able to do this successfully. Any time that we approached her, my Mom would head off in the opposite direction. When we did finally reconnect, it was to go off with one or her recently widowed neighbors to discuss their next scheduled restaurant outing. Now as I mentioned earlier, Sara got three brand spanking new winter coats to wear. They are all beautifully made with each one designed to be worn to a specific type of event or to an outdoor concert. I had a bit of a struggle within myself trying to avoid the inevitable argument that I knew was on the way as well as taking Sara aside to inform her that "resistance was futile". Once that was out there, it was smooth sailing for the shopping.

My Mom also bought me a gorgeous down filled ski coat in black by Calvin Klein. Its one of those ones that are filled with down and are poufy to the touch. She also bought Jim a new coat. His is from Kenneth Cole and also black. He'll look awesome in it that's for sure!Mom also bought him a pair of dressier casual pants in a darker beige with a very small check/plaid. Not to feel left out, she found a beautiful coat by Calvin Klein for herself. It is a dark gray boucle with an empire waist. It looks utterly smashing. Sara's first coat choice was a black three quarter length w/gray stripes by Dickies, then she found a full length all black one made out of a heavy cotton w/fur lined hood. The final coat she received is what I call a bomber coat made of black wool, also with a fur lined hood, coming to an end at her hips. Sara also scored the cutest 60s inspired minidress made of wool with purple and black stripes and, finally two new sexy bras. All in all, not too shabby indeed!

The Policy of Truth PART ONE

From the moment I changed the way I was going to record my deepest, darkest & most personal & private thoughts & feelings, I made sure that I oh, so enthusiastically dove in feet first with no regard or thought to possible or potential future issues & problems lying patiently in wait just to wreak havoc on my otherwise chaotic existence. While initially my first entries were tentative at best, I never once lied, deceived, nor even bothered to embellish in an attempt to present my life as more exciting & interesting than it really was. That would have been too easy anyway, too much like cheating. Anyway, it is far easier as well as considerably more mindless to whip up a bunch of semi exciting & titillating tales to share with faceless, nameless strangers. Combined with the fact that I am an utter crap & useless typist, I certainly did not need any additional distractions from my task at hand, so to speak. This little bit of typing here in front of you (up to this word right here) has now taken me a sum total of 33 minutes to complete. I know, I know, I am the suckiness typist ever, ever and once again ever. My current stupidly, brief attention span sure does nothing to possibly correct said situation either. Well, PFFFT...

OK, moving along now. In a bit of an attempt to keep my entries as anonymous as possible, I have endeavored from the beginning to limit any direct & specific references regarding any of my family members. I've done my darnedest to respect their right to privacy, etc, etc, etc. Why I may feel completely comfortable sharing some of my more potentially private moments with complete & utter strangers, I certainly do not presume that my friend seven blocks over from me or cousin or aunt or younger sister, will be able to do the same. And with all things being equal, blah, blah, freaking more blah...WHATEVER... While some members of my family have made brief and fairly neutral appearances from time to time, for the most part I've made a fairly concerted effort to ensure this infrequency. Now, this decision was made & maintained for no other reason than my continued desire for my own self-preservation. I knew that the moment I changed my mind that I would be opening an obscenely massive Pandora's Box.

Interaction with my family over the past decade & more specifically since my Dad's passing in March 2003 has been varied and lively to say the least. Too many of my stories would require extensive back stories & history in order to be completely understood & appreciated. Now if I was a wiz at this whole typing stuff then I wouldn't hesitate in the least, but sadly I am not. Well, as today turned out to be one for the record books & as I now have this overwhelming desire to share, it seems that now it is. No time like the present, blah, blah, blah! The only thing that I will ask of you, dear readers, is your patience as I start to share with you what has actually taken a decade to reach. I will endeavor to provide as great an amount of my family's history in each and every of my upcoming entries.

What happened today was certainly something that I had begun to doubt would ever actually occur. My Mom & I ended up having literally this five hour marathon bitching session regarding my brother's wife who we shall call Big Berta from now on, & her apparent current abusive treatment of my Mom, as well as her previous abusive treatment of me.

As I have always been a firm believer in karma, I truly had faith that one day, a day just like this day, would eventually arrive & on a day very much like today, Big Berta would finally be held accountable for all of her past transgressions against me & mine.

It has now been nearly seven years to the day that my Dad reprimanded me rather severely leaving me no chance to provide my side of recent events between myself, my brother and Big Berta. In fact, my Dad automatically accused me of being nothing more than a trouble maker & that this type of behavior needed to cease and dissent immediately or even sooner. He never, ever wanted to hear anything else at all in regards to this matter.

For seven years, I managed to keep my mouth shut. I quietly kept my own council. So, not a single word from me was ever heard again regarding what had ended up beeing her excessive & abusive treatment of me, not only in my own home, but in front of my then eleven year old daughter. I remember thinking at the time that while all of this was all occurring, that somehow it was just all so convenient, how she had even been able to take advantage of her surroundings patiently waiting until it was finally her turn.

Lady of Leisure

For the longest time, I have wanted a chaise lounge, but everytime I came close to almost buying one, something inevitabley came up that was of greater importance. As I have never really been a materialistic person, this never bothered me much cause I knew one day I'd eventually get one. Today was my day! For the past year and a half, my Mom has wanted to get a new couch for her living room. Although the couch that she had didn't so much as have even a pulled thread, she has had it for twenty one years and was just really tired of looking at it. I know, insane. In the length of time she has had this one piece of furniture, I have gone through three and am now on my fourth - all purchased brand new but with kids and cats and husbands and the ever decreasing quality of products in general and the apparent difference in both of our purchasing abilities, this really comes as no surprise.

So today was the day that we were hitting the furniture stores in our quest to find her something truly stunning. We actually managed to accomplish this two hours into the search and at the third furniture store. While she was chatting to the sales lady, I spied the chaise lounge of my dreams. It was exactly what I was looking for if I had actually been looking for one. Begging me to recline, I walked excitedly over to it, tentatively running my hand over the slightly nubby fabric. It was a rich chocolate brown with duck egg blue and beige circles as its pattern. It couldn't have been more perfect had I designed it myself.

When my Mom walked by me, I joked about it being my dream piece of furniture that I had been lusting after for an eternity. She asked me how much and when I told her, she said OK, she would buy it for me. Now, I almost fell off my little slice of heaven. Admittedly it was on sale for a fantastic price - only $399, marked down from $798, plus no taxes today either. Apparently, she had budgeted a certain amount for herself and as she hadn't reached her limit, she could afford to do this for me. Obviously, I'll need to think of a suitable thank you!

sometimes a cigar is just a cigar

I find myself watching that show on A & E INTERVENTION from time to time. Sometimes I get sucked right into the addicts story of woe while other times, the addict ends up infuriating me so much that I fear I'll end up giving myself a stroke! I know that every addict is different and so is their tolerance, etc but you'll be hard pressed to convince me that someone who has just been using for a couple of years is going to have as difficult a time kicking then someone who has used for a couple of decades. Whatever, that's not really what has got me all fired up!

I am very much aware that there are a whole lot of people who drink or drug so that they are able to escape or forget some awful past trauma, or to self medicate either diagnosed or undiagnosed mental health issues. I also think that there are a whole lot of us out there who drink or take drugs just cause they like to drink or take drugs! I was most definitely one of them.

It's often much more difficult to watch the addicts support group as they struggle to come to terms with their addict and his/her behaviour. Without exception, they all seem to have a tendency to blame themselves in some way for the addicts problems. Maybe that's true in some cases, but I suspect that more often than naught, it is not at all related. Maybe they're simply being too hard on themselves. Certainly if they actually did something terrible, then my guess is that they already know it. So, if they are unable to actually think of anything that they could have done to cause them to drink or drug then there probably isn't anything at all. They should attempt to move on and stop torturing themselves with guilt, vainly searching for that traumatic event that caused their loved one to become an addict. They may simply have to accept that perhaps their addict does what they do simply because they love getting drunk or high for this and this alone.

I wished many times when I was young and immature and arrogant that I had something in my past to be tortured about. It's a lot more romantic and punk rock if your life is filled with some sort of angst! Unfortunately for me, I was as far removed from that lifestyle than one could possibly imagine - now, since my late teens and early twenties, I've since managed to change all of that and wish that I didn't have some of the baggage I've now managed to accumulate in the past two decades!

I was fortunate enough to be raised by involved, loving and kind parents, given every middle class advantage. I did exceptionally well in school. earning a full paying scholarship to university upon my high school graduation. I was a lifeguard at our local pool every summer and worked as a waitress at the local truck stop during the school year. I had more than enough friends and no terrible, life altering story to tell about my teen years or even any tease worthy physical defects. I had what many would consider an idyllic childhood and yet, I still managed to spend two and a half decades abusing substances as if this were my true life's calling.

I discovered booze in my mid teens, and I loved it. I mean, I couldn’t believe how much I loved it. I then managed to spend the next many years of my life enjoying it to great excess. I drank because I liked getting drunk too much. It fit just right inside my mind. Eventually, of course, the drinking got less fun, certainly less exciting, and in fact, actually started to get boring. It never got to the point where my drinking interfered with my work or life but still I could see that if I didn't reign myself in that I'd be unable to maintain the status quo much longer.

Drinking was much easier to walk away from simply because I had something newer and shinier to replace it with. I still had a pretty idyllic life even though I'd since been through a couple of really nasty relationships but even so, I never used any of this as an excuse to continue my substance abusing lifestyle. I had now simply integrated this into my everyday routine. Even at the very end of my final out of control opiate addiction two and a half years ago, I was never, ever using because of some awful trauma that I was trying desperately to suppress. To the end, and I mean to my absolute final hit with that syringe filled with about 12mg of dilaudid, I was using simply because I loved to use. End of sentence, full stop. Period.

In the end, it doesn't matter much how you got yourself addicted, once you are, you have a struggle ahead of you, and I don’t think that falling into addiction this way is any “worse” than falling into addiction and abuse for any other reason. Nobody plans to become a desperate drunk or drug addict, certainly not initially or intentionally, although as a species, we seem to be hardwired to seek out pleasure – and for those of us that seem to get more pleasure out of a drink and drugs than others, it’s understandable why we might get ourselves into trouble.

Where's the Easter Bunny When You Need Him?

So this coming Saturday will be one of those dreaded holiday family get togethers at my Mom's. Well at least this is the first get together since Christmas so...I'm as game as I'll ever be I suppose.

I mostly hate these get togethers as they inevitably seem to bring out some of my less desirable traits. Suddenly this moronic and sophomoric competition like behaviour materializes within me and the day starts to turn into me ensuring that I literally get the last word and laugh, so to speak. Now that I've been welcomed back into the family fold, there is no way that my sister-in-law will ever again come out on top!

I must arrive looking absolutely fabulous as merely presentable will simply not do - once an addict, always in the ready position to disprove any remote suspicion or suggestion of a possible relapse and looking only so-so is worse than waving a bright red flag at BULL FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE.

Yet, at the same time, I can never appear to be trying too hard as this is just as bad an infraction. I must ensure that whatever I do decide to wear must fit me like a second skin and I mean this literally. I must ensure that I own the outfit. It would be a disaster if it looked as if I were merely playing dress up and wearing some sort of "costume" for the day.

After all of this, I also have to ensure that I look a zillion times better than Erica. She must appear positively frumpy beside me - this actually won't be as hard as it used to be now that she's had three children in quick succession. She doesn't seem to have the same amount of energy to dedicate towards her previously obnoxious vanity and narcissism.

As I mentioned at the beginning, this honestly is the only time that I allow my ego and vanity to take over. I'm not normally this self absorbed, it's just that I am still feeling way sensitive and ultra exposed at these family events, not to mention a tad bit paranoid, perhaps. Although, I know that I don't look like some down and out junky, who's to say that this reality isn't lurking around the next corner.

...there by the grace of...go I...

Moving Towards the Centre

My Mom and I have had a somewhat stormy relationship ever since my Dad passed away in March 2003. Up until this time, he somehow had managed to keep us reigned in and under control. I suspect that my Mom and I are just too much alike to truly get along and that somehow my Dad recognized this and cleverly kept us in our separate corners so to speak. Without him around any longer to temper us, I knew that it was just a matter of time before my Mom and I ended up having a knock down, fight to the bitter end kind of argument/disagreement that would result in our separation until one of us was able to suck it up and attempt a reconciliation.

Like clockwork this is exactly what ended up happening. In June 2005, my Mom, Sara and myself took a three day shopping trip together to Toronto. We traveled from London by ViaRail and stayed in a semi luxury hotel downtown near the Eaton's Center so that we would be right in the heart of all of the shopping. Why I had originally agreed to go on this trip in the first place is still a bit of a mystery to me even today. When we had been talking about it and planning it the January prior, I guess it just seemed far enough away in the future that I was able to convince myself that the day would never come. How very wrong I was.

Even at the start of 2005, I had a pretty healthy addiction that needed to be fed fairly regularly and often. Why I thought that six months down the road, this wouldn't be an issue just goes to show you how easy addicts delude themselves. Denial, denial, denial. That probably should have been my mantra back then. To top it all off, by the time June rolled around, my addiction pretty much knew no bounds. I was certainly out of control in a very controlled way. Always attempting to maintain the appearance of the functioning addict, although by this time, that too was quickly slipping away from me.

Still managing to go to work every day although I was starting to wrack up sick days fast and furiously. Still managing to pay the bills but barely. Many were getting paid later than usual and my normally full cupboards were starting to look a little bit bare. Was also starting to look for more and more and bigger fronts from my dealers, something I never, ever did in the past. At least before, if I couldn't pay for it with cash then and there, I normally didn't bother, but even this bit of control was disappearing rapidly. I found myself in a bit of a viscous circle. If I felt sick, I wouldn't go to work but if I didn't work, I didn't get paid and if I didn't get paid, I couldn't score so something had to give and so it did. It became easier and easier to ask for a front and to take it.

Anyway, kind of long story short but by the time that our trip rolled around, I certainly was not in my best shape. I also didn't go on the trip as prepared as I should have gone mostly because my credit was no longer as good as it had been in the past with dealers. I also didn't have enough cash on hand to use on buying the amount of pills that I would need to get me through the three days we were away.

So by the second day, I was feeling awful and wasn't doing much in the way of hiding how I felt. From this point on, our trip rapidly went downhill.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Floats Like A Butterfly....

Being a Building Manager can be at the best of times frustrating to say the least. There are always a few choice tenants that insist on driving one slowly insane. This week the task has fallen to a young couple that have just recently moved into our building who initially went to great lengths to present themselves as laid back and easygoing when in fact, they couldn't be further away from these traits. They are still desperately clinging to this notion of themselves but I for one am no longer even remotely entertaining this. The gloves are very much off!

In December, they came to see a unit that they previous tenant had lived in for eighteen years and her entire time there, she didn't get any upgrades at all by the look of things. She still had this awful shag carpeting from the seventies for goodness sakes! Not only was everything in the unit old but it also was extremely dirty. She was a heavy smoker by the look of things and towards the end, she was in pretty poor health so no cleaning was being done either. What a sight this apartment turned out to be!

I actually showed it to this couple as is and explained to them what work would be done prior to anyone else being able to take possession - new carpet, new paint, new flooring in the bathroom and kitchen, new vanity and toilet in the bathroom, etc. They were desperate to move out of his mother's place and as this was the only one bedroom that I had available and would have for some time, they didn't care what shape it was in. They wanted it no matter what. Estimating what work had to be completed, etc we agreed on a move in date of January 12, 2008. What this meant was that in order to reserve this apartment, they would have to leave a deposit of their last month's rent with a pro-rated amount for January due on the day that they moved in to the unit.

My painters started begging for work the day after New Years so I told them that they could start this unit as soon as possible after their paint order arrived. They were to start on the 4th with the carpet installed on the 9th and the ceramic tile laid on the 10th and 11th. Everything else would get completed around this bigger work. There really should have been no problems except for the fact that my painters didn't bother showing up until the 9th and then not again until the 11th so I was forced to have the carpet installed before all of the painting was completed. The ceramic tile and everything needed for this job didn't arrive until late on the 11th. No way that this unit was now going to be ready for the 12th.

I tried contacting the new tenants for four days but unfortunately he had given me his old cell number and even though there was still an answering machine attached to it to leave messages, it wasn't until later that I learned he never listens to them anymore. This hardly helped me as I was attempting to contact them to advise them that their move in date had to be changed.

Of course, they showed up on the 12th at which time, I advised them that the unit was not ready. The ceramic floors still needed to be installed as well as the new vanity and toilet. I said that it would be best for everyone if we rescheduled their move in date until at least Jan 15th. This would give us loads of time to complete everything that needed to be done. He put up such a fuss saying that he had a truck and that it was already loaded, blah, blah, blah.

I said that anytime I had let tenants into a unit prior to it being finished that this had come back to haunt me and that I was extremely reluctant allowing this to occur. He absolutely promised me that this would not be an issue at all, that he just had to get out of his mother's place. I wasn't quite as confident that's for sure. I told him that three days with an empty unit would absolutely guarantee the work would be done, but once they had moved in, I told him that in all probability the exact same work would end up dragging on for a good ten days minimum. He would hear nothing of this so against my better judgment, I allowed them to move their stuff into their unit.

As you can well imagine, this has been nothing short of a nightmare. I knew I should have gone with my gut. Never again, ever. He has turned into the worst kind of anal retentive individual imaginable causing me all kinds of grief and one huge, never ending headache. He is all kinds of selfish and not at all as easygoing as he wants to believe that he is and actually thinks that he is...Too much!!!

TO BE CONTINUED...