Home » A Wasted Life » My Trip

My Trip

I just got back from a long, grueling trip to F****** and I have come to realize that there are two indisputable facts. (1) If it’s dark and rainy…I can’t see anything and (2) I can’t see anything…if it’s dark and rainy.
Had it not been for my youngest daughter, I would have probably flown off the side of the road and landed in the Everglades somewhere, underwater with the alligators spitting me out because I don’t have enough meat on my bones to even provide an hors d’oeuvre.

N**** and I went to see J*****.  I stopped and got him some cigarettes on the way.  We pulled up and he was sitting outside in a lawn chair.  I think he spends most of his days and nights doing that.
I looked at N**** and said “what a horrible life he must have.  He just sits there and thinks and smokes and drinks.”  She thought he looked “bloated” and I thought he looked “frail.”  His eyes were puffy and he was thin.  It’s getting harder and harder for me to still see that little blonde-haired boy who was such a light in my life.

I took him to a restaurant and we had dinner.  I’m not sure he had eaten anything for a few days and he seemed to enjoy the meal but he didn’t eat voraciously like he used to because it hurts his stomach.
He wanted us to stay a while but it was already dark (hence my revelation of night-time, rainy driving.)

I told him what Sam said… “unless and until he decides to get help, you can’t talk to him anymore.”
J***** exuberantly said “but I’m doing something.  I have that appointment on Friday.”
He has an appointment at an out-patient clinic that can give drugs for alcohol withdrawal.  It costs money for the visits as well as the drugs.  I asked him how he was going to pay for it and he just said he’d worry about that later, which I’m afraid means…no money for visits and drugs….no visits and drugs.  It will be cheaper to just buy some more booze.  I reminded him again that I had found a rehab place and mental help…free.  He now equates being in “rehab” with being in jail.  He said “you’ve never been to jail so you don’t know what it’s like.”  I don’t always understand his reasoning.

He wanted me to stop by on the way out of town and take him to breakfast.  That would have added about three hours to my trip and meant that I would be driving in the dark.  I told him I just couldn’t and he said he understood.  I am still feeling guilty about it.  I never know when the last time I see him is going to be the last time I see him and it rips me apart.

I brought my oldest daughters’ firefighter helmets with me.  She hadn’t wanted me to store them and I really don’t display anything anymore (firefighter memorabilia, quilts or even pictures of my children and grandchildren) so it was time to give them back.
N**** and I were in the part of town where K****s’ station is so I told N**** to text her and ask if she wanted us to bring them by.  N**** was quiet for a few minutes so I asked her if she had heard back from K****.
She said K**** said if we came by she was afraid she would start crying and have to go home…so we didn’t go.
N**** wouldn’t read the text to me so I have no idea what was really said.  I told N**** that I believed K**** said that but I didn’t believe she meant it.

K**** is the child that is the most like Loser so the “crying” thing just doesn’t compute.  She has very little, if any empathy and she tended to react the same way Loser did if I was sick or hurt…kind of in an accusatory manner as if it HAD to be my fault in some way and it inconvenienced HER.
I imagine that I very well may have seen K**** for the last time.
Oh, to be the abusive, bullying, entitled Loser.  He will see her again and his WTC will get exactly what she is adamant about having now….my children, too.

When I finally got back home, the first thing I noticed was my mailbox on the ground.  It had been “pushed” over somehow.  There were no tire marks or paint on the post.  My mailbox is on a 4by and is pretty heavy and is in the ground pretty deep, so the wind couldn’t have toppled it.
I dusted for fingerprints and they’re at the lab now.  I’m pretty sure they’re not going to be a match to Robert Redford but I can always hope.
Somebody was taking pictures of my house last week.  Maybe they didn’t like where my mailbox was and decided to come move it…or maybe it was Charlie.
Charlie was the little man who followed us everywhere we went.  He would leave the fans and lights on all the time.  He would misplace things, like car keys and he would eat my childrens’ homework.  He would forget to put the lid down on the toilet and leave the empty cardboard tube on the holder.  He would drink all but a teaspoonful of milk and then put the container back in the refrigerator.  He was quite the little menace and I used to fuss at him all the time.

I thought I had gotten rid of Charlie when I got rid of Loser but alas, I think he must have found me.

42 thoughts on “My Trip

  1. Bloating- like edema? It would mean he’s still frail because his body is wasting but he’s holding pockets of water, that’s fairly common right?

    “I don’t always understand his reasoning.” It’s because it’s not reasoning, it’s excuses. They are very different things. He’s not going to treatment because he’s not planning on actually stopping. End. Of. Story. He apparently thinks rock bottom has to be worse than living in a lawn chair doing God knows what to earn his keep in the house, and having his anorexic shattered mother feel like shit when she sees him. That’s on him. You did what you needed. You reached out, you discussed your boundaries. Now he needs to figure it out. You can’t fix him. Just like the only person who can fix you is you. Hugs.

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    • I had my visit with Sam today and I told him what J***** said. He just shook his head and said pretty much what you said….what everybody says. I also broached the subject of making an attempt (I put it as “this is my one and only attempt”) to reach out to the daughters who won’t have anything to do with me. He said my approach was a threat. UGH. I said….”so?”

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      • You’re thinking too far. Your daughters won’t talk to you- because they know you always talk to them. Stop. Find people who will accept your love. Your kids are toxic to you right now. You don’t need to give them anything. They are broken by your disordered awful x, and they don’t know it. Do not pursue additional hurt. You are doing it because somehow that’s all you know how to go after because you loved your mom and she just hated the shit out of you and so you accept them as the same. Stop. You’re wasting away. You have to stop this cycle. You have to stop thinking pain and love are the same thing. If that means not talking to your kids, and learning to share love with people who need it, and are just as busted but by other people, do that.

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        • Wow. This is almost validation. I keep hearing “you’re their mom….you HAVE to love them and you HAVE to make things right.” It doesn’t matter how many times I tell them I never made anything wrong, they argue with me and tell me that I’m being childish and immature.
          Sometimes you have just been kicked enough and it’s time to walk away while you still can. Thanks for the words of encouragement. 🙂

          Liked by 1 person

    • LOL. I don’t know…he seems to have followed me but this time, he is being a little more destructive. When I filled out that damn “forwarding address form” I should have put somebody elses’ address on it. 🙂

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  2. Nice to hear from you. Your post made me think how we raise our kids all in one way, but they all turn out different. Yes, accept the things I cannot change philosophy can be liberating, but so damn hard to do. I fall into the worrying habits myself. Hope you are well.

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  3. Welcome back! 🙂 I am glad you got to visit them, even if it was hard in many ways, I’m sure. I am sorry that one of your children seems to have Loser’s personality traits, that must be hard for you to see.Glad you’re back in Blogland, anyways!

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    • I was kidding about the prints. I had to try to put some humor into it. My neighbor just told me to call the police. It’s bizarre….the picture taking and the mailbox…before it was my birdbath being turned upside down. If it walks like a duck (WTC) and quacks like a duck (WTC) odds are…it’s a duck (WTC.)

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  4. You are always on my mind – walking this painful journey.. We’ve been there with my brother.. I can only promise you it gets better as you learn to accept that you are not responsible for anyone’s behavior – and yes it still hurts like you are – but you’re not..
    Believe that time is your friend
    You will have real smiles again ❤️

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      • Sure
        I have 5 siblings and we all are very close..Two incredible loving parents.. Sam – the baby of the bunch and quite spoiled by us all – completely changed at age 17/18.. Started using drugs unbeknownst to all of us..
        We all tried helping – he lived with each one of us at different times – all thinking we could save him.. He was horribly abusive to my parents- but mainly my mom – telling her it was all her fault.. Who knows why – there was no truth to that statement.. When we were so exhausted by it all – we put him in one rehab after another at huge costs – but he left each one with any excuse he could think of.. So then he started the route or men’s homes.. Getting kicked out of each one for not following rules..
        All this behavior was destroying our family and almost killed my parents.. They were so broken.. Out of desperation my mom went to AA at a Salvation Army just to listen and find hope.. She hated it but kept going and one night she spoke up.. A man named Richard talked with her after and asked her to bring her family if we’d come.. He was one of the leaders there.. At this point no one really wanted to go.. All afraid of Sam’s painful rants and abuse..
        Some of us went – it was the beginning of change.. Richard was sober for 28 years – an older man who had lost everything and he mentored other men.. He taught us the harsh truth that our actions now harmed Sam.. To stop helping him.. Always let him know he’s loved and that our door was open but not for abuse or excuses.. We kept going to Richard until we became stronger and healthy – because we all had become sick in the mad drug drinking world.. Sam hated us for the tough love and it really hurt to be tough love..
        Always certain we’d never see him again..
        Sam lived horrible on the streets – homeless and completely strung out.. My parents always cried and always worried but each day they let go a little more and kept him in prayer.. We spoke of him to keep hope alive.. But we only spoke of the good memories we had..
        We would go months without hearing from him because he hated us.. Slowly – it took years- Sam got tired and really missed us when he realized we were serious and couldn’t have him around abusing everyone..
        He finally asked for help and we almost collapsed.. We had to tell him if he was serious
        There was free help – free rebabs and homes and he’d have to go there.. Again he hated us but eventually did just that.. It took 18 years for real changes to occur in his life.. In between he had great days weeks months and then go back to the streets.. We learned to not let it rule our world / it’s not easy but totally possible.. And we had to accept if he died – we did our best..
        We made sure he always knew he was loved even though we couldn’t take him in.. He hated us but that didn’t matter.. We also accepted that this was not our brother and son and would never be until he chose to be..
        It’s now been 25 years.. He is a father and doing well. My parents are so grateful they listened to Richard – though it was like mourning his death at first – it also set us Free and probably saved his life in the end..
        Sam will say now – he only treated mom
        So bad because he knew he could because she’d always love him no matter what..
        Such a twisted thought but they all do it..
        This is a really short version of the nightmare we watched change slowly to hope..
        Never give up hope but take care of you first..
        You already gave him what he needed
        Love and life – now it’s up
        To him to choose it..
        I’m always here to chat if you need an ear..❤️

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        • Thank you so much. It’s amazing…the similarities. My son blames me for his alcoholism…not Loser..but I was always there for him.
          He has lived with all of us at one time or another as well. He always ended up screwing us over. We’ve all heard the term “hitting rock bottom.” I don’t think J***** has ever hit rock bottom or ever will. There always seemed or seems to be somebody who is willing to house him and buy his booze. He’s been on the street many times and doesn’t seem to mind much in the beginning. He’s a sweet talker and can con anybody…including me. The last visit, he fed me just the right amount of hope even though I know he won’t be successful in this out-patient rehab effort.
          I have been urged to go to AA meetings and went to one but I came away feeling like I was the alcoholic. It was about changing MY lifestyle and I didn’t think that’s what should happen. It is wonderful to know that your brother is doing well. My intuition tells me that I won’t have the same happy ending to my story. Sigh.

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          • You never know.. Sam was a total con man and everyone took him in for 18 years.. Until he ran out of people and strangers.. He did have jail and prison as his home 3 times.. It was as bad as it could get – so I’m not sure what caused him to change except he finally felt alone.. Your son will feel that depth of crushing loneliness and hopefully that’s his bottom..

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            • You would think having two sons would change him but it hasn’t. It may have been as simple as the mamas’ deciding not to name the children after him. I hate to say it because J***** is nothing like Loser but the idea of having a “IV” seems to be the only thing that is important to either one of them. J***** bemoans not seeing them but he keeps on drinking. I guess there’s always hope but as I have said before… sometimes you can starve to death on hope.

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