Tag Archive | alone

The Mommy “Angel”….

To the mommy who didn’t sleep tonite cuz she was up with a sick baby, I noticed.

To the mommy who is still wearing maternity jeans at 6 months post delivery cuz she can’t afford new ones, I noticed.

To the mommy who skipped garlic toast with dinner so her family could each have 2, I noticed.

To the mommy who buys generic deodorant so her family can eat name brand peanut butter, I noticed.

To the mommy who is still up doing laundry or dishes after 1 am, I noticed.

To the mommy who is rocking her sick baby in the steamy bathroom at 4am, I noticed.

To the mommy who hasn’t had 4 hrs of strait sleep in a year, I noticed.

To the mommy who is scraping whatever that weird gunk is between the stove & counter, I noticed.

To the mommy who goes around spraying Lysol on all surfaces multiple times per day, I noticed.

To the mommy cleaning poo/pee off the potty numerous times per day, I noticed.

To the mommy who has said her thousandth “protection” prayer for her children, I noticed.

To the mommy who has compared herself yet once again to the latest celebrity moms body, I noticed.

To the mommy who has read the same bedtime story for the hundredth time, I noticed.

To the mommy who has layed on the floor holding her childs hand so he/she could  sleep, I noticed.

To the mommy who has spent hours helping her child with their science project, I noticed.

To the mommy who has stayed up all night worrying about a sick child, I noticed.

To the mommy who has worried herself sick during her childs first overnight stay, I noticed.

To the mommy who has repeated “stranger danger” to her children several times, I noticed.

To the mommy who has felt ugly at the end of the day, I noticed.

To the mommy who doesn’t feel valued, I noticed.

To the mommy who loves her family more than herself, I noticed.

To the mommy who cuts coupons, makes lists, and juggles the bills, I noticed.

To the mommy who hasn’t felt sexy since she was 3 months pregnant, I noticed.

To the mommy who tries to make each holiday and birthday special, I noticed.

To the mommy who cooks a meal or two each and everyday, hearing the words “eww”, I noticed.

To the mommy who does her families laundry each week, I noticed.

To the mommy who changes the bedclothes each week…whether they looked dirty or not, I noticed.

To the mommy who struggles thru the evening child bath with smiles and tickles, I noticed.

To the mommy who scrapes yet another egg crusted skillet, I noticed.

To the mommy who sat alone in the middle of the night feeling inadequate, I noticed.

To the mommy who rocked her colicky baby while crying herself, I noticed.

To the mommy who 2nd guessed herself on every child rearing decision, I noticed.

To the mommy who cut ravioli into equal portions for her children, I noticed.

To the mommy who tried to explain Jesus, Santa, or the Easter Bunny, I noticed.

To the mommy caring for children, grandchildren and parents/grandparents, I noticed.

To the mommy scrubbing baseboards/nooks & crannies, I noticed.

To the mommy singing the ABC’s one more time, I noticed.

To the mommy hugging her child & kissing their boo boo, I noticed.

To the mommy wiping the ickiest body substances for the 10th time that day, I noticed.

To the mommy who goes without a new winter coat so her children can have new, I noticed.

To the mommy who skips her prescription this month so her child can have his, I noticed.

To the mommy who fears she is making many mistakes, I noticed.

To the mommy who checks her sleeping babies breaths, I noticed.

To the mommy who sneaks cauliflower into the mashed potatoes, I noticed.

To the mommy who makes her childs lunch everyday, I noticed.

To the mommy who tucks their child in each and every night, I noticed.

To the mommy who scares away the “bad monsters” everynite, I noticed.

To the mommy who has braced herself for the after school “listen to my story first” onslaught, I noticed.

To the mommy who has had to read a thousand stories outloud to her child, I noticed.

To the mommy who skipped her shower today so her children could have a hot bath, I noticed.

To the mommy who skipped a cookie so her child could have two, I noticed.

To the mommy who felt inadequate when compared to another mommy, I noticed.

To the mommy who felt second best when compared to a “work outside the home” mommy, I noticed.

To the mommy who tried to remain calm when she was scared out of her mind for her child, I noticed.

To the mommy who listened to an hour long story of a “booger picker” at school, I noticed.

To the mommy  who heard “But Tommy/Marys mom always lets them do it!” a hundred times, I noticed.

To the mommy who has heard “I hate you!”, I noticed.

To the mommy whose heart has broken during each of her childs sad times, I noticed.

To the mommy who has had to smile thru tears, I noticed.

To the mommy who has felt invisible, I noticed.

To the mommy who felt all alone, I noticed.

To the mommy who wondered if anyone noticed their home décor, I noticed.

To the mommy who has tried to freshen up after a day of spit up and diapers, I noticed.

To the mommy who has had to referee another sibling fight, I noticed.

To the mommy who has given her life for her children…I noticed.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………..signed, The Mommy Angel

Am I Here?

She sat in the car. Feeling numb and sluggish. Thoughts floating in and out of her mind. How did it come to this? How had her life ended up here? She was a young girl once, with dreams and ideals. She had goals for her life. Ending up a useless, sick middle-aged nobody wasn’t one of them.

Growing up was hard. Her parents weren’t ready for such a monumental job as parenting. They were young and immature, but it’s not their fault her life went nowhere. Yes, there was the almost constant physical and emotional abuse in the house thru the years, but she had good coping skills. She was a people pleaser, always trying to do the right thing, be the “good girl”, the “good student” the “good” everything. She didn’t always succeed, but more often than not, she did.

She wanted to be a lawyer. She wanted to do family law, so she could help children from abusive homes, help women break away from controlling husbands. But as senior year came, the reality of needing either alot of money or huge scholarships, slapped her square in the face, and life happened instead.

She got married, to a controlling and abusive husband. Had three beautiful little boys, who she loved with all her heart. Not having a career, or a loving relationship, left her alot of time and energy to place all her love on those boys. They were her life. They are who she lived for.

She stood between them and her abusive husband when he wanted to instill harsh discipline. She made sure things stayed “just so” around the home to keep the peace. She made excuses for the boys when their rooms weren’t tidy or their grades weren’t stellar. She made sure to always scrape together enough money to give the boys wonderful birthdays and Christmases! Seeing them open their gifts or blow out birthday candles with the glow of pure innocent happiness…made all the bad things in life worth going thru.

The years passed, the boys grew. The older they got, the less they needed her. She still stayed the “buffer” between the kids and the rest of the cruel world. Sacrificed all she could to make sure they were happy. The oldest, Christopher, was the first to move out, at 21 he was in a serious relationship and moved in with his girlfriend. He was such a good kid growing up, much like his mother, he was a pleaser. She worried most about this one though, as he was just a tad on the “sensitive” side. He felt things deeply and and felt as though he was not the perfect person he thought everyone expected him to be. Much as she herself felt.

Her middle son left a year later, off to California to live with friends. This about ripped her heart out. The thought of not having her child within a car rides distance was almost too much to bear. But with texts, emails and Skype, she was learning to deal with this “bad” situation, much as she had to learn to deal with so many “bad” situations in her life.

At 18, her youngest Kyle was the last one at home with her. Her baby. He had become the closest to her emotionally of her children. Probably a bit more sheltered and fussed over, being the baby of the family. He seemed to really have the most empathy. He tried to look after his mom. He was the one who noticed when she started to lose weight and stay in bed somedays. He was worried about her, but he was leaving for the Army soon, his dad thought the Army would “toughen” him up. Kyle wasn’t interested in being tough, but felt he hadn’t many options but to join up.

Why get out of bed? She thought one morning around 10am…what’s the point? Would anyone even notice if she didn’t? Other than the dishes in the sink, that might be the one clue to anyone that she wasn’t around that day. What’s she going to do now? She has raised her children and now they are gone. They no longer needed her. Her husband only needed her to bring him his beer and keep his house clean.

The days dragged on and on…the only bright spots being the calls and visits from her sons. They weren’t very frequent though…they were busy with their own lives now. It hurts to feel you put all your love into these little lives, only to grow older and more alone with very little love in return. She felt fatigued more than anything really. Her whole body ached somedays, so she did the chores that couldn’t be ignored and that was it.

At Kyles insistence a year later, she saw her physician for the fatigue and weightloss. They drew blood and performed some other tests and she went back to her daily existence. A week later, she received a phone call. The doctor told her the news right on the phone,..the news wasn’t good, nope, not good at all.

Pancreatic cancer. Which equals “Death Sentence.” She was in a fog the first week after the diagnosis. Just stumbing thru her days, mostly in bed…even her uncaring husband didn’t ask anything of her. She didn’t want to tell the boys right away. She didn’t want to have to draw up the energy to console THEM.

She didn’t have much time left at all. Less than three months. How would she get everything ready in such a short time? Especially when the last month would be a mostly bedridden one? She went about making her own funeral arrangements and after a week, finally called her sons. But none of the three could seem to agree on a good day for them to come for a visit, they were all so busy, with work, relationships, vacations…she told them this was important. She needed them to come.

When they finally arrived, each grumbling about what a kink this visit was putting into their current schedules. She had worked all day on a big dinner. Glazed ham, garlic mashed potatoes, brussel sprouts, white corn, homemade biscuits and gravy. By the time the table was set, she was in so much physical pain she could barely carry the meal to the table. With tears in her eyes, she began serving.

Noone noticed that she didn’t eat, just pushed food around on her plate. The men all carried on a boisterous conversation about current affairs, politics mostly…the one topic she couldn’t stand to talk about or even listen to.  They laughed with their father, joked with him, agreed with most of his views. Have they forgotten how this man behaved toward them growing up? Don’t they recall his tirades? Do they even remember their mom having to stick up for them or keep them from being harshly punished? Do they remember her staying up with them all night when they were ill? Or staying up to help with a last minute science project? Do they recall her holding them, rocking them or consoling them during each of their youthful “crisis” of the moment?

Do they see her as a person? As a woman? As a little girl who sat in the woods, dreaming of the day she would be in a court of law, sending some abusive man off to jail for the atrocities he had his family endure? No. No, they see her as mom. Nobody amazing or special. Just someone who was there whenever they wanted her to be, but who disappeared when they didn’t need her.

She was disposable. She was invisible. She, who had always tried to so carefully “control” her little piece of life…was nobody. But, she wasn’t going to let cancer control how she would die. This she really could control.

Of course the boys all cried and expressed their grief over the fact that she was indeed going to die. She patted their backs, and hugged them and dried their tears. She assured them that she was in no pain and that although she would be leaving them, she would always be in their hearts, and would be forever watching over them from Heaven. After a week of this, they all had to get back to their lives…and she got back to her “non” life.

But now, here in the car, with soft ocean sounds coming from her cd player, the engine quietly idling, she was once again dreaming. With her eyes closed she was once again that little girl, sitting on a stump in the woods…the sun shining down thru the leaves. The trickle of the nearby creek being the music then. She dreamed of the life she thought she’d have. She was important. She was “good”. She was needed.

To that she drifted off to sleep, in a heavily medicated fog, mixed with the carbon monoxide from being in the car…in the garage…for most of the day, without ever having been missed, by anybody.


I WAS Here

Being forgotten is worse then not being noticed.


Well…for those who do not know, I broke my ankle/foot last Saturday.  I was leaving our local outdoor mall where my husband and I had just went to see a movie, then had gone to Cold Stone for some ice cream…that was amazing by the way (Coffee Lovers). It was dark, I was walking at a normal pace, I think I was switching my purse from one arm to the other when SNAP!  This bomb exploded in my right ankle and the fire spread up my leg, and my butt hit the ground…I had fallen off the curb, and I looked to my husband in shock…not only from what was occurring right then, but because exactly one week previously at the same mall I had tripped UP a curb and fallen forward and skinned, bloodied and bruised my knees, ribs, elbows and ripped my new jeans!

I mean what is wrong with me? Now I can’t even walk? Suddenly I have no clue how to maneuver curbs?  Like my son said (in the same sarcastic tone of his mom) “Do you see curbs and think you can DEFY them??” lol.  Now here I am, on the ground, people milling by, my husband is freaking out and I am as usual trying not to call attention to myself or my predicament, telling him to go get the car and bring it to the curb…I’m holding my foot, sitting on the curb, yet trying to act like this was the most normal thing in the world to be doing…I swear if I was out in public and my arm fell off, I would hold it up and pretend it was still attached until I was alone or at home.  Why am I like that? I have no clue.

I have had many sprained ankles and even broken them before.  I was younger then.  I didn’t have all these other health issues then.  I wasn’t already dealing with major pain then.  This is HARD.  I have this heavy Frankenstein boot on my RIGHT foot (can’t drive), using crutches is next to impossible because it requires using your abdominal muscles, which I don’t have and it makes my hernia buldge out as far as it can.  I cannot put ANY weight on my foot for six weeks.  So for the first week, I literally stayed in bed, only using the crutches for short trips to the potty.  I have a wheelchair from previous illness, but it’s a transport chair with the little wheels, so you can’t wheel it yourself…not that I could anyway with my abdomen issues, but we have been using it when I must be taken to doctor appointments.  Today we went and rented me a knee walker, thinking that would be the perfect thing, just rest my bad leg on it and scoot around the house! 

 First of all, it’s a damn crime how much these things cost to rent!  $150 per month! Or more at some places!  Buying them is double or triple that.  So I’ve been kinda using it around the house tonight…I have ran over my good foot twice, got myself in our tiny bathroom and couldn’t get it turned around to get out, same with my tiny kitchen (galley type), and my good leg is now exhausted from scooting around the walker!  I’m a walking catastrophe!

I know my husband and daughter are sooo sick of waiting on me.  I honest to God try to limit my needs.  But just the basics really add up.  We don’t realize how much we need or do until we are asking others to do it for us!  I mean, a glass of water…oh maybe a snack…oh, my purse, where’s that magazine? I need the phone please.  Heating pad?  Ice pack?  Meds?  Remote?  Extra blanket?  Turn fan on?  Dvd?  Feed fish?  Feed/Water dogs?  Let them out?  Let them in?  Breakfast?  Lunch?  Dinner?  Lotion?  Kleenex?  Someones at the door!

 And don’t get me started on taking a shower!  It’s like a national event!  I can’t do it alone, getting in and out that is…so, its like this “Ok, I need undergarments from that dresser over there I can’t get to cuz the wheelchair is in front of it, I need clothes from that closet I can’t get to cuz the box fan is in front of it..no not that shirt, the blue one..no, not that blue one…oh nevermind, I’ll wear a blue bonjovi tshirt with orange flowered pajama pants, who cares?…okay, now I’ll hobble down the hall, can you get me a towel and wash rag please? Get undressed with an audience, be assisted into the tub to sit on the shower chair…feeling exposed and embarrassed…shower head not pointed at me right…please point it so the water is actually hitting me?  Finally I can close the curtain for privacy and wash…drop the soap, drop the razor…an Intuition, which falls into three pieces, I can’t get them…I give up on shaving.  Finished, now freezing, trying to dry off, need help to get out of the tub and getting dressed…more embarrassment.  Then must ask them to take my dirty clothes away and help me back to bed or recliner.  I do not like others having to mess with my dirty clothing.

By the end of that we are all exhausted.  I am hurting so bad I could not imagine anything hurting worse, but I shouldn’t say that cuz God may decide to show me differently.  I am really feeling picked on.  I feel like people must think I’m some kind of whining baby, but really…this is some crazy shit that has happened to me in the last five years!  I have been thru more crap than anyone I know for sure.  I don’t get it…I’m a good person, really I am.  Am I truly cursed?  Is there such a thing?  Am I really being punished for something in a past life?  Am I here for a purpose?  Is my suffering for a purpose?  Why is my family being tortured?  I feel horrible for them. They are having to be my servants for God sakes!  Like I said, I am alone alot, so once one of them gets here, I am in need of things!  Not to mention just some human conversation!  It’s a bummer to say the least.

I hate being helpless and needing so much help.  REALLY hate it.  I try to have them get anything I think I may need all in one trip, and will just not say anything if in fact they forgot something I needed…even if its a fork for my meal! lol.  I have been dealing with illness and pain for a long time now, and was helpless for part of that…but I was a very drugged and in a coma type of helpless then, so it wasn’t quite as distressing as it is now.  The holidays are coming…will I be healed by then?  I have Christmas shopping to do…and I do NOT like to do that with my husband…lol, that is something I prefer to do alone, so I don’t want to have a “babysitter” to drive me around then! 

The worst time though is around four in the morning.  I have been asleep maybe two hours, and suddenly am bolted awake by severe burning ankle/foot pain!  It feels as if someone is beating it with a sledgehammer, while simultaneously setting it ablaze!  I get the boot off and put on an icepack that I have thankfully thought to request before everyone went to bed, I take an extra dose of pain medication, hoping I don’t OD!  There is no comfortable way to sleep.  IF I sleep at all.  I’m so tired right now, but I know I couldn’t just lay back and sleep.  I need a shower, but no one has had a moment to help me with that today…maybe tomorrow.

It’s no fun to be helpless, in pain and alone.



She is trapped in this life

In her role as mom and wife

Violence for the last forty years

Hazy due to too many beers

Uneducated, irrational and afraid

She had no options, so she stayed

In a house so full of abuse

At the hands of her husband and son, there is no excuse

Beaten down emotionally

She cries constantly

With no means to live on her own

She’s trapped and feels so alone

She drinks to numb the pain

Not caring if they look at her with disdain

If her high blood pressure don’t kill her, the stress will

She thinks death may be easier as she swallows the pill

Filled with anger and frustration all her life

With an aura of rage you can cut with a knife

Now in her sixties, what’s she to do?

She thought life would be different, this much is true

So she smokes and she drinks and she waits to die

Because she IS trapped, and that’s no lie

Her daughter has offered to take her in

But she refuses to burden, even her kin

The yelling and screaming and fists flying

It’s the no end in sight that keeps her crying

Her energy is slowly sapped

She drinks alone…feeling trapped

I don’t deserve it

I don’t deserve it

But I have the grit

I can take it, I always have

I take my meds and rub on the salve

Some people have it worse

I’m not the only one with a curse

The emotional pain cuts much deeper

The edge of this cliff looking much steeper

What did I do?  What was my crime?

Whatever it was, I have served my time

Just stop torturing me

I’ve had enough, don’t you agree?

I try to think positive

The way they tell you to live

But then I breathe

And my insides seeth

The pain reminds me

That it’s very hard to find positivity

When I’m layin in bed suffering and alone

All I can envision is God on his throne

Deciding the next plight to throw my way

Maybe tomorrow He will give me a better day

A day without feeling like shit

Then again, maybe I don’t deserve it

Sorry for all the depressing posts lately.  My mind is just swimming in sadness for many reasons.  When I was younger maybe I would’ve spilled out my heart to someone else, but as you get older you run out of very many “someone’s”….My mom has enough problems and isn’t equipped to deal with mine, my grandmother is old and I wouldn’t want to dump stuff on her that she would then sit and worry over.  My kids have their own lives to a certain degree.  My husband works too much and has the day to day burden of me.  My friends are all off living their lives….so who do you go to once you’re all grown up?  You pray of course.  You read self help books.  You find online friends…you blog.  I remember when the kids were little, I would hear of “Empty Nest Syndrome” and think, “What?  They should feel happy and proud that they got their kids raised and out of the house running their own lives!”….but I am beginning to get it.  Once they are gone….what’s your job in life?  Then add to that a disability that prevents you from really working or pursuing any awesome hobbies…and you get, this.  You get a middle aged woman who has chronic pain and physical/emotional problems…who is struggling to find a purpose.  A reason to even go on.  So, that is the reason for all the depressing poems/posts…I’m trying to figure it all out…….by myself, yet with an audience.

Thanks for reading and the positive messages….much appreciated.

“Many people are in a rut, and a rut is nothing but a grave–with both ends kicked out.”………….Vance Havner

The box

Trapped in a box without windows

Can barely acknowledge if the wind blows

Each day grows more painful than the last

As you rehash each minute of your torturous past

Is there any happiness left to be had?

Or will the rest of your days be equally as sad?

Does anyone care?

When I need them, no one is there

They grow bored with the sorrow

Don’t want it to be part of their tomorrow

So who do you have left to confide in?

Or do you continue with the oh so fake grin?

People do love you, this is true

But they are at a loss on how to fix you

Maybe their lives would be easier and less complicated

If you were to fly away or perhaps even be cremated

Maybe your presence is really no longer needed

Perhaps they’re not happy with the way they’ve been treated.

What good are you to anyone anymore?

You’re just a body thats been ripped and tore

So just crawl deep into your box

And forget the combination to the locks

“The roots of morality are to be found in empathy”………..Martin L. Hoffman, PH.D