In The Middle Of A Shitstorm?

As you're well aware by now, things have been a bit rough lately and I constantly feel like I'm being tested on how much I can endure. And each hurdle I overcome just seems to mean another one, eight inches higher, is placed right in front of me. This seems to go back as far as I can remember and I wonder, at times, if my (newly developed) negative attitude is contributing to my fate. But, upon further consideration...NO FUCKING WAY. I have no control over most of this shit.

In a nutshell, my life as an adult (please, start playing your violins now):

I'd just married my childhood sweetheart and moved into our new condo when my mom suffered her aneurysm/stroke, paralyzing her on the left side. Dad and I would assume total care of her - mostly dad, but hygiene and entertainment are my departments. Before this, Mom had always been a super independent, on the go kind of gal. The stroke devastated her.

My husband and I had had two kids before he totally went off the deep end and turned into a full blown party animal who rarely came home and sometimes kicked my ass for sport. We split in '98. Should be the beginning of a wonderful life, no?

No. Shortly thereafter my dog (I fought to keep her with us) also had a stroke. I cared for her for two years, holding a towel under her to keep her up when she had "to go", sometimes all bloody night. She perked up for awhile, which is why I held on to her for so long. I wouldn't have kept her going if I thought she was suffering - I don't think she was, but I certainly was. She died a few years ago, leaving us (again) devastated. We'd had her 15 years - since before both of the kids were born. She'd always been there for us....a comfort when the world was turning to shit.

But we eventually got (somewhat) over her, meaning things would start getting better, right? Wrong again. Thus began Dad's ordeal and, what was initially a reflux/diverticulitis diagnosis, quickly turned into devastating news (devastating seems to be my theme here). The discovery of cancer. And, what was thought to be a tumor on the bladder turned out to be cancer throughout his bowels. A horrendous bout of surgery/chemo almost took Dad from us - he developed a superbug and a hernia post op. They screwed up his homecare, leaving "yours truly" in charge. I'm sure I've just posted about this but, what the fuck, I'll say it again. I fumbled around, not knowing how to care for his massive incision, that was now completely infected (a stumbling nurse had pulled out his "drainage" tube, spilling urine into his wound the night before he was discharged from the hospital....not good news). It was the Canada Day long weekend...I'll never forget how fucking scared and alone I felt. My brother was fully involved in the throws of a serious drug addiction at that point. He was completely out of control and causing chaos for us. Mom had a lump in her breast and was scheduled for a biopsy. Dad was....well, teetering on the brink of death (at home, with no help). I was buckling under. This was also during a period when my daughter was struggling in school - personal problems and bullying teachers meant she just didn't want to go and I was battling that front as well. Fuck, I don't know how I made it. Yes I do - my right hand man (and wonderful son), Tyler. So things got better, right?

Hell no! Eventually Dad strengthened and I focused more on my home. But right around that time our condo had pooled with water on the roof from clogged drainage pipes. It was like a knee deep swimming pool up there (flat roof, housing 10 units) and eventually it started leaking. When the roofers finally came to reroof, they somehow "forgot" to pump the water off first - BIG MISTAKE. A wheelbarrow full of gravel that they'd scraped off went through a soft spot over my unit, emptying ALL the water from the roof into it! I'm not talking "dripping" - it poured through for 50 minutes...every light fixture, every ceiling fan, etc. I actually "heard" it in the walls before I saw it. It was bad. It still is. Flash forward two years and it's still unfixed and mold is now growing while the insurance company, stata management company and roofers all battle over liability.

Things can't get any worse, right? Bullshit.

I had my own cancer scare a year ago, as a lump in my breast caused concern and a year's worth of testing. It was decided that no one really could explain what it was, but it's thought not to be cancerous, so I'm trying not to think about it too much. But the worry creeps in sometimes, usually late at night when I feel a bit of pain there. I quickly discount it because that's what the doctors have done....they know best, right? (Fuck, I hope so)

So here we are now, in the throws of Mom's shit. In between all of this have been some minor mishaps like the car breaking down in the tunnel (almost killing us in the process - images of Lady Di's wreck flashed before me). Sewer backups that flooded my basement with, you guessed it, sewage!!! Nails in my new tires. Stolen cameras. Concussions from slipping on wet fast food joint floors. Just a series of unfortunate events that have me screaming "STOP THIS", as I tear my hair out and my fingernails off.

Every fucking day I wake up thinking, "I'm going to have a really positive outlook", as I try and influence my shit cycle. But, so far, it just isn't working. Ty's been diagnosed with panic attacks and Lindsay has just battled mono. Today was her first day back to school since missing the last three months last year. We've been through the ringer. Oh, I forgot to mention that, due to appliance malfunctionitis, we also went four years with an ovenless two burner stove and still don't have a working washing machine (when the sewer backed up it ruined my washer and the walls it drained into).

So what's prompted this post? In reading Matt Good's thoughts and relating to his turbulence, I wonder how many of us are struggling through each day feeling alone, tired, scared, apprehensive, anxious and defeated. Those are just some of my feelings and I have them most days. I don't just start off that way or decide to be Little Miss Gloomy, it's just how things unfold in front of me and by evening I question what this life is all about. Is this all there is? And I'm starting to realize that many others seem to be going through similar bouts with shitsville. I'm not the only one treading oatmeal in lead boots here. And, while that makes me feel a little less alone, it doesn't make me feel "good" - I'm sorry to those who have their own days of wanting to scream "fuck you" to the entire earth.

I know that "life is what you make it" and "when life gives you lemons...." you're supposed to make lemonade. What if it throws fucking bowling balls in your lap - what the fuck can you make out of that?

There seems to be a bad aura following many of us around these days. Which is why I find the positive posts by my homegirls here so uplifting and inspiring....fuck, if they can be happy I CAN TOO, right?

I hope so. I'm trying.

Good luck Matt. I think I know how you're feeling.