Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Spring Sick Day #2

I missed the entire day yesterday, doped up with cold medicine. Today I feel much better but still too many crud symptoms to be in the office. As always, I have a sore and scratchy throat. I made some spicy noodle soup earlier and shared it with my brother, who is also home sick. It was almost too spicy. It hit the spot.

Yesterday I had a fever. The meds put me out must of the day and I sweated through my clothes a couple of times. I went for a hike on Mt Diablo with the Shasta climb group on Sunday. It rained and hailed, and the wind was freezing. I was ill-prepared. It's no surprise that I got sick.
Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.9

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

and now we get along...

Once in a while I realize that things don’t get me down like they used to. This is the one thing I am most thankful for. As a teen and young adult, I made many unsuccessful attempts at taking my own life and adopted some dangerous hobbies. Some might say that I really had no intention of really ending it, and that all I really wanted was attention. I suppose that was true. I wanted people to know how miserable life was. I wanted to make a dark and dramatic statement about the degradation of society and deteriorating family values. It all began when we stopped eating meals together at the table. We grew further and further apart. Suddenly, everyone was on their own. There was a vast, impassable distance between every member of my family. I could be allies with only one, and I had to choose. They made that absolutely clear. I sided with my father - the only person in our family who believed in me and told me so.  He was the first one to pass on, leaving those of us who remained bitter, hurt and isolated. We fought like injured, cornered wild animals. Most people would have left. Save yourself! I had that thought many times. I’m not entirely sure why I stayed. It could have been guilt (thanks Catholicism). I didn’t want to create another vacuum with my absence. The one my dad left was painful enough. They were sure to compare us yet again if I fled. I was, after all, just like him – so they say. Apparently a family resemblance was something to be ashamed of. We were kind of screwed up in that way.  I think that I just needed them.  Sure, they were mean, nasty and judgmental, but they were my family.  I couldn't make them supportive, but I could stay here and wait it out.  I thought I was waiting for them to change, but I was really just waiting to feel comfortable and stable enough inside myself to be able to stand up to their criticisms.  I would never receive their praise because it didn't exist.  They weren't really being mean; they just didn't know how to be nice.  The road of trial and error I had to travel to finally reach that realization was really really rough.  I made it though.  Yup, I made it.