Dinner @ Dad's

5:30pm Monday, Oct 30th

“Alie ate the whole bowl of chocolates!”
I ate 3 last night and 1 on Friday when I was at his house, out of a bowl that had about 200.

“Well there’s no pie left for us, those girls ate all of it!”
There were 2 pieces left and at dinner Dad said he bought it for us to eat, not for him and Greg said he didn’t like that kind of apple pie. So we were the only ones who were actually going to have some.

“Francie could have had her favourite vegetable if her auntie wasn’t here, then there would have been peas mixed with corn”
Way to make me feel welcome at dinner. Besides the baby loved eating the corn. I only ate with them because I knew that Dad was driving my sister nuts. Don’t make me feel like you designed the dinner menu especially for me.

“I sent a whole box of candy to your place, you mean to say there isn’t any left?”
There was 3 of us eating candy from the bowl on Saturday and Sunday. I pigged out on it on Sunday night, which led me to beat myself up about it anyways, (didn’t sleep well that night at all). And now I’m getting in shit for eating candy, candy that he sent to my house to be eaten.

“Do you want my ass to get bigger?” “So you think that my ass isn’t big enough?”
The first is my sister’s response to her husband when he offered her a candy. They have both apparently gained some weight since coming to BC and visiting relatives and friends. So what and how much they eat is a continuous conversation these days. The second quote is my response when he offered me a candy and I took it. I was totally confused because not even 20 minutes earlier Dad was making it sound like I was eating too much.

“There’s rice krispie squares in the kitchen on the counter, I made them just for you, make sure you have some”Why the fuck is he saying that he made these just for me, when he made them a couple of days ago and there are only 3 pieces left in the container. And if I ate the last one he would comment about that, blaming me that there are none left.

9:30pm
I said to my sister at the end of the evening, “it’s no wonder I have issues with food”. She said that it doesn’t surprise her at all. Since I lived there for so long with Dad and him giving me comments like this all the time.

Can I be tired & not sink?

It’s just so tiring. I hoped that I wouldn’t have to be confronted by memories of her and growing up in that house as much now that I’ve moved out, but now that we’re sorting through everything it’s hard not to be faced with those memories. And putting up with Dad is awful. He doesn’t like anything changing in the house and is a total pain in the ass. Whenever I talk with my sister, I mostly listen to her complaining about Dad and I join in with her.

The memories of my brother were particularly bad today when I was at the house. When he threw a phone at my sister and it shattered, the time when he threw a high heeled shoe at her and she closed the door and it lodged in the door, when he would yell at her and hit her. Every time something happened between them, I was there and I saw it. Sometimes I would go to my room, close the door and cry, or I would go outside and sit on the back steps. A lot of the time I would just stand there crying as I watched them fight. Lots of times I would call Grandma but then I would get in trouble from them and he would start fighting with me. During one of the many fights after mom died, I vividly remember standing on the steps near the basement while my brother stood there with a microphone chord rapped around his neck as he yelled, “Mom was the only one who loved me”. And yet my brother-in-law doesn’t understand why my sister and I don’t really get along with our brother. She tried mentioning one of these memories to my brother and he doesn’t remember fighting that much.

I had no idea that my aunts and uncles didn’t want me to move out of Dad’s house when they came out because Dad was hospitalized in 1999. They thought the situation wasn’t good, that it wasn’t a good enough place for me to live or for him to live there. WTF? They never tried to tell me that back then! I found out from my sister just a couple of days ago. They didn’t think that the house was fit for me to live in, but they just leave me there. To look after an old man who almost died. And they all went back to Ontario. And they haven’t been bothered to contact me since I moved, even though they have my new address and got the email like everyone else. Thanks for the support.

I’ve been so tired this week. It’s no wonder with working a full week, spending time with my sister and her family, being at Dad’s house and around Dad. The memories are hard enough but put on top of it everything else and the whole week just drained me. It has been a hard week, there’s no point in saying anything about food because there wasn’t much.

Sick again...why can't I be healthy?

I’m totally sick, again. I know that I got the cold from a combination of family and friends. There were a few friends that were sick last weekend at Naramata and then when I got home my sister and neice were also sick. I feel like garbage. I look like garbage (actually a fat bag of garbage), my head hurts, my nose is stuffed up and I’m tired. Of course I can’t take any cold meds because they all have decongestants in them which don’t mix with my other meds.

I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed with all of the work I’m supposed to be doing at ACS. It’s too much to do in 18 hours a week. Mind you I guess it seems like too much because right now I’m having to do everything with the new person, since she doesn’t really know what she’s doing…as much as I just want her to figure it out, I know that I need to hold her hand for a while. Supporting the victim of gay bashing yesterday was part of my job, and I’ve done this kind of referral before but every time I do I just become more drained, and it’s like what’s more important, report writing or helping a person? All this when I know I should be sleeping off this bloody cold.

My head feels like it’s been crammed into a baby hat. The whole thing hurts, like it may just explode. Being sick at my condo isn’t much different than if I were sick at my dad’s house, its not like he would bring me juice or water or anything. And really I have duke the cat to check on me on occasion and bug me, trying to get me out of bed. I feel like Cameron in Farris Bueler’s Day Off, he was the friend who was sick in bed and Farris made him get up and hang out downtown with him. If I didn’t have plans all afternoon in Vancouver, then I would stay in bed.

I need more sleep. I thought that I wouldn’t be sick as often now that I’m not living at dad’s anymore –guess I was wrong.

thanksgiving

Remembering last fall brings up sorrow and regret. Thanksgiving weekend was not easy, Dad went to Calgary for the long weekend and I had dinner at Dione’s. The good part was belinis at Milestones with a couple of friends. It’s not that I expect anything on thanksgiving, growing up it was not an important day with a big dinner every year. There are only a few turkey dinners that I remember.

I guess what’s bugging me is remembering the conversations I had with friends this time last year, plans that we were making and such. And now one of them doesn’t speak to me or have anything to do with me. Even though she said a lot of things to comfort me and make me feel important. I’m not really sure what happened between us. I try not to blame myself and think of myself as being an evil demon that she didn’t want in her life anymore, but I have to admit there have been days where that’s exactly what it has seemed like to me.

When I was lost in the darkness last November I began to think about disappearing from everything and everyone around me. Not suicidal, just depressed. The depression is still real, but I guess I’m handling it better now. Like instead of crying for hours every day, I only cry hard about once or twice a week. And a real bad day only happens a couple of times a month, unless someone is a fuckin’ idiot towards me, and then it just happens.

Making Room for God

It's the message on the sign outside of South Abbotsford Church (Mennonite). So how much room does God need to have in my life? Is there stuff that I don't need to have and God could take place of?

Having moved a week and a half ago, I sorted through a lot of my stuff (literally and figuratively). Asking myself if I have room for different things in my new condo. I have stuff in basically every room of my Dad's house, so to figure out what to keep, toss and sell/give away, is hell. The truth is there are things that I don't need, that just take up space. Like clothes that I haven't worn in years (some since in 20 years) but I can't decide if I really want to get rid of them. It's more than just taking them to a thrift store or non-profit clothes closet, it's letting go of what they represent. Like the dress I wore to mom's memorial service, the dresses that belonged to Grandma that are totally retro-cool but that I'll never wear, the numerous concert t-shirts and retreat/camp shirts...I don't actually use most of this shit.

My bedroom was so jam-packed with papers scattered across the floor and random things that could be thrown out (broken candles anyone?). I'm not sure how I really managed to live in that space for all these years. And the dust...no wonder I have invested in Kleenex. I was dying in that house. I'm still not done moving and sorting. That's going to take a while but the bulk is done. Which is kind of a relief but has also been totally stressful and draining.

I think at times in my life I haven't had enough room for God. But I know that God always has room for me. When I was in elementary school a friend of mine lived on my block. When we were at home in the afternoons and on weekends, we would hang out together regularly. But when we were at school, we never sat together, played together, or did anything together. I wasn't really friends with any of her friends. She didn't have time for me at school rather only when weren't there. This really frustrated me and I can remember crying over it and journalling about it. I just didn't understand and it felt like she was being so mean to me. I think sometimes I only have time for God on Sunday mornings at church. And even then when I was growing up it was when we would say prayers, I didn't relate the hymns or the story time to God, or see it as a way of including God in my life.

So many times I have said I can't do this without God, or I'm able to with the help of God. When I covenented my ministry at the church it's part of the statements that I make. And for the most part it feels that way. I know that I've done many things in my life without God's help, or without acknowledging God's help. Looking after myself for instance. Any harm that I've caused to my body is not by the will of God. It's a demon within me. I have no idea if creating more room for God will be the only to help me fully fight this demon, I think there's more to it than that. But I do know that praying before I go into a counselling session is really helpful. I ask God to be present with me, to help me have words to describe what I'm feeling, to use my counsellor as God's instrument of healing, etc. And when I don't know what to say in these prayers sometimes I just cry (not a good idea if I'm driving) after all God knows what is on my heart even before I do.

Now that I'm living on my own I think I have more room for God. Beyond thinking I have more space to live in, but that my life isn't quite as full of other people. Dad isn't going to show up and distract me from my thoughts everyday, or just be around me. Which really did take up too much room in my life. And I don't have cable, this just makes me have more time for me. I can watch dvds, but I don't necessarily have to revolve my schedule around when certain shows are on. I'm not going to end a phone call because Gray's Anatomy or America's Next Top Model is starting. And I know that if I didn't have room for God to present in my life, I would not have been able to through with moving out. I have depended on God's guidance and support to bring me through this process this far.

Making room for God might mean that I have to make some more changes. How much room do I need for God? Is there more that I need to give up in order to make more room for God? Is it fair to God if God is a better "friend" to me than I am to God?