Getting back to normal.

The good news is I am feeling better. Thank you for the love on that meltdown post. Truthfully, though, I enjoyed and would recommend Craig Ferguson’s book. A lot of the issues just hit far to close to home and my dad has been stalking me for the last week or so in my dreams (when I actually have slept) and a recollection of him awake… his touch… uuugh with him and the memories came. So many emotions tangle together in one huge mess that overwhelms, hurts and infuriates me… and the fear. I’m frightened that I really am worthless as he seemed to think. I worry that other people see in me whatever caused him to hate… disrespect… destroy. I know the reality is his actions are a reflection of him and the screwed up mess he got himself into and never came back from. In my weak moments I still feel the need to shoulder the blame. There must have been something I did, something wrong with me. Maybe I could have done something. These questions hang around and eat me alive for a time till I can get his ghost to piss off again and leave me alone.

I’m winning the battle, but this one thing remains: the urge to drink.  I’m having a little trouble walking past bars at the moment. I can’t escape his genes; my father and I are cut from the same cloth. I can totally understand what lead him to be over reliant on the poor mans pain killer. I know that urge and the mindset that makes you want to drink till you pass out, just to make everything go away for a while. Been there, done that more than once. When I get in this mood its not him I’m scared off. I’m terrified of myself…

Most of the time I’m in control  I can have one or two cocktails get happy giggly fun drunk like a normal person, have a good time and stop. But when those memories are hanging around they get in my head and screw me up. I lose it. I’ve learned in these times I have to fight as hard as I can NOT to touch even a drop… because I won’t stop.

Now some more good news… YES let’s lighten the mood I hear you cry… 

I’ve had letters from all but one of the university choices to say they have received my application and its being considered… things are moving along.

I saw “Up in the Air” this week and loved it so much despite not really being a George Clooney fan. I’ll get ‘round to writing about that eventually. 

I start volunteering with the infant feeding team at their beast feeding drop in clinic tomorrow. Excited about that – hopefully I’ll learn a lot.

Oh oh AND … pitchers and catchers report in less than a month!! (Feb 19th) BASEBALL IS COMING

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m of to bed because I have to be up early in the morning. I’m not a morning person and I spent tonight babysitting a four year old who is an expert in running rings around me and his uncle KM.

 Tired… oh so tired!

Ali xX

Ghosts.

“…speak no more:
Thou turn’st mine eyes into my very soul;
And there I see such black and grained spots
As will not leave their tinct.”
Hamlet
Queen Gertrude
Act 3 Scene 4.

My goal of 2010 with no panic attacks crashed and burned today. I’m terrified. I don’t want to leave the house. I’m so close to throwing everything away. Why? Because I’m full of back emotional holes that are eating me alive. I’d give anything for it to stop. I wish I could just stop. No, I’m not saying I’m about to take a dive off a railroad bridge or anything… but sometimes I wish I could just… pause… feel peace… stop fighting the bad guys… the demons inside my own head. Do I know why this is happening to me? Sure, but I don’t know how to beat it, and some days I don’t think I’m worth a fight.

I wish I could just block it out… a bar… and a few bottles of vodka are starting to look really frikking good. The rational part of me knows I only crave vodi when my head is spinning and I’m screwed up about something. I can’t start down that road not even one step. I’m scared of myself.

I spent the day trying to push this urge away, drown it out. Hell I almost begged Gadget Guy to stay at his machine and call me, frightened to even let him leave to grab some breakfast for goodness sake. I shook, my heart racing, my head just hurting, fighting the urge to throw up… fighting the urge to stop talking, stop telling someone about the things inside my head and just leave. Finally, I feel asleep. Thank you God. I woke up three or so hours later feeling physically well, turned to my usual chick flick Bewitched style TV; something cheerful and fun that I don’t have to think about to much. Don’t need to focus to understand. I watched a few episodes of Glee. Now I can’t tell you if I love this show or hate it. I can’t make my mind up, but I do know as a distraction it worked well. I might have to add the DVD’s to the Bewitched shelf of shame reserved for just these occasions.

I want to hold on so badly: to the future I’m trying to build, to the belief I’m a better than this. I’m worth more but it would be so easy to just let go. Dear God… somebody… hold me and don’t let me go…

I know I sound like a melodramatic basket case with a bad case of the emo. I’ll explain… I’ll try. I want to talk. Tonight I just don’t have the time or mental faculties for a long and complicated story that I don’t really understand….

I’m sorry.

Ali

End of an era …

The 7th of July will be remembered by many as the day the world paid tribute to Michael Jackson. I did of course watch the event but I have already said all I have to say about the subject in this post. The memorial marked the end of an era its true, but July 7th was a watershed day for my family for a whole different reason and that’s what I want to talk about. It was moving day. Nooo not for me… for my grandparents which is altogether more significant seen as on average I have moved about once every 2 years for my whole life and spent time in several different countries whereas granny and granddad they have lived in this same house for over 30 years!!

It’s almost impossible for me to wrap my head around that concept: the idea of being so settled and happy in a place that you have no desire to move. The fact that they have lived in that same house since my aunt (who had her silver wedding anniversary a few days ago) was in school. I’ve often wondered what it must feel like to belong somewhere in the way they belonged to the town they lived in… to know a place like the back of your hand and to be there long enough to see it evolve and change around you as your life progresses. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to leave that home.

The house itself was a three story place overlooking the River Tay in Dundee, Scotland. It had panoramic views which my granddad spent ages gazing at and my mother loved. It’s true to say my grandparents know what they liked and I’m not sure the decor had changed much since I was toddling around the place, riding on the rocking horse or racing around the big red choo choo train that was kept for children’s visits. The driveway was resurfaced once – what a shock!  A touchstone in my family’s history. I’m sure all the grand children have their memories of granny’s bed and breakfast days or, in my case, the embarrassment of rushing into the living room only to interrupt two perfect strangers eating marmalade on toast and patiently waiting for their bacon and eggs, baking in the powder blue kitchen, being taken to admire Betty’s garden and proudly shown each flowering plant. Or the smell of granddad’s wood workshop and the wonderfully colorful toys that room produced. The playground across the road where I first learned how to use your legs to move a swing and stopped needing to yell higher… HIGER to the person behind me.  Being convinced that my aunt and I have a lot more in common than I ever thought after seeing the deep purple color her teenage self painted the walls of her top floor bedroom. This place has been a constant in all our lives and now that I have no need to return to Dundee and ring that familiar doorbell now. That the first address I learned to repeat verbatim is no longer part of my life, I feel… a little strange.

If I had known that last time I was there was goodbye… strange, Dundee is a town that is very much joked about where I come from, and yet now that I don’t need/have to visit anymore… strange. But most of all, it was always talked about that when my grandparents were old my granny was going to retire to a bungalow. We talked about it since… well, as long as I can remember.  Moving this fact from something that’s in the future to present day fact is… strange and a little sad.

It’s funny how fast life changing events can occur. I remember first hearing that the search for the bungalow had begun in February and here we are at beginning of July and it’s all happened. 30 years in one place and all it takes is six months and that part of their life has come to an end. They have shifted across to the west coast of Scotland and started a new chapter. In truth, they did need to move as the house was way too big for them and my granny has had some mobility issues ever since a bad fall 2 years ago. They have moved to be closer to family,  as my aunts and cousins have been in Ayrshire  my whole life too, so the new stomping ground is well known to them.  These past few days I find myself thinking of them a lot, hoping they are setting in. Thinking about the new home…  What color is the kitchen? How many flowers are in the garden? Are the vegetables growing well?  Thinking I need to go and ring this new doorbell, spend some time with the couple living inside…  because really though the address may change I want to make sure we are not done making memories together yet.

Ali xX

And then along came my goddaughter!…..part 4 of my revelation.

My friend married the man of her dreams on a warm August day… although it did rain while we were all inside eating the wedding breakfast which apparently is good luck on your wedding day. Not sure how much I believe in these little superstitions,  but I guess it makes you smile a little if you read that stuff then it happened on YOUR wedding day. It was a wonderful day – so chilled out and so completely fitting to the couple getting married. Really, I could learn many lessons about not letting family push you around from MRS B. She stuck to her guns as the vision of a quiet simple wedding.  I love the fact they just decided to get married and that was it. 8 weeks tops from booking the church to walking down the aisle. THAT ROCKS! She never turned into Bridezilla. Not once. Although I think she may have threatened to not bother once but you’d have to ask her mother in law about that. I think the guests where in more of a tiz trying to get there at short notice and that just makes me laugh… not quite as much as the picture of her in her gorgeous wedding dress veil and all drinking a pint of larger. It’s just so her. Never fails to make me giggle.

Anyways, when she called me up and told me that MR. had finally convinced her it was the right time and she was coming off her birth control. she may have talked about it taking around a year to get pregnant,  but I had this sneaking suspicion things would happen alot faster than that. After all, when this pair decides to do anything, it just somehow gets done. Even I was not expecting the call as fast as it came. Basically, everything just happened maybe the first month… maybe second…not long at all, leaving nobody more surprised than mum to be herself.

Now, I have to tell you I’ve been dreaming of the day I’d make that phone call  to give a friend my good news since… well, younger than is healthy for such thoughts. So when I find out someone I know is pregnant, for some reason it always used to make me gulp.  I wasn’t jealous per se… just wishing life would hurry up with moving me towards that moment (There’s a lesson here I’m sure, about not wishing your life away but you can figure it out for yourselves). Since that whole “your infertile” appointment, this little gulp turned into a full-on sucker punch right in the ovary, as I found out when Kayak Man’s sister revealed she was expecting. I hate feeling that way. it makes me furious with myself that my first reaction to such important and joyful news is all about me and my distress and not the arrival of a new life or happiness  for my friends. The joy does kick in most times… in just a couple of minutes… They feel like the loooooongest time when someone’s on the other end of the line waiting eagerly for a response.

I’d been bracing for this call since the moment I found out they were trying, knowing that punch was coming but at the same time I love this couple so much. they were settled, happily married with a warm and loving home, where they had always made me welcome  I knew the future dad was concerned with not being an older father and truthfully when the news did come I have NEVER been so glad to get punched in the gut. Mrs. B’s sheer shock and surprise had us both laughing our heads off in minutes.

I was not expecting it at all but when my friend asked me to be her child’s godmother, I cried like the baby that was on the way lol. We would spend hours while she was pregnant talking about how tired she was, how awful the morning sickness was. Boy she had it bad. What she had been able to eat and how much she missed her husband when she got home feeling like she would pass out and the poor man was still working. We would joke about how little they were seeing each other.  My friend came home from work, went to bed and pretty much passed out till the next morning. Aww I felt sorry for her. She would tell me of every midwife appointment… not the gruesome details or anything, but enough for me to get a picture of what was happening. I was so very grateful. I felt privileged to be given this inside take on her pregnancy experience.

Every memory I have of her pregnancy is a treasure to me and a pleasure to recall. I’m pretty sure its not that way for her. I remember the 20 minute dissection of the menu when we went out for lunch in the early weeks. I watched her debate and struggle with what she could and couldn’t eat, worry written on her face, making her look more vulnerable than I’d ever seen her before…. We gave the best answers we could to her many questions I promise.

I remember the moment it all got too much for her as she collapsed against her husband fighting back tears when the shop assistant who was fitting her new bra size told her she couldn’t possibly buy that sexy underwear as the bras were underwired and that was a big no no in her condition. I have to tell you the same as I told her: I totally understand how upsetting this is. We searched and searched but there were no sexy non-underwired underwear. It was depressing. My friend cried on my shoulder and there was not much I could do about it except tap her gently on the back and promise a shopping trip at the end of her journey. This was basically the recurring theme for her in her whole pregnancy. She felt like she was giving up all of herself for the sake of her child and not that she was reluctant or regretting the decision… just finding the process hard. And really who can blame her? She’s never been one to live by the rules – like me – fiercely independent and after all, her whole world was changing. She talked of feeling cut off a little from her partner. They had shared everything and he couldn’t really help her with this. She could talk about it. She tired to share as much as possible but somehow it wasn’t the same … I get that. I understand. In fact, it leads to my one pregnancy pet peeve: couples who delight in telling the world “we’re pregnant”.  Noooooooooooooooo! YOU are “expecting… having a baby… in the family way.”  SHE is pregnant. Are you going to have to push a human out of your body? Are you growing another being inside you?  Do you have an clue at all how that feels… really? SHE is pregnant.  *breathes* ok I’m done. Sorry.

I was with MRS B. the weekend before Little N decided to make her dramatic entrance. She was beautiful – one of those women who really puts on little extra weight at all, apart of course from her baby belly. By that point she was already carrying low and much of the discussion over lunch was regarding this impending labor. I knew she had very little birth plan. Like I said, she’s not one for making rules. I loved her I’ll do what I need at the time attitude… and I so hoped it would go well for her.

Sadly it was not to be. Her labor on set so fast. From what I can make out, the people caring for her could barely keep up. She had no time for pain relief and spent most of that couple of hours confused and in agony, only aware that she was losing all one’s sense of dignity. Even though “Little N” is the most gorgeous little girl, my friend declared that she would NEVER do that again,  something she still feels to this day almost 3 years later. I’m sad for her. It feels like the birth has really traumatized her. I wish I could explain it. I wish I could make it easier for her to remember that time. I’m not sure what I wish really and I’m not judging anybody who was responsible for her care. I don’t know what happened in that delivery room.. I know that it profoundly affected my friend… enough to alter her opinion on having more babies in the future. I wish I knew. I wish I understood what was happening that she wasn’t given more of a choice – that no attempt was made to give her a little dignity. I know it may sound naive to all you who have been through this ordeal, but maybe that’s my problem.  I’m naive on this issue. I wish I wasn’t

I kept the excited /exhausted answerphone message where Mr. B announced my God daughter’s arrival in the inbox for a year and a half until the phone died. Sentimental old fool ain’t I?

Ali xX

At a young age ….part 1 of my revelation.

Four cousins in my family are younger than me – 2 boys and 2 girls. There’s quite an age gap – there are 5 years between me and the next in line (excluding my brother who is two years younger then me) and 12 years between me and the youngest.  I have memories of all four as babies; stories which could probably be used to cause much embarrassment,. I’m sure. I really don’t remember all that much about my aunt on my dad’s side being pregnant. I know that she did come to stay with us. I’ve seen the pictures of her chasing me and my brother in our back yard with a very large bump and some questionable maternity dungarees.  They are precious.  I’m not really sure I was aware what was going on. I do remember the insanely colorful necklace she gave me. In fact, I think I still have it in a box somewhere… maybe. The next time they visited with this noisy bundle (who is now grown up and at university) I do remember watching in awe as my auntie cared for him. I couldn’t stop looking at this wriggling, gurgling person. I wanted to hold and cuddle and help.  I think my parents had a hard time convincing me that maybe I should let his parent push the pram, seen as I could barely reach (mmhumm… short arse all my life!). I felt so proud of myself pushing him to sleep.  I have no idea if my aunt enjoyed trying to change a nappy whilst under interrogation, but I’m guessing not. In my defense, I was only five and didn’t know any better, but still…. I knew babies existed but this one was actually RELATED to me … HOW AWSOME was that! You know what was even cooler? He learned to say my name. Well umm what he actually said was “Ason” the L and the I in Alison were too much at this point. Ohhhh how I giggled soo sooo much EVERY time I heard that “Ason”.  Sheer joy and so amusing.  Sadly, even though I was older, I remember even less about the baby girl this family had two years later. I’m not sure if we saw them less or what.  I do know that my dad doted on my cousin in a way I was not so used to and yep I was probably a little jealous. I’d never really watched him act that way with other kids before.

I recall the day news broke that my mum’s sister was pregnant as if it was yesterday. I was very confused as to why all the adults where huddled round the kitchen table… wait… my dad’s shaking hands with my uncle…  there was some hugging… VERY odd behavior, I thought.  Ohhh I was such a nosy kid. I wanted to know what’s going on… all the adults are being weird and LAUGHING at jokes that make no sense! My dad told me I was gonna have a new cousin. It took a few seconds for the penny to drop… and then I think I took them by surprise. I turned and RAN out of the room at FULL speed SCREAMING for my bother to tell him the EXCITING NEWS!!!!!  I actually remember jumping for JOY in our hallway. At this point, I think the adults may have been laughing AT me, but I just couldn’t keep it all in. My brother’s reaction was much more calm and measured. We remain different in this regard.

Christmas of that year we were at my pregnant auntie’s house. Oooo… exciting. I watched her with the same curious eyes. She moved different. Her belly was pretty obvious. I listened to her telling my mum stories of buying maternity clothes and having to change into then in the store RIGHT THERE because she was too uncomfortable. I thought that was a little silly. It made me laugh. I listened to them discussing the whole “could she have a glass of champagne at New Year’s” Apparently the midwife had said half a glass would be ok. For Christmas we were drinking this bubbly non alcoholic stuff that looked JUST like champagne.Yeah, I asked my mum to check. It wasn’t.  Ooohhh and when I was allowed some, I felt really grown up. My aunt had really sore back which apparently had something to do with the fact that she was a kick ass black belt in karate and could still put my brother in a head lock between her knees when he was misbehaving. lol Fun times!  I REFUSED to believe her when she told me the baby got hiccups. REFUSED. Nooooooooooooooo that’s silly!! …and then she showed me.

I’m not sure that she knew, but umm this was defiantly a life changing moment for me. I didn’t feel like joking anymore and I wanted to keep my hand there FOREVER. I was lost for words and my head was soo soo soo full of question after question after question that I didn’t dare ask. I mean how does that feel, does it hurt… does it happen often… and so many more… and that’s how the fascination started. BTW, she went on to have two wonderful kids. I was lucky enough to spend a week staying with them just after their daughter was born and the memories are some of the best I have of my aunt and uncle. I’m still grateful that I got that opportunity.

I volunteered in the library during high school and when the librarian became pregnant with her third daughter.  I think I asked waaaaay more questions than was polite looking back on it. I badly wanted to feel that child moving too but I thank goodness I drew the line at actually asking.  I absolutely loved the little stories she would tell me about how her daughters were reacting to mummy’s growing belly… giggling… measuring it for her… I don’t think I could ever hear too many pregnancy stories.

When I got to college, MY FRIENDS started having kids. How grown up you feel takes a BIG shift forwards when someone YOUR age that’s close to you utters those words “I’m pregnant”. I did everything I could to help. I bought them pregnancy books, clothes for the little one… at one point I even offered to have them move into my house.  To be honest it was pretty crazy of me, but they were not in the best situation and I just wanted to do ANYTHING to help. I even went to an ante natal class with mom when daddy couldn’t make it one time. It was at this class I realized that for a woman who’s never been pregnant, who’s not even trying, I KNEW waaay too much about childbirth and pain relief.  The midwife was giving out a lot of information and the percentage of stuff that was new to me was shockingly low.

I’m not telling you how many baby/pregnancy books I own… and have read from cover to cover, but it’s double figures and that’s TOO MANY.

Ali xX

Show and Tell

This is my first time at the front of the class. Don’t forget to check out what everybody is showing . This weekend I’ve spent the time trying to reorganize the mess that is my house. All in all, I’ve binned 7 huge black sacks full of random rubbish and junk. So I wanted to share with you some of the sentimental so called “junk”.

In this picture you can see the program for Wicked, 1 White Sox vs. Red Sox ticket dated August 25 2007, two vouchers for the White Sox stadium club at the Cell (which my friend still calls Comiskey), 1 ticket stub from a Kane County Cougars game.

Back in August 2007 I made a trip across the Atlantic and landed in Chicago. it was the first face to face meeting with a friend I had known online for over a year. I was a nervous wreck. Not kidding. I hid in the ladies at baggage claim for 20 minutes just to work up the courage to go out those doors and meet him, actually considering if a 9 hour flight home was at all possible.

But I’m so glad I did make it into the arrival hall. M and his wife turned out to be some of the funniest, most welcoming people I’ve had the pleasure of meeting. In fact my trip was filled with smiling faces. Chicago is amazing fun, just as thrilling as NYC but less stressed out. The lake is stunning and when I saw it was the most amazing color. I could sit and look at it for hours. I couldn’t tell you whether it was the wonderful food I ate, the crazy thunderstorms that scared the bejebus out of me (I’ve never seen rain like that before!) or one of the *5* baseball games I saw that qualifies as my favorite memory, but I can tell you Chicago is now my number one US city and I often use the memories of this trip to remind me of happier times. So, this junk I’ll be holding onto. It’s funny the little mementos we keep… they may be rubbish to others but they remind us of so much…

The one line that comes to mind is from Wicked “because I knew you I have been changed for good“. It applies to the couple I met of course… But even just to the city itself. I’ll be back someday!

 In terms of baseball I’ll always be on the Sox side of this town.