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Name: margalit
Location: Massachusetts, United States Professional writer, educational advocate, opinionated ultra liberal mother of 18 year old twins, living life in the slow lane due to hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, congestive heart failure, and diabetes.

email: margalitc at yahoo dot com

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Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Having a Teresa and Joey moment

If you haven't watched RHONJ this season the title of this post will mean nothing to you. But if you DO watch and substitute wedding for christening, you'll have a good idea of what I'm alluding to. Let's just say that I promised another member of my birth family that I would never blog about his family, and I have kept that promise for many years. I've had things I could say, but haven't to keep good will amongst our families. However, today I'm not feeling the good will. Not even one teeny drop of good will. Instead, I'm bullshit and totally hurt.

Due to my promise, I can't go into WHY I'm feeling this way, but I can say that Facebook sucks and family sucks even more and I think this is the very last straw. I mean how much can I take? I'm human, I have feelings, and I'm pretty fragile when it comes to familial rejection. That is all I can say on the subject, but believe me, there is much more.
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Tuesday, May 24, 2011

My boredom has no boundries

I am usually able to entertain myself with a combination of annoyance at both kids and cats, some wicked trashy TV, and some equally questionable books I'm sent to review. However, since I totalled my right knee three weeks ago, I'm kind of stuck off my feet, which means that the normal half-assed cooking and cleaning are out. Also, totally stuck in the house because, my GAH, stairs? The Devil's invention.

I find myself looking more attentively at Hoveround scooter commercials. I'm wondering how I can get a Stana stair lift installed. Those walk-in bathtubs are looking mighty nice about now. In other words, I have turned elderly overnight. My get-up-and-go has got up and left. Being in fierce pain all day long has enacted a tylenol habit. I have no other topic of conversation other than my health. I'm freaking unsteady on my feet and worrying about falling.

I have turned into the epitome of a TV elderly woman. I hate myself for this. Honest, I'm tired of feeling like crap every single day, and then the freaking knee. This is one woman who was hoping the Rapture was real, so I could get this all over with in one fell swoop. Now I feel gypped.

Watching American Chopper last night I watched Paul Sr. struggle with his age, too. He's 3 years older than I am, a former cocaine addict and alcoholic, plus a long time steroid user (hence his reprehensible temper?) , but the fact is, he's looking a lot like a hard-scrabble, school of hard knocks old man. Not that this makes me feel better, because it does not, but at least I see that at 60ish, it isn't uncommon to live with chronic pain and knarly health problems.

So now I can cheerily meld into old age. This means growing my hair long so I can wear it in a long braid like the old psychiatrists in Woody Allen films. I can also wear bohemian clothing from central America and giant clunky jewelry. I need to up my medical vocabulary and learn how to interfere in my children's love lives. I'll be buying the dented cans in the market, and asking total strangers for help reaching top shelf items. I'll get a lot of funky reader glasses at CVS and lose them all over the house.

So much to look forward to! What was I bitching about boredom for, anyhow?

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Thursday, May 19, 2011

We seem to have food poisoning

I probably will never eat another egg as long as I live. And I love eggs.

Taking a short break until my stomach stops roiling.
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Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Spam spam spam spam

Did you know that yesterday was some sort of international Monty Python Day, where you were supposed to post pithy MP quotes. Oddly, it was also the day when I got hacked and had to clean up a huge mess of spam. My email has been beyond quirky the last few weeks, but yesterday it took on a life of it's own and sent out thousands of emails with links I didn't ever open. I just kept deleting them. Then, as if matters weren't confusing enough, someone thought it would be funny to spam my email with porn. LOTS of porn, none of which I opened. So that was a swell day.

I just want to say how astonished and disgusted I am to see most of Bush's cabinet come out of retirement to take credit for the death of OBL. Cheney, Rove, Rice, Ridge, Rumsfeld, Ashcroft and even Colin Powell all came out of hiding to blab their propaganda on the Sunday news shows. It's been kinda creepy seeing them all turn up again. I'm almost surprised that Laura and the twins plus George Senior and Babs weren't linked up from Kennebunkport. Just seeing the whole band of miscreants taking credit for doing nothing was a million steps backward.

We are finally almost caught up with laundry. I had 5 garbage bags filled with dirty clothes, Graham had a few more bags, and Gemma has a mountain in my room that she still hasn't tackled. We even have clean towels!

I found a free sewing machine for Gemma on freecycle. It isn't fancy, but she just wants to make pillows and curtains and patch her clothes. It will be fine. It has a table so it will go right into her room. Right now is the primo time to find stuff on craigslist, since all the students are leaving. Had I any extra $$ I could have bought both kids futons and frames, replaced my broken bed with a nice frame, picked up a good small breakfront and various other things we need.  Hopefully I will find a coffee table that I like soon. I know what I want, a black map table with deep drawers for extra storage. Dark wood would be fine, but I'd prefer espresso or black.  They are considered a bit dated, but for our living room they are the right shape and would go with the crazy dresser that I'm redoing in black with ivory detailing to match out ivory sofa. Our main accent color is a nice burgundy red with accents of brass, silver, and moss green. I'm going to eventually replace our console table that holds my large collection of sea shells with a wrought iron and glass table, and then all we'll need in the room is a club chair with matching ottoman.

We might be dirt poor, but we can decorate on the very cheap, thanks to freecycle and craigslist. I think the hunt is more fun than just walking into a store and getting whatever is the style this year. I like an eclectic look, anyhow.  If you're a craigslist shopper, let me recommend an ap called Craigslist Helper. It turns CL listings into more of an ebay interface, with photos alongside each post, and the ability to mark favorites, add notes, and filter out what you don't want to see.

How cool is this?

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Monday, May 09, 2011

My life in the archives

I've been posting on this blog on and off since 2003. In 2003 my kids were just starting middle school, we had moved back from California during the high tech bubble, and I was job hunting like mad to no avail. Things were rough financially, but we were all basically in good physical and emotional health. Graham was on medication and in school and seemed to be doing OK. Gemma was having problems socially but had not yet been diagnosed with NVLD, so her issues were still a mystery to me.

Last night I read a bunch of posts in my archive and was rather astounded by my tone. I sounded so much happier and more hopeful back them. Even though life was fairly bleak, I was doing ok. I was able to work and when I found a job, I was able to perform it well until all hell broke loose with Graham at the end of 7th grade. The intense stress put me over the edge physically and I ended up terribly sick. I had my first heart surgery during that time. But even with real trauma and drama, plus a lot of anger, I still wrote a lot of positive stuff. Funny, because I can't remember being funny or happy or positive, but I was. My writing shows me that I was.

I don't feel particularly emotive these days. In psychiatry it is called a flat affect. I'm not happy, I'm not sad, I'm not anything. I move from day to day like I'm floating. I get mad, I laugh, I cry, but I feel flat. I didn't have my antidepressants for about 10 days (insurance hell) and during that time I cried a lot. Several times a day over anything. Or nothing.

I got my prescription on Friday and because I hadn't had any in days, I took a smaller dose. I knew that I would end up sleeping through a few days, because I'm sensitive to medications. I did sleep, and I stopped crying. But the flat affect seems to be stronger and I'm not sure I like it. At least I'm not screaming at the kids anymore. I get really testy when I'm not medicated.

I wish that I could find more of a happy medium. I know that if I could get out on my own and start exploring life around me, it would make me feel better. But I need some kind of helpful transportation. A Segue would be perfect but Medicare doesn't pay for them. A scooter would work but I have no place to put it. Ditto for a wheel chair. We have a huge front porch and a large deck, but they are for the landlords who are in their 80's and really not into sharing space. The won't even allow us to put a coat rack outside our front door or our mop and broom out the back door.  They would keel over dead if we asked to keep a scooter in the hall. They still yell at us to take ALL the junk mail, even though I have told them again and again that it is NOT addressed to us. Sigh.

I need to find that happiness again. I hate being so flat. so what do you suggest?

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Sunday, May 08, 2011

My personal anthem


There is one song that always gets me through the lowest points of my life. The song that reminds me to keep on going, no matter what.
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Thursday, May 05, 2011

The Evil One

Conflicted? Who? Me?  Yup, as we encroach upon that mist confusing of Hallmark Holidays, the one where we honor our mothers as our children honor us. I'm sure it comes as no surprise that this is my least favorite day of the year. Father's Day doesn't really get to me because my father is dead, and my kids don't acknowledge their father since he pretends that they don't exist.

But Mother's day? Filled with guilt, regret, loss, anger, and resignation. Funny how none of those words sound happy. My feelings have been filled with regrets for as long as I can remember. Way back to early childhood. My mother, whom I refer to as the Evil One, was a terrible mother. There are a lot of reasons why. Her mother was a terrible mother, too. They both had mental illnesses. Neither wanted daughters. Neither wanted to be a mother. Both were extremely unhappy. Both had skewed morals. All of these things are undeniable, but they never found the strength to rise above it. Their misery fanned out to suffocate their nuclear families with misery.

Somehow, even as a small kid I knew I was unwanted. It was obvious that I was the kid that came at the wrong time and was the wrong gender. As I got older the Evil One made sure I knew I was a bad mistake. It was more than clear that she disliked me and made no effort to get along with me.

 The Evil One. Photo stolen from her Facebook profile. She is NOT my friend.

Now, why would I want to honor someone like that with a bouquet of flowers or a small piece of jewelry. Consequently, even though I didn't want to, I sent cards and gifts on Mother's Day. Me heart wasn't in it, but if I did send her something, it was one thing she couldn't bitch about. I never wanted to get her anything. I did it out of habit and guilt.

I stopped talking to the Evil One on Easter Sunday, 1980. I've never spoken to her, or my father when he was alive from that date on. Over 30 years. She is an old lady. I'm an old lady. In an Oprah world we would fall into each other's arms and sob. Except I don't ever want her in my life, or the lives of my kids who have, of course, never met her. She apparently has no interest in meeting them either,

OTOH, now it is my turn to be the person 'showered' with gifts on this holiday of fake emotions. I want my kids to make an effort to be thankful for all my work as their mom. Gemma always rises to the occasion, but Graham? Not so much. Graham is so self-fixated that he can't even sign a card. Last year Gem bought him a card to give to me, and I got it unsigned. No present ever. Not for Mother's Day, my birthday or Hanukah. I know this a component of his mental illnesses, but it HURTS that he refuses to even take one second out of his TV watching schedule to sign a card. I shouldn't be angry, but being hurt is OK. He knows he hurts me. He doesn't care. Ever. About anyone but himself.

So being conflicted is how I feel every Mother's Day. Sad, huh?

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Tuesday, May 03, 2011

Slow news week, eh?

I have offically declared that I am suffering from News Overload Disorder. First it was the wedding of the century. You did hear about that small quiet shindig in London on Friday, right? Knowing what kind of idiot anglophile I am, you must know that I starting watching at 2 am when TLC started off showing a bunch of background shows, to catch you up on everything royal. Can't possibly say no to that, now. Then the wedding started at 4 am my time, when the first guests came staggering into the Abby. I was enchanted, and watched every single second of the coverage.

Exhausted, I went to bed in the late afternoon and slept until Sunday at some strange time. After logging onto Facebook I found that a very dear friend, someone I've known for 18 years, someone I have shared laughter, trials and tribulations as well as kid's clothing and a nice Shabbat chicken dinner in the middle of Iowa, had a terrible tragedy in her family. I'm still pretty raw about the story, and it isn't mine to share anyhow. but it threw me for a giant loop and I spent most of Sunday in tears. I was so sad and the 5 days without Effexor, my depression drug of choice, did not help me to cheer up one bit.

I spent a lot of time reading online, and then at 11ish, Graham came bursting in filled with excitement and shared the news about Osama bin Ladin's demise in Pakistan. Most of you do not know about my personal hatred of that country, but when I was driving from Lisbon to India, Pakistan refused to let us Jewish kids into their fetid country. No visa, no entry, and I haven't forgiven or forgotten, Hell, Jordan and Lebanon let us in. Iran let us in. But Pakistan? Bunch of asshole. So when the story broke and the news started on the "mansion" and the compound right outside the frigging capitol of Islamibad after the government denied vociferously that Osama was in their country, well you can just imagine how I took to that part of the story. NOT a fan of the Pakistani government, those Jew-hating terrorists.

Of course I had to stay up most of the night, hooked on the little news tidbits that trickled in, finally passing out sometime around 5 am. Because I am a news junkie that cannot turn off the TV.

When I got up this afternoon I went right back to the news while reading every online link I could find. I laughed at the conspiracy theorists, I got pissed at the supposed saints who tried to tell people how to feel and admonished those that were happy the Arabian Devil is swimming with the fishies, hopefully with a pair of lead boots to keep him down.

I don't need to be told that my elation is wrong. I mourn the death of my friend Rob who was killed on 9/11. Robs wife, his 4 kids including his then infant twins, and his friends and extended family get to be as happy as they can be, knowing that after 10 years, Rob's murderer got his due.

More news tonight, but interspersed with those whackadoodle RHoOC and the ever delightful and hilarious Bethany. Thank God for Bravo. It keeps me alive with emotions.  Now it is 6:30 am, Gemma and I cleaned up and decorated the living room and dining room, and I cleaned most of the kitchen except for the MOUNTAIN of dishes Graham has left. Guess what he'll be doing today?

We still have a bit more to get done, but as Gem said this evening, this is the prettiest our houses have looked since California.

Shout to Iris for picking up the new bread machine, yet another craigslist find. Thank you, you sexy beast (private joke).

I think I might be getting over the worst of the Effexor cold turkey crash and burn. I'm still crying several times a day, but I don't feel so sad, and I'm working on stuff instead of sitting shell-shocked and miserable.

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