Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

Hmm, lots of shit going on around here all of a sudden…which is probably why I’m suffering exaustion at the moment (emotional and physical…which means nothing is getting accomplished).

Mum and I were talking the other day, and she was whining that her Uriologst wasn’t going to tell her anything until January, when all the testing was done, during which, she still had to endure pain and bleeding. I countered with the fact that if anything was seriously wrong, her doctor would get a hold of her before that. She, of course, didn’t believe me.

…until the next morning when the doctor called at the ass crack of dawn to schedule imediate surgery for a cyst on her kidney found during her CAT Scan. *smacks forehead* I do actually know what I’m talking about!

So mum’s on bed rest…which was fun for me, as I have to take care of her. I don’t like playing fetch *pouts* Also throws off me sleeping as she’s up longer then I usually am. I think she discovered how stressed out I am between worring about her and taking care of her, when I burst into tears one day when she asked for dinner (no, I don’t know why I did that, I just did).

Tonight, she leaves for a week in Eugene, to go to her back dr appointment, and have her kidney surgery. It’ll be nice, to get some time to decompress, before starting the stress cycle all over again.

My grandmother is a complete bitch (not that this is news to longtime visitors *grins*). For the past two weeks (er, the past two before last weekend), Mum and I literally destroyed ourselves getting that stupid yard sale going. Our shoulders are STILL hurting from moving shit around. The only reason we did this to ourselves, was Grandmere swore up/down/sidwaise that we would get half of the total take of the sale.

…which was around 600$, quite a nice chunk of change for two people who had an outstanding electric bill and an upcoming holiday to save for.

So the sale’s going great, and Grandmere comes down on the second day to see how things are going…and promptly takes 400$ (what we had at the time) and leaves. Mum asks here later about spltting the money and magically…Grandmere has no idea what mum’s talking about and requests the rest of the money from Day Two.

as;oivjoefoejvj! Bitch!

And then she has the kindness to loan us the money for the electrical bill. Anyone wonder why I hate her? Seriously?

…my fingers hurt, stupid arthritis.

As for the previous post…mum and I talked about it later that night and came to an understanding, though things have only improved slightly. Though mum now understands why I constantly complain of being in pain after she had to spend two days in pain. I told her to try imagining spending weeks or months at a time in that same bed and then imagine the pain and she’d come close to where I am. She said she couldn’t imagine it and can’t understand how I can deal with it day in and day out. I reminded her that if it’s all you know, you learn to deal. *shrugs*

For those on Twitter, I’ve finally gotten into the grove on it, feel free to come see what insanity is my every random thought.

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

we can have a combined monthly income of 13,700$ and not pay the bills on time?! Seriously, it should not be this fucking hard!

And mum’s “brilliant” new plan? She’s going to sell the house, and we’re going to move into apartments.

EXCUSE ME?!

First of all, we worked out ASSES off for this house. We paid it off once, and yes, things are a bit tight at the moment, but we usually manage to survive. I am NOT willing to give up 16 years and my fucking FUTURE so that she can play happy renter and line someone else’s pocket.

I will not leave this house until I am dead or we have sold it at a decent price for a NEW house, not some crappy apartment, thank you very much.

She had this whole thing where she would sell the house to a guy for 100,000$ up front and payments for the rest…except, she’s not realizing, after paying off the morgage (which, I don’t recall how much it is, but it’s not 100,000)….that’s a nice fucking down payment on a new house, plus, if the guy’s making payments…we don’t have to! His payments can be re-directed directly to the morgage of said new house.

Logic is not my mother’s fortay at the moment.

She’s also finally thinking about allowing me to become her payee…though she keeps changing that. Last night I went from becoming her payee, to splitting the bills down the center, to…whatever the fuck she’s come up with overnight. She can’t make up her mind, and we just keep getting further behind because she can’t manage her money (and yes, I can take her to court and get power of…whatever it is over money, but doing so would involve my family, because they always stick their noses into shit, and there is no way I’m letting my money grubbing, controling bastard of an uncle anywhere NEAR our money. Ours! No touchy!).

…I’m getting so fucking tired of this mess. I will admit it, I want out. I can’t say that to my mother because she’ll go ahead with her asanine plans and get rid of the only asset we have and I DON’T want that…but I’m so tired of all this crap. I’m tired of having every cent of my money being taken for bills she should have paid. I’m tired of opening the door to servicemen who are there to shut off one utility or the other. I’m tired of never knowing if I’m going to have electricity, water or heat the next morning. I’m REALLY fucking sick of paying 500$ rent (out of 680$ income) and then having to be -300$ in my bank account because if I don’t overdraft my account, I’m going to lose something…like the electricity last month…I’m also tired of being overdrafted by 300$ and still expected to pay 500$ rent the next month (hello mum! One cannot make 800$ out of 680!)

And it’s not just the money, I’m tired of being abused. I’m tired of being yelled at or bad mouthed because I can’t get out of bed and clean up the living room her dog tore up. I’m tired of being left alone when I’m violently ill so my mother can go spend the day at a place that makes her cry when she gets home (and I’m really fucking tired of her crying every day…it’s not her fault, but damn does it hurt me). I’m tired of my needs always coming last.

…maybe I’m just tired.

My mother and I got into a blazing row last week about how I was being ‘lazy’ and I’m always sick and that she’s doesn’t want to hear about it anymore since I don’t do anything around the house. Rather funny…for someone so lazy, I now have a home healthcare worker who will come to work for 50hrs a month to help me get around the house, bathe, eat, ect. Apparently the goverment and my doctors are seeing actual medical conditions, not ‘laziness’.

Grandmere managed to ruin another holiday, though I guess I can’t blame her this time. Just as we were going to start the BBQ for the fourth…life alert called us to tell us she was being rushed to the hospital. No idea what’s going on except that she’s waiting on a surgery…I’m sort of surprised she’s lasted this long, but I doubt it’ll be much longer.

…I still don’t know how I feel about the fact she may soon be very much out of my life. I mean, I’ve wanted it for years, prayed for it, but now…she’s my grandmother, even if she is the most wicked, evil, spiteful woman I have ever met.

I think the stress of Grandmere is what’s pushing my mother over the edge right now…and while I understand that, it’s still not making it a very happy place when I have to take all the bitching and fighting and…everything, just because she needs to lash out.

Sometimes…I wish I could just run away. Disappear and have my own life. But I couldn’t do that, I couldn’t leave my mother. For one thing, I’m too damn scared of what she’d do if I’m not around to keep her going…and for the other…I love her, despite the constant stress.

In utterly un-related news, I’ve discovered I can’t be without ciggerettes right now. I ran out hours ago and have not stopped scratching my arm since. Only, since I don’t have nails, I’ve been scratching at it with a toothpick. It’s all red and irritated.

I hope mum’s check comes in the mail today…maybe she’ll buy me a pack of smokes (while they’re still on sale for 2.75!)… *hopeful look at the mail*

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

I’ll be the first to admit I’m not keen on fashion, especially when I’m hot and feel like I’m sticking to everything I own. Usually when such a time occurs, I grab the nearest length of loose cotton fabric, wrap it around me in some fashion and call it good. This usually means I’m dressed for the height of summer in a sheet toga or have a strip of cloth wrapped around my breasts with shorts.

Please note, I only do this INSIDE THE HOUSE, I don’t even visit the front yard in this manner.

But recently, I had an interview with a home healthcare worker, and my mother brought these incidents up when we were discussing the ‘mental’ aspect (if I had any problems that made myself a danger to myself and others, if I had rash behaviors, so on). Only, the way she mentioned it, you thought I was walking down main street with the kitchen sheers around my body.

I LIKE being comfortable, I grew up in the deserts of So. California and HATE the heat, not to mention, the eleven years down there taught me I don’t get along well with it, I get really sick and temperamental in the heat. Staying cool is my number one priority in the summer.

But now, I’m so embarrassed by what she said, I can’t bring myself to drag out my altered toga sheets or banding cloths because I’m afraid of what she thinks of them and who else she’s told the story to in a way that implies I’m crazy for wearing them.

I just…I wish she’d accept the choices I make in life…or at least, not imply to complete stranger I’m off my rocker for lounging around in a Harry Potter printed Toga.

*sigh*

(BTW, anyone else do this? Please tell me I’m not the only one with odd fashions when it comes to the heat….)

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

Okay, seriously, is it that hard to let me order my own damn prints? I put in all the information, splurging a bit (my rent’s getting upped so I’m getting while the getting is good), and after waiting for a weird ass ‘redirecting to page with more secure features’ message…

I get this lovely note:

(yes, that is a connection error image, your browser is not fucking with you).

So now I don’t even know if my order went through! But, I contacted them, so hopefully I’ll know. Sucks, because I probably won’t have the ‘courage’ to order them again and for a full set of 5×7’s of my best images at only $8.50…pretty rocking! *pouts*

And on a more “Real” note (not me bitching…just whining like a baby), mum had another one of her ‘let’s kick Sait out’ moments tonight. This time, she wants to sell the house and move into some sort of mental health ‘assisted living’ place…or something.

She’s tired of never having enough money to pay the bills (between us we make 1800$ a month, our house payment alone is 600$, then we have direct tv, phone, electricity, insurance (house/car), prescripts, food, pet food/supplies, heat (which was shut off), ect, plus loans to Uncle Mike and Grandmere), she’s tired of the house being a disaster because her home healthcare worker is a complete DUMBASS (seriously, ex 1: Mum put a large jar opener that needed to be washed after a year lost in the garage for “Ditzy” (not her real name) to wash…it sat there for three weeks before we got tired of it and washed it ourselves (well, mum did, she she SHOULDEN’T BECAUSE IT’S HEAVY), ex 2, I offered ‘Ditzy’ 60$ this month if she would help me organize my room which was still boxed up and slightly trashed from the room change a month or so ago. She spent two hours sitting there picking the lint off her pants while I worked because she ‘didn’t know where anything went’ (um, duh, that’s why the crap is still in boxes, no one knows where it goes).

Essencially, it’s just a lot of shit piling up at once. And I completely understand where she’s coming from, dude, it’s hard right now, life sucks big time.

But…It’s my home as well. I’m not just a roomate, I’m her fucking daugther (who else would pay 450, now 500$ a month rent for a room and kitchen access?! Plus, without my foodstamps? She ain’t eating.

It’s not just she promised I would never be without a home (which she has, several times, even swearing not to sell this house so I do always have it..but dude, it’s my childhood home! It’s where I grew up!

Plus, emotional issues aside, the house is trashed. The bathtub wall is coming off, it needs to be re-painted, the house stinks from years of smoking and pets who can’t figure out what a literbox is for (don’t even say it, I am doing everything I can, including owning two literboxes, I cannot figure out why Onii finds it repulsive and mus attempt to pee in my room), the front yard is molding (oregon rain + mold loves us), we have a serious ant problem, and there are cracks in the freaking windows (stupid fucking contractor).

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

I’m never letting my other go with me to a piercing parlour again. High Priestess was running a deal for free piercing, you only have to pay for the actual jewelry, and the piercer gets to pick where you’re pierced.

I lucked out and talked him into getting my labret back (yay!), but my sweet, wonderful…fucking evil mother, also somehow talked both him and I into an eyebrow piercing.

…owe! I hurt so bad right now.

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

So, four days ago mum went into the hospital for internal bleeding, cue me, flipping out (as always). I do the good daughter thing, visit her, bring her what she asks for, bring her home, ect.

We get home…and I promptly get screamed at for their being no gas because I kept going to visit her.

Suddenly, I’m not so happy she’s home.

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

Amusing things overheard in the ER:

“Sir, we have your wheelchair, now please put your penis away.”

Also, mum’s going to yell at her doctor tomorrow for telling her for years that if she doesn’t quit smoking she’s going to die, when two days after she quits she ends up in the Emergency Room. Thankfully just for her breathing, turns out she wasn’t having the heart attack we feared.

Also turns out, I’m not allowed to follow behind mum’s ambulance anymore after I almost crashed into it due to not paying attention.

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

So one of the conditions of my mother’s release was that Douglas County Mental Health would provide my mother with her psych medications, as that is the whole reason for this mess.

They have now informed her that they will not be providing her with her medication because she has insurance…even though they’re required to by law (part of the fun discharge paperwork). Also, there is no other place for mum to get her medication locally that will take her insurance and we already have way too many bills to pay out of pocket.

So essentially…we’re back where we started, and now I have to keep a constant eye on mum to keep her from doing something stupid.

Mum’s contacting the reporter that first reported the tazer incident (gotta love newspapers…bastards), and hopefully her side of the story might stir the county into doing something to keep the egg off their face.

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

I’m never listening to my mother again.  Seriously, next time she tells me which road to take, I’m going the other way.  Even if there isn’t an other way.

Scene: Me (the driver who hates driving large cars, like our shiny new SUV), Mum (le genius).

Mum: I want you to be careful, go slowly, and take old highway 99 (the highway in use before the shiny I-5 freeway) so that you don’t have to deal with other traffic.
Me: Right-o. *grabs keys, kisses mum and heads off to go grocery shopping before heading home*

An hour later…

Me: *happily having a ciggy while listening to George Carlin on my Ipod, watching the dark, dark road when all of a sudden OMGDEER!* Ohhhh shite! *slams on brakes and gets to know my seatbelt up close and personal*
Deer: OMGCar! *dashes*

Deer meet front bumper, front bumper meet deer.

Neck pain, meet vicodin!

OW! Fucking hell it still hurts. And the whole half an hour drive home I was flipping out that I not only damaged our shiny new car…but our insurance lapsed TODAY because we can’t find 70$ for the payment. I get to McDonalds and pull in to get dinner and see how dead I am…

Not a flipping scratch ANYWHERE on the front and side where I hit the deer. And I know I hit the deer, I felt it! Hell, I’m still feeling it.

In other news, Mum was transfered to Rouge River, down south from here by about…two hours. So I can’t visit her again, but I get to talk to her. It’s said to be a good place, so I’m happy with that. And…slightly happy I can’t visit her because things aren’t going well between us. She’s blaming me still, partially, about her depression (because I bitch and moan about being sick…it’s what I do, damnit! I complain and I like complaining!), and in addition to that, she’s still being rather verbally abusive to me, taking out her anger and frustration about things on me, yet whining when I get pissed off (and rightly so I think) about the fact I’m paying her the equivalent of 470$ without seeing a dime returned, even when she all but swears on her life she will pay me back. I know she’s my mum and some things should slide, but…I would kind of like to have a freaking dollar to myself to be able to buy a new book or SOMETHING!

Arg, and speaking of that, she did it AGAIN! I had fifty dollars left over after covering my bills and rent, fifty dollars that I was putting aside for her christmas gift (she wants a new vaccum…and I want to buy her a good one because she always buys them second hand or way too cheap and for once she deserves a decent one since that’s all she wants for Christmas).

Anyway, I’ve been holding that money hostage, even though I’ve been dying for a new book for about six months now (haven’t had one for about a year, but it’s only been recently that I’ve been craving a new one). And what does she do? Ask (more like demand) I use the money to pay our phone bill (and internet), because she can’t fucking figure out why a budget is a good idea, and can’t afford it.

I’m getting so fucking sick of this. I really, really am.

…and my neck hurts! *cries*

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

I suddenly want a t-shirt with Wimpy on it and the famous words, “If you give me a hamburger today, I’ll gladly pay you on Tuesday.”

It would sum up my life about now.

And for those who don’t know/remember who Wimpy is, here’s a picture.

Mum’s getting worse. She now has an infection inside, an infection outside and other un-related infections from her immune system being compromised. She’s also getting harder to take care of, as she’s now refusing to take her antibiotics due to them making her ill.

Also, something happened the other day that I feel bad about, but don’t think I should. See, she went that day to see the new OB-GYN (her surgeon was fired), and after a bit of an issue because I was too tired (only had two hrs sleep) and sick, I couldn’t take her. So she was in pain, with a horrible headache from her antibiotics and had to drive 30 mins to the office, only to find out they never recorded her appointment. Luckily, she had her card with he to prove she indeed did have an appointment, and the receptionist went off to see if the doctor would take her.

Now, let me pause here and tell you something about my other. My mom…well, she doesn’t read people well. Body language, tone of voice, none of it. You can say something jokingly, and she’ll take it seriously. You can say something casually, and it’s an insult. She’s done this pretty much as far as I can remember so it’s understandable, but still hard to work with.

So the receptionist comes back and says ‘we’re able to fit you in’, in probably (as I obviously wasn’t there) the tone of ‘yay, good news!’. Unfortunately, mum heard it as if the receptionist had said, ‘well, even though you screwed up, we still managed to squeeze you in out of the goodness of our hearts’.

So everything’s set, right?

Wrong. As anyone who has an Ob-Gyn knows, your appointments mean nothing when a baby suddenly decides to make it’s entrance into the world. So everyone’s appointments were re-scheduled due to the dr needing to be at the hospital.

I’m sitting in the living room, absently watching tv, and suddenly the phone rings. I answer it, only to be confronted with a sobbing mother, who is really upset by the way the staff ‘treated her’. I talk to her for a bit, getting more and more angry and when I hang up, I call the office.

Now, my mother had explicitly told me NOT to call the office, and I’ll admit I was wrong in disobeying her wishes. But…she’s my MOM and she was crying.

So I called the office, ready to rip off heads (though my manners showed through and I managed to be polite). I asked the lady who answered (after introducing myself), if they knew that one of the patients was out in the parking lot, crying because of her treatment.

The lady and I then had a nice conversation about what happened and discussing both sides of the situation and I hung up, reassured they did not intentionally upset my mother, and better prepared for when she came home to help her calm down.

Unfortunately, when mum found out about the call (I hadn’t planned on telling her, it just came out), she flipped out and got VERY upset and embaressed.

Hence my guilt, since that was no where near my intention, I just wanted to have the information I needed to ‘fix things’ (not that that happened).

She finally calmed down after talking ith her shrink though.

(and no, I don’t need comments about how I’m a bad daughter, I feel shitty enough, thanks).