Secrets

Secrets

I’m sick to death right now. I’m so mad that I’m shaking.

My dad’s been laid up in the hospital as you all know… and as far as lucidity goes, he’s in and out. Mom has been working hard the last month to figure out where the ends are gonna meet. My dad’s pension is locked up in his bank accounts for which my mom doesn’t have the pin number for. We’ve asked him for the pins but he’s confused sometimes so he’ll give us 3 or 4 different sets of numbers. And as we all know… you usually get 2 tries before you get locked out. But me knowing technology the way it is, I’m thinking we can scrape together the bits of info that we do have and get together what we need. So I dedicated some time to that today. Got his account numbers together, soc, etc. After everything was said and done, it seems that he’d been hiding an account from my mom. An account that has a substantial amount of money in it. In the thousands of dollars. While my mom is really scraping pennies together to make it happen and hope to death that she doesn’t get evicted while she tries to find ways to make sure she’s by his bedside constantly… in the meantime… he’s hiding shit from her. Of course it makes me even sadder that the amt in the account is the EXACT amount of money that Earl and I would need to make shit happen on our end, but we’ve had to resort to begging people outside our immediate families for help so that the day of the wedding, we’re not handing out rubber checks. Not that my dad EVER offered to do a damned thing for my wedding and was actually even happy to NOT walk me down the aisle when my brother tried to encourage him to get better and stay with us. “Who’ll walk Vicky down the aisle if you’re not around, dad?” “I’m not worried. You can do it,” he said. Not even, “No… you’re right… I have to be here for my little girl.” (It just amazes me that he hurts me more now than he ever could of in my youth.)

Come to think of it… when my brother was in dire straits for money a few months ago… he never offered then either. I wanted to believe for a quick second that the money was for “emergencies”. I guess if my son was about to be evicted, I’d view that as an emergency, despite what he did or didn’t do to make that happen. But I’d do all in my power to make sure that he didn’t have to go get a loan out from the government to avoid being homeless.

And my mom… says nothing. She makes excuses so she can justify it. So that she’s not as angry as me. So that him being a total dick for the entirety of their marriage doesn’t hurt as much. And my respect level for both of them just spirals down. His faster than hers, but I didn’t know that levels could burrow through the floor.

Meanwhile, all I can do is stare at the account and wonder… what else is he hiding?

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Memories

Memories

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For once this week… and maybe in a very long time… I’m really very happy. I’m at peace. I feel like dreams can be fulfilled… I am not angry at myself for allowing myself to feel some happiness. Today was my Bridal Shower and all I can say is wow. Isis has been telling me for a little while that “people love you, Victoria” – but I always poo poo it and keep it moving. I never want to get a swelled head or ever be like … yeah… I’m the shit. But if I wasn’t humbled by the idea of being loved outside of my blood family before today, then I definitely am now. I am in awe of these women. How they rallied together and had a good time with me and for me. I was brought to tears a few times today but mostly because of the Memories.

The bridal party (under the strict direction of Max and Isis) did a few keepsake games for us and one of them, was to put together these little cards each one with a 4×6 picture of me and whoever was writing the memory in it and that person’s “favorite memory” of me or with me. And reading through the various cards I was just in awe of the things folks remember. How they have a nuance on how you saw it. How they remember parts of it that you’d forgotten… And even how you thought maybe they didn’t remember it – or didn’t think it was worth remembering… but they really did. I just smiled as I read through them this evening, parked at my building after shuttling my family around.

I sang out loud as I drove tonight. And I didn’t care who heard.

*sigh*

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Sing In the Valley

Sing In The Valley

This is the conseille of the Lord to his people in peril. Sing!! Even at the lowest points and just when you reach a point lower than you ever thought you'd go…. SING LOUDER.

I'm trying very hard to pick a song that I don't sound stupid belting out. But I need to sing like I've not sung before. I'm thinking that this is supposed to be the happiest time in my life and aside from the typical bride-to-be stresses, I should be glowing with excitement. Someone asked me in a meeting today if I was excited about the wedding and my mental censors fought to scurry into place to make sure the wrong thing didn't come out. A quiet "yes" finally hissed its way through my teeth and I closed my eyes and imagined my father not being there, keeping peace between warring factions and tallying the list of things forgotten because of lack of time, cooperation etc. — the general dealing with a "THANK GOD IT'S OVER" sigh from my parents, to my bridal party… Maybe even from my guests.

I guess it's too much to want everyone to feel joy all the time. Or even some of the time. I did feel joy yesterday when my Earl told me we got approved for one of the apartments. At least we now have one definite place to live. And when all is said and done, people will be hard pressed to dig me out of there. I had a similar feeling right before I crossed. I thought that I would just not want to talk to my LS's for weeks and just regain my sense of self. But after we crossed, I enjoyed spending time together with them as often (and as voluntarily) as I could. Maybe this situation will end up the same. It has definitely brought my baby and I closer.

But i'm picking my song… And I hope not to go hoarse before i've passed through all of this

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Inspiration

Inspiration

I love when I’ve listened to something a million times… and then on the million and first time… I “discover” it. It just unveils itself in a way that it hadn’t in the past. I’ve been O’D'ing on the Amy Winehouse album. And some tracks provided me with some background noise. But one emerged from the background today. The title track for her 2nd cd “Back to Black” spoke to a part of me that’s been dead for a while. But I recognized the emotion and the sentiment too much. I’ve picked it for the inspiration for my next creative foray. I’ll be making an animated video for it (heaven help me). It’ll be my first attempt with motion graphics. But I have it all story boarded in my head. And if it means nothing to anyone else… it’ll mean everything to me. Isn’t that what art is all about anyways?

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Stepchildren

Stepchildren

This is the word my brother used the other day to accurately describe my father’s interaction with us through out our childhood. It’s been very dfficult for us to emotionally justify the halting of our lives to serve him so completely the last few days. Literally dragging him around the house, laying him in bed, changing his diapers, feeding him, sitting him up – the whole kit & kaboodle. At one point I stood at the doorway of my parents room and watched my brother hoist my father into place in his bed. The exact same place i’d spent pretty much every night as a child, quietly observing my dad in that same corner administer nightly beatings to my brother. Usually for no reason other than my father was bored and frustrated with his own life. It was such a paradigm shift for us both… We stood there after it was all over and we were both posing the same silent question to one another. We came up with the same answer, though.

For Mom. We do all that we do in that house for our mother. She always tried so hard to give us what we lacked – - it was the least we could do for her in return. When dad didn’t want to attend our recitals, exhibitions or graduations – she was there. When we were sick and needed care and dad was out with his friends or playing lotto or with the “choir”, mom was there for us. When he would turn his nose up at our dreams and aspirations, mom was there always supporting. We admitted Dad to the hospital on Monday during the holiday. While waiting for him to go through Triage, 3:30 hit. Earl & I had an appointment to see an apt. We went to it and came back knowing that dad would be in the exact same place upon our return (Dom stayed with him). I did ask myself, if it was Mom… Would I have left?…

Probably not.

*sigh*

We do have 2 great prospects on apartments, though! And for once, I dreamt about my new life… Only a month away – instead of nightmares of the past.

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