Tuesday, December 16, 2014

My 100th Post! I've decided, it's going to be an angry one! No, seriously...it's about anger :)

Santa, this year I want a punching bag so I wont' hurt my fucking hand anymore.  K?  Thanks. 

I feel as if a furnace was lit, deep within my soul.  A fire that once ignited, it grows and grows until I can no longer contain it.  And then I explode.  I want to scream as loud as I possibly can and the inanimate objects around me are the focus of my fists.  Or my fist, I should say.  It’d be weird to use your left hand/jabbing hand in a match against a wall or a door… which both have been my recent ‘opponents’...both shouldn't have been.  
All of this anger is super embarrassing to me, well...after the fact of course.   In the midst of my fits of rage, I only see red (sometimes there is crimson and maybe a little maroon).  Regardless of the shade of red, once the color is seen - there is no turning back - just like there is no reasoning with an angry bull. 

Unfortunately, this isn't something new.  I’ve had a bad temper for as long as I can remember.   Actually, that’s not true.  It was only after puberty hit that I became the delicate, fuming psychopath that I am today :)      Good ‘ole puberty!  I wasn’t given acne, I was given anger
I remember one lovely day in high school, I was walking to class and I was pissed off at one stupid thing or another.  I had my arms crossed across my chest and this boy that I wasn’t particularly fond of threw a crumpled up, ball of paper at me.  Did I act like a normal person would and just ignore him?  Nope!  Not at all.  I grabbed the piece of paper, charged him while screaming at him at the top of my lungs.  I don’t recall what exactly I was saying (*ahem* yelling), but it was loud enough that it brought teachers out of their rooms and he was backed up against the locker.  I got to class and was completely furious.  The main problem wasn't how mad I was; the problem was that I didn’t know why I was mad.  I had to think hard about what just happened to cause this kind of emotional reaction.  I essentially blacked out from anger.  And...that wasn't the last time that would happen.  And that’s not cool. 

As we all know, anger is one of the five stages of grief.  Yay!  Let's go ahead and add intensified anger to an already irritable person (and, to top it off, I am close to my period right now = triple whammy!  Instant bitch!)   My poor husband...  Shuggy, I AM so sorry - I'm crazy, kookoo bananas!  I love you so much and you've been great through this whole ordeal thus far (and you were stellar through the whole cancer dealio, too).  You're a rock star honey cakes, don't you forget it.  I love you, Tony :)  <3

Here is what I am planning to do to stay out of the red/crimson/maroon :)
  • Groups.  Today I signed up with a bereavement group for young'ish people that are grieving - most of who lost one (or both) of their parents.  They meet once a month and sit around talking...not sure what about, but I can only assume they talk about how they cope with things, which I obviously need some guidance in.  I am SO glad I found this group because I really wanted to avoid any groups of anyone/older people talking about how sad it was when they were able to tell their older parent(s) good-bye because of an 'expected' death and they died peacefully in bed.  
  • Punching/Hitting.  I found this 'reflex' punching bag that has a pedestal base and when you hit it, it sways back at you so you have to block yourself.  I kind of love it (I had one similar growing up along with a 60lb punching bag. I obviously like hitting shit).  This one particular model, a woman reviewer said that she "can use this to rid of negative energy safely".  Whoah...I need this thing...like yesterday.  
  • YOGA.  I'd love to learn yoga, I plan on learning it because I know I need to do it.  Almost all of my doctors have told me to calm the F down (prior to my padre's passing).  Seriously, I've even had an eye doctor tell me that I needed to do yoga because my stress levels were causing my ulcerative colitis to flare, which in turn subsequently caused my eyeballs to swell.  Yes, I just wrote that - yes it happened - my colitis caused my fucking eyeballs to swell.     
  • Writing.  I will continue to write because it really does calm me down.  Writing gets these random thoughts out of my crazy head so that way I don't explode, implode or there is that little thing called spontaneous human combustion.  Maybe that's why I am always so damned hot??  
  • Laughing.  And last but not least, I'd like a sign that typically factories have that say "It's been  (however many) days since we've had an accident" - Although, I am going to make my sign and it will say "It's been (however many) days since Amber has punched furniture".  I'll post a photo of it when I make it.  I'm for reals.  I think it will be funny and also keep things in check for my silly ass brain/temper/fists of fury.

***UPDATE - this was NOT my 100th post!  Errr!  I was looking at my blogger account and it included all of the drafts that I have.  That being said, I have 88 posts and 12 drafts of ramblings that I did not see fit to be posted to the world.  My brain is mushy and angry, what can I say!

Thursday, December 11, 2014

Two tough subjects

I originally started this blog to help get my crazy thoughts and emotions out of my head about cancer; about my Melanoma.  I never could have imagined that this silly blog would help me with thoughts about a new, different and even tougher subject: Death.  Death of our father...death of my dad.

So far, one of the hardest parts about all of this is grappling with the feelings that I wasn't worried when he was 'missing'.  My aunt was concerned and that's what made me concerned.  Auntie K reached out during the day and I reassured her that nothing was wrong...although when I got home that Monday evening, I just couldn't get dad off of my mind.  Almost a full fucking week, and I wasn't worried!?  Dad had been gone for 6 full days and I felt nothing; I was oblivious.  And that makes me feel really, really shitty.

No dreams.  No intuition.  No...nothing.

Dad did the same thing about a year ago - he took off to camp/fish/gold pan/whatever the hell he was doing and was gone for about 5 days without really telling anyone anything.  The obvious difference with this story is that he arrived back home, alive and well. So, I guess that's why I wasn't worried...he's done this before.  But that doesn't change the feeling of absolute, guilt - kind of like I let him down.  Now...I understand that knowing where he was wouldn't have prevented his accident by any means, but at least he wouldn't have been lying in a cold morgue as a fucking 'John Doe' for however many days.  And that makes me feel really, really shitty.

Another hard part is that I still don't feel like he's gone.  Maybe that's normal.  Maybe it's because we're taking someone else's word that the "body" they found was his?  They told us the finger prints matched, we have his truck, his keys, his wallet, his phone and last but not least, his ashes; but we never got to see "him".  We never got to see our dad's body.  Not that we necessarily wanted to see it given the circumstances of the circumstances (i.e. major head trauma, his upper body being in moving water for about 2 days and...well, he'd been 'gone' for 7 days at that point).  His body, our dad, wouldn't have looked anywhere close to the big, happy man that we knew and loved so well.

I guess in a way, there will forever be an opening in the closure that we all so desperately need.

Sometimes I get a short break in reality to see this fleeting glimmer of hope that he will show up somewhere, but I know that's never going to happen.  Then there are other times when I think that he can now go wherever his little heart desired.  He could be ghosting around a beautiful beach somewhere checking out chicks in teeny, tiny bikinis.  He could be ghosting around an amazing lake skipping rocks.  He could be ghosting around any river/creek with huge boulders and standing on the edge without a care in the world.  Regardless, I miss him :(

This is all totally new.  It's a terrible emotional roller coaster ride and we have just passed week two (since finding him).  Week two, people!?!  jesus, it seems like so much longer...and I have the rest of my life to go...   I just need to get used to, or at least sort of used to, the movements of this roller coaster and go with the flow because there's nothing that I can do to change it.

We love and miss you SO much, dad!