Life and Death

I wonder what percentage of people have been homeless? For some reason, numbers make any situation more real. They shed light on a otherwise unsure situation. My 6 month old niece has to have a liver transplant. There's a 58% chance she'll live 15 years following the surgery. Does that make it more or less scary. To know the truth about it. It's a 28% higher chance then the last surgery. I don't know. It's scary to think about. Perhaps death is more scary then life? Both are unknown territory to an extent.

The employees at the funeral home next door come every morning. Come and go daily. I wonder what  specific jobs they have. I wonder how they look death in the eyes every day, and still see purpose in life. How can that not get to a person?! When I was working at the nursing home, I felt like I was running from death. Dodging it. They say that people die in threes. It happened to be eerily accurate in the nursing homes. Within days, 3 people would pass. Three people that I saw for half of my day more then half of the week. People that I formed bonds with. When they were suffering from Alzheimer's or cancer or hutchinson's disease. Some with no family at all to visit them. Others with family that came...but had no real clue of the extent of the situation their loved one was experiencing. When you care for people, you learn their likes, their dislikes. You see them at their  best and worst. Their most vulnerable. Some angry. Some unaware themselves. Alzheimer's is so eery that way.

One individual was 94 years old. She was the cutest, tiniest woman I have ever seen. Half my height with more then twice my compassion. At dinner, she sat at the table in her wheel chair uninterested in her cups of pureed food. How can you blame her. She was so thin. So fragile. When lifting her to get her ready for bed or position her, it was like the most inviting hug ever. Warmth illuminated from her. During meals especially, while trying to pursway her to eat, she'd talk about her relatives that she could see in the distance. How they were dressed so beautifully for the ball. She'd describe them dancing. It was crystal clear. As if she was really viewing their elegance and the softness in their steps.  At night she'd pray. Always thanking God. Never asking for help. Never complaining. She was amazing. At first it scared me, I must admit. It was 'weird'. But after getting to know her...it was inspirational more then anything. I felt close to her. I don't think I'll ever forget her. She passed away in her sleep. There's no doubt in my mind that she's with her Lord.

There are so many. One that was my favorite. He had the most handsome smirk. And was almost always smiling. At least when I cared for him. I knew that he needed to go to the bathroom before bed every night or their would be a mess. Others would ask him if he needed to go, or change him before bed, which always had the same results. Not only was it more work for me on the night shift later. But it would upset him. It would upset me too. He lost one leg to gangrene. Even though he was in a wheel chair, he'd scoot around with the one foot. Turned his own wheels with his hands. Did laps around my hall. Was curious. And fun. He'd come to me before bed for his ensure. And would talk if you gave him the chance too. It was slow and usually one word. But he was so much fun. Still makes me smile to think about him. I heard that his designated decision maker, his son I believe, was told they needed to amputate his other leg because of gangrene. And the son declined. Said that his dad wouldn't want to live that way. And his dad instead died...with one leg intact.

Another, (who's names I am withholding to respect their privacy, and keep my word in the hippa policy) whom had cancer, was usually pretty quiet. Pretty dependent. She could walk still and for the most part, cared for herself. So I felt like it was hard to get to know her at first. Especially since I was on graveyard shift and she slept well through the night. Towards the end, she'd sit up in her bed for most of the night. Usually reading. Sometimes just sitting there. Always different colored silk clothes wrapped around her head. She was feeling sick. She was depressed. I can feel it as if it were myself. She was surrounded by the harsh reality even more then I was. Some of the charge nurses would shun the CNAs talking to the patients. They thought it wasn't in our job description I guess. But sadly, they are misinformed. Because after our shifts, we had paperwork to do also. On each individual. And in this home, my job was to record each person's actions through the night. As well as their mood. It was also my job to answer her call light and report her meditational needs to the nurse who passed meds. I had to listen to meet her needs. But even more so...I had to listen to provide comfort. I had to. And I wanted to. Sometimes the guys and gals were hard to talk to. Because what can you say to someone on hospice to provide comfort. Sometimes I'd try to be chipper and positive. But some would find that insulting in their depression and gloom. They'd assume I couldn't know how they felt. But I felt it with them in the most sincere form. Their fear. Their pain. Their sadness. Their confusion. It was painted on their faces in the most visable colors. I wept for them sometimes when my shift ended.

This one was 'getting close' the nurses and CNAs said. She was in so much pain. She'd cry in private. She looked like death already. Her eyes were sunk in. Her strength was next to none. She started having a hard time holding her own weight and would fall because she was too proud to ask for help. Or maybe she just didn't realize that she needed help. It was in my job description to clean the body after the person passed. Can you imagine this task? The shell of a being...empty. Limp. Lifeless. Having to transport them to a tub and remove their clothing. Wash their body of any urine and feces that exited their body during death. Take this coldening body out of the tub and dress it to place in a freshly made bed. To arrange the body to look 'pleasing' for their family to come and view. The other CNAs said 'It's not that bad.' They said they'd help me the first time. I prayed so hard that it wouldn't happen at all. Let alone on my shift. Every night I felt like it would be the last. I was scared for her. Equally scared for myself. After several nights of dreading this. It happened. It happened right after my shift ended.

To me, it seemed like I was a coward. Like I couldn't handle the job capabilities. I'm sure everybody at one point or another thinks about death. What do you think about it? Does it scare you? Do you believe the spirit leaves the body. Do you think the spirit watches the body like in movies and stories about near death situations? Where does the spirit go? DO you believe in the biblical idea of heaven and hell. Do you believe you'll be judged? Do you believe that's just it..the end. Nothing more. Or reincarnation? Or something less thought of/discussed. Ever had a near death experience and actually was able to watch your body from above. An Outer Body Experience? I've heard others say that they can do this intensionally.

If that's the case, then the spirit isn't really 'trapped' in our bodies. And if the spirit leaves in death, then does that mean life is closer to death then we think. How can some grasp and touch this easier then others. My knowledge of spirituality is pretty broad. I can get pretty deep in conversation about the ideas of it through several people's eyes. Christians. Atheists. Natives. Mormons. Wiccans. And there's a bit I've adapted as my own thoughts that I see to be realistic or likely because of my own experiences. But really...nothing is for sure, is it? Except...that we all die. So I guess there should be some comfort in it because it's definite.  There's a definite beginning and ending. Is the purpose of life to find the purpose of life? :-/

Whatever it is...I feel it necessary to value life. Because if I don't, then what a waste.

Successfully failing?

Yes, that's right. I reign supreme at failing! What's that? You think you can fail better then me!??!! No way! It's what I do. I do it best. I've done it my entire life...so I've pretty much perfected it. But don't fear!! One day, you may conquer failure also! :)

A 'friend' got me a job cleaning rooms at a busy, understaffed motel. I didn't want the damn job to begin with! I don't want any fuckin' jobs. Don't get me wrong, ideally, I sorta wish I was normal and could get/hold on to a job. But I've had so many jobs in the last fourteen years...and each has ended the exact same fuckin' way. Started the same way for that matter. Me ending up being all excited that I got a job. Me doing a good job...Me ready to say fuck it. Not sure why. I've tried to analyze it. In my defense, there's always so many other things going on. Maybe it's just justification. Everyone else sure as fuck seems to understand it. Their answers ranging from me being lazy, to mental disorders, to it all being in my head. Like 'If you believe you're going to fail, then you will.' FUCK YOU! I do fail. Every time! At least as far as jobs go. I don't like being in a state of submission to a total stranger aka boss guy who is disrespectful. I don't like being out of my comfort zone. I don't like getting behind on all my other responsibilities. I don't like being away from my kid, and relying on someone else to care for him. I don't like being consumed in a position that leaves me mentally and physically drained for a rate that is barely meaningful. I don't like serving others. I, I, I, I. I know. I'm selfish. Maybe I am all the things people call me. I don't like being in such great pain that I can't hardly force myself to function.

But I took the job anyways. Going against my best judgment. I worked myself up to believe that I could do it...like every other time. I felt better about myself for having the job. There were no real struggles with the job exactly. Just struggles in my mind.

Halloween Festivities and Odd Ramblings

     We got a late start on our Halloween festivities. This was the first time my two year old really decorated pumpkins. First he painted a white one, while I cleaned out and carved another. Of course, he soon lost interest and wanted to do the same thing mommy was doing. So I cut the bottom out of a small one he picked earlier today, and demonstrated how to clean the seeds and gunk out. He followed bravely. I thought that he would be weirded out by the texture, since he usually is kind of a clean freak about things getting on his hands. He went to town hollowing his out while I worked on my second. I sat a bowl out for him to put the seeds in just like I was. This time he didn't want to follow my lead. Dumped all of the seeds on the table and began playing with them. I almost felt irritated at the mess, but allowed it and realized he was learning through exploration. He used the spoon to dig some more guts out, before scooping the seeds back into the pumpkin. I had an urge to tell him that he was doing it wrong. Was annoyed by my thought process. Who says it's wrong? I want him to be unique and confident in his choices. I want him to be willing to go against the norm if he can or should. It made me chuckle. How simple and silly, that something like that would encourage so much thought. It's fun to watch him learn and be himself.
     As a parent, you have to allow freedom to an extent, in order to encourage decision making and the creation of a personality. I try to give him choices on a regular basis. Picking out which shirt he wants to wear, what he wants to drink, what book he wants to read, ect. There's so much that is predetermined in DNA. Right down to the way a person crosses their arms or hands. Then so much more is learned by observing and listening. The formation of speech, word choice, common sense, manners, life style, work ethics, attitude,  and morals. Why not allow him to do things "backwards" if he chooses to?
     Then my mind carries on the thoughts...what if giving him freedom of choice neglects to teach him the importance of following rules? I think that both can be obtained. It doesn't have to be so black and white. Certain rules have to be enforced for safety; his and others. And really, that's my main concern with "rules". Just as laws were started for citizen's safety. I think they were taken over board. It's become a thing of pushing beliefs on others. There shouldn't be laws about who can and can't marry; same sex marriage prohibitions. What reason could there be to that other then someone believes it's "sinful" or "wrong", so they prohibit it. That defeats the purpose. It doesn't allow the freedom every individual should have. It seems the same unjust rule making occurs in families often. From my own experience, that just makes a person, specifically a child feel more distant from their parents. Makes them feel unloved and judged.
     My mother, whom I refer to by her first name usually, but won't here I guess, refuses to let my now 20 year old brother do the dishes at her home. She wants them to be done "right", so doesn't risk letting him practice to learn. It rubs me wrong to think about it. He is an adult now and hasn't had the opportunity to learn many things that he should have known by now since the option wasn't there.
     Last week, my son finally overcame his fear of the vacuum when it's turned on. He was pushing it around while off, and I let him know that I had to vacuum my office and was going to turn it on. I warned him it would be loud, but it was okay, that it couldn't hurt him. He firmly gripped the handle, and didn't let go despite his somewhat startled response. Of course I kept my cool, but applauded him. And he started pushing it around again, making his way out of my office to the hall. "Now back it up so we can finish this room", I said. And he did, despite a bit of difficulty. Then he pushed it in the same place, right back out. I felt this urge to get the task done. An impatience with waiting and it being done incorrectly. If I learned that from my mother, then displaying it will just carry on that type of parenting when he's in my shoes 18 years from now. Plus, I hate the idea of him feeling like he can't do anything right because of my obsessive tenancies. I don't want him to feel inadequate like I always did around her.
     Anyways, totally venturing off subject...you know they are selling Obama and Romney masks at walmart for Halloween. I don't recall ever seeing other presidents masks. Well, maybe I did see a George Bush one years ago. But, uhm. Don't you think that's a little bit dangerous?!?! Look at how much controversy is happening as a result of the election as is. I can imagine the masks causing some negative feedback at the mouths of ignorant adults. Hell, I'm not wearing a Obama mask, and still have to listen to the fucking republicans rant about how they're going to vote for Mitt the Twit all the time. More annoying yet is when people stand by him without even knowing the facts. Do you know your facts?!? Are you going to vote? I hope so. I never used to think my vote counted. But I'd hate to feel guilty for not voting when the united states is crumbling even more at the hands of a lying selfish man. When's Hillary Clinton going to run again? I can't help but think the world would be a better place under a woman's reign. :)

Don't fuck with my kid!

You want a sure way to get on my bad side, fuck with my kid! I fuckin' dare you!! Because I may be a compassionate person that is mistaken for a pushover. I may take a lot of shit from you in hopes of not making you feel bad by standing up to you. I may try to analyze your actions and why you do the things you do. I have a steady desire to learn about you. To form a friendship with you. Meaningful bonds give me hope. Make me feel a closeness with others that makes me experience happiness. I'll quiet my worries to listen to yours...over and over. I'll put my own emotions on the back burner to tend to yours. It's what I do. I have more interest in you. I'm more concerned for you. Then myself. I have more confidence in you then I ever will in me. I'll give you everything I have, even if I don't have enough. I'll take you in. Help you out. Go out of my way to house you and help make your life more convenient and meaningful. That gives me great pleasure.

But if you...for one fuckin' second think that means you can disrespect my child, you are the most ignorant kind of stupid! If you display one tiny spec of rudeness to my son...I PROMISE that you will regret it. If you have a helping hand to offer in his care and well being, it will be the only time I'm not too proud to accept your offer. But don't confuse that for me being okay with you parenting him. That's not your job. You are an adult, yes. And it's the friendly thing to do to intervene if his safety is at risk. And it's helpful if you decide to help yourself to assisting in his care when I am doing ten things at once and not juggling them with ease. That doesn't mean that you are better then me. Doesn't mean that you WOULD be a better parent. Because whether or not you have your own children, he is my child! And I have been the soul provider for him for the entire duration of his life! I will continue to do so until one of us dies. For many many years. Every single day is devoted to him. Every second is spent looking out for him and making sure he has what he needs, and hopefully what he wants to a healthy extent. So because you stepped in seeming to be nice for thirty minutes, don't rub it in my face. Because I'M mom!  And I don't need your help!! I've done just fine without it.

I'm up early with him every day while you sleep in. I cook all of his meals and manage what he eats to ensure that his nutritional needs are met. I change him multiple times a day to make him more comfortable, and prevent him from getting diaper rash. I dress him. Bathe him. Teach him how to be a productive, respectful person. I have every aspect of his life in my thoughts from sun up to sun down. And you...you know nothing about him. Your interest will fade. Though I do hope that you have your own child in time, to prove that it's much harder then you think. To challenge every bit of your patience. Sadly, I know that you couldn't handle it today. Because you can't even take care of yourself. That truly is sad. Perhaps a child to care for, would motivate you, like it did me. You think that I don't know what you're going through. But you don't take the time to listen to my stories. They're worse then yours. They're close to yours. Don't judge me! And don't belittle me please! I will bite my tongue when you do.

However, I will NOT tolerate your rude disposition towards my child! Not even briefly. I won't give you the opportunity to think that it's acceptable. By no means is it! And here I go analyzing...and putting myself in your shoes. I know that a toddler is stressful. That he interrupts what you're doing. I know that he's loud sometimes, and buggy sometimes. I know that he seems to want your attention at the most inopportune times. But that's what he does. That's him expressing his emotions, and communicating the only way he can. That's him trying, the only way he knows how, to get his own needs met. If you are annoyed with him, then leave! Don't tell him to go away! It's his god damn house! You are a guest here! And should remember that, and display manners. Because I shouldn't have to be a bitch to get you to be respectful. I don't want to confront you. But I will! You will feel my anger and you will fear my response. DON'T FUCK WITH MY KID!

Battle of wills

I learned from my mother. And my son will learn from me. It's inevitable that we are our parents. Oh my God. I've heard the cliche so many times. And it bothered me so. Along with all the similar comments I've heard in my life. I guess a part of each of us craves individuality. Some meet this more then others. I read somewhere once that some 90% of our thoughts are repeated words and thoughts from others before us. A REALLY large percentage! That makes me thrive to be unique. All though I am not ashamed to have learned the lessons from wise elders before me. Elders and children alike! Because my son has a lot to teach. I suppose it's what I take of it. There's wisdom everywhere you look. If you are open to it, that is.

My OCD never really made sense to me. A therapist I visited in my teens diagnosed me with it. At that point, it was something I didn't even really think to be accurate. Nine years have passed. And clearly I display traits that could be classified as Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. My home has to be tidy and organized for me to be able to relax. So much so that I become stressed and irritated if it's not kept the way I think it should be. Everything has a place. There is a reason for this, in my mind at least. It keeps things out of my son's reach. So that he is safe. And so that he can not pull everything out and scatter it about the house. Which would make more work for me later when it comes time to clean again. It makes my life easier also because it allows me to know where things are. So that I don't have to search for them. It keeps things from getting ruined. Either from my kid ripping up papers, my cat thinking he needs to piss on it, the dog chewing it up, the roommates walking on it, ect. It also keeps germs afar if things are put away and everything is kept clean and wiped down. To me...these things are important. After living with several others, I realize that everyone is different. I'll lose sleep to stay up when everyone is asleep, so that I can clean. And then enjoy my alone time in a clean house. It's crucial for my sanity. Even though lack of sleep makes me feel literally ill. It's a price I'm willing to pay.

Some more bizarre OCD traits that I possess are smelling a glass before I use it. Washing my hands so much that they are raw. Cleaning so much with chemicals also does this. And it doesn't help that I have eczema. So my skin is really sensitive to soap and fragrance anyways. Locking doors. And double checking locks. Well...more then checking twice. As well as checking to make sure the coffee pot and stove are off. These things are all safety measures. But apparently it's not normal. Because everyone else I know isn't that worried about these things. Everyone that is except for my mother.

As much as I hate to admit it...her and I think very similar. We are very similar. So much so, that I can tell her why she's doing something before she even realizes that she did it or why. She wasn't in my life every day as a child. And isn't in my life anymore by choice. Apparently it was enough for these thoughts and actions to rub off. It's not hard to believe when I observe my son. He's only 18 months old. He'll see me, or his father, do something only once. And he'll repeat it with ease. My dad thinks I'm being rude when I say that my son 'mimics' me. It's learning he says. Sure, it is. But he is learning by example. He is copying what he sees. (Remember...the 90 some %?)

I believe I read before that people who are OCD, have higher IQs. This isn't me gloating here. Smart isn't a word that I would use to describe myself, by far. But this idea does make sense to me. Because it really seems like common sense to me. My actions have reason. As I explained already. Children can't claim common sense...can they? Not immediately. They have to learn through proper parenting. How can they know what's right before they even know what's what. My son is just now becoming familiar with objects and concepts. Toilet paper goes in the toilet, he learned a couple months ago. He doesn't realize that toilet paper, after being used for it's purpose, goes in the toilet bowl. He just knows it goes in there. And he constantly wants to put toilet paper where he's seen it being put. So I have to teach him. Dirty t.p. goes in the toilet. How do you teach that. The lesson he practically taught himself was simple. He saw it. He learned it. I can tell him what dirty means. I can attempt to show him. But, it's a bit more challenging to teach and grasp. He knows that laundry goes in the hamper. But he doesn't know the difference between dirty and clean laundry. These things can be stressful. For anybody. Not just me. Because, as it is, I allot 6 dollars a month for toilet paper. That 6 bucks is enough to get 12 rolls which lasts all month. If he's throwing unused toilet paper down the drain...it puts a kink in the finances. As well as the laundry issue. I'm spending more to rewash clean clothes if I don't catch him throwing them in there.

Those small amounts of difference in money spent on necessities may not seem lethal. But for a low income family, it is a huge deal. Especially to a family with no family and friends to rely on for help the majority of the time. (No offense to those that do/have helped us. Because God knows there's been many who have.) To a family with no vehicle. No washer and dryer. It complicates life. Is that to say that my son complicates life. No way. That is however stating that parenting is complicating. It's tricky. So what do I do. I keep the bathroom door closed. Do anyways because I know that he could be playing in the toilet (which is nasty) and fall in head first and drown, God forbid. And I put his clean clothes up high enough that he can't get to them. Yet. Any parent knows you have to stay one step ahead of a growing kid. As soon as I move everything, he's grown tall enough to reach it again. And I start over. I improvise.

Improvising and change aren't things that come easy to a Taurus. Let alone someone who is OCD. Then again, life isn't easy. What would the purpose of life be without a constant challenge. There are no lessons learned in an easy journey. Wandering off the paths to make new trails is the fun part! And it's a bonus if your trails leave hope for others who are lost.

On the thought of teaching and helping others, my son has picked up some of the obsessive compulsive things I do already. He'll wash his binky (a.k.a. nuk for those that recognize it as such) in the tub water while it's running. I was doing it every night during his bath. He'll stack things in a line like I do. Cleanliness and organization skills? Part of me really worries about him acting this way. Because OCD can be dangerous and emotional for many. But I prefer to remain positive about it. There's an educated name for everything. There's a diagnosis for such silly things!!

If you're stressed and effected emotionally by a hard time of your life, it's titled Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I didn't need a shrink to tell me this. Every NORMAL individual has to deal with emotions. So because someone experienced a difficult time in their life (usually at someone else's hands), they are diagnosed with this..Disorder. Disorder is defined as such: (Noun) A state of confusion. (Verb) Disrupt the systematic functioning or neat arrangement of. (Synonyms) Confusion-mess-disturbance-disarray-muddle (v) disarrange-disturb-derange-mess-confuse. How does the the word define the situation. It seems pretty derogatory to me. Maybe it's the light I'm looking at it in. But it doesn't really seem helpful to me, that these words are used to define a person's emotions and way of thinking. Everyone has emotions. Tell me that you wouldn't be effected following an abusive childhood or an abusive relationship. But that's really just one example.

You know that a person with kinky fetishes, used to be determined as possessing a mental disorder! The American Psychiatric Association actually still describes in the diagnostic criteria, that a condition characterized by abnormal sexual desires, typically involving extreme or dangerous activities is called paraphilia. Keep in mind that kinky means an unusual sexual pleasure. How can something be unusual. It may be unusual to you. But it's pretty common to the person that claims it. It seems pretty clear that there are ideas that have somehow been determined to be 'right'. And for anyone that doesn't fit that 'norm', ridicule will find you. I've read that 5-25% of the population participates in bdsm. That's up to a quarter of the population! Not to mention...who's to say there aren't more in secret that are afraid of being persecuted. A quarter of the population! That's not a small number. Yet, still the underdog apparently.

It's detrimental to a person to judge them for being unique...and equally for them being normal! I am convinced that 99% of the populations problems are due to this very thing!!! Why don't people encourage one another. If there's a need to understand something, then truly try to grasp it. I don't think that many care to understand it all.

I'm aware that this post has jumped all over the place. However, it all relates to one thing. Difference, I suppose, if I had to sum it all up. And a battle of wills. Because for some god forsaken reason, everyone seems to think their way, is the only way. We should all embrace individuality.

'As soon as individuals begin to clump, and plot, they change. And the larger the group, the more toxic. The more of your beauty as an individual you have to surrender for the sake of group thought. And when you suspend your individuality, you also give up a lot of your humanity. You would do things in the name of a group that you would never do on your own.'-George Carlin