So the second of two things, as promised, is sort of incidental. It isn’t something that happen to me as much as something that came to light. I know I talk about them, but like, I have two other natural children. I have two other step-ish children. I have a boyfriend (I hate that term with all my guts. I am 39 freaking years old, do I really have to say boyfriend? I could say partner or significant other but I think that implies that my boyfriend is a girlfriend, which I wouldn’t mind, either way, but he might. Not because he has an issue with same-sex relationships, because he does not at all and often tells me I would be happier in a same-sex relationship also probably true, but more that I think he is pretty secure in his male-assigned-at-birth gender and would like to continue to be recognized as such. Wow…totally off track). I have a job. I have stuff. And I used to have a life. I mean, yes I live and breathe every single day. But I don’t DO anything. I work. I clean, occasionally. I cook, even less frequently. I pet my baby kitty. I sleep, even less than less frequently. And then do it all over again. Below is the list of things I used to do:

1. Talk on the phone.
2. Have dinner with friends.
3. Read a book or two.
4. Discuss politics and world events.
5. Jog.
6. Play the piano.
7. Feed the homeless.
8. Walk the dog.

Ok, some of that might be a lie. (Maybe 6 and 7. And 4 to the extent that most politicians irritate me so I am only discussing how disgusted I am with the world at large so that sort of counts). Below is a list of things I have done THIS WEEK:

1. Grocery shopped
2. Tell OC and SC to stop fighting and beating each other up.
3. Watched marathon episodes of Chopped and Worse Cooks in America.
4. Emptied the dishwasher.
5. Pet Baby Kitty.
6. Took in a new cat from Ex-husband #1’s wife.
7. Pet new kitty
8. Made Jay J lunch for school on the days he actually had it
9. Wrote this blog post

These are all things outside of the normal shower, go to work, eat, and sleep. Or not sleep. My big event last weekend, was taking 3 out of the 5 kids to BJ’s. The girls of course. And the highlight of this trip were two things that happened: A) we lost AC father because he is really short and likes to wander. And B) OC nailed AC with the carriage in the heel which caused him to yell, swear and say something not-so-nice in Spanish which SC and I found absolutely knee-slapping hilarious. Especially when the guy at the counter said to AC “How’d that feel buddy?” Priceless. And pathetic. Really? That was big day out? BJ’s? How did I come to the epiphany that my life has been sucked into a ludicrous cycle of nothingness? It all started with a phone call. On the same Friday of the florist shop incident, AC brother called him. And the spoke on the phone for over an hour. Pretty innocuous one might think. However, since being wrapped up in addiction, I have all but stopped talking on the phone. To anyone, really. Why? Because I am sick of talking about JoDee, her addiction, what it cost me in terms of money and emotion and how it affects our family. There is plainly nothing else I talk about. I talk about the radial effects of addiction all the time. It couldn’t be any truer here than anywhere else. The reason is I have lost the ability to communicate or hold any lasting conversation without it somehow coming back to this. Sometimes it’s because people care about JoDee, and I know a personal character flaw of my own is to crawl within. When I am in crisis, I don’t reach out, I don’t over react, I don’t yell or scream or cry, and I say nothing. I do nothing. I am usually having at least 4 conversations in my head between Reality, Denial, Anger and Despair that I can’t speak out loud. I certainly, at least at the beginning anyway, didn’t want anyone to know what was going on with us. So withdrawing was self-preservation. If I didn’t call Lorrey or Danna or Steen or Erica or Lynne or Pammie to tell them, then I wouldn’t have to be embarrassed for JoDee or for myself. Addict’s behaviors are embarrassing. I won’t tell anyone that isn’t true, what I am not embarrassed by is JoDee’s addiction. It took me a while to get to the point where I understood that this is not a black mark on our family, and it was wiser to let it out in the open.

It was so much easier for JoDee to get away with being a heroin addict when no one knew. She could ask for money or make up stories. She could not have to face what she was doing to herself, so I don’t regret at all being so open about it. It doesn’t stop Despair, however. Despair is sort of unwanted house guest. Like a rat living in the garage or a squirrel you can’t get out of your addict. Despair is always watching and slowly slinks in. I thought I was done with Despair. I had fought Despair off and won but the truth is, Despair never goes away. It might go into hiding, but its evil presence is lurking around the corner, waiting for the right moment to strike. It’s depressing watching your child struggle with any illness. There are illnesses that generate more sympathy, something I don’t fully understand yet, but overall, any parent can understand how difficult it is. I hate that JoDee can’t live at home. I hate that she isn’t at school. I hate that this is part of the rest of her life. Forever and ever and ever and ever. It sucks. Right now, 10 days of freedom and she is doing well. But tomorrow could be day 1 all over again. How does one really recover from that sort of trauma? To me, it is traumatic. I am still shell-shocked from the very first time she was over dosing, and that was years ago. JoDee being an addict has become part of my everyday life and that alone, by itself, is enough to keep Despair a household guest.

That is a really long Segway into the second of two things. AC was laughing and talking on his brother, and walking around, and generally happy. I hated him for that. If I could have removed one of his arms and beat him to death with it, I might have. Since that would require energy and in my state of mind, I am to lethargic to do that, I simply locked him out of our bedroom. Admittedly, I got a lot of pleasure from hearing him bang on the door while I fiend sleep. This, of course, generated a wee bit of an argument which spanned several days and ended with me doing something nasty and crazy but those details aren’t important. When I calmed down, I had to reflect on why I got so angry. And I wasn’t angry. I was jealous. He loves JoDee, and he has been right there with me most of the time she has been a mess, but he has two beautiful, healthy daughters. And he has his brother, and other things to look forward too. That doesn’t mean that I don’t. Because I do. I have his daughters, and my sons and let us not forget my precious baby kitty! And now, we have another cat. Blue. But I don’t take advantage of any of those things. I allow myself to justify doing nothing in the name of addiction. I can’t do the laundry today, my daughter is an addict. I can’t make plans for dinner, my daughter is an addict. The copier is out of paper? No fair- my daughter is an addict. The madness has to stop.

I don’t want to be jealous because my beau ( eh, better but not ideal) has a life and I don’t. It’s not fair to him and it’s not fair to me. I mean, over all it isn’t fair that my daughter is an addict, but that wouldn’t be fair to anyone. I really need to shake the winter blues, the pity party I am having for myself, and get a freaking life. I think I will start by having my hair colored instead of painstakingly drawing on my gray hairs with a brown sharpie each morning. Then I will have my nails done since I think Regan was in office the last time I had them done. Next week, after I see how many more ridiculous feet of snow we are getting, I think I will make a plan to see my some friend- Lynnie, I’m talking about you and your new hip! Small steps, but the first step is the hardest to take.