Can't live with him ... can't get rid of the body

I believe I have already discussed my disdain for New Year's and all its celebratory nonsense. So, in keeping with my convictions, I will rant on another topic, namely, relationships. I have been with the same man for 26 years (20 of them married) and, as my husband says (jokingly? ... you decide) he could have killed a man and been out of jail by now. Same here, buddy ... same here. We met when I was 16 and I thought he was the coolest thing in a black leather motorcycle jacket that I had ever seen. Later, I would come to find out, he was also the highest. Love bloomed ... for me, anyway. He had other interests (beer, pot, paraphanelia) and girls were not up among them. Eventually, I grew on him (or I should say, my willingness to give it up to him was hard to turn down) and he fell, head over heels, (ah, sweet 69) for me. Now, 26 years, 2 children, 1 french mastiff, 2 heart-attacks, 3 funerals and a whole lot of other shit in between have made us who we are ... bitter, mal-contented, 42 year olds with a penchant for peace and quiet and a love of anything opiate based (well, not really, no more opiates ... too hard to get). But, before anyone gets the wrong idea, I should clarify. I love my husband and always have and, I believe, somewhere deep down, he loves me too. It's been pretty scary, too, after his heart attacks. I don't know if I can accurately explain how after 26 years a person's life becomes directly inter-connected with another life. You finish each other sentences (this is not movie bullshit), you don't know how to cook for less than 2, you can't sleep without the snoring and, most of all, you can't conceive, envision, imagine or, even, for a nano-second, contemplate life without that person. It's the scariest crap in the world and I dread every minute that we age. But, I wouldn't trade a second, either. Now, look at me getting all sappy. Ah ... love ... who knew. I'll tell you one of the best things about being married ... you always have someone to kiss at New Year's (not that you need anyone, because it's a bull-shit holiday and you don't). So, tonight, with any luck, I won't be celebrating the end of another year of life, but bringing another one in with a bang ... a quick bang, probably, ... but a bang none the less.

Though I should be ashamed to say, even though there's very little in my life that I am ashamed of, I am an addict ... or maybe, I was an addict ... or maybe, I'm a recovering addict, or maybe Addict is just another word for nothing left to lose (shit ... that's freedom ... I forgot). Either way, since the age of 16 - 17 I enjoyed changing my perception of the world by consumming mass quantities of anti-depressents and pain-killers. Nothing like "Mother's little helper" to "get you through the night". MUST STOP QUOTING SONGS!!!!!! Anywho, while it lasted, I will not lie, it was wonderful. If you have the means and some modicum of self-control, pills are not a bad choice for your frequent flyer miles. Will you crash? Eventually, we all do. But, hell, what a ride and you never see it coming. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on your perception of high risk behavior, the pills had to stop. The odd looks from pharmacists cashing in the same scripts months after months can be a little daunting. And lord knows, this white broad can't do no time. So, I'm straight. Been straight for about six months. Is it hard? Some days are damn near impossible and have me searching my old hiding places for pill residue (always a pleasant picture, licking an old medicine bottle) and some are okay, though I never realized feelings, oh, oh, oh, feelings ... really hurt. To top all this off, my husband was forced to give up cigarettes after 25 years when his cardiologists said he might want to live past 50 (he's 42 now) I wasn't so sure it was worth it considering the years you lose are bound to be the drooling and shitting years, and who wants to see that. He disagreed and being the dutiful, attentive and loving wife he married 20 years ago, was forced to stop smoking as well. So, dear readers, no pills to numb, no cigarettes to get lost behind the smoke and nothing to help me stay sane inside insanity (did it again ... sorry). Well, I will say one thing, once an addict, always an addict. So, if it's not pills and cigarettes than on-line poker, food and trying to write, will have to do. Because, when the "white knight is talking backwards, and the red queen's "off with her head" just remember what the good book say's ... feed your head. Or, go ask Alice, I think she'll know.

foster care - do you really know what you're getting into?

After 5 years of marriage and struggling with non-specific infertility, my husband and I decided to look into adoption. It seemed like a reasonable solution to our desire to screw up innocent children with our own hang-ups. Little did we know. The girls (age 2 and 5) were beutiful but we should have known something was up from the start. I "really" appreciated getting to see their pictures and falling in love with those sweet faces before being told they weren't "actually" freed for adoption yet, but things were in the works to terminate the birth-mom's rights so that situation should have been no problem. Think again, dear readers. It took 4 years to legally free our oldest daughter (diagnosed, early on with ADHD and ODD) and by that time their birth-mother and not only NOT lost her rights to her youngest child, but was petitioning to get her back. Guess who won? So, after 6 years of being the only constants in each other's lives, ACS, family court and a determined (and damaged) birth-mom achieved their goal and re-united a family (God bless their good work). Very long story short and skip ahead 5 years. Our oldest daughter, now 17, and with the lowest self-esteem I have ever seen has run away for the third time (the child hates to be punished when she fails all her classes and spends all her time with a boyfriend) and wishes to be emancipated (so there!) and, surprise, SURPRISE ... the younger child has run away from her birth-mom for the second time (she never got along with her because she never wanted to leave us) and is back in foster-care looking for a home (guess which one?) And, here's the catch 22 ... we can't bring her back here because ACS refuses due to the problems with our oldest. Welcome to my nightmare. Now, I'm not bitter (hee ... hee) but I can't help but think that the system screwed these kids like a lightbulb in a socket. They really never had a chance, if you think about it. The older one could never love herself because her birth-mom fought for her sister tooth and nail but gave her up. And, the younger one never bonded with this woman and resented her for pulling her out of the only family she had ever known. Screwed, blued and tatooed. And, as for me and my husband, well ... I'm not ashamed to say we're crushed, destroyed, practically soul-dead and, on top of all this, straight as pins. God, I could use some percocet and cigarettes. Nothing like being numb for feeling nothing. Anywho, back to my original point, while foster-care may seem noble and in some situations a wonderful way to help a child, or children, while helping your own need to parent, it can, also be, a dark and lonely labrynth, populated with people who are overworked, underpaid, and on a mission to re-unite at all costs. Sometimes, even your soul.

New Year - Nothing new

Happy New Year's (to those of you who celebrate). I, on the other hand, have never seen the need to celebrate a day much like any other day with one little exception. People are more forgiving of asshole behavior on that day. So far, I have lived to the ripe middle age of 42 (though I feel like I'm 62). Stories, I have them as I'm sure most people in the world have them. Are they better, more interesting, carry some enlightenment that the others don't? That's not for me to say, but for you to decide. Right from jump, I have to tell anyone reading this that they shouldn't expect sunshine and lollipops on this blog. Sunshine and lollipops are great for those who have experienced them regularly and even for those who desire to one day bask in the rays. I did once upon a time, but I no longer believe in once upon a times. And, this is not to say, that this sight will be filled with gloom and doom ... only sometimes. The rest of the time it will be my way to rant, rave and howl at the ever glorious moon. It is also a place for anyone reading this to rant, about anybody and anything, anytime. I can't say I'll never judge but I can say if you can put up with my crap I'm sure I can put up with anyone else's. So rant away dear readers and come back tomorrow when my litany will include, among other things, ...children (God's gift? I'm not so sure) Children's services (don't get me started on these morons) and really stupid people (nuff said). See you, tomorrow