Rain, Coffee and Squirrels... Jedi Squirrels

A gentle pattering dances along the frame of the house, echoing softly along the cool, moist breeze as it whispers past the open window. It's a lovely day with gloomy ocean-gray skies, reminding me of those foggy mornings in my home by the sea. A place I secretly mourn for, desperate to return to my Lady Blue. It hurts too deeply if I allow myself pause to let it sink in.

It's not that I detest this new place I've found myself in. It has it's own beauty, it's own energy. It's not the desert that I grew up in... It's more green, more temperate. The energy here is peaceful and shows in the people I meet. 

*grows a small smile and takes a hefty drink of her coffee*

Update! Dad is actually doing better. Even though his liver is pretty much flipping everyone the bird, being at the hospital and having such an amazing staff taking care of him, when I talk to him on the phone now... He's Dad. Shit you not, it's my Hero. And he seems really relaxed and groovy about being there. He'd love to come home, but he's also cool with whatever they decide and either way, he'd just love it if I came and visited with him. Since there's a storm right now and possibly tomorrow, I won't be able to drive Ellie out there until at least Sunday. But it's definitely good news to know they somehow brought my Dad out of the mental fog he was lost in. Whatever they're doing, and with his strong constitution...it's working.

And it really takes a weight off my heart.

*smiles brightly and takes another drink of her coffee*

I can't get over how beautiful it is today. Seriously, I love the rain. There's something so peaceful about it as it streams down in waves only to soak the parched ground. Bringing life back into the sleeping earth. Nothing is more calming than the sound of rain pattering gently outside. It reminds me of Home.

Oh, remember how I had written about 'Lynn Shepherd', the Mystery/Fiction Novelist that wrote that pathetic blog about J.K. Rowling? Ya, I tried to read more of that excerpt of hers from one of her books... I tried, I really did. But honestly, there was just no spark. Nothing to keep me emotionally involved or interested in the story. How very sad...

*smirks* Well, sucks to be her. If she's writing, she should do so because she loves to...not because she wants the acclaim of her more well known (and well Liked) fellow writers. People like her, don't deserve it. Let me put it this way, I'd rather read Twilight or 50 Shades of Grey. Why? Because there was a Spark. That's definitely saying something.

Commercial Break Time!!

*chuckles* Anyhoo, I'm going to wander off and enjoy the rain and finish this here coffee O'doom. Hope everyone's doin' well and shtuff...or sumfin? O.o

*grins*

-Adieu

Coffee Makes Brain Happy

There's a chill around me, tickling and playful as I struggle with my tired form to begin it's morning movement.  A groan traps itself in the back of my throat as I open my eyes, still heavy from sleep and realize there's something warm, fuzzy and soft curled up against me. Curled up on my right, I bring my head up enough to look down my body and see two sea colored jewels peer back at me through slits. A soft rumbling emits from his chest and I can't help the smile pulling at the edges of my mouth. With a careful hand I gently pet his head, initiating an even louder rumble as he purrs in response to the affection. With a chuckle, I sit up and scoop him up gently, only to roll over and set him next to me on the other side of the bed so I don't throw him off as I sit up. Another sound catches my attention, a squeaky meow just behind my head, near my pillows. I glance over and there's the older Tabby, face a portrait of sleep as he stares at me, wondering why I've gotten up without petting him. With a sigh, I reach back and gently pat him on the head, earning a squeak in reply and finally get to my feet.

And this is my morning. Waking up to find Gir curled up near my stomach and Pez curled up by my head. Some mornings they switch spots, or both are at my head, taking over my pillows. You can't stay depressed long with such blatant fuzzy cuteness to wake up to every morning. In a way, they're one of the reasons I find the strength to keep going. Unconditional love from my tiny predators. Their cuteness is seriously stupid. 

See this? It's THIS Level of Cuteness!

*chuckles and takes a hefty drink of her coffee*

Yesterday I mentioned I would do some research and see what that Lynn Shepherd's writing was like. Honestly? I don't have an opinion...yet. I bookmarked an excerpt from one of her books and I can at least share what I found Here. 

It's the kind of narrative that's more Script-like. I've never really been fond of that style personally, unless it were just an outline. But to each their own. It doesn't seem all that horrible, but I haven't been able to read the entire excerpt yet.

*pauses long enough to read a page or more*

Alright, I'm going to be honest. Not all that impressed. Her style is very Flat and very Mechanical. She's describing things in a manner that is empty and makes me wonder why she writes about it in the first place if there's no emotion behind it. She's trying to paint you a portrait of something, trying to pull you in but I find it dull and lifeless. Like I said, Not impressed. I'll read the rest when I'm not finishing my blog and I'll give you a full review. 

I'm not being cruel because she's a bitch, I honestly enjoy reading other's work and in a way, I was truly curious if she had talent. She's got the basics down, which is a talent unto itself... But where's that special mojo? That spark that dances within the words and mesmerizes you... Maybe I need to keep reading and I'll find that it's merely hiding somewhere within the lines she's written. At least...I hope so, for her sake.

*chuckles and shakes her head*

I'm not trying to trash this woman, that's not my style. I just... Okay let me put it in a way that'll make sense. I've only seen the first 3 of the Potter movies and have yet to read the work itself. With only that much information under my belt, if I were Lynn, I wouldn't even Fathom writing anything against Rowling unless I had done my homework. Unless you're educated in a particular topic people are debating, keep your damned mouth. Seriously, it really tans my hide when people 'pretend' to be intelligent in an argument because 'they read it on wikipedia' or saw something briefly on the news, etc. It only makes me see red when they try to Correct someone who actually Knows what they are talking about because they refuse to be in the wrong. I've had that happen to me many times (people have made the mistake of undermining/underestimating my intelligence or all the damned facts I have swimming around in my brain). In debates, if I'm wrong, I'm fine with that and look forward to re-educating myself on said topic. I'm a stickler for learning. It's fun as hell for me, especially if I'm interested in the subject I'm researching.

Anyhoo... *lets out a soft laugh* I guess the coffee's kicking in... *smirks*

I just don't understand that kind of blatant bitterness toward someone for no real reason than the simple fact that they're doing incredibly well writing Young Adult and Oh No, they've brought Adults into the genre and are incredibly popular compared to your Adult Only, Mystery whatever style.

Get the Fuck Over It. Seriously... Bad sport, much? 

And it's not like she's doing poorly, if you go to her Site, she's gotten all these good reviews... Oh, I get it now. She's only Published 3 crime/mystery novels. That's it.

*sighs and shakes her head*

I almost don't want to read her work because as a person, she's mean spirited and that's not an attractive trait. It'll linger in the back of my thoughts as I read each line. Which is a shame because it ruins the purity of the work. If she thought this would be a blog more for shock value to get more readers... She really went about it the wrong way. What's the term... Any Press is Good Press? Yeah, I don't know if she was gunnin' for that, but she kinda screwed herself in the process. Ah well, sucks to be her.

Commercial Break Time!!

And on that note, I needs to gets me s'more coffee goodness and maybe... I'll finish that excerpt. Maybe...

-Adieu

Bitterness Is An Ugly Shade

The thoughts drift against a cool morning breeze as I struggle to find myself within an internal fog of secrets. Though I can barely see an inch in front of my face; vision consumed in that glowing mist as it swirls playfully along my still form... There's a clarity here within the gray. Soul-whispers that course through me, filling me with hidden knowledge only in dreams can I decipher.

There's a part of me standing within the darkness of indecision. Quiet and still, she raises her hand toward the heavens, wondering if there's something out there...waiting to bring her home.

My loss is in the knowing that soon a kindred will be rising toward the arms of the Great Spirit and nothing I've done, nothing I'll do...will stop this passage. The fight has gone on long enough and now we are nothing more than slaves to the universe. When it calls you back, there's nothing that can stop it. We are all made of stardust...and for every light, comes a time when the stars call us home.

I just wish it wasn't so soon...

*sighs and takes a drink of her second cup of coffee*

There's been allot weighing on my mind as of late, and despite the situation I'm faced with, there are other thoughts trickling through me that I figured would make for good reading (if written properly of course lol). Speaking of writing, I'd like to touch on that article I found about a certain woman who calls herself an 'Author' (Lynn Shepherd) who wrote; "If JK Rowling Cares About Writing, She Should Stop Doing It"

I literally had to read it twice to see if it were a farce. But no, she's being serious and what blows my mind is the second paragraph;

I didn't much mind Rowling when she was Pottering about. I've never read a word (or seen a minute) so I can't comment on whether the books were good, bad or indifferent. I did think it a shame that adults were reading them (rather than just reading them to their children, which is another thing altogether), mainly because there's so many other books out there that are surely more stimulating for grown-up minds. But, then again, any reading is better than no reading, right? But The Casual Vacancy changed all that.

Wait, what? You'd think someone who's blatantly attacking someone for their work would, I don't know, have taken the time to do the research so they could form an Honest opinion. Not only does she have no valid opinion other than her obvious bitterness toward a fellow author, but she proceeds to go after those who enjoy the work even if it's Young Adult. As if she looks down her nose at it and those who read it who aren't 'Children'. 

That right there is... As Hook would say, "Bad Form." 

I literally felt the individual discs in my spine tense with every line I read. By the time I'd finished, I was ready to put a hole through a wall with my fist. Especially when I got to this last part;

By all means keep writing for kids, or for your personal pleasure - I would never deny anyone that - but when it comes to the adult market you've had your turn. Enjoy your vast fortune and the good you're doing with it, luxuriate in the love of your legions of fans, and good luck to you on both counts. But it's time to give other writers, and other writing, room to breathe.

The term 'Slap a Bitch' would be adequate for the level of hostility she managed to stir up inside of me. 

I've been writing since I was 8 years old, that's over 22 years of experience along with being an avid reader and fan of Fellow writers. The majority of us are Supportive of Each other. I am Proud of friends who are doing well in their work. I'm elated when they're not only published, but getting the recognition I know they deserve. There's no bitterness or jealousy towards them just because they're doing better than I am. This 'Lynn Shepherd' is nothing more than a bitter child throwing a shit-fit that she's not getting the attention she wants. I have no idea whether her work is good or not, (which I'm going to change very shortly when I do some research and then I'll let you know my thoughts... Which is the Right Thing To Do.)

*growls* The sheer audacity of this woman... This creature who deems herself a 'Novelist and Copywriter'... I want to purchase a Hard Copy of one of her 'Books' just so I can wind up like Babe Ruth, thus cracking her in the head with her own work in an attempt to knock some sense into her.

*clears her throat and gives an innocent grin*

'Ahem', anyhoo...

I'm going to do some research, like I said I would...then I shall return and tear her apart...err, I'll 'critique' her in the appropriate fashion. Should be fun...

*grins evilly*

On that not muh lovelies, I shall bid thee anon... Wish me luck ;)

-Adieu

Twisting Emotions Settle in the Silence

Cool breeze and warm sunlight, it's turning out to be a beautiful day... I even woke feeling a bit more like myself, despite the situation unfolding in my life.

I spoke to Dad briefly yesterday and though he was incredibly chipper, he was...not all there. I've never heard him like that unless he were half asleep. He wasn't. He was wide awake and talking about being on an Airplane and trying to get the people off of it...and something about a cockpit. For split second though, I did Hear my Dad again. I mentioned that my Big Brother had fixed the throttle on Ellie enough that it doesn't stick like it used to and he replied, "Outstanding!" And I swear it was Dad... So I continued about the headlights, thinking I'd snapped him out of it for a moment... But his response told me otherwise. 

I had the briefest glimpse of my Dad in that entire conversation... Telling me that he's barely there.

The nurse sitting with him was a complete sweetheart and I could hear the sadness in her tone toward me. The empathy was very apparent and I knew she felt for me. Good thing was that he's been nothing but happy and sweet to everyone... Just...not really all there anymore.

With each week that passes, I lose more and more of my Father. It's only a matter of time at this point. I know how dark this may seem, but I'm being realistic. I'm not saying it's going to happen at any moment... But I'm preparing myself for when it does. My instincts are whispering a time frame, which I really don't want to repeat at the moment. Let's just say the end of Spring is going to be bittersweet if things don't improve. Trust me, I'm all kinds of twisted up inside but losing my shit right now will not change anything. I need to keep my head straight through all of this and only after he's gone and I feel safe... I'll break. Until then, things need to be done and I gotta take it a day at a time, like I've always done.

With the severity of his mental state, I don't think he'll just be sent home like all the other times before. He has someone with him 24/7 right now, so I'm sure the Docs know it wouldn't be safe to just send him home for me to pick up their slack. It was hard enough Before, it would be damn near impossible now. Well, I could do it, but I'd lose my mind in a few days.

*sighs and takes a hefty drink of her coffee*

I think what would be best, is to finish my coffee and run a few errands. I always feel a bit better after I've gotten out of the house for a bit. Because I have no idea what tomorrow is going to be like.

-Anon-

Waffles Are Magical'n'Junk

Cool air trickles through the crack in the open window, pressing gently against the blinds so it can dance, unseen, around my tired form. Like chilly fingertips I feel it trail lightly along the exposed flesh of my arms, neck and face. It's almost soothing as I fight off the lingering tendrils of sleep still clinging to me like a frightened baby Octopus.

It's a beautiful day... Clear crisp blue skies, honey colored sunlight breathing warmth against the chilly earth as a cold breeze plays invisible tag with everything it touches. I can sense the coming of Spring, so close yet still so far away. It's almost like a whisper, ever so faint but you know you can hear it. Though everything within my shadowed being yearns for its presence, a part of myself remains incredibly still; guarded against too much excitement for the future. For I sense it will be bittersweet.

As you may recall, my Dad finally went from the hospital to the rehabilitation center. He was on a new medication specifically designed for the Hepatic Encephalopathy (High Ammonia Levels in the brain acting like Dementia), he was stronger than he had been the first time he was there... I honestly had hoped he would bounce back, even if it was just a little.

Yesterday the Rehab center sent Dad to VA Loma Linda's ER because even They were having a hard time with him.

The doctors are confused as to Why he remains confused even when they've dropped his Ammonia Levels down to normal. So this time, they're running an array of tests to truly find out what the hell is going on. A CT scan was scheduled for last night as soon as he was admitted, they've also (Finally) got their Liver Specialists involved and they are going to find out what is really causing this. Honestly, I think it would be absolutely Fantastic if were nothing more than a simple bladder infection (they can cause all kinds of crazy in elderly patients). But I fear that may not be the case... They have mentioned Hospice more than a few times, which generally means the patient has 6 months or less...and considering his condition and the severity of his confusion on top of the frequency in which it keeps occurring... 

Like I've said, Spring will be bittersweet.

*takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly before taking a hefty drink of her coffee*

We'll take it one day at a time and do the best we can with the cards we're dealt. Why fight the tide when you can roll with it?

*gives a small smile, but the humor doesn't reach her eyes*

Another update is my brother being able to assess Eleanore's physical condition. Despite the fact that she's about as broken as I am, she's running better than she has in quite some time. Both my Big Brother and Grandpa Mike helped ease her discomfort by bringing her idle back down to normal. The throttle was worked on enough that it barely sticks like it did (so much easier to cruise now ^_^) and my brother is awesome for Macgyver-ing the headlights back up so they actually land on the Road ahead and not Beneath her huge front end. But I've learned that I've gotta be careful goin' on the freeway from now on because when she gets to a certain speed, she feels like she's going to fall apart. Also, the Carb that they 'fixed' and just replaced because there was a crack in the original... It's not big enough. So a few things here and there need to be brought up to speed, which in parts alone aren't generally too bad except for a select few which will be pricey... I am grateful for my Brother and Grandpa Mike's help.

Now...Enjoy some Waffle Goodness!!

*smirks* And on that note, I'm going to have me s'more coffee and keep my spirits up. Yay for distractions O'Doom ^_^

-Adieu

For What It's Worth

Music swells gently through the speakers as classic rock dances through my senses. It's a beautiful February day...warmer today than it has been in awhile. Peaceful, lovely...yet so very bittersweet.

Since yesterday my heart has grown ever the more heavy at the thought of it being a whole year...since Lory lifted toward the higher plane. Also reminding me of where I was, the childhood home that I shared with my Father who at the time, was showing signs of the condition he's now in. So much has happened in a year... And letting it all sink in, bringing it back up from the depths of my memory warehouse...

The soul lets out a mournful howl as hidden pain begins to surge to the surface.

I've been trying so very hard to keep myself level, especially with everything I've been dealing with as of late. But it was almost as though a gentle voice only my soul can hear had whispered, so sweetly, "It's Okay honey...you're allowed to Feel."

*takes a shuddering breath but shows no emotion on her intense features*

I was thinking of different ways I could write out the emotions swirling through me but there is just so much bubbling up from within...that I'm numb by it. Heh, Numb with Feeling...talk about an oxymoron.

*smirks but the humor doesn't touch her eyes*

It's strange sitting here and typing these thoughts out. I don't completely feel like myself. I'm strangely calm, not so much empty, but incredibly aware. I feel a strength with me that's not my own. Dare I say it, but it feels like the Muse turned Guardian sitting with me. Frightening orbs slicing through the darkness of my mind, bringing a silent comfort to me as I try to untangle myself from within the spiderweb of emotions.

I think I need to be still... Even from myself.

Not gunna lie, feeling this strong male presence with me (whether or not it's simply a creation of my psyche as a coping mechanism is not the subject of this blog. If it's real to me and keeps me going, my own brand of Angel, than that's all it needs to be. Though I doubt Big Bad would agree on simply being a figment of my imagination...:P) it brings me Peace. He brings me warmth in his silence. I can't explain it any more than that.

Heh, I'm crazy alright...but at least it makes for interesting stories ;)

And on that note... I'm going to enjoy my classic rock, grab another cup of joe and keep myself still. Because right now, it's exactly what I need.

-Onyx-

You Can Check Out Anytime You Like, But You Can Never Leave

The heat streams blissfully down my throat and pools warmth in my stomach as I ingest my morning coffee. The body aches, having slept hard considering I instinctively knew I didn't have to be on alert throughout the night. 

I feel better than I have in awhile... Knowing that Dad is not only in good hands, but will be going back to his rehabilitation facility today for 9 days. They even put him on a new medication specifically designed to combat the symptoms of Hepatic Encephalopathy which will allow him more clarity and less of the confusion we've been battling since his health has started declining. 

Bittersweet, I learned that due to being a Veteran, he qualifies for Hospice Care free of charge through the VA. Either in home Hospice, at a facility or through the hospital itself. They wanted me to know this for the future due to his condition and his age (perhaps I'm biased due to my Deda having lived til he was 95, because to me... 66 is not old in my book) and they wanted us to have one less thing to worry about.

*takes a hefty drink of her coffee and sighs*

So today, having some free time to myself, I'll be going to the store for a few essentials and while getting litter for the boys, I'll hang out with the critters at PetCo before coming home. Why wander about and look at the same little life forms as before? Because, as silly as this may sound, interacting with them actually gives me an emotional boost. Especially when the baby snakes sneak up to the edge of their terrarium and stick their cute little face near the glass to get closer to me, or when the Rats and Mice are either sleeping or running amok in their tiny enclosures and as soon as I get close, they all kinda stop and come up to me, stand up on their hind legs and place their tiny hands against the glass where the tips of my fingers are pressed against; their iddy biddy noses working causing their whiskers to dance.

It's funny, whenever I go into a place with animals, no matter how small, they always Look at me. I mean Really Look at me. It's almost as if there's a connection there, even in the fish that swim over and peer at me through the glass. I can even feel it when they lock my gaze, a sense of familiarity and it causes a spark of warmth to flood in my chest and I can't help the smile that pulls at my lips. While this is happening, I don't pay any mind to people that stop and watch at the interaction taking place. I honestly don't care if they find it strange or my actions crazy, because more often than not, they stop to watch in fascination at the way the critters are responding to me.

I am proud of my Dolittle abilities ^_^

*chuckles and shakes her head and smirks as White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane begins playing on Pandora*

It's nice to be still again...even if it'll be brief. I am determined to get through all of this with my eyes forward, facing whatever else the 'verse wants to throw at me. I know that it's going to get harder, that's just how life works. But I also know that it's the way I handle it that makes the difference. 

*lets out a soft laugh as a live version of 'Hotel California' begins thundering hauntingly through the speakers*

It's going to be a good day... Even with the thought that just a year ago today, was the last time I spent time with my Lory. It aches sumthin' fierce...but I'll let it trickle through me and run its course as I go through my day.

And on that note, I shall bid thee anon ;)

-Adieu

Thoughtful Stillness

It's a strange thing, the worry one feels over a loved one... Someone they're bound to, a soul they're responsible for day in and day out... I now understand the deep worry my Dad would have for me when I was away for a few days at a time.

How strange it is to now be in his role; the guardian who cannot rest easy at the thought of their ward being so far away.

Dad's in the Hospital again.

Got him admitted last night after getting him to his podiatry appointment in the morning. His level of confusion was at an all time high and I decided after he Finally got his toe nails taken care of after a Year of not being able to, that I would just take us right over to the ER to have him checked in. I knew they would eventually admit him. I only did this because I was told by not only his doctor, but by his social worker and a few others connected to his needs through the VA Loma Linda that if he started becoming that confused again that I need to take him straight away.

So I did.

There's guilt inside me...knowing that he's scared and anxious and just wants to come home...meanwhile I'm here with some time to myself; to shower, to drive to the store, to sit in my room and catch up on shows I've recorded. I feel torn. I feel that even though it's a true blessing to have this time to myself, that I should be at the hospital with him.

I know that he's getting the care he so desperately needs... But when I called him this morning (having promised him last night that I would) he still sounded...so very confused. I had to stop his chaotic thought process just so he'd take a moment to hear me...and even then he continued on his tangent that even I had a hard time following (and trust me, that's bad).

The rate of his mental deterioration is weighing heavily on me. Those moments I spoke of, seeing him in glimpses... Moments I cherish so deeply...

*takes a deep needed breath and lets it out slowly*

I've just noticed something very unsettling. The pattern of me getting him to the hospital for care, at first though he didn't want to be there any longer than need be, he understood that it was to help him and he was able to just go with it until he was given the okay to go home. But now... Even after I've explained things over and over, not sugar coating things because I believe he deserves the truth no matter how confused he can be, knowing he appreciates my honesty... He understood why we were going, why he needed to be there, that there is a possibility they may want to get him into another rehabilitation center again for His benefit... The conversation this morning was painful on my heart.

Under the impression I was coming to get him. Telling me that I was supposed to come and pick him up. That he'd been there long enough. That if I didn't he was going to call the cops. I had to spend almost 20 minutes to calm him down to get a straight answer from him. I asked if the staff had made any comment about him being let go today and he said they hadn't. I asked if he'd received his tapping yet (where they extract excess fluid from his abdomen due to the liver damage) and he told me that hadn't done that either. I had to get these little bouts of information through the chaos of his ramblings. 

I was trying to be supportive and understanding for him and even kept my cool when he decided to hang up on me...

*pauses to take another breath and lets it out with a sigh*

I still feel the panic rat clawing at my chest, wanting to get away from the anxiety boiling up from my tired being. I do want him Home, but ONLY when he's more himself again. I don't want to just send him somewhere because I can't deal with it anymore. I may feel like I'm about to lose my shit and just snap, but I can keep going. I'd never just give up on him like that. If that were the case, I would've been gone years ago and would've never had the chance to get to him in time. If I hadn't been there when he starting getting sick...

*smirks and shakes her head* I wouldn't be writing about this now, would I?

There's always the hope that things can get better... But I'm also a realist. Without a Liver Transplant, it's just a matter of time, especially in his condition. I don't need a biopsy to tell me his condition is bad. He's showing all the signs for the late stages of Cirrhosis. Just gotta find any means necessary to make him as comfortable as possible.

Yes this tears me up inside, but it's just how it is.

*yawns and rolls the sore muscles in her neck as her feline children stare at her from her bed*

It's weird that I'm able to be sitting here typing this right now...knowing that I can do so without having to be on watch like before. Yet, even though I have this small window of freedom, I still have that edge thrumming along the back of my spine. Still alert, still ready for any moment that a voice would call out to me from the darkness. 

I miss being still. Those quiet moments where I can sit and take in the world around me. I had that earlier, outside surrounded in the chilly night and found my heart warm at the sight of what appeared to be fog streaming gently around the corner street lamp. 

My precious friend...a swirling mist I've missed so desperately since I left my home by the sea. It doesn't carry the scent of the Blue Mother with it, but it's a comfort just the same. It reminds me of good memories no matter how fleeting. It reminds me of home.

And on that note...I will attempt to wind down and eventually fall asleep. Knowing that tomorrow is yet another day filled with more uncertainty of what the future holds. Honestly, I'm not too worried about it. Because as of right now, I'm just enjoying this short window of peace. 

And to me, that's definitely a gift.

-Adieu

Broken Strings of Fragile Sanity

::[DISCLAIMER]:: 

This is a poetic vent that I typed out as I sat out in the cold this morning trying to regain my bearings after another restless and very stressful night.

*  *  *  *  *

The gentle heart is no more than a whisper. A shattered gem, the broken dream. We sit back and watch as the world unfolds around us, painfully beautiful, insanely fragile and still such inspiration to draw from.

I am hollow by it all.

Having been gutted by a harsh lesson by the fates, the soul that once shivered within the dark catacombs of my being has been ripped out and thrown back out into the jaws of a ravenous void that knows not of forgiveness.

There is no shelter here, poison thick and sticky sweet, I drag the remnants of this shell forward; destination unknown.

Thoughts tickle the backs of my eyes, madness swirling through heated veins as I fight to remember what it was to Feel joy. The moments of warmth taken for granted, the bleeding creature weeping within its cage of flesh and bone. It fears its next beat, knowing that only more weight will bear down, making it ever weaker in its attempt at living.
Such things one cannot merely speak.

A useless task that will fall prey to confusion resulting in a firestorm of anger that cuts through this tired flesh, reminding the spirit of its weakness.

An abhorrence to the self; trembling broken string of sanity waiting for that final snap.

We all dream... I remember what it was like when my body could rest and my mind was given freedom. But now the body aches for that precious escape... 

For when dreams appear they are nothing more than horrors chasing the light away until I'm thrown from my serenity back into painful reality by a voice calling out to me from the dark.

A sound I'm beginning to despise.

There is no peace here, no gentle embrace to soothe the savage from awakening. No sweet words to quell the rage that courses like black venom through these veins.

I am becoming a thing I no longer recognize. A beastly nightmare whose haunted gaze shows no light within its glowing depths. For what burns there now is no longer the embers of hopeful innocence... It is a blazing inferno of despair, awaiting the moment when the self finally breaks away and the broken pieces of a once tender heart is consumed in hellfire.

I am at a loss.

The poetic prose my only escape. An outlet not quite reality, forced riddles with hidden emotion. Some may taste the bitterness in these words; a terrible darkness that even the cold cannot embrace.


The raven flies overhead, its deep caw echoing just beneath these silver skies. Though the fingers are numb, there's not much left in this hollowed shell to feel anymore.

An endless array of thoughts pouring out through frozen fingertips as I sit out in the bitter cold of this winter morning. Having not slept once again, do to the echo of a man I once knew as my father. His incessant calling, every 30 minutes. His mind consumed in confusion induced nonsense... I try to speak, to understand... And even as the pain became too great at this stranger peering back at me, tears hot and unwanted dashing down my flushed skin... He mocked, and belittled. His words slicing through me with no qualms to the severity of damage they would inflict.

All I've wanted was to fight to bring back the hero that I would die for...

It seems this disease is far worse now than it has been, because this is not my father. It's the monster that swims through his frailing veins and poisons his mind. I want to help him, to bring him back out from the thick fog he's lost in...

But it's so hard to want to fight for someone, to be patient and kind, to be gentle and forgiving, to be understanding... When all they do is attack you, talk down to you, curse at you, bare their teeth and growl at you... Treat you as nothing more than a slave to do their bidding whenever the moment strikes them.

This sickness is eating away at one of the most precious people in my life...and because of this, it's already began a change in me. I tried to fight it, I told myself to be strong when I knew I was already falling apart. But it's just too late.

I'm not me anymore. No matter what I do, or what I've done, I see the truth of it. I see it's ugly face for what it really is.

This is simply a battle I will not win.

-Anon-

Take It As It Comes

A strange hum streams through the body, a deep ache... Twisting and swirling through every crevice until it's caressed every nerve ending like a virus slithering through the veins of a helpless victim. Telling me that horrid cycle is approaching; unwanted and uninvited, it takes over my system and brings an array of inexplicable horrors with it.

Yay for the wonders of the female body. *scoffs and takes a drink of her strong coffee*

Another chilly morning, where the skies are a cooler shade of blue as puffs of clouds drift along its edge; journey unknown.

Even as the hormones fluctuate deep within the chaotic workings of my form, my heart sighs with an unspoken heaviness... A deep worry of what the Doctor will have to say when we go to see him at 8am on the 11th. 

There's also another pain lingering just off in the shadows, remembering that on the 11th will be a year that I damn near blew poor Ellie's engine by flying over the vincent thomas bridge from San Pedro to Long Beach to see Lory in the Hospital...

*Pauses as Pandora Radio begins playing Bon Jovi's 'Wanted; Dead or Alive'*

So many things internally to suss through. So much to think about, so many emotions festering and bubbling from wounds once thought healed.  A true struggle to be level headed and in a state of calm when the seams of my control are beginning to burn and turn to ash. The internal child waking and calling out for reassurance. Desperate to feel safe, strong arms to encase me and in that silence, know that I'm not alone.

*sighs and shakes her head before taking another hefty drink of her coffee*

No matter how much that frightened innocence begs for attention, it'll just have to wait.

Yesterday Dad seemed to be more himself, the angry bouts of confusion fewer and not as bad as they could be.

*chuckles as AC/DC's 'Highway to Hell' begins thundering through the speakers*

Guess someone's making sure my soundtrack is Supernatural themed this morning. *grows a half smile* 

He seemed to be doing better, more like himself and even the energy in the house was lighter because of it. But as I'd anticipated, that only lasted until about 1am when he called for me to come to his room so he could use the bathroom. I was fine with it, even in my zombie like state, but I noticed his mood was starting to sour again. I figured he just needed to get back into bed and he'd be fine. 4am rolls around and I'm woken again because he wanted some water, but then wanted to get up, but then didn't. Even in my half asleep state, I tried to be as cordial as possible and did as he asked. 5:30am he calls me in again and is rambling about getting up and having coffee. I told him it wasn't time yet to get up, that he needed to get some sleep. Same thing at 6:35am, but he was even more out of it. Again at 7am. I was finally up when his voice literally blared through the monitor at 7:35, so I decided to just get up.

He's trying to be himself, despite his confusion. He knows he's having a hard time remembering things and is more aware because I started feeding him fruit along with graham crackers for breakfast. 

I am trying to help ease the toxins from making their way to his brain, or at least stopping his body from creating more ammonia. But even with these moments of more clarity, I sense that the confusion is only going to get worse...and was warned by the people from the hospital that he will get worse. Even though I've got him taking his meds and watch his fluid intake and everything else that's expected, there's only so much I can do. I get that. 

I just hope that seeing the doc will be more good news rather than bad. 'Hope' being the key word here. Both my Big Brother and myself have a feeling it's not going to be news we want. Even Dad made a comment last night while having one of his more lucid moments, that he had a bad feeling about it and it wasn't because of his normal anxiety and dislike of hospitals. He said it with a very calm tone, one that made something tighten in my chest.

*sighs and has a sudden urge to make another pot of coffee*

Trying to stay upbeat considering everything that's happening. Trying to focus on the good while remembering that sometimes no matter how hard you try, things won't go the way you'd hope. You just gotta look at it in such a way that it's not so devastating. Accept it, roll with it and try to make the best of it even though you know there's something real angry growing inside. You push it down, quell the beast just long enough that when the opportunity presents itself, only then can you let it out and release the poison.

So ya...good times?

*chuckles, but the smile doesn't reach her eyes*

Being close to my Monthly Self Destruct Sequence doesn't help either, but eh... Such is life.

-Adieu

Moments We Fight For

It's amazing that after I posted my most recent blog, I was called into Dad's room and he was More Himself. 

It's baffling... I wonder if perhaps my words actually sank in while he was in his very confused state throughout the night and early morning. 

And just hearing him again, the tone that tells me he's Still There... Loosened something deep inside but also caused another chip to shift and fall away. 

Reminding me that's why I deal with the chaos inflicted by his failing liver. The sleepless nights and arguments that make my head spin and heartache. My Dad is Still Here. Trapped. So all of this madness, the weight bearing down on my breaking sanity... Is worth it. Just for these rare moments when I see my Hero again. 

*swallows the hard lump of emotion that's lodged itself in the back of her throat*

I'll keep fighting to have more moments like this. Those small glimpses of the defiant soul that's wandering helplessly through a terrible fog of confusion. If there's a way we can Save Him, if there's a chance I can Bring Him Back... I'll do it.

I miss him so fucking much... He's not only my Dad, but one of my best friends. 

I thought this needed to be shared considering how dark my last post was...

Nothing is hopeless. Just gotta keep pushing.

There's always a way back from the dark.

-Adieu

Riddled with Emotions

Cold air swells through the crack in the window as I bring my Nightmare Before Christmas thermos to my dry lips and take a drink; flooding my mouth with that strong aroma as hot coffee pours down my throat and spreads an invisible hand of warmth deep within my stomach.

Another day with little sleep, the mind angered and restless as the body aches its protest. Another quick drink of that dark nectar followed by a slow intake of air.

I don't want to be the broken record, conveying yet another rough night due to the disease that's devouring my father's body. The very same demon that's trying to take me with it. 

I feel listless and hollow, standing on a precipice of doubt and heartbreak, wondering when this will end... Wondering if there's a chance in hell he'll ever get the miracle of a liver transplant. Is it too late? The damage he's caused himself, the symptoms he has... It's bad.

Keep your chin up, the mind whispers as the spirit snarls in enraged defiance. A primitive beast that's been forced to crawl its way from the depths of my inner abyss, a mouthful of death waiting to bite down into any obstacle that gets in its way. But frustration streams along its deadly form, unable to do more than growl at the invisible killer that's taking my hero away piece by piece.

*sighs softly and takes another drink of her high octane*

Too many thoughts and not enough time to sort them out and make sense of them all. T'would be better to just become still, push away these feverish emotions and become stone. But the light inside me feeds off the world around it, forcing the empath part of my mind to remain hypersensitive to everything at all times. Especially now. The slightest indication from that baby monitor, no matter how deeply I may be asleep, I'm suddenly and sometimes painfully awake. Every muscle tightens, tendons and ligaments poised to throw me into a leap at any given moment. I'm constantly on edge, even when I'm supposed to be sleeping. The only time I start to relax, even just the slightest, was when Dad was admitted in the Hospital or when he was in the Rehab center. Yet, I wasn't quite at ease. I would still wake up every hour or every twenty minutes thinking I would hear a voice calling out to me in the darkness. 

Is this what being shell-shocked is really like? Constantly on edge, never truly still. Every muscle thrumming, waiting to throw you into a frenzy of movement. Anxious of the slightest sounds, the world becoming so much louder and brighter than ever before... Feeling the Fight or Flight response ruling your every moment.

It's friggin' exhausting. I suppose you can get used to it, but at what cost? What long term effect will this have on my body? Recently I've noticed that my skin condition that's been blissfully calm has started to flare up and I'm finding myself in more pain on a daily basis.

*sighs and shakes her head*

Apologies if I seem less peppy than I used to, but I suppose it's just a phase and it too shall pass. At least that's what I keep telling myself. Best form of encouragement is telling yourself things will get better even though you're trying to put the bloody chunks of your heart back together.

Damn, kinda morbid... *Smirks* Heh, ah well. I don't think it helps that my hormones are starting their monthly count down toward my internal self destruct sequence. I'm not so much moody, I'm more sensitive; lights, sounds, touch, scent, taste, emotion. Everything is amplified, which isn't exactly good times. I feel hurt and it literally feels like a knife being dug into my ribcage. My temper gets triggered and I have to bite back the urge to start growling through my clenched teeth. Volatile...fun fun.

I'm sure being tired doesn't help with any of that, so I try to suck it up as best I can and resume my day as calm as physically possible. I have noticed that my anger has risen to that level where I just become very quiet and speak very clearly and calmly. You know the kind of tone; the one you use when all you want to do is scream. Hey, at least I got a handle on my temper no matter how much I've been pushed recently.

When my Dad gets into those 'confused' moments, he has a tendency to get really nasty. Mean in a way that's like a pre-teen who talks back and makes you want to back hand the smart ass right outta their mouth. I will never raise a hand to my Father out of anger. Period. I literally have to just stand by, keep my mouth securely shut and breathe. He's like a dementia patient that will cuss you out if he thinks you're trying to 'Dictate' his life. He doesn't like being told what to do, what he can eat, when he can sleep and when he can get up. If he were in a lucid state, there would be no problem. He'd be nothing but understanding. But he's not all up there anymore; drowning in that poison is liver can no longer filter out. It's eerily similiar to those days when he'd have one too many beers and take it out on me. For so many years I dealt with it and the next day I'd tell him about it and he'd apologize and would do his damndest to not do it again. I could Talk to him.

Now? Even when I make a gentle, helpful suggestion, he turns on me like I'm some kind of monster. The first few times he told me to 'Fuck off' or 'go the fuck away' or 'fuck you' I just brushed it off because I knew he wasn't in his right mind. But after hearing it more often because he thinks I'm his personal outlet... My patience is wearing thin.

I told him if he doesn't meet me half way, if he doesn't realize all I'm doing is trying to Help him, he's gunna end up with a caretaker that's no where near as patient as me. If he thinks my gentle suggestions are me telling what to do, he'll definitely not like a stranger Making him do what needs to be done.

I love him so very much... It's just hard to want to help someone who's becoming progressively more negative and vile toward you. I know he can't help it, but I don't think it's right for him to constantly call on me every 15-20-30 minutes to an hour because he has something to say...and I'm trying to sleep. You can't reason with someone who's lost the ability to think rationally anymore.

It's heart breaking because this was the hero I could have long and incredibly deep conversations with over a cup of coffee. I'm not hyping it up when I say my father had the mind of a genius. It's hard to admit this and stop the hot sting of tears from falling from my red eyes. I honestly feel as though more of me is breaking inside every day that passes and see what's happening to him.

It's hurts so fucking much...

It feels like I'm being forced to mourn who he was but also watch as he's slowly taken from me. I try to not think about how much this devastates me let alone talk about it. Because since I started writing about this, my face is flushed and I have streams of hot tears pouring down my skin. I miss my Dad so much... I honestly pray that there's a way we could save him.  A liver transplant would give him a full recovery. But I don't know if that's even possible...and he seems to be getting worse and I just want my Dad back...

*wipes the offensive moisture from her face and feels a horrendous weight crushing down inside her ribcage*

Alright, enough of this emotional bullshit. I'll be fine. I need to stop here, dry my face off and go outside and have a smoke. Maybe the cold air will help.

-Anon-