Remember that fight Jack, as in Ass and I had over my mother fluffing artichoke that he kept trying to destroy and succeeded as soon as I left? One of the things I wanted to get done, was be stable, secure, and rooted enough to attempt to plant another one.
Well, I planted my choke today. 19 years later, I planted my choke. I feel…not what I thought I would feel on this day.
It’s not that I don’t feel, though part of me doesn’t. It’s that I am not stable, secure or rooted and I see doom in the future for Mr. Y and myself because I finally get it.
I committed the cardinal sin. It’s not that I intentionally set out to fuck with his family, or would ever dream of creating a wedge, or being the same, but regardless of that fact, the reality of the situation is that I caused a giant wedge between he and his loved ones. It doesn’t matter that someone did the same to me, only that I committed this sin.
I don’t think I’ll ever be forgiven and that just makes me sad. And miss you even more because I can’t call and cry about it.
Where the fuck do I fit in my own life anymore and how am I going to learn to get the fuck out of my own way? I am scared now to touch people. Gardening yesterday with Danolyn (who now calls me Princess instead of Shrill Harpie) I had seeds explode on me while weeding and they all stick to me. My pants, my sleeves, my shoes, my gloves, everything had seed stuck to it. All I could see was bugs. I started to kind of mildly freak out. He saw and just said, “OK Princess, they are just seeds.”
That’s all for today.
I miss you still, and got a grief packet in the mail that I just opened and had a good cry over.
I went to my place this morning because I fell apart on Mr. Yummy. I know he hasn’t meant to hurt me, and I’ve been hypersensitive about what all of this has done to/for him. We have both contributed to the others misery.
I just felt like I needed air, not to be there and be uncomfortable or make him uncomfortable by my state. I packed a small bag and left. I told him, I need air.
Maybe I’ll stay at my sister’s, maybe I’ll go home. I brought Mel’s flask, now mine. Maybe I’ll drink it, maybe I won’t.
I wanted to scream, sing, and dance with you while at my place, but unfortunately it’s a lot of other people’s place too. I just sat there and listened to Miranda on the wall, smoking and leaking. I watched the waves roll and break and suppressed the urge to scream till I’m horse, how fucking much I miss you. I felt a slight calmness for a few as I synced with the waves. Proof other things can still touch my soul and I’m not as dead as I fucking feel inside about being here without you while people remind me to be grateful for the things I have.
I’m sort of running. Hearing myself tell Mr. Yummy I never wanted to be just an old friend or current fuck buddy, leaves me feeling afraid and open. I’ve asked more than once if I need to leave, again this morning he said no, but he also said he got more than he bargained for with the drama. I cried. I didn’t make this drama in my life for once, yet it still found me. I told him it hurt to see him give me 6 feet of clearance, he reminded me how it hurt to give his family members the same. I cried because I know this.
I hate that I fell apart. At the moment, my running is a much needed break for both of us. But what if I can’t stop after this?
I use to call you whenever I want.
I use to see us together again.
I use to dump all the thoughts and shit that runs through my head non stop, in your lap and talk about it for hours, from every angle.
I use to feel such comfort in having you there, to tell me no matter what, “It’s OK girl, I love you and you still got me.”
Those are magic words. I never knew that not hearing them after five and a half months could hurt me so very badly.
When things in my life happen, it hits twice as hard, because I don’t have that special, amazing someone to remind me I am loved.
Don’t ever think you didn’t matter to people, because I can’t even begin to tell you what losing you has done to me. Like yesterday the owner came in to talk to me about some heart tins I want to order for your memorial. I felt bad for him as we were talking stickers, I felt myself feel it all as I said your name and birth/death dates should be on the bottom sticker. He looked at me and said, “You’re emotional”. I said, “I know, and I am sorry.”
This morning I went in and I don’t know why, but I was uncontrollably sobbing about you. Like the loud and hyperventilating kind. For a while I was alone in the dip room, and I went to a box of meltdowns and just beat the fucking shit out of them, leaving them in little tattered shards of beautiful beesewax. Afterwards I just said accusingly, “I FUCKING MISS YOU!”
This is probably a horrible thing to admit, but I have been thinking of when I get your ashes. I want some to go in the ground, in a tree I could plant. I want some to go on a memorial necklace that will have sick n sin engraved on it with your “dates”, and the last thing I was thinking of doing will probably gross the world out and set me up for horrible scorn, but…well, I was thinking of snorting a line of you.
I know that is way, way, way fucked up of me to even say, but I miss you and want you with me so bad that in a state of grief, it seems perfectly normal and acceptable to my fucked up state of being lately.
I am glad I write. I was reading through my handwritten stuff this morning and it was as early as January 26th that I was exhibiting Symptoms. I left Seattle for Texas, December 27th. I pretty much got infected as soon as I got there.
January 26th, I wrote that I was being treated for some itchy viral bumps. That’s when I went off sugar and started a cleanse. It was the day after St Patrick’s day that Mr. Yummy and I did our first permethrin treatment. As soon as he told me he was itching too, I knew it was scabies. He did fine with three treatments. I did not so once he was better, I moved to Ivermectin. I think the first treatment did it, but it causes itch, and the massive bug die off causes itch. I’m sure because as they die they shit their little parasitic brains out. Then you have dead things in you. GROSS!
What I know now.
Tea Tree oil does NOT work. Neem soap helps, but does not work. Anyone who does bleach baths is crazy. Not sure if it will kill the bugs or eggs, but it will make your hair fall out. Didn’t even try. Alcohol does nothing, unless you drink it and get fucked up to deal with the constant, INSANE itching, but they like sugar and alcohol does convert. Peroxide does nothing. HOT bath’s don’t work, they just make you itch more as they burrow to get away from the heat.
100% pure, natural non synthetic clove oil “sorta” worked. It did kill the adults that were biting, but I don’t think it did much to the eggs.
I did my first Ivermectin the last weekend in April. I don’t think I have had a new bite since then. A week after I did it, I was still itching and was scratching on my drive home without realizing it. I am pretty sure I broke the skin on my elbow, but when I got home I freaked and went to pick up my refill I was supposed to take in another week if I saw a new bite. I took it a week early because I started to freak out.
The following day I went and cut Ivy and laurel and here a week and a day later I am FINALLY done itching from that. At first I thought I was having a mass scabies outbreak, but then realized it was only on the areas of skin not covered by my clothing the day before. I also noticed after talking to my pharmacist, that it was getting better, not worse.
The laundry and cleaning you have to do is insane. I was lucky because I got all my gloves (blue medical type) from work as well as quality clove oil. It helped tremendously, but I just don’t believe it got the eggs. It did take the itch away and let me focus on something other than the INSANE MIND-FUCKING ITCH! Plus, I smelled like Thanksgiving. It just felt like clove oil would have been a never-ending kill the adults as they hatch, but by the time you feel an itch from a new adult, they have already shit and lay eggs.
I made a solution of permethrin and water in a spay bottle and hit my car. Then I wiped it down and vacuumed the next day. I really focused the on the seat belt and threading on my steering wheel. I also put a sheet over my seat and changed it out every day for the first week after Ivermectin. I also sprayed my shoes every day. I wore gloves to get the laundry from washing machine to the dryer. Even after taking Ivermectin, I wore gloves in case I had anything still. I didn’t want to recontaminate the laundry that was fresh out of a HOT dryer of death. I didn’t so much worry about hot water on the wash , because the dryer gets above the 122 needed, but I made sure the dry cycles were long and hot.
I stopped sleeping and showering with the love of my life. It sucks, but it was necessary.
Mostly, the only thing left to deal with is the chasm between us. I can’t imagine being physical with each other again. I’m scared of letting down the guard I have built up. it is hard to learn to not miss someone you are living with, but I have been doing that for the last few weeks. it’s better than feeling hurt because of the big rejection factor.
Nothing will drive a wedge between good, qualified lovers faster than a microscopic parasite you can’t even see.
2015 started with a mother fucking bang.
Yesterday I heard myself laugh. It’s not that since you died, I haven’t laughed. It’s more like my laughter since your death has been “appropriate”. Someone said something funny, cue laugh! It’s been hollow and I’ve not felt the laughter. Yesterday I was working with two other women and it happened.
I was bitching that i went to get my license the day after Christmas so I could go to Texas and see you. I hadn’t replaced it yet after my purse being stolen at work last MAY. Because I have the enhanced (for those trips we used to make to Canada) I got my paper copy and the hard copy was to arrive in ten days. I flew on my temporary. I realized the other day when I had to use my ID I am in possession of a way expired temporary enhanced ID, and no hard copy ever arrived.
I said to one of the women, Elvie, that I should just bite the bullet and get a passport. Elvie agreed, Kathy asked what the enhanced was, so I explained it to her. Then I said, “Yeah I might commit some heinous crime someday and need to flee the country and a passport would come in handy. Kathy started laughing first, then Elvie chimed in, then I laughed, then Kathy laughed harder, which made Elvie laugh harder, then Kathy started turning red and laughing really hard, which made me laugh harder and then I looked over at Dave, who was working, but listening, and smirking. This made me laugh even harder, then I FELT my laugh. Honestly Mel, it sort of frightened me, but at the same time, it felt really, really good and I knew that you would be happy to see me feeling and admitting it felt really good.
Then I went to my grief counseling and kind of decided I am through the crisis and think I can move into support group instead of one on one.
Today I was at work listening to Miranda Lambert and Somethin Bad came on. Out of the blue, I began to cry because I felt guilty for starting to go on with my life. I literally had to take an extra break and go outside and cry it off while I smoked. I didn’t expect I would have survivor guilt, but I recognized it for what it is, as soon as I felt the sadness and guilt roll over me.
What a road you have taken me on. I wish like hell you were still here and I do not believe a day will ever go by when I don’t think of you or miss you, but I am coping more and I am NOT in crisis as I was. I hope this isn’t as good as it gets, I hope I can get back to where I was, but one thing is for sure, because of you…I am still learning.
I also think I can safely say that the scabies are gone. The only reason I hesitate is that I did my last treatment (early) last Friday. Saturday I went out and worked with Danolyn. We did hedge work. I cut, then picked up over 1600 pounds of laurel and ivy. It took us about ten hours. I was in the sun all day and it got to 85 that day. At first on Sunday I thought I was having an allergic reaction to the Ivermectin, or that I didn’t use sunscreen. By Tuesday when I went to the pharmacy to get my thyroid meds, I showed my pharmacist and he said it was nothing related to Ivermectin, nor did he see any scabies. Then he asked if I had been in any shrubs or bushes. I told him, he assured me it was from the ivy. I am still reacting to it, but taking Epsom Salt baths and it is helping. Today is the first day I didn’t run straight to the tub, and I am feeling pretty good.
I did three treatments with permethrin. It did not help me, but it did Mr. Yummy. Then I did two treatments of Ivermectin, and it seems to have worked. I am not sure if I actually had a new bite, or if I just had the leftover itch from the medicine (yes, it causes you to itch also) along with the die off itch and, then I scratched it and broke skin. All I know is I saw broken skin and freaked out. I immediately went and picked up my scrip and took it.
I can’t wait to cool all the way down, because I am still on edge, but slowly, slowly am relaxing.
I’m still sleeping alone. I don’t think I’ll be asking Mr. Yummy to let me back in his bed. If he wants me back, he’s pretty much going to have to invite me. I know he never meant to hurt me, but the distance that has grown between us, has hurt and I am…apprehensive. I love him to bits. I miss him, but I’m not pushing myself on him. He hurt me, even though he didn’t mean to.
So, that’s pretty much where I am today, five months and one week after you died.
I don’t want to feel guilty. I want to live fully. For myself, for you, for your kids.
I miss you so, so fucking much.
Sick n Sin