Lots of Shit Can Happen

I'm my mother's only child, my father's third (and final since he died while my mother was pregnant). I never thought some amazing things would happen as of late when it came to those facts. Crazy things. All at once things.

About a month or so ago, I came back into contact with my eldest brother. I have two older brothers, but only one of them is on Facebook. Facebook, that social media site that connects people, and also allows the common folk to become stalkers in their spare time. Facebook, the place that allows us immediate gratification of our nosy curiosities. Facebook, the thing that makes us insinuate friendships long forgotten.

Yeah, that Facebook.

My brother, Tony, was right there. His profile donned a different surname than my own, but my father's side of the family suspected his mother changed it when she cut off all contact between my brothers and the family (for no reason whatsoever). Right there in front of my face, without me even knowing it, was my brother after 20ish years. We had multiple people in common (including my own cousin). So, I sent him a message, letting him know that I thought I was his sister. My hands shook as I typed, my mind raced.

Maybe he wouldn't care. Maybe their mother filled their heads with garbage about our family not caring about them. We did. We searched for them always and loved them dearly even though we hadn't seen them in such a long time. I couldn't take rejection when it comes to that. When it comes based on lies.

He messaged me back. Asking how people were and asking to see more pictures of our father. The one link I thought I'd have to any sort of memories of my father because he was 4 or 5 when my Dad died...and he remembers nothing. Not even his face. Two steps forward, one step back. That's how all contact has been so far. I noticed he kept referring to my grandmother by her first name instead of by "Mom-Mom", but he told me he has a 9-year-old son. I'm an aunt. See about the steps? He gave me his brother's number and we've been conversing, but it's half-assed and lazy because we're both busy. However, it's going VERY well.

And now for the bad news.

My mother has been sick off and on the past week or so. We thought she would get better, but she wasn't. When she fell in the bathroom, and I couldn't pick her up and her legs were far too weak to support her weight, I realized something was very wrong.

We learned the hard way that she's diabetic. Her sugars were all the way up to almost 600 when the normal levels are 70-140 (which are both pushing limits). Her sodium and potassium levels were far too low. She was slurring and unable to stay awake, constantly thirsty. She was wetting herself and I didn't even know about it. I still blame myself for her getting so bad. If I had just taken her sooner to the hospital...maybe things would be different.

They say she's going to be in hospital for a while, which isn't easy to hear. I want to be able to fix it. I want to be able to give her a pill and bring her back home, but I can't.

While at work today (yes, I tried to go...it didn't end well), and there was a small boy who became separated from his mother. His name was Iyaya (or something of the like) and he was three years old. His mother was with her friends shopping and he had run off because he "only needed toothbrushes". His words, not mine. We walked around for a bit because he was alone and afraid. I lifted him into my arms and he clung to me for dear life. We continued to search for the woman, finally running into her after some time. Turns out Iyaya isn't very well behaved. He was completely fine with me, as kids usually are.

I realize now that it was a message from whatever is high atop the thing. It was a message that even though I'm without my mother for the moment, she's going to come back home. She'll find me, just like Iyaya's mother found him. However, it's happening to help me discover my own worth. That I can do this on my own. That I can find this inner strength that I know exists, but is so deeply burred by pain and loss that I'm afraid to release her. Not the scrapper that I used to need when I lived in the ghetto, but the one that I hid when my grandmother lived with us so long ago.

The nights are still really hard though. My mother and I may have had our differences, but knowing she was in the next room was a comfort. It's just us. No siblings. No other parent or step-parent. I just need to get my shit together.

I have a thing in common with Tom Baker?

I read once that Tom Baker said that while he loved meeting fans of all ages during his time as the 4th Doctor on Doctor Who, the ones he connected with most were children...no more than toddlers, young children. He said he had a repertoire with them. Still does. It's never faded. Never dwindled.

I never thought I'd have anything in common with ANYONE from Doctor Who...especially MY Doctor. Turns out, I do.

There's something that draws me to children, particularly young ones. Not in a creepy way, but in a maternal way. There's something about me that lets them know that they're fine and they can talk to me without fear. Now, more kids are more talkative than others. Sure, but I can't tell you how many times I was told today, "He never talks that much to anyone" and "She usually cries when she's more than a foot from me, it's funny that she didn't with you".

I've never understood why I am the way I am with kids. I wasn't raised around many kids. I was an only child (with exception to my half brothers from my father, but I haven't seen since I was 4), and my first cousin on my mother's side didn't come along until I was 8 (I was never particularly close to my father's side with exception to one day of Christmas each year) and that was kind of it. That and the kids I met while in school.

Maybe that's it. Maybe it has to do with not being around other children my age when I was a kid. I'll probably be attempting to discover the reasons for the rest of my life.

"Doctor, you're being childish."
"Well, of course I'm being childish! There's no point in being grown-up if you can't be childish sometimes."

What's It All About?

So many things have changed in my life right now and I'm not about to dwell on them all because it would seem to be just some stupid way to bask in my accomplishments. I'm not about that at all.

One thing about this journal is that it represents me more on a personal level. My other uses my stage name and is pretty and sparkly (it is not) and talks about things that are interesting to me and probably no one else. As you can see with my whole "starting fresh" campaign, the look of the blog has changed. It's...interesting. Yes, I made that background, but I'm not sure what to make of it yet.


I play to the crowd, I cut open the skin of my chest and flash my heart and lungs. It's just who I am. I'm an open book, but guard myself when my instincts tell me to. I'm mysterious about the most random of things, but will tell you my bra size (I'm not drunk enough...yet). It really makes no sense.

This journal is reserved for my deepest, darkest internal thoughts. Trust me, it's like a fucking cavern up there. That's what bipolar will do to ya. Put you to the limits of your sanity, yet you are at most creative.

I've been listening to more music as of late and to audio books/plays. I'm a nut when it comes to fanmixes (not even about a particular fandom, but mixes in general). I love to see the artistry that goes into them. Whether that be with the cover creation, to the uniqueness of the font used, to the song choices. They all matter and they all require great amounts of thought and understanding to the matter at hand. When I make them or find one that I'm particularly crazy over, you bet your sweet asses that I'm going to link you all.

I won't discuss politics this time around, or television (maybe...that one is still up in the air), or people at work (unless it's something too funny), or even family...for the most part. Well, what the hell is there to discuss, you ask.

My brain. Trust me, it's an adventure in and of itself.

Fresh?

I've decided to start completely fresh. I was reading all my past things that I've written and they were all just so depressing. I don't have time for that. So, I'm starting fresh.

Things are going okay right now. I'm trying to find a new job...that isn't going very well, but I'm trying.