Sunday, October 17, 2010

Poison Hearts Will Never Change

I've realized that this blog is more so for my own therapy, expressing myself and letting it out to maybe "let it go?" In any case, I've come across something else I need to let out, and hopefully let go and if not tonight then maybe some time before my final breath.

My grandma is the only person in my entire family that I talk to on a regular basis. She's not even blood related and she's all I've got. I haven't spoken to her in a couple of days, which always makes me worry that I missed another trip to the hospital. She's very sick. She's had emphysema, or still has, and has had a lung transplant. I believe she has finally quit smoking though I don't think she'd tell me if she hadn't. The last year has had it's scares and I've even said my good byes to her at one point.

She was in the hospital for something like 52 days, and she was in a coma and I visited a couple times, hoping to talk to her, coming with pictures and notes of I love you's and get well animals. It was the longest time I had gone without talking to her, it was horrible and I figured I had better get used to it and stop being in denial, nothing lasts forever. So, I shut myself out, I told her I loved her more than anything in the world, and that was it. I felt nothing.

My grandma is the only person in the world I can talk to about anything because she knows everything though some times I find myself being cautious as to not overwhelm her and other times I find myself pouring out. When she awoke 52 days later I didn't know what to do and I felt like I didn't know who she was. A couple months it took me to accept she was still here, cautiously.

Then my grandpa had a stroke, the day before Mother's Day, and refused to go to the hospital. Everybody acted like nothing was happening, because he wanted it that way. I could barely breathe. I followed him to the rivers edge and sat down beside him in sobs, begging him to stay for me, telling him that I couldn't live without him because him and my grandma were my only support. He couldn't even talk, but he stuttered and all he could stutter was, "I'm fine." I'm fine, I just can't talk or control my body. I thought I was going to lose him, in ways I have. That's what strokes do when you refuse the 9-1-1 call that someone who loves you has made.

I always dreaded getting married because the whole "dad" situation, if that's what you want to call it, and I finally came to peace in that my grandpa should walk me down the isle. He's been there for me my whole life, he's loved me unconditionally and supported me. He's the strongest male figure in my life. And I cried that day thinking I would lose him because I wanted to share that day with him and let him know how important he was to me. I don't know what I'm going to do without my grandparents when they're my whole world.

What brings this about is our damn glasses breaking and me having one left, and this particular set of glasses being my favorite because they're the kind of glasses my grandma had, before Donna started taking over. They're the glasses I grew to love and they meant home. One left.

I called my grandma all day, and tonight she answered. She had been having fun. We talked about the last couple of days and her wants. I hate listening to her wants because it makes me sooo angry that I can't do anything, that these are their last days or years or whatever and they have disrespecting people in their house and it's Their house. Just Ugh!!! I've cleared her sewing area before. I wish she could sew like she wanted.

Anyways, we were talking about the Halloween Party and the recipes and what not and she spit it out. The words I've been dreading while wanting to hear all the same. I think it was the way she said it that got to me. She said that she wants to go through her cookbooks, that I can have them, because she can't cook anymore. My grandma, the woman who took care of me and made me those meals I dreaded that have now become my comfort, cannot cook. The woman who let me help her in the kitchen since I was like 4, the woman who inspired my passion for baking and a culinary pursuit... can not cook??? My heart shattered. I knew it, I know she can't do what she used to... but to finalize it? Like death? I am honored that she would give them to me, that I will have something to hold on to that will remind me of her when she's gone. I just can't breathe at the moment.


I'm listening to A.F.I. which is something I haven't really done in a long time, it's the music I matured on, went through hormonal earth quakes with, it's the music I lived through when I lived with my grandparents. And I think, damn, I was a depressed kid that wasted so much of my life. And I feel angry for it. I think to myself, if I had said no, what would my life be like now?

At the ripe impressionable age of 13 my mother decided it was time for me to try alcohol. Yup, I said it. My cousin had gone to Arizona and came back ... a complete different person. And I was curious, and my mom, well, they are one in the same. So, here Amanda, here's some wine. Have fun, be careful, "this is only so you know what it feels like if someone else offers"... Oh, and you want to get high too? Really? At thirteen I was naive and stupid and I knew it was dumb, my first reaction was, "Oh my god mom, are you selling?" I was stupid. So, I got drunk and high with my mom at thirteen and I don't remember a thing. That led to more stupidity and an open door for me to do it and not fear anything. It also led me to ... oh my god, the worst depression of my life, mainly due to my mother.

At one point I couldn't stand to be sober and I would sleep for days. There goes my teenage years, the "best years of my life". Thanks mom. But hey, it was My decision right? Do I have the right to blame my mom for my robbed youth? Do I have a right to hate my mom for showing me what the world was like? Hell yes. I was stupid and innocent before she walked in to my room. I knew fear and I knew right and wrong. I lost five or six years of my life or more.

I woke up one day and realized, I can't do this anymore. That's why I called my grandparents, I knew I couldn't do it anymore if I lived with them. I went cold turkey, mass withdrawals, serious depression, cutting and crazy writing. I truly believe for awhile I was insane. I think back on it now and I cry, I can't help but to collapse and sob at the maniac I was and what I could have been.

I make the choice not to drink because I know what it leads to, I make the choice not to get high or associate myself with people that do because I know what it cost me. I can't be that person anymore, I don't want to be that person any more. I've lost enough of my life. I'm a mother now and I want to be a Way better one than the one I had. Logan is learning "no", he's learning self respect and he's learning right and wrong. He's also learning unconditional love and support, he's going to know what it's like to have someone that won't give up on him.

I'm afraid of what I was because I know what I can become. I've spent hours, days, weeks crying for fear of becoming like my mother. Yesterday I told her I want nothing to do with her. She's unreliable and no better than the dads she's been cursing for 25 years. She says she's not come up to "give me my space" when I've asked her to crowd it. I told her that now I want my space and if she can't respect that I will have her removed from the property. I'm tired of being afraid of my mother, of what she could do to me, more so of hurting her or of what she could do to herself. I can't keep thinking of her feelings, she does that enough for both of us. I made a conscience decision to separate myself from her in hopes of bettering myself as a person, as a mom and as a partner to Tristan.

What I said to her was a Nothing compared to what I could have said, but she's not ready to face reality, she's not ready to admit to the hurt she's caused me. Everything is my fault. It's been my fault for the last 25 years and that's 25 years too long.

You don't smack a 5th grader and call her a bitch or a fucking idiot. You just don't. You don't tell her how much you can't stand her, you don't tell her to get lost or make her feel like a mistake. Not a 5th grader, a child, your child.

I do not like my mother as a person. I was hoping that from a daughter's point of view that she would one day be a mother, but she's not ready and I don't think she ever will be and I need to face that.

I need to face the fact that I always wanted to start a family of my own, with traditions and morals and get togethers' and this is what I got. My family; Me, Tristan, Logan, Olivia and Kimber. This is it. In the end this is all I have. I'm okay with it, just not to the reality of it.

The Leaving Song -A.F.I.

Walked away, heard them say
"Poison hearts will never change,"
walk away again.
Turned away in disgrace,
felt the chill upon my face cooling from within.

Hard to notice gleaming from the sky,
when you're staring at the cracks.
Hard to notice what is passing by with eyes lowered.

You... walked away, heard them say
"Poison hearts will never change,"
walk away again.

All the cracks, they lead right to me,
and all the cracks will crawl right through me.
All the cracks, they lead right to me,
and all the cracks will crawl right through me, and I fell apart.

As I... walked away, heard them say
"Poison hearts will never change,"
walk away again,
Turned away in disgrace,
felt the chill upon my face cooling from within


  1. You are a great mother and you are starting a wonderful little family. I lost count how many times I heard Chelsea say how cute you and Tristan were together at our little party on Monday and she is right. I don't need to remind you how amazing your son is and you are wonderful with him.