Losing Kate

 

Katherine Marlene was born at 16:16 pm on June 9, 2002.  She was a petite 7 pounds, 5 ounces and had a full head of hair.  She had big, beautiful eyes and long fingers.  She had a tiny little birthmark on her earlobe.  We knew she was a girl long before she made her appearance.  

As she grew, her personality really started to shine.  She was smart and funny.  She was also quite trying on the patience at times.

Her teen years started with her always wanting to succeed in school, bringing home straight "A"s without me even having to push.  She was always harder on herself.

Teenage Kate had her hard moments.  We struggled with her eating disorder and low self esteem.  We sought help on numerous occasions.  She attempted suicide once and was hospitalized.  Once we found the right treatment, she started to soar.

At the beginning of this September it all came to a halt.

Her move in day at the start of her sophomore year of college turned into a nightmare.  

She was raped by another student in his dorm room.  

She internalized the trauma for about ten days before she told me.  Ashamed and embarrassed, she didn't want to be judged.  As a rape victim, one tends to blame themselves and is often afraid to speak out.  A victim feels afraid of retaliation and also fear that they won't be believed.  A victim is in shock and is unable to fully process what has happened to them.

I finally talked her into reporting it and she went to the hospital to get examined.  During the exam, she vocalized wanting to die and they had to commit her to behavioral health for 72 hours.

After her release, she was exhibiting signs of delusions and hallucinations.  Her dad was concerned and brought her back to the hospital.  She has been diagnosed with psychosis.  She has been creating an alternate reality to hide from the trauma of the attack.

As a parent, I cannot explain how horrible it feels to have lost your child on top of knowing what she has been through to bring her to this point.  

She doesn't deserve this.... any of it.

I cannot visit her due to covid restrictions.  I cannot hold her and tell her that she will be alright.  I cannot take away any of her pain.  I couldn't protect her from the monster who did this to her.  I cannot wipe her tears.

When I talk to her, I don't know this Katie.  

I pray that I have not lost her.  I pray so hard.

I listen for any little hint that she's still in there somewhere.

I don't want to be losing Kate.

Dear Katie

Hello my darling daughter...

I know this will probably embarrass you in some way but sometimes blogging is the way I express my feelings.

Sometimes I feel like I fail as your mother.  I think that I struggle empowering you to feel like you can conquer the world.  I feel that I don't give you the strength to be strong and confident to face the days that aren't so good.  I want you to learn to be strong on the days that aren't so good.  I want you to learn to be confident on the days where you feel like falling apart.  I want you to learn to be brave on the most scariest occasions.

I know we've had some hard times.  I know that those hard times continue to haunt us.

I also feel like I need to apologize for your father and his failure to be a good dad to you.  Just know, I wish things were different but at the same time, if they were different and I had made different choices, I would't have you.

You often think that I don't care.

But I do care very much.

Some days it is hard, and you have no idea how hard it is to be a mother.

I don't make excuses but I didn't have very good role models for parents.  My own mother issues haunt me.  I never want to do to you what my own did to me.

I knew you before you were born.  I chose your name, Katherine Marlene.  I spoke to you even when you were inside me.  

I wish that you could see how I see you.

You are beautiful.  You are funny.  You are capable of great things.

I just wish that you can see that too.

I love you very much.

...... your mother

Being Single Mom

I don't brag much.

I never see the point.  I don't need a pat on the back or sympathy.

I'm a single mom.

I have been for many years.

It is a struggle, a constant struggle.

I am so fortunate to have kids that turned out so great.  They could have been such different people without my sacrifices.

My son is now an engineer.  He has his head on straight.  He works hard and is smart with his money.

My daughter is a straight A student and is on path to graduate with honors.  She works, has a boyfriend and still manages to get constant As throughout her high school career.

I am amazed by both.

It has never been easy.  It is so hard to be strong for them while over coming obstacles, many of which were put in my path by their fathers.

I am sure some of you are reading this and thinking about their fathers.  Both fathers chose to bow out.  They left turmoil and unknowns behind.  They left me to deal with late night vomit, heartbreaks, homework, deadlines, school projects, fundraisers, practices, no money, utility shutoffs, and homelessness.

These fathers never had to make decisions, never signed field trip slips.  They never offered to coach soccer.  They never had to make sure the kids had to get to school on time.  There never had to be around when a meltdown started.

I have learned enough about cars to encourage my son's love of them.

I've struggled with money.  I have wondered how to put food on the table.  I've even been evicted by my daughter's father. 

I gave up on my own dreams, my own sanity, my own happiness for the sake of raising good kids.  

I think I've earned the right to brag a little.

I have managed to raise successful adults.

It hasn't been easy.

Anger in Grief

I haven't blogged in awhile.

My laptop took a crap and I am using my son's, which isn't the easiest to use.  As I type, the cursor moves around and typos happen.

I also haven't had much to say.  Who wants to hear about my adventures in fondling tomatoes and inspecting bananas?

Anyway....

This time of year is graduation.  It is a happy time for families and students.

As I scrolled through my Facebook feed the other day I came across a photo of my aunt and uncle with their granddaughter.  I teared up suddenly.  My aunt looks so much like my mother.  The same salt and pepper hair, the same shape face.  I starred at the photo.  My cousin's daughter reminds me of my own with long brown hair and a wide smile.  I cried.

My mother died a few years ago from lung cancer.  I never really sobbed over it.  I don't think I grieved like you would imagine what grieving would be like.  It is weird and hard to explain.  I just expected to break down but I never did.

Back to the photo...

I think my tears came from anger.  I am angry at my mom for dying.  It is such a raw and real emotion.  It came from just picturing my own mother and daughter on Kate's graduation day.  This will never happen.

I used to think my mom would be around to share in my children's life events.

I think what angers me the most is that she was so selfish to not see a doctor sooner or to take better care of herself.  She admitted that she hadn't seen a doctor of 17 years prior to the cancer diagnosis.

Maybe is a normal feeling to be angry.

I also think I am thinking more of missing my mother because I have been through some rough times over the last couple of years.  There are times I wish I could just call her.  She had a way of talking you off the ledge and give you a sense that everything will be ok.

Sigh...

The F-Bomb

I have never been comfortable dropping F-Bombs.  I don't know why.  It is a very strange habit of mine.

Maybe because my grandfather once told me that swearing tends to dumb people down.  For some reason they cannot express what or why they are excited, angry, happy, sad....whatever.....so they swear.

I have no problem uttering "damn it" or "shit".  Hell, I can even swear in several different languages.

But the F-Bomb....

One memory that stands out to me regarding the F-Bomb is the time my grandfather was having open heart surgery.  He was rushed to a hospital about an hour away and I was living in the same town as my grandma so I had to drive her to the hospital.  My mom met us there and we waited together.  It was a long long wait.  My grandma was so distraught.  I was worried.  I think my mom was too.

The surgery lasted for several hours and once he was out of surgery, it was late.  My grandma, mom and I ended up getting a hotel room for the night.

Since the situation was stressful and our nerves were rattled we decided to drink several drinks.  We proceeded to get drunk.

Mind you, three generations sitting in a hotel, tying one on was quite the site itself but when my mom dropped a F-Bomb, I was flabbergasted.

"Mom. you can't say that in front of your mom." 

Then my grandma started in with this...

"Why can't she say fuck?  Seriously, how can such a pleasurable thing be such an offensive word?  I mean if you really want to swear, say "unfuck".  Now there's a word."

I sat in stunned silence.  Not only did my mother drop a F-Bomb in front of her mother, my grandmother was dropping F-Bombs all over the place and also stating that fucking was pleasurable.

Holy Crap!

I looked at my grandma and then my mother and then we busted out in laughter.

Even though I still can't bring myself to drop F-Bombs, it is one of the best memories.

Baby Not on Board

I suppose I will catch a bunch of flak for what I am about to write but I really don't care.  It is just a weird fact about me.

I am not a fan of babies.

I didn't like being pregnant.  Not. One. Bit.  It was a weird yucky feeling and then it became unbearably uncomfortable.  

I know that it has been noted that pregnant women look glowing and beautiful and all that blah blah shit.  I was even told that of myself way back when.  I didn't feel it.  I looked tired and grumpy.  

My belly never "popped" out until about 8 months and then everybody was touching me.

I probably should mention that I hate strangers touching me.

I would mention the fact that I hated being pregnant in various conversations when others would gush about how they loved it.  I just didn't get it.

bleh....

When I was pregnant with my son, I didn't have morning sickness.  It came about mid evening.  The very thought of Chinese food would send me flying into the bathroom.  I craved canned spinach and ate it right out of the can.

When I was pregnant with my daughter, her baby body was pushing on something and I couldn't stop coughing.  The doctor couldn't prescribe anything for it because it would hurt the fetus.  I coughed so hard, I would throw up.  I slept most nights on the bathroom floor.

I was miserable.

Now you are probably thinking that I just hated being pregnant.

Oh no...

Babies aren't my thing.  I don't like guessing why they are crying.  I hated that whole diaper thing.  Then they spit up that yucky stuff.  I don't care to hold them.  I don't like the smell of them.  Bottles, nooks, diapers, mixing formula (my kids had issues), car seats, no sleep.....my list goes on...didn't like any of it.  You have to plug all the outlets, baby proof the cabinets, put all your breakable collectibles away. Do I even have to mention stretch marks?

Oh and I cannot stand the smell of baby powder.

HURL!!!!

Someone would come into work with their new baby and everyone would ask to hold it.  Not me!  Nope....  Everyone would gush over how cute it was.  Not me!  Nope...  I would look at that new beaming mom and think "you poor woman, no sleep for 2 to 3 years" and "good luck getting back to normal".

I know I sound terrible.

I can't help it.

My kids think it's funny that they made it out of babyhood.

It isn't that I would lock them in the closet when the cried or left them in poopy diapers. 

I did the whole mommy thing and suffered.  I just would go out of my way to have more babies.

Once my babies started becoming little people, I just enjoyed them so much more.  As they continue to grow into young adults, I continue to enjoy them. 

They have grown into wonderful people.  They are intelligent, witty and awesome.

and...

They are not babies.

Dear Mom...

Dear Mom,

I think this is the very first letter that I have ever written you.  Kind of strange but I have never really moved so far away to where I couldn't just pick up the phone and call you.  This time circumstances are very different.  You are the one who is very far away and I don't believe there are any phones where you are.

I have always been a big letter writer.  Well, you knew that already since you had to put stamps and addresses on every letter I wrote until I was old enough to do it myself.

We scattered your ashes in your favorite fishing spot.  It was the very first time that I was ever there.  It is quite amazingly beautiful and quiet.  You should be at peace there.  It was hard to do.  It is hard to say good bye to someone that I have known my whole entire life.

Mom, I haven't really mourned your death yet.  It has been almost 11 months and I have not allowed myself to cry or mourn.  It is weird.  I think that if I really stopped to do it, I may never stop.  It doesn't mean that I don't think of you.  I think of you every day.  I think of what you are missing.  I think of the cancer that took you away.  I think about how sometimes I wish I could just call you.

Maybe I am mourning you.  I don't know.  I never had a mom die before.

I am thankful that I did get to talk to you the morning on the day you died.  I am thankful that I got to tell you that I loved you one last time and I am also thankful that I got to hear that you loved me too.  That was most important since I couldn't be there when you left.  

I went through all the cards that people sent us expressing their sympathy.  It is strange to look at them now and think that they offered their sympathy then but now we (your family) still hurt and miss you.  

I also went through the slides that I got from you.  It is so strange to look at them now and remember what it was like to be a child and looking at you younger than I am now.  They are good memories.  Thank you for giving me the slides.

I know that I am angry.  I am angry at the cancer that took you.  I am angry at you for not going to the doctor sooner.  I am angry at the cigarettes.  I am angry that there wasn't more time.  I am angry that you will miss life events.  I am just still angry.

I wish I could write more and tell you everything but I am crying now. (I guess I am mourning, eh?)

I miss you so much.

Love,

Me

My mom

Mom's final resting place

Mom's ashes being scattered

Ninja Insurance Warrior

I've been in Ninja Insurance Warrior Boot Camp for most of the week.  I am training to be a Ninja Insurance Warrior.  I need to complete this in order to get my super ability to indemnify people.  

I am dead serious.

I have actually written several blog entries but haven't been able to post them.  I wrote mostly about my feelings about my mom's death.  It has been incredibly hard to write about since my emotions are all over the board and my writing reflect it.

I talked with my step dad tonight and he said that he has been yelling at my mom for leaving him. I can relate.  I have wanted to yell many times at her.  She left us too soon and she is mostly to blame for being stubborn and careless with her health.  It makes me angry that she isn't around any more and will miss out on so many things.

Yeah, I know you might be thinking that she will be around anyway but to us living people it isn't the same as having her participate without popping up in a ghostly fashion.

Back to my training.

A couple of months ago I decided to make some changes.  I needed to leave the profession I was in.  I wasn't satisfied and I wasn't too happy about co-workers causing drama.  I was stressed about mom being sick.  Something had to give, so I left my job and took one at an insurance agency.  I will be a licensed professional.

I went from working in a highly corporate (world headquarters) environment in which I had to watch what I said and did to working in a very relaxed environment with two people.  It has been pretty darn cool and my stress level is way down.  My stress cough is pretty much gone.

yay!

I knew I wasn't happy so I did something about it.

Even though change completely terrifies me, I did it.

yay again!

Courage comes from within.

You Need to Take the Leap Off the Diving Board and Pray That You Can Remember How to Swim

I have always been afraid of change.  Ok, well...not afraid but I just dislike it.

I guess I tend to stick with what I know and pretend to be happy.

Key word in the previous sentence is "pretend".

Pretending to be happy tend to get old and makes me grumpy and sad.  I can only be grumpy and sad for so long before it eats at me until I am forced to make a change.

Change and courage go hand in hand for me.

It takes courage to change.

I have had so much change in the last couple of weeks.  It is almost like change overload.  So as I sit and write this, I am in kind of a fog.

I lost my mom a week ago today.  She was diagnosed with cancer of the lungs, bones and adrenal glands back in August.  We knew the end was coming but we always expected to have more time.  I think everyone thinks that time is continuous in some sort of way.  We tend to forget that time has a limit.  It has been hard adjusting to this change.  She isn't there anymore when I go to pick up the phone.  She isn't there when I need to tell someone something grown up like.  It is just weird.

I am not fond of this type of change.

The other change is today was my last day of my old job.  I have been working for the same company for over 7 years.  This was a record for me.  I never intended to stay that long.  It just sort of happened.  My job was a big part of my life.  If you think of it, when you spend 8 hours a day for five days a week for about 48 weeks a year (includes vacations and such).  That's a lot of time in one place.  Hell, I don't think I spend that much time at home even and I pay rent for this place.  The job had its little changes.  It became challenging but not enough to kept me there.  I needed to change.

I was scared of this type of change.

But I did it.

I found a new job where I can meet new people and spread my wings a little.  I needed less stress.

Change takes courage.  We have to find the courage in ourselves to make that change.  Sometimes that little voice that whispers "you got to do something about it" can be the scariest thing.

Sometimes we just need to take that leap.  

Egg-Zaw-Sted

Yep, I'm tired so I can't be held accountable for any spelling mistakes or if I start rambling.

It's my blog and I can make the rules.

If your tired and you know it ramble on.

I have had a very long week.  One of the longest in Julie history I might say.  (I did say)

My mom was hospitalized last Wednesday with congestive heart failure, pneumonia and probably some other stuff that wasn't/isn't good but we are still waiting on some tests.  I say "we" because even though she is waiting, we all are kind of waiting for the results and by we, I mean the rest of us.  By us...oh I don't know....sister, brother, mother, step dad, anyone else.

I think if she had waited just one more day, I would have had a very different kind of week.

I know I have mother issues but that doesn't stop me from loving her.  She is still my mom and without her, I wouldn't be here rambling on at this hour of the morning.

I also have been dealing with bronchitis.  My stupid lungs can't handle this kind of thing since they have been damaged from pneumonia years ago.  I get the slightest yucky type thing in my chest and all hell breaks loose, I swear.  My voice is gone and lord only knows when it will make its appearance again.

Creating stuff has helped with my mental stuff.  Funny how doing stuff can help me cope with other stuff.  Lots of stuff...

My daughter wants to do a craft fair with all of the stuff we've created.  I want to do it but then I don't want to do it.  Seems like a lot of work do get the stuff to the locations, display the stuff, hopefully sell the stuff and then when it is over, pack all the stuff up and go home.  Oy!

You can see my stuff like this:

Over here:

http://www.etsy.com/shop/Inspiralicious?ref=si_shop

My Inspiralicious shop and that photo above is a purse charm.  You clip it to your purse to jazz it up.  (or you can clip it to anything else that needs jazzing)

I suppose I should get some sleep.  It is the only way to fight the yucky stuff in my chest.