Alter my focus

I’m negative, I get that.  Change my focus.  I often come here and bitch, rarely do I post a rah-rah kinda thing to entertain the masses.  Alter my focus.  Depression is sinking in again, and with no one to talk to IRL I tend to sink deeper.  Change my focus.

Ya gettin the gist of my direction here?  Yeah.  Me too.

I know how powerful the mind can be.  As a person that alternates easily between utter despair, extreme joy and brash anger, I know the mind can alter many things.  I’m not just talking the shooting of endorphins during extreme joy, but did you know that your heart rate sky rockets when you are angry, which can often make your mind’s decisions less likely to be reasonable?  I did, I found that out that when in the midst of one of my angry rants, my heart rate shoots up to around 130, and even as high as 150 one time, and reasoning and logic is altered.

In depression, the mind can do a similar thing, minus the galloping heart.  The mind tends to forget things, misplacing things is common, and the fuse ends up being mighty short.

Alter my focus.

I lost a bottle today.  Stay with me here, it’ll become clear soon.  Sweet Pea uses bottles that have liners since the whole plastic scare thing allowed me to trade my old ones in for free I got the bottles I wanted him to have as he aged (ones that he can drink while he scootches along the floor on his bum).  He often has a bottle that he drinks a smidgen from and then tosses for that piece of lint across the floor, or to chase Punk across the room.  It is often tossed on the floor to sit for a while until he comes back to finish it.  This is a daily occurrence.  A bottle is now missing, and I’m very sure it just means that I have set it down somewhere in my house when my mind was preoccupied with the loathing for my dh (which in this case means duck-ass husband).  I got focused upon what he wasn’t doing for me, and still isn’t doing for me, and probably will never do for me that I most likely set the bottle down on a shelf somewhere, or folded it into the laundry or something of that nature.  What’s crappy is it’s half full of formula mixed with rice milk as we are weaning him off of formula.  The rice milk will smell real nice after a few days sitting somewhere, especially mixed with formula, the awful stuff that it is.

What this blithering idiocy came down to is it made me realize that I was slipping into a hard depression, something I don’t often do anymore.  The forgetfulness triggered a thought that I’m falling again.  You know the kind where you don’t even want to get out of bed, you contemplate suicide, you truly feel the world hates you, you know, that kind.  I wasn’t quite there yet, but since therapy, I’ve come to recognize my own signs of slipping.  One of the ways I can keep from slipping more is to alter my focus.  I must attempt to focus upon something else, not necessarily something falsely happy to alter my mood, but to alter the focus from self-loathing, harbouring ill thoughts towards dh to something lighter; like bread making, reading, bathing Sweet Pea (trust me, it’s a focus all in its own category to watch that water-baby have a bath), making lists for future camping expeditions.

I need to alter my focus from the events coming up this weekend and focus on my aunt visiting, or on my cousin whose cancer is an anomoly that has the Mayo clinic paying for her to stay in a 5-star hotel at Scottsdale, AZ (yeah, another blog altogether on that one), or on my Bing coming home from camp on Friday.  It won’t snag me back into a chipper mood by any means but it’ll for sure halt further slippage into the abyss.

Altering my focus.

He was so loved

I don’t know why we do it in society, but we do.  We treat dogs better than we treat our elderly.  Those of European descent must be just cringing at the way we lock our old people up in institutions when they get to burdensome for us to take care of.

My grampa was in a nursing home, I say ‘was’ not because he is dead, or no longer there, but because I refuse to continue to call that place a nursing home.  The name just doesn’t fit the term ‘home’ very well at all, but institution, which tends to conjur up images of barren walls, bars on windows, the smell of feces and urine permeating every inch of air, and the people strewn about the halls with blank stares longing for death.  That is the exact picture of my grampa now.

This week has been an eye opener for me.  Because I’ve been focused on my own stuff – “holidays” and my water heater – I’ve not been able to spend much time with my Gramma or go see my Grampa.  I did get to visit my mom this week because we’ve had to shower at her place, so I got to hear the run down of what’s been going on.

I always thought the stories of neglect and abuse in old folk’s homes were something of a mythical nature, sure it may have happened, but exactly like that?  Of course I always thought too that it was something that happened to other people’s grandparents, not my own.

You can see where this is heading.  My Grampa has not been hit, robbed, or abused physically any way, but seriously neglected, and it’s criminal.  He’s been left sitting in his own pee for the entire day, his sheets remain unchanged from a pee night through to his afternoon nap, they refuse to put him down for his nap – he’s blind and has emphysema and cannot physically remove himself from his wheelchair – they leave him in his wheelchair the entire day, they don’t help him feed himself and when he’s stuck in the dining area without a fork or spoon to attempt to feed himself, he’s left there for 45 minutes without anyone even noticing that he cannot eat.  If that were a parent with a child, charges would be laid, but because it’s the elderly neglected by an overpaid LPN (I’ve seen them ‘work’ don’t try and argue with me that they work hard and are underpaid), a supposed professional, we seem to ignore it.  Oh, and no, there is only one RN on duty who doesn’t lift a finger, speaking of overpaid.

My mom feels guilty.  Not because she had to put him into a home, but because she had to put him into a hole until he gets to the nice place.  He’s been on the waiting list for the one fantastic Christian run home for eighteen months.  But because he was getting so hard to take care of at home, he had to go somewhere, or get a nurse in.  A nurse is more expensive, but looking back, it’d probably have been the better option.

Why do we treat the most respected, most loved members of our society, with lesser affection and dignity than an animal?  These are people that have had more opportunity to touch the world, to give love, and lets remember they are grandparents, our favourite people.  That’s what it’s about isn’t it, it’s the dignity of the human being once they’ve let go of their own self-dignity, or not let go of I guess, but have had it forcibly removed by circumstances beyond anyone’s control.  The dignity is lost by them so we give them none with our actions while they are taken care of.

I believe the place should be reported, but most people would cry that it’s the government’s fault because of lack of funding.  Since the government doesn’t fund these at all, it’s not a government problem, but a money problem.  No, there isn’t the lack of money that people think but when you have a system that is for profit, of course they’ll scrimp on things such as good help in order to make more money.  When you have a non-profit system, they are more likely to use every cent in the care as there is no stock holders to answer to.

I hate to hope for another to die in order for my grampa to move up the waiting list on the good home (thoroughly inspected by my mom yesterday), but that’s exactly where I’m at now.  Sad.

Still hot water’less

It’s been three days.  Can you smell me from there?  I’m only kidding of course.  We’ve made the trek into the city to my mom’s for the four of us to shower.  Dh however, has been sponge bathing and using the shower bag from the trailer – one you fill with warm water and let it drizzle over you.  Dumb ass actually suggested I use that damn thing for me and three kids.  Gotta be a man, don’t have to worry about anyone but yourself, so whatever you do for you is good enough for the woman in your life that does everything for the kids too, right?  Yeah, into a bit of man bashing again today, it’s normal.

So we’ve had a few quotes from guys to install a tankless water heater.  Boy oh boy it’s going to be a pain.  We had decided to go with tankless mainly because of the idea of a big tank of water sitting around again in a place where our kids are more likely to be (the playroom).  Then there’s the enviro factor for me with it using less gas to heat it, and the savings for dh – the money man – by using less energy.  It was a fairly easy decision for me, but dh is balking at the idea of putting up that kind of money up front.  Our very first estimate was a range of $3800 – $4500.  Of course my jaw dropped but this is a company that claims same day service with a two hour window guaranteed, so you pay out the nose for it.

There is an issue though.  Most of the companies we have talked to don’t recommend the tankless systems because they have found they don’t keep up to the usage.  But, they’ve only been supplying and quoting systems that pump out 3.5 gpm, that is small and that is only for one major appliance that it pumps out like that.  We’ve been looking at 6 and 7 gpm rating for two major appliances, so we are going to have to find out from these guys why exactly they don’t recommend them.  It may end up that we’ll have a tank again if the price continues to be too high and no one recommends it even with the higher flow rate out.

I just want it done soon.  We have one more guy phoning us back to quote a 6.4gpm unit for installation and I told dh that I just wanted it done soon because traipsing our three kids back and forth every two days to shower is becoming a pain, and I’ve only done it once.

Oh, and here’s how warped dh’s parents are about money.  After dh told them our water heater was out, they actually said to him, “oh just think of all the money you are saving with not having to heat the water”.  They are so fucked up it’s not even funny.  They see the obvious money saved with natural gas, but what about the electricity for me to heat up the water using a kettle or the stove for dishes?  *side note* I’d use the microwave but it takes over 10 minutes to heat up a small chunk of water for doing dishes *side note ended*.  Then there’s the cost in fuel for me to drive 30 km every two days to wash up kids and me.  Plus is my time worth nothing?  So warped, but it’s definitely easily obvious where dh gets his money obsession from.

I just hope this is done soon, the price of gas alone should be getting dh’s butt in gear, but he’s had a weird week of fun at work.  He does a yearly fishing trip with clients and of course it was this week, so he couldn’t phone then.  Today, he’s in a golf tournament put on by clients, so this afternoon is out for phoning.  Plus there is actual work in between there again.

Dammit, I want it done ASAP.

Long forgotten, well for a moment anyway

My blog was forgotten for quite a while, not because of just utter neglect, but because we were away on “holiday”.  Yes, technically it was a holiday but not really, know what I mean?

The holiday was just as I thought it may be – fun times littered with tense moments and frustration as the event was shared with my ils.  Again, let me just say that my ils by-and-by are normal, nice people and are not even close to the stereo-typed meddling mil, but they get on my nerves pretty quick.  There’s just some lines that should not be crossed, but are often completely stomped all over in the presence of my ils.  Thankfully my sil and bil were there too, not as a filter as they are often bombarded by the same bossy bullsh!t, hinting behaviour, but as a tag team kind of experience.  I made it clear to dh and to sil that if the offending party crashes my holidays again next year, I won’t be going.

My water heater is toast.  No, don’t bother to spam me with your water heater suggestions, I won’t take them unless I know you.  We’re lucky it didn’t absolutely burst and ruin anything in the basement.  It is parked two feet from the good floor drain and was just pouring water into it.  It was leaking from somewhere in the top becoming a waterfall as it reached the rim and cascaded to the bottom where it pooled around the drain.  Nice site, and truly was a great thing I decided on a crappy supper of onion rings with dh’s ribs or we wouldn’t have found the mess for a while.  I didn’t want to go to the store, so we chose onion rings, my guts are icky right now, but we have no spewing water tank for a trade off.  I’ll take it.

So I get the chore of phoning around tomorrow to find a guy to install a tankless one within the next few days.  I can only heat water in the microwave for dishes for so long.  Luckily my new washer has its own heater and will heat the water for its cycle so I’m not screwed on that front.  Can you imagine coming back from a long camping holiday with the behemoth pile of laundry and not being able to touch more than three loads (we have at least four more to do yet).  The thought of laundry piling up is not appealing really, not much at all in fact.

A water heater hunting I go, a water heater hunting I go, hi-ho the merry-o a water heater hunting I go.  Pathetic? Yup, I’m ok with that.

I am so gone

On holidays now, I’m hoping it rocks like it has before.  Positive energy out means positive energy in.

Breath.

I am a nut

Were you really surprised by that?  I know I wasn’t.  But after reading my blog back a bit, I have realized that I truly am a nut.  But my titles are getting better, no?

There’s only five more days until we leave for holidays.  I haven’t quite decided if I’m looking forward to it yet or not.  I was informed a while ago that I am sharing my holidays with more than my beloved sil, but it is going to be bombarded by my mil & fil.  ~grumble~ ~grumble~  Fine.  Since the last time I camped, I am certainly not looking forward to it, but I know I won’t put up with any crap from dh about it.

What often happens when we camp with dh’s parents is I end up doing all the work about the camping experience while dh visits.  I can’t even get him to BBQ, an outdoor event that could possibly work with him wanting to be outside all the time, but then he tends to burn everything on the grill because he can’t concentrate on the food while harassing his dad about his last fishing fiasco.  It just gets old.  Plus with Sweet Pea being such a bugger lately, this camping trip has more chances of bringing me deeper into a funk than if I were to stay home.

I attempted to get professional photos done this morning and barely got through it without walking out the door.  My friend is a pro and her artistic ability is amazing with a camera.  But Sweet Pea of course didn’t nap well and was a pain the majority of the time.  If I put him down, he fussed constantly.  I am so sick of this phase that is stretching out for two months now.  He rarely gets held at home now because of it, I just got sick of the whine, whine, whine and then instant turn off if I picked him up.  So I stopped doing it, and gave the girls heck if they did.  If I leave the room he gets pissed, but quickly forgets about me and plays.  It makes it hard to ‘watch’ him all the time though.  He’s now scootching and doing the army crawl so he moves around, I can’t exactly hide from him the whole time he’s awake.  Needless to say he’s had a lot of floor time where he cries.  Fun.

I’m a bit stuck on my novel, it’s just not flowing anymore.  I’m stuck on the what the plot truly is.  I need to attempt a twist in it or something, but I have to make it unlike any other books.  I read a lot and have never come across this story before, so that’s not an issue, but I don’t want it to be just a fantasy novel, I want a smidgen of it to be based on truth, or what can possibly be.  Much like the Matrix, but not that sci-fi like.  I’m hoping to get something while on holidays, get some type of plot written out so I can continue on and wrap my characters in it.  I have a great character base, and even a decent villain, but no final plot.  Not good, but whatever, I have no deadline to have fly by me anyway.

Gotcha!  Nope, not you, I just killed a mosquito.  With our excess rain it’s been a nightmare here for those of us with an allergy to mosquito bites (where we don’t just get an itchy bump but a throbbing swollen painful sore), and I actually feel good every time I swat one dead.  Sick.

I am a nut.