For Better or for Worse

God bless my mom.  She is the strongest woman I know!!! I meant to write this post a couple days ago, but I've slacked...after tonight though...it needs to be said.  How do you keep taking care of a man...even though sick...that goes in the room when you come in from work, who won't eat your cooking, gives you the middle finger, and calls you a jackass?!?!  How does a man and wife go from loving each other, having three kids, being married for over 30 years end up like this???  The vow of marriage for most people these days holds no sanctity...most people are divorced at least 2 maybe 3 times over, here in California...but my mother, my dear mom; is still married to and takes care of my father.  I don't know if I'd have the will...I mean it wasn't as tough the first couple years, but as time goes on it progresses and just gets to the for WORSE!!!

Tonight we all went past our boiling points...tensions rose as my brother comes home to a room reeking of a pee soaked futon with dad laying there marinating in it and his clothes.  Unwilling to shower and change, my brother had enough and threw him out of the room along with the rest of his clothes.

As I was laying in the bed with mom catching up on some needed R&R and watching Cutthroat Kitchen I hear more a ruckus from my dad and brother going at it back and fourth. There definitely was starting to be some physical fighting which I then hopped out of the bed to calm things down.  Dez was taking the cover off the futon and spraying Febreze in the air.  I asked my dad to please shower and change out of his wet clothes.  He could not focus and began cussing at me too.  He almost put his hands on me, when my mom burst out of the room.  She asked him to stop being stubborn and attempted to explain that we were only looking out for his best interest and why would he keep biting the hands that fed him. More cussing ensued, he explained that he's out of here and is going to go with his family.  I said to call them up and see who would come get him.  He started gathering his things from the hallway and placing them in the living room.  I proceeded to throw pee stained clothes and the futon cover in the washing machine. Dad got mad about that started screaming and my mom interjected...he started towards her to which she retreated to the closest room, which was mine and closed the door to where it was barely cracked...she kept trying to talk him down from behind the door to no avail.  His water bottle fell on its side, and he got mad about that...Dez then grabbed him and "escorted" him to the living room.  I had to grab Dez to get him to stop as he was heated like a lion taking his kill down with the final blow. I threw him in his room and went back into the living room to see dad putting his dirty clothes on one of the chairs.  I asked him to give me the dirty clothes because I didn't want my living room smelling like piss (excuse my french).  Of course he didn't want to give me the clothes.  He started yelling at me, saying I'm lucky to be alive, and eff bomb this and eff bomb that. I got some of the clothes to put in the laundry.  He started back after me to which Dez pushed him back and he fell over an ottoman to the ground, here comes mom out of the room again, this time calming Dez and asking him not to hit dad as we all know that he isn't all mentally there.  Dez just keeps saying I'm done, I don't care, it doesn't matter.  My dad said something to the affect of you better pray to God or it's because you don't pray to God to which Dez  yelled "it's not like you taught me."  Mom goes back in her room, Dez goes in his room and closes the door.  Dad finishes gathering his things and lays on the ground.

I throw some oxyclean in the washer and set the washer to sanitize mode. Now that things are a little more settled I ask dad again to take a shower so that the moisture from his wet clothes doesn't seep into the floors.  He goes off and says he can't wait to get effing out of here and that I'm lucky it's not daytime or he would be gone.  I said whats daytime have to do with it, go now.  He's like you're lucky to be alive, I said yes I am and so are you or where would you be living right now.  I told him to call his family now...tell them to come get you now then.  He doesn't call.  I told him to get out then if he couldn't respect my house, my rules and his own self.  He said fine...I opened the front door and he started throwing putting his stuff outside.  He's outside and I lock the door behind him!

How do we go from being worried about someone being lost and searching for them to kicking them out...complete 180 on the emotional level!! Things are irreverently crazy with our words to each other.  I start cleaning the spills from his water bottle and wet spot on the floor.  He then starts ringing the doorbell asking for his wallet.  I tell him he has his wallet and to check the pile on the porch.  He doesn't check and proceeds to pound on the door.  I tell him I'm going to call the police.  It was as if he was trying to break the door down.

Dez and mom to the rescue again. Mom asks me to open the door.  I comply, but don't let him in entirely. He wants to get his wallet, I tell him to tell Dez where it is so Dez can get it.  Dez retrieves the wallet.  Mom again with her loving nature tries to reason with dad: "don't you want to take a shower and get clean and sleep in the warm house?" "Can you just stop being stubborn and allow us to help you?"  No response...he turns his back to the door.  I shut it.

I continue cleaning.  Mom asks me what I need help with. "Nothing, just go to bed"  She has work in the early morning.  As she heads to her room she says "I'll find a place for him tomorrow, for us!"

I look out the window and dad is sitting on the bench on the porch talking on the phone.  I assume he is attempting to get a ride.  I finish swiffering the floors and wiping down the chair ottoman and fridge.  I look outside...and he's simply laying on the bench.  No ones come to his rescue.

I wanted to buy a couch...saw a nice one at the JCPenney outlet...but didn't want it to be pee stained. Lost my dog, my house smells like pee, dirty dishes where the clean ones are, food spilled on the counters and floors...the energy is one of plain and simple misery.

Human nature is a funny thing...so many things at play tonight: the need to be right, anger, hurt, ill will, resentment, resignation, but mostly compassion.  Especially from mom.  Even as I sat down to write this she comes in my room "Are you just letting him relieve some steam outside for a bit?"  I reply "He can stay outside, he has a blanket." To which she says "He's wet."  I exclaim "He could have already had on dry clothes, I can't make him change, what do you do?" "What do you do?"  She leaves the room to finally get some rest.

I don't know about you, but I'm stressed, I'm at the point right now where I feel overwhelmed.  I can't even muster the energy to cry I'm so drained from the ordeal.  ::exhale::

You never know how "lucky" you are or the luck you can create for yourself...I can only hope and pray to find a husband who loves me as unconditionally as my mom has "love" for my dad, and that I will love that man so much that there's no question that I'd return the same.  My ex and I would talk about this occasionally, "If I was in a coma, how long would you wait of me? Would you wait for me?"  I always said that if I was in a coma after a certain amount of time please remarry and be happy, I wouldn't want someone to continue to be sitting around sad waiting for me.  I guess you would never know how you would react to that situation until you were placed in it.  I don't think my mom could have predicted how she would have reacted to this situation...I'm pretty sure the answer would be different than her current outcome.

Well, that's enough out of me for one night...Take care of yourself!!! Don't end up like dad!

Time to go check on him.

XO

Xabi Alexander where are you?

Today marks a week since my fat baby has been gone...I haven't been able to do anything...I'm so resigned and cynical about life right now.  Who would have known I'd be so sad about it.  It's so funny, it's like people ask you "how are you?" It's such a natural way to enter into conversation, but no one really cares about the answer it seems, they just get an answer and move so quickly on to the next thing, I'm even guilty of it myself.  What do you say to someone who says I'm sad, or do people even really care?  I had someone who I've recently met in the last month call me up and ask how I was doing, this is last Friday, I told her "I've seen better days" and she immediately moves on to the next subject.  I mean why even ask?!  I mean I don't want to dwell or get into this whole sob story of it all, but I was terribly upset that day.

Then I think about what else I can do, and I post fliers and look and go to the pound and ask people on the street if they've seen Xabi. I post on Craigslist and Petharbor and on Facebook ...nothing.  I got a call from a lady who saw my flier and she told me not to give up hope and suggested the Facebook page to me.  I got a call from someone two days ago who said they saw someone that looked like Xabi on the streets on Friday.  One woman even told me her friends lost dog was found 52 days later...I'm on day 7. Still nothing.

You know the phrase they say "you know who your true friends are" One of my true friends is Jenn!  She lives in Chicago called me immediately when she saw my post and started calling fire stations and such for me all the way out there, she alerted all her friends out in LA and checks in with me to see how things are.  I appreciate and love her!  Another friend Audrey took me to lunch all the way from San Diego...granted she was already supposed to be up here...but nonetheless she still took the time to visit with me. There are others who shared my post and called me and I appreciate that.

I mean my entire routine is thrown off...I haven't wrote in my gratitude journal, I haven't been doing my daily affirmations, haven't been to the office...I'm simply down trodden.  I don't think people understand how I am really feeling...I'm sure others have felt this way..I'm sure it will soon fade away with time, hopefully it will be because I found Xabi. My dad is upset and was crying about losing Xabi.  I've done some work and got to the office, life does go on, but all I want to do is crawl into a ball and play candy crush and zone out or something.  I just wish I knew something, is he alive, is he in a warm home, has he eaten?? Praying my fat baby is okay.

I pass by his crate and he's not there...I fall asleep and I don't hear him snoring...I don't have to leave time to walk him and give him food before I leave...his bowl is just sitting there empty, his bag of food limp. I pass by his toys and they're lifeless...I look in the backyard and he's not back there running around or chewing his rawhide...theres less shed hair on my socks...theres no one following me from room to room all day...sigh

I wonder how I brought this about into my life...what does it all mean?  What thoughts was I thinking to create this?  Why would I want to create this turmoil?  What's the lesson in all of this?  Is there a bright side? Ugh

My mom says shes going to give me money to get a new dog...but what about my fat baby...what about him?!  I haven't necessarily lost hope...but it's hard when you just have no news.  Somehow I wasn't as worried about my dad...I knew he would show up, I just knew it deep down in my soul.  But Xabs was another story...I would visualize coming home from looking for them and find Xabi sitting at the front door after finding his own way home, alas it was my dad who found his way home and was sitting on the front porch when I got home.  It's a great thing my dad made it after being gone 30 hours...seems like he didn't even have a sense that he was even lost.  But it's a sad thing about Xabi.

I don't even know what to do with my life right now...I just need my fat baby back!!!!