Some animal, no idea what kind, was busy scraping the bark off trees at the natural area.  I love walking there, 168 acres of untouched land, just a five minute drive away.

I have noticed that I no longer have time to write or read blogs on the weekend.  We seem to be busy with Jack and Katie all weekend.  Jack had his birthday party on Saturday and he had a great time.  Yesterday I took Katie out for lunch and she was good, no pain, no agitation.  Weekends have become my work days:)  A two day work week isn't bad.

The snow is almost all gone now, ice persisting in the shadows, but it's starting to look like spring outside.  The birds are all busy making nests and looking for a girlfriend to share their nest with.  The birdhouse in our yard has been taken over by a busy squirrel who spent weeks moving his food into the birdhouse, using it as a silo of sorts.  The sun now shines through the windows, it's high up in the sky, and making it's trek north as it does every year.  

There is something I'm trying to understand, it's called trauma attachment.  Every time I start reading about it I keep shifting back and forth between my children, my grandson, and myself.  I guess it wouldn't be unusual for something like this to echo through the generations and it's probably part of generational trauma, but every thing gets mixed up in my head and I can't sort it out.

For instance,

"There are several basic mechanisms for the transmission of trauma across generations. Attachment is assumed to have a mediating role in the transgenerational transmission of abusive and neglectful behaviors. Mothers’ styles of attachment are passed on to their children. Traumas of attachment in childhood, negative experiences that affect one generation, are likely to affect subsequent generations, as well (Gravener et al., 2012; Özcan et al., 2016).

Intergenerational patterns of insecure attachment have also been widely substantiated, particularly when examining the impact of parents’ unresolved trauma on their children. The presence of unresolved trauma or loss can impair the mother’s ability to respond sensitively and effectively to the infant’s needs and increase the risk of developing an insecure attachment. Unresolved trauma or loss can alter a mother’s expectations and perceptions of her child, as well as her ability to respond sensitively, thereby compromising the infant’s development of secure attachment (Iyengar et al., 2014)."

And then I think about my mum, and her mum, and grandmas, and great grandmas and it all becomes too much and I start crying which doesn't help anybody, including me.  I'm thinking this will require more research, more reading, and more self reflection.  

It also makes me wonder, how far back does this go?  Forever?  To the stone age? Five hundred years?  two hundred years? There have always been awful things that have happened in the world, that have happened to mothers, that have happened to children.  Wars, diseases, famines, abuse, addictions, none of these are new.  I guess we know better now and when we know better, we are supposed to do better. 

Jack was taken into foster care when he was 2.5 years old for a week, and then he came to live with us.  But before that his mom was often drunk or high, unable to attend to his needs, passed out, unavailable to him (we know this now but not at the time, although we guessed some of it).  Since he came to live with us, we have tried to reunite him with his mom a few times, all of which have ended disastrously and left Jack even more traumatized.

He's trying to sort things out but doesn't know who to believe.  He loves his mom and he loves us but the stories that we each tell don't match.  I doubt I'll leave this part about Jack up for long but right now I need to get it out of my head.  We did try to get him into a trauma attachment group but he didn't qualify because he stills spends time with his mother.  I had to tell his other grandma that and that went down like a lead balloon.  But I was also given the name of two counsellors who specialize in trauma attachment and hopefully we can get in to see one of those women.

Right now it's a gordian knot, an endless, unsolvable problem, but hopefully we can improve things for him, for my children, and for myself.  We'll see.

My tomato plants are coming along nicely, as is everything else, except for the blue asters which never grew.  I will have some nice delphiniums, rudbeckia and white Maltese cross to plant next month.  The fan in the background blows on the plants from time to time to make them sturdier for when they have to move outside into the real world and face the wind.  It works amazingly well.

My mood is back to normal, thank god, and I feel so much better.

Yesterday was Jack's birthday.  He got a handheld microscope which he loves, along with a robot that needs to be built by poppa and some clothes.  I bought him a Messi hoodie because he loves Lionel Messi, and all things soccer.  He had a good day, not too overwhelming.  I fear Saturday will be overwhelming with a nerf gun birthday party, but that's part of birthdays too.  

Robot has been built by poppa and is ready for Jack when he gets home from school.

Jack also his pediatrician yesterday and his growth is declining so she told him he needs to eat more.  He listens to her so I'm hopeful he will eat more.  He rarely eats any lunch because, "I don't have enough time."  He wants to be outside is what he means.  She told him that not eating will affect his height in the long run and that caught his attention.  Poppa is 6'5", so that's his goal.

Not much else going on. Walked the dogs, had blood work done, and bought groceries.  I'm off to poop scoop in the back yard.  Try not to be jealous:) 

Another photo from the biosphere on the weekend.

I reduced my blood pressure medication by half yesterday in the hopes that I won't bite anyone's head off, or kill the cat.  The insomnia persisted last night but it wasn't as bad as the night before, so that's something.  I told my girlfriend that I wanted to bite everyone's head off and shit down their necks, and then I wanted to cry about wanting to bite their head's off.  It feels like really bad PMS.  I'm back to the doctor in a week and a half for a discussion about the medication.

I mentioned to my husband that I was kind of grumpy this past week and he wholeheartedly agreed and I apologized.

When I was talking to my girlfriend, she mentioned how tired she was of her family here in Edmonton and how they treat her (like she's the rich auntie and that she will just pay for anything or everything, because she used to).  They don't respect her and she blames a university education on that.  I don't agree with her but I do agree that they are entitled young people who want to blame anyone else rather than look in the mirror.

She's considering to moving to Victoria even more strongly than before.  I pointed out to her that her cancer is not going to get better or go away.  When she was first diagnosed, the doctor gave her ten years, that was eight years ago.  In the past year she's had pneumonia twice (one of the most common causes of death among multiple myeloma patients).  I told her that she should move, that she needs her family, she needs her children to take care of her.  She has spent her entire life taking care of everyone else, now they need to take care of her.  

Then I started crying, I told her that I loved her and would take care of her here, but she needs her children.  We are both straight talkers, her and I, part of the reason we're friends.  I hope she moves so that she can spend what time she has with her children and her grandchild.

I'm off to pottery this morning, to make me not sad:)

And yes, I know this too shall pass.

 It's snowing, again.  I am officially done with winter.

The high blood pressure medication is making me irritable, to put it nicely.  And I can't sleep, last night I was awake until 2am.  I'm awake and tired, at the same time.

I went to see my counselor last week, what a lovely lady.  She worked in health care for 20 years and has a lot of empathy for nurses which is deeply appreciated.  I told her my life story, why I was there, and then I told her about Katie and I couldn't stop crying.

Katie is going to 34 this June and it still hurts so much to tell her story, to tell my story.  Katie changed my life forever and I will carry that for the rest of my life.  She taught me about grief and about empathy.  Thirty-two years ago I described her as my hard gift, and she still is.  We are tied together, the two of us.

Mostly I'm just tired of feeling crappy and unappreciated.  And I'm tired of winter.

Very little happened this weekend.  We did go for a nice long walk at the biosphere which was lovely and Charlie got to stretch his legs.

Jack went to stay overnight with his grandma and mom on Saturday night and came back home last night after supper.

I took Katie out for lunch yesterday and she was good.

I made an Easter supper last night and even used one of the casserole dishes that I made in pottery class.  I bought the smallest ham I could find and we will still be eating ham for awhile.

Mostly I'm just tired and I'm not sure why.  Maybe because it's a cold, windy day.  Maybe because the bank teller wouldn't let me deposit two cheques that my husband had endorsed, because we didn't have a shared account.  That was new, although the young woman swears it's been like that for a long time.  She was probably all of 25 years old, so a long time for her is not the same as a long time for me.  She told me that he would have to come to the bank with me (like I was a child, or incompetent), to deposit the cheques.  I left the bank, drove to another branch and used their ATM to deposit the cheques into my account and then cried a little.

I don't know why I cried.  Something's bothering me but I'm not sure what.  Not being respected?  Not being appreciated?  Being taken for granted?  

I'm reading a book right now called, "The Bookclub for Troublesome Women" by Marie Bostwick and that might be it.  Sometimes I feel like I'm stuck in the last century.  

Or maybe it's the general fuckery in the world.  The world feels like it's stuck in the last century.  Today is a down day.  Tomorrow will be a better day.

Things I'm thankful for today.

Indoor toilets

Hugs

Being able to retire early so that I can raise my grandson

Katie has wonderful caregivers

Pottery classes start again on Wednesday

Lego for Jack

Charlie staring at the cat.  He's not sure what to do with that cat.  He likes to lick her and he likes to bother her, but he doesn't hurt her.  He's some kind of sight hound though because it's usually her moving that gets his attention.  

I sent off a terse email yesterday to AISH, the Premier, the Minister for Assisted Living, my MLA, and my ex-husband.  My ex-husband surprised me and "replied all" with support for Katie.  A few hours later I heard from someone at AISH and we went through all the bullshit again.  Yes Katie had been refused the benefit.  Yes I had emailed AISH the refusal letters from the Canada Disability Benefit.  Yes there were two letters.  The one letter specifically says I need to be Katie's trustee to be able to apply on her behalf.  The trusteeship takes up to a year now to process because of our provincial government's general uselessness and lack of forethought.  The gentleman said he would "look into it" and "discuss it with his supervisor".  You do that sweetie, is what I didn't say.

It's easy, give Katie her full AISH benefit, or the news media will get involved.  I've done it before and it's highly effective.

So, that's that.

With my extra anger yesterday, I focused it and got the rest of the painting done in the bathroom (only the ceiling was left to do), and then I got down on my hands and knees and scrubbed the tiles and grout.  Everything looks clean and fresh and my anger got discharged safely.

I'm starting to see a counsellor today to help me deal with everyone's opinions on how I should act and be in the world.  I'm tired of being told that I am unacceptable as I am.  I'm happy to learn new ways of being, if they benefit me, but I also struggle mightily with just accepting myself as a deeply flawed human being that is trying their best. I will never be perfect.  I will never make everyone happy.  And most of all, people need to stop telling me what to do or think.

 

And happy Easter everyone.

I am not a happy woman, despite having walks in the woods and lunch with a friend yesterday.  I even finished a baby quilt yesterday, which did make me happy yesterday, but today I checked Katie's bank account, and she was short changed by $200.  Our incompetent, cruel government is stealing money from disabled people.  Why?  Because they can.  Apparently they can do whatever the fuck they want.  Even if you jump through all their hoops.  I tried calling the AISH office but had to hang up because I couldn't stop crying.  

 

I talked to a lovely lady at Canada Disability Benefit who assured me that I can reapply on Katie's behalf when I have her trusteeship sorted out, in the next year.  Some asshole on instagram called me a sandbagger when I complained ( I had to look up what that meant and basically it means trump).  So I gave that man a piece of my mind and told him he should do something useful with his life like volunteering with disabled people.

Now I get to write emails to AISH, Jason Nixon, and Danielle Smith, because I haven't done that enough in the last nine months.  And I have to do it without expletives.  Is that even possible when dealing with despicable government?

On the upside I did use the 5-4-3-2-1 mindfulness method that is hanging on the fridge to remind me and Jack about how to deal with stress, anxiety, and anger.  It helped.  Note to self, keep using this with Jack.

Off to write emails because talking to someone in person is too difficult and makes me cry.