Detox

My mother signed herself into detox today. She relapsed a few weeks ago. She ended up back on Vicodins. It wasn't long until she ran out. When her connection failed her, she decided to try pain management. The idea was that the doctors would prescribe something to help with the withdrawal.

The doctors told her that if she didn't agree to in patient care she would be blacklisted. This was not much of an option. So this morning she went into the hospital. I didn't go with her. It was easier that way. During the course of the day I have spoken to her a number of times. Each time she sounded worse. It kills me that she has to go through this on her own.

There isn't much I can do. I can't even visit her.

Well all that aside today is Friday. Which meant it is time for the Awesome Fat Guy of the Week. Check after the jump.

Awesome Fat Guy of the Week

I like the blues.Well actually I like B.B. King. I enjoy the blues. I don't seek it out, but when I hear it I enjoy it. Except when B.B. King is playing. There is something about the way he sings and plays that connects with me. I could listen to the man for hours.

Awesome Fat Guy of the Week

So it is Friday. And that means it is time for the Awesome Fat Guy of the week. I know I missed last week, but I explained that.

So let's move on.

This week I will be talking to you about Sammo Hung. So click the jump and lets get started.

No end in sight.

My mother went to the doctor yesterday. She was in pain from her most recent fall. The doctor prescribed her Percocet. The pharmacist apparently was out of that and instead gave her Vicodin. Which I now realise makes no sense. A pharmacist doesn't just give out unprescribed class A narcotics. Which means she lied to me. Nothing new there.

Of course she has been abusing them. She took ten yesterday. My psychiatrist was pushing me to call her old connection. She believed that if I could convince him to not sell to her anymore, things would get better. That is a load of bullshit. She can these things anytime she wants.

I told her I was going to flush them. She told me that if I did that I would not be her son anymore. She said she would never talk to me again. I still want to do it. I know she would get over it. I won't though. I am too much of a coward. It makes my skin crawl to have them near me. I want nothing to do with them. All of my resentment for my mother, all my fears, all of the negative emotions I have from the past few months just coalesce into hate. I hate an inanimate object.

Do you have any idea how silly that is. I feel like a fucking idiot. And yet here I am. I wonder when I will reach my breaking point. Do I have one? My doctor tells me I have a problem expressing aggression. Maybe when I finally break it will all come out at once.

Taking a Knee.

So

I, missed Fat Friday. I am sorry about that. But, I have a good reason. Yesterday my mother fell. I know. Again? She was on her way to a woman's group therapy session. Her first time, I might add.

Anyway she missed her bus stop. Which meant she had to walk a few blocks. The streets around the area she was headed are highly damaged. That added with her arthritis is just a recipe for disaster.

So she took a tumble. A bad one. Her knees are both bruised (badly) and scraped (mildly). After the escalator incident this put me at wit's end. I spent most of the day worried.

The final bit of news was the possibility of that my mother might end up wheelchair bound. Not paralysed but unable to walk very well or very far.

Escalating Anxiety.

I went to see my psychiatrist today. My mother cam along because we were going to Target after. She ended up sitting in on my session. It was funny she had much more to talk about than I did. I think it was a good thing. She has a lot of issues to get through.

I found it funny how interested my Doctor was in her. She complimented my mother on how much better she looked. I enjoyed the session. I hope my mother got something out of it.

I am sure my next session will be all about her.

After that we went to Target. It was long and boring. I enjoyed it. Until the end. While going down an escalator my mother slipped. She almost fell down the escalator. She was wearing the wrong glasses.

I was terrified. I heard her call my name and the image of her broken body flashed into my mind. Luckily she only stumbled a bit. It could have been so much worse.

The funny thing is she had to back up to return something. I told her to take the elevator. She did not. It was as if she just flat out told me to go fuck myself. It was like "Fuck You I got This." I made her promise me that she would stay away from the escalators.

I have little hope she will keep this promise.

Tomorrow is Friday. That means Fat Friday. Look forward to it.

Roving Minds and Burning Wagons.

Sometimes I crave distractions. I find it very hard to focus on any one thing. Even now while I write this I am watching videos at http://cinemassacre.com. I don't why I have this problem. I used to be able to focus on one thing at a time. I think sitting in front of a computer makes it worse. Here I am in front of a machine that allows me access to limitless information. I almost feel guilty not taking advantage of that.

Whether that is the reason or not it really is a chore feeding my craving. I sometimes feel like Johnny 5. Of course there are so many things I should be doing. Things that I need to do. And yet they fall to wayside.

My mother did not fall off the wagon. She lit the damn thing on fire. She went to the dentist last week. Her dentist gave her a prescription for Vicodins. In the course of two days she took 27 pills. She came clean to me and handed the rest over to her therapist.

I wasn't mad. I know that sobriety isn't something that just happens. It takes time. I takes work. She is trying. I can't ask for more than that.

Fat Friday.

Welcome to the first edition of Fat Friday. On Fat Friday I will either spotlight an awesome Fat Guy or post a section from my (still in progress) book F.A.T.R. Following All the Rules: A Guide to Being A Big Bad Man. F.A.T.R. is a mix between a rule book and self help book for fat guys. It teaches you how to be better, look better and live better. In the most superficial ways.

So on to the first Awesome Fat Guy of the Week.

Meh.

Meh is a funny word. It is a word that means middling indifference. Indifference is hard to describe. It is by definition uninteresting, unimportant and uninspired. That is how I feel. I can't really tell you why. I just feel so uninterested.

Maybe it has to do with not getting a package I have been waiting for. But no. I think it has to do with uncertainty. I am uncertain about what is coming next. That is to say, what the next problem is and when it will hit.

I know my mother is either going to fall back into old habits or move on. The problem is that this is not going to be a huge sudden occurrence. No. It will happen slowly, over time.

I don't know how to react to that. I don't even know what I am saying. To be honest I shouldn't even be posting right now. I have nothing definite to put out. I just wanted to express something. Anything.

There was one thing that made me smile. Check after the jump.

Flip Flop.

Earlier my mother decided she did not want to go back on Vicodins. She was going to flush the few she got from her dealer. I told her to just take them back. Money is tight and we can't just flush cash away. In hindsight this was a bad choice.

She took another pill today and is unsure what she is going to do. She has to make up her mind soon. She has been going to therapy weekly. During these visits she has to give urine. This means it is only a matter of time before she is found out.

Now she isn't a part of any rehab group and has nothing depending on the results of these tests. Nothing that is but the continued prescribing of anti anxiety medication. She is worried that is she comes clean about her slip that her Psychiatrist will be hesitant to prescribe her meds.

In the past I have urged her to be honest. This has proven to be bad advice. I am unsure of how to advise her. The one thing I know for sure is that sobriety is not something you just achieve. It takes constant work.

In the course of a lifetime a few slips are nothing. I hope she understands that. I hope she accepts that. I hope that is what this is. A slip and nothing more.

Off the Wagon.

It is official. She is off the wagon. Today my mother told me that she took a Vicodin yesterday. She seems to have decided to go back on them. Apparently for the pain. I'm not sure I believe this.

I was told by my psychiatrist to call her dealer and tell him not to sell to her anymore. I did not do this. The dealer is a close friend of my mother's. I did not want to embarrass her or put their friendship in jeopardy. I regret this choice. It was easy to make though. I wanted to believe she didn't need my help.

It helped that she was against it. Offended by the idea. She was adamant that it was unnecessary. I took the easy way out.

I still am. I could call her dealer right now. I am not going to. I don't want to. I want her to stand up. I am not strong enough to accept her weakness.

Wagons. They are hard to stay on.

A few things happened recently.

The first and most important is that my mother almost fell off the wagon. She went to see her dealer, who happens to be a close friend  of hers. This was not a good idea. Temptation should not be tempted. She convinced her friend, who was very reluctant, to give her eight vicodins. He told her to really think it over.

I am happy no ecstatic to say that she did. When she got home that day she very quickly left again. She went to visit my aunt and gave her the pills. She could have just thrown them out but then she would have to pay for them. So she faced temptation and lost. But only for a short time. My mother is still on the wagon.

I want to say that again because it brings a smile to my face. My mother is still on the wagon.


Now for the other thing. After missing two appointments in a row a went to see my psychiatrist. I have had a lot psychiatrists over the years. My current one is the most strong willed. I was put off by this at first. I don't like being pushed. It makes the sessions harder to deal with. It also makes them much more impactful.

Yesterday was one of those sessions. First she very nicely reaffirmed the idea that when I am at my most vulnerable is the best time to go to a session. I fell that when I am at my most vulnerable is the best time to go to bed. I know she is right but my belief is much more pleasant.

Anyway we had a productive session. During which she raised a rather unpleasant idea. The idea that I may be keeping my mother sick. For a while now I have felt that my main purpose, the thing that defines me, was taking care of my parents. Not in a monetary sense, but just generally. You see I am unemployed and living at home. I do what I can for them. To pay them back for everything they have done for me. If there was nothing to do then it would leave me undefined.

At least that was how I felt before. Since my mother's withdrawal I think that has changed. It is true that I sometimes enable her and still do whatever I can for them, but that isn't how I define myself. I don't define myself anymore.

I just am. I know that what I just wrote is hard to understand but that's what it feels like. It feels like a description lacking in detail.

To sum up my mother is getting stronger and my doctor makes me question things. Both of these things are positive. So it's been a good couple of days.

The Bus Riders.

As a New Yorker I spend a lot of time on the bus. Less now than when I was younger. When I was in high school I spent hours on the bus everyday. I never liked the train. It felt closed off. I like to be able to see where I am going.

Spending so much time on the bus I had a lot of opurtunities to people watch. I could be sitting very near to a person and never know anything about them. I could guess and surmise but nothing more. I thought about how I might get to know these people or have an effect on them. As a writer that is the ultimate goal.

That thought lead to this story. 

Enjoy.

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie.

I have been sleeping a lot. More than I normally do. Which is bad because I usually sleep more than I should. I think I am feeling down. It probably has to do with my mother's pill mishap.

I get so angry at her. I love her more than anything in this world, but my god she is infuriating sometimes. But as I have said in the past I can understand her mindset. And yet I still wish she was stronger.

The only thing I will let myself do is try to stand with her and be there for her. That way she has someone to rely on and can use whatever strength I have as her own.

That is what she has done for me.

On a side note I plan on posting my second short story on Wednesday. I am also working on getting some pictures of my knot tying projects. If that pans out those will be up either Friday or Saturday.

I also want to thank all the People from http://www.watchgeeks.net/ and Fusionknots.com for not only visiting the site but also for providing such fun and friendly forums.

Thank You.

Teetering On Edge.

Over the past week and half my mother has been double dipping into her anxiety meds. This means that she is now on half dosage.

So for the next two weeks she has to deal with starvation rations. This has me worried. There isn't anything I can do about it. I don't have access to anti-anxiety medication. I have been prescribed this type of medication in the past but do not have any at the moment.

She has done this before. As long as she gets some amount in her system, she can deal. But if she pushes any more she may have to deal with another withdrawal. She always ends up like this.

I don't know why. Actually that's not true. I do know why. As bad as her withdrawal was, it is in the past. Once you get past something like that the effect wanes. I have been going through something similar. Nowhere near as drastic though.

I am a big fat guy. And as such have had more than one incident that made me question myself. Many in fact. No matter how bad they were I always shrugged them off and went right back to over eating.

Changing your personality is the hardest thing in the world.

I know.

I have been working on that for ten years. No since I was 13 or 14. So close to 15 years. I am just starting to see progress.

Slowly but surely.

So Much Blood!

Something odd happened last night. I scratched an itch on my lower back. In doing so, I removed a scab. Once this scab was gone I began to bleed. Now this wasn't just a few drops. Or even a slow flow. No blood was literally shooting out of this very small wound. I have never bleed so  much in my life. I don't know how or why it happened.

When I realized how badly I was bleeding, I hurried to the bathroom. There was blood everywhere. It went through my clothes, shot across the bathroom and stained my bed. I had to get help to see how bad the wound was and to make sure I hadn't somehow opened a vein. I say wound but it was barely pin prick. Nothing more than a tiny little hole.

Eventually I stopped bleeding. Cleaned up the mess and went on with the night. I was lucky to have my mother there to give me a hand. Even after the all the problems we have had she is still my rock when I need her.

So that was my night. I plan on uploading another short story as soon as possible. I hope you guys read and like it.

The Tunnel!

I should preface this with a bit of info. Years ago I saw a special on the Discovery Channel. It was about pest in New York City. One of the people on the show was a super. The man made it his mission to fight the rats that were in and around his building. I liked that he had so much pride in his job. That show planted a seed in my mind. This story is that seed having grown.

This may not be the best short story ever written. In fact it probably isn't even the best I can or could write. But I am proud of it either way. There are probably a few grammatical and spelling errors. I am not that good at editing my work. Having said that I hope someone reads this and enjoys it. I would appreciate any comments, negative or positive. Thank You.

Good Day

Today was actually a good day. Nothing bad happened. In fact my mother not only went out but she contacted some of her friends. I am so very happy about that.

To be honest I don't have many friends. I what is called Schizoid Personality disorder. Which means I am prone to having very few friends. As of recently I had two good friends. One of which I haven't spoken to in almost a year. We usually talk online but he hasn't been on for months. I don't have his phone number and feel weird about just going to see him.

The other was a worker at my local deli. Recently the deli was raided my the NYPD because it was a drug front. My friend had no part in this but the deli has since closed. We never exchanged contact info. I could probably find him online but he didn't have a computer.

I could find them but to be honest I just haven't done it. I won't say I have no interest in finding them but it is rarely at the front of my mind. That is also part of my disorder.

Having said that I am actually pretty happy. All things considered my problems are minor. If you read this blog than you know what I mean.

I am going to try to post one of my short stories tomorrow. No promises.

Almost but not Quite

So over the past few days things have been pretty good. My mom is feeling better. She isn't completely past it but is getting closer. However some habits die hard. Once again she is over doing her medication. She has been taking more anxiety medication than prescribed.

This is bad. As it is she will have cut back for the next two weeks just to make due. I wish she was strong enough to tough it out.

She gets scared. Scared that she might fall back into how she was just a few days ago. I understand that. I also know that is she keeps going the way she is than that fear will become a reality.

All I can do is keep that from happening.

Cautiously Optimistic

Things are going better. My mother is on her old anxiety meds and has calmed down quite a lot. She seems to be at the tail end of the post withdrawal. So I am cautiously optimistic that we are past the shit. 

I am a little anxious about it. The last time I thought we where almost out of this, things got much worse. Knowing that I have been a bit shaky. My mother told me to take some of her anti-anxiety medication. I refused. Mainly because she needs it more than I do, but also do to the fact that it makes feel foggy. Besides I have an appointment on Thursday with my psychiatrist. So I should be able to get my own prescription.

If thing continue the way they are I will be posting a few short stories I have written in the past. If not then expect more near daily drama. Wish me luck.