I’m Sorry

for all the things I forgot to tell you when you were here

for being so impatient with you

for wanting you to go to bed so I could have some time alone

That was written not long after my Dad died. It seems to be that no matter how you try to care for your terminally ill , so that every single want, need, wish and prayer are covered, there will be regrets.

There will be “what-if’s” , “why-not’s” , “why-didn’t-I’s” galore. So, in a note to my past self I say, “It’s OK Susie. You did your absolute best. YOUR ABSOLUTE BEST. No regrets, just love. Love for you, Susie. They are gone, they do not hurt anymore. They don’t remember the time you stole a dollar out of their coat to buy a coke. Memories like these are for people who did not love, Susie. You loved. YOU loved. YOU LOVED. And you are still loving them today. That’s good, to be loving them still, to feel that empty space in your heart for them, still. That is real and it’s grief, and it has no timetable. But guilt? SUSIE, GUILT IS NOT A LIVING THING. IT’S A THING THAT BRINGS DESTRUCTION WITH IT. LOSS OF HOPE. PAIN. SO MUCH PAIN. PUT DOWN THAT GUILT YOU HAVE AIMED AT YOURSELF. JUST DROP IT… That’s a good girl…put it down. Give it here, give it to me, let’s take those awful bullets out…that’s a good girl, Susie… Come here, Child…Yes , I know you still Hurt, yes I know…it’s OK to cry…I will comfort you till you can carry yourself again…Just leave all that self hate and guilt lie, I will throw it away for you. Yes, shhhhhh…I know you miss them, that’s alright, love…”

But missing them won’t kill you. Guilt will.

And somehow, by writing that, and feeling it, and seeing it on the page, I feel relief. I am grateful to my God, at this very moment. Goodnight.

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Oh Happy Day!

I am happy to say, I was able to get back into my blogs here at WordPress, after a lengthy absence. I was unable to remember my sign in information for the longest time, but finally I was able to get back here!!! My sister blog, Out of the Gutter Art, has been languishing also, even tho’ I have been furiously creating beautiful “Outsider” Art this whole time.

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“The Sentinel’s Prayer”, acrylic on canvas, Susan T. Martin2017

I have had many upheavals ans bumps in the road as far as my emotional well being is concerned, but with the help of God, the Ultimate Therapist, and my human therapist (who is stellar!) I have come through victorious! The triggers were many, as this is the month my Parents died, and it also houses both mine and my Mom’s birthdays. I am a JW now, so I don’t celebrate my birthday, but it still holds significance in my heart, a marking of the passage of this fragile life.

Now my associations to birthdays is a very negative one, as my Mom died on her birthday, March 21, which also heralds the first day of Spring. Also my Dad was well into the dying process at home with only me there beside him on my birthday 2 years ago. That was a horrible, horrible time, as he suffered much. In the days that seemed to drag on forever, I remember at one point whispering to him “please don’t die on my birthday Daddy…” This sounds to me now like a rather heartless and self centered request, but he understood my trauma, I believe, even in the midst of his own, and did not. Rather, he fought his last fight during the wee hours of the next morning, finally succumbing at 6:15 the next morning. What a long, dark night that was.Picture 012

I am finally not grieving the devastating sword thru my middle grief this year, but I anticipated the day with much apprehension and mental nail biting, as well as obsessive compulsive behavior, manic activity and lack of sleep. I am still feeling the effects, and most likely will have them build to a crescendo as March 21st approaches. Mom died in a less dramatic, but equally disturbing way, having to be taken to Hospice House rather than dying at home as she so desired, surrounded by her kitties. I have imprinted on my brain her sitting in her bed like a deflated teddy bear, whose sad eyes cut right thru me as she said, “Susie, I’m not ready…” However the cancer was by this point ravaging her brain, and I could not physically care for her at home.

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here I am after Mom had died, well into my Dad’s last years of Severe Dementia and Alzheimer’s. I was his, and Mom’s sole caregiver.

I had a fourteen day vigil beside her bed, singing, praying , reading the Bible to her and holding her hand. Finally at the point of total exhaustion and grief, I fell asleep beside her, and as I dreamed of happier times, she breathed her last. Ours was a bond stronger than death, and I so eagerly anticipate the day when they are  both called out of the memorial tombs in the grand resurrection , when I will run into their arms again.

This hope is made even more sure this month as  millions of humans around the globe, and me fulfill our obligation to mark the Memorial of Jesus Christ’ death, just as he commanded us to do at the last supper. On this occasion, just hours before his death, be broke bread an drank wine with his apostles, saying, “Keep doing this in remembrance of me.”

I praise Jehovah above for the undeserved kindness He has shown by providing the life of His perfect Son as a ransom for the sins of all mankind. By this loving act, every human on earth has the chance for living forever, without sickness, mourning, pain or death on a beautifully restored Earth. I raise my hands and my voice in praise to God, and thank him for his Son, My King and Savior, Jesus Christ!Picture 018

You can join the Witnesses all around the earth at sundown on March 31st , 2018 as we join in remembering the Greatest Gift Ever given. You can ask any of Jehovah’s Witnesses for an invitation, or directions, or any other questions you may have and they will joyfully tell you. Also, the website jw.org will tell you what you need to know!

So, despite all my challenges, and mental health issues, I can take comfort that one day soon I will be reunited with all my loved ones. I also am so grateful to God for forgiving my multitude of sins by way of the ransom sacrifice of Jesus Christ. I hope someone else out there

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can find this comfort also!!!

My Job is to be Me

A supreme effort was needed this morning to get out of bed, but I did it! I raced around, getting ready for my 9am appointment. Then caring for Dad and the animals started to eat up my time, and I tried desperately to stop all the activity, but it was no use. When I jumped in the car to race to the Mental Health facility, it was already too late for me to make it on time. But I raced away anyhow, trying to force the clock to go backwards-or just stop until I got there. I told myself the clock in the car was fast, and that the one on my phone wasn’t working right. I told myself not to look at the clock on the wall when I ran out of the door, so I had deniability.

As I got closer to the place, my mind raced with lies I could tell, about accidents tying up traffic, about a sudden illness ( I could throw my hand over my mouth and dash to the ladies in the middle of my tall tale), or about the sky falling. ANYTHING to take the sinking feeling of DISGUST towards myself for being late again.

You see, I can really talk up a good stink when I want to, say, like when a receptionist dares to scold me about missing appointments. I have been going to that “nuthouse” for about 8 years now, and the professionals there have helped me to change my life. I have been correctly diagnosed after 33 years of abject misery, and suicidal thoughts, and I feel that I am on the right meds, for the most part. But this place has a rule about missed appointments: you miss too many and the people won’t let you come there anymore.

Well, I have known that for years, and while I had missed an appointment here and there over the years, in the past 3 years since my accident I have missed many. It doesn’t seem to matter to them why I miss, because I have legitimate reasons. reasons like Chronic Vertigo, a Head Injury, Broken Ankles, Many days of pain, and a father I can’t leave alone, but who won’t get ready to go with me.

After I called in ill for many appointments, I finally made it in to see my psychiatrist. (This was the fourth one they had changed in the past year, because the place is state funded, I guess.) As I was leaving the office, I noticed that my therapist’s name was not on her door. I gasped out loud. She was the ONLY therapist I have been able to talk to in 35 years. She left me without saying goodbye, but see, I might have gotten to say goodbye if I HADN’T MISSED MY APPOINTMENTS WITH HER. So after this happened about 6 months ago, I have not been able to make or keep an appointment since.

Sure, I was upset when she left. I cried, and felt abandoned, like a little child. I was angry, because I couldn’t know where she went, I couldn’t write, I couldn’t say goodbye. Goodbye. 

Goodbye Maylene. There, I said it now.

So the point of all this is that I have not been dealing with things well here at home. I cry bitterly and often. I am incredibly lonely. I have no one to talk to but my poor sick Father who can’t stand to hear me talk. No, really. He complains when I am talkative. I am utterly alone in this funeral home of a house, with the blinds drawn and enforced quiet. I talk to my dogs, my cats, plants, clothes, strangers, dishes…and you, out there.

I just wanted to make an appointment when I called up there the other day. So when the snotty receptionist started quizzing me about all the missed appointments, and sounded like a nun at a catholic school, berating me for my tardiness…I snapped. Oh, I stayed relatively calm on the phone while I grovelled at her feet through the phone line. I kept my cool fairly well when I asked her could I PLEEZE see a doctor, and that I was SICK and that’s why I miss appointments. But I know how to do some things pretty well, and being my own advocate is one of the big ones. I am one of the little guys who has been called a loser, a doper, a burnout, a whacko, and a psycho, and I have taken about as much of that as I can ever stand. She was NOT a doctor, and she had NO IDEA what I have been through in my life. So I had given her a bad day at the office? Weel, I pulled myself up by the bootstraps and hung up the phone.

My next move was to call her superior.

So today when I crept in there all sheepish and late, and they told me I could not see the doctor, I could see her in her office chair, sneering at me and laughing at my sorry *&$%. The funny thing is, she wasn’t really there at all…

She was fired.


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