Home, Brother and Adoption Update

Ohhh emmm geeeee… I have been sooo busy!

Mom and I have been working tirelessly since I moved in, to renovate the main bathroom and get my bedroom painted. We were under a lot of pressure to get it done ASAP because the adoption worker was coming. It was a lot of late nights and early mornings. I actually bought myself a reciprocating saw and learned to cut drywall and plumbing. We moved the plumbing over to fit the new vanity, we built one vanity and then bought another one fully assembled when the first one fell apart. A stranger helped my brother haul all 300 pounds of it into the house and up the stairs because he was driving by and realized that mom and I are both completely useless (what a nice guy, huh!). We painted the bathroom. We replaced the mirror and got an awesome new light fixture. In the bedroom, we painted it one of the fifteen shades of navy blue I looked at, and shopped for new bedding and accessories. I ripped off the ugly arch thing from the front gate and we hauled it and a bunch of other stuff to the garbage dump. My brother tested out the fireplace (while he hacked my Netflix account – but at least he’s talking to me again) .

The fact my brother is talking to me again is worthy of its own paragraph here. He’s been (obviously) lonely at home with mom being here all of the time, so he’s been spending a lot of time here playing with the dogs, eating my food, and stealing my Netflix. He’s actually been really nice to me lately, it’s great to see his real personality coming back. When I asked him what was on his Christmas list, he actually gave me a thoughtful answer and then – wait for it – HE ASKED MEEEE WHAT I WANTED. That’s never happened before. Well, maybe once. (By the way – these hyphens are for you, Jo).

Anyways, back on topic. Yes, the house buying and house renovating and house unpacking has been a crazy busy month, but it’s done. Or done enough, anyway. It’s awesome to walk down the hallway without tripping over extension cords and ladders, and it’s so great to not have to brush my teeth in the kitchen sink anymore.

So what you’re actually wanting to hear about, my first appointment with the adoption worker was supposed to be yesterday, but we had a crazy blizzard so she had to cancel. Instead of rescheduling a million times through winter, she emailed me the next bunch of intrusive questionnaires and send me the training schedule which is the next step. Of course, I’ve already sent the paperwork back to her so I’m just waiting on the scheduler to call me back and let me know if the January dates are full or not. I sure hope they’re not, I don’t want to have to wait for February or March. I have to finish 5 full days of training (parental training, I assume) before we can move on to the next set of interviews (I believe that portion is formally called the “home study”). So that’s where that is.

Saturday is my BFF’s hubby’s 40th birthday so I’m flying out to Mount Washington for a couple of days. It also happens to be my own birthday on Saturday so it will be nice to get away for the weekend. Aside from that, I am very much looking forward to kicking back and enjoying my new house for a while.

Things People Forget


Just because I’m smiling, doesn’t mean I’m happy. Just because I’m not crying, doesn’t mean I’m not about to. Just because I’m laughing, doesn’t mean I’m not dying on the inside. Just because it’s been a month, doesn’t mean I’m … Continue reading

Just Write

I remember this time, when I was sixteen…

My parents had divorced a semester earlier and I’d decided to move back home to try living with my Dad for a while. He was depressed because my Mom had left him, and one evening I came home from school and he was obviously stoned or drunk or something… and he told me in his tripped out slur that he was going to move up north somewhere that no one could find him. I remember crying, and being confused, not really understanding what was happening. I remember hysterically begging him not to go and him insisting that he was. If I recall correctly, I fell asleep that night in a heap of exhaustion and we never spoke of it again.

He probably doesn’t remember.


My Mom called me tonight. My Grandfather had gotten her number mixed up for mine and had told her that my Dad is in the hospital. Apparently, the neighbours heard him standing outside on the balcony yelling and shouting at nothing in particular, so they called my Grandfather, who went over and found him to be completely incoherent and called 911, who said his heart was racing at a dangerous pace and shipped him off to the hospital.

Fast forward to about a half hour ago. I called the hospital to see what I could find out, since I don’t live close enough to travel there immediately, and they were basically useless. He’d only arrived a couple of hours ago so they didn’t have any information for me, but I asked if he was coherent and they transferred the phone to his room…. where he was clearly not coherent.

I could tell he was tripped out, just with the way he said hello. I tried asking him what happened and what he’d been up to the last few days, but he couldn’t tell me. Instead, he told me that he didn’t want my brother or I to come and see him like this, from this point forward. I don’t know if he meant that he didn’t want us to see him in the hospital, or that he didn’t want us to see him at all. He told me that he wanted us to go to his house and take anything that had any value, and he talked about how he wouldn’t be around much longer if he “kept this up”. Then he said the part that struck me right in the chest: he said that he’d offended his whole family and he’d offended me and that it was never his intention.

Instantly I thought of the fight we had the last time I saw him. How he’d insulted me and I’d lashed out at him for always degrading me. I thought about how I haven’t called him since the summer because I told myself it was okay to take a break. And then I wondered if this episode in the hospital was his attempt at suicide. He was sure talking like it was. Did he pop too many pills today? Is it an accidental mix up in his medication? A legitimate medical condition?

I don’t know. And I likely won’t know for a couple more days.

And in the meantime, I’m not sure how to feel. I don’t want to over-react, but on the inside I’m freaking out anyway. Ever since I was a teenager I’ve lived in fear of my Dad dying. I have nightmares to this day. And quite frankly, I resent him for it. I resent him for being selfish enough to pop another pill or smoke another joint and put me through this hell. But he’s my Dad, and I love him, and the mere thought of losing him breaks my heart… but sometimes, I feel like I’m just waiting.

So I don’t know what to do right now besides write. Writing keeps me calm. It helps me vent. And it helps me let go and cry when I need to.