Who Are You On Vacation?

I've been reading a lot of posts lately about vacation and how people are finding an inner peace that seems almost impossible when at home, immersed in daily life and adult responsibilities.

V and I actually had this discussion a few weeks ago when I got back from DC. I don't remember how we got on the topic, but I mentioned that traveling brings out a side of me that isn't seen a lot at home. I feel in my element, confident and worthy. I speak up about things that normally would warrant a non-response or some sort of internal dialogue and shame. I walk in the front of the line, instead of always wanting to be at the back. I am spontaneous. I sleep soundly. I laugh. I play. I feel whole.

For whatever time frame that I am on vacation, I find that I immediately pick up these characteristics and feel so at peace within my own mind and body... something that feels at times impossible in my normal day to day surroundings.

What is it about traveling/vacation that flips that switch so easily for me?

It literally is an almost instant transformation. Sometimes it happens as soon as I arrive at the airport, other times it's as I step off the plane. I know that amazing experiences are ahead of me. I've planned for them. I've paid for them. It's like I get to have control over my life in a way that is not possible at home. I get to pick and choose what I want to do that I know will bring me joy, do it on my own time frame, with the people I want and it all falls into place (assuming I've planned ahead properly!). Vacation is like a glimpse of what life would be like if you could control everything. Maybe that's why we all like vacation so much! What's not to like about that?!

By the end of a good vacation, I'm ready to be home if for nothing more than to sleep in my own bed, but part of me wonders now if my eagerness to be back home is to try and put into practice these traits and characteristics that I possess on vacation. To try and blend this seemingly completely separate me into my "real" life.

Are you different on vacation?

A Hole In My Heart

So in my most recent updates, I haven't talked about what happened on June 8th.

I'll rewind a little.

It's the last week of school and I am already a little stressed because I'm scheduled to go out and see my dad that weekend. I hadn't seen him since he right after he was in the ICU, and I was nervous about having to come to terms with the new way life was going to be for a while. I noticed Monday that my cat, Spazzie, looked a little fatter around the midsection than normal. Made a little mental note to keep an eye on it and went on with the week. By Wednesday she had gotten bigger and it was apparent that she had quite a bit of fluid in her abdomen.

One x-ray and some bloodwork later and it was determined that she had a mass near, possibly in her liver. They couldn't tell without doing more extensive tests, none of which were going to give me anything that was treatable at her age... which was almost 20. They also couldn't tell me how long it would be. She was still eating, drinking and pottying at that point, which were all good signs, but liver cancer is notorious for being very quick to take down animals so I wasn't feeling very confident.

I was supposed to leave in 2 days to see my dad (was planned to be gone for over a week) and now I was thrown into the position of trying to decide to put my baby to sleep before I left so I could say goodbye on my own terms, or playing with chance and hoping she made it until I got back.

Not liking either of those options, I tried calling the airlines to see if I could change my flight, give me more time to make this horrible decision instead of feeling rushed into it. For $600 I could change my departure date. That was more than I paid for the entire roundtrip ticket. Next plan. Buy a one way ticket leaving later in the week, so I could stay here and have more than 48 hrs to decide what to do. Airline again is no help. If I miss my original departing flight, they cancel my whole reservation so I won't have the return flight back. Last plan. Leave on the original date and buy a one way ticket back early. I wasn't thrilled with this plan because by Friday, she wasn't moving as fast or nearly as interested in food as she normally was, but my stepmom had been giving me a hard time about not being there to help and I didn't feel like I could just cancel because my cat might die in the next few days.

I went ahead and took her to my mom's on Saturday, and left for California. I decided that Wednesday (June 8th) was when I needed to come back. It wasn't too long out there that I felt like I was pushing my luck, but long enough where I felt like my stepmom wouldn't give me a hard time.

I was miserable the whole time. Aside from the fact that my dad has gone from the smartest man I know to what I can only describe to you as someone with Alzheimer's was already hard to come to terms with, but it was torture being away, knowing deep in my soul I was going to have to prepare myself to say goodbye to my baby, either on her own time, or mine.

By Monday she wasn't really moving around a lot and barely eating, so I had my mom take her to the vet so they could take care of her until I got back. My flight back Wednesday was set to get in right around rush hour, and the vet was a good 90 minutes from the airport, not to mention my car was still at my mom's house.

I barely made it to the vet in time to pick her up. They brought her in and she looked so pitiful. Her fur was all dry, her tummy all swollen and she didn't have that sparkle in her eyes. The vet (who wasn't the normal guy, he's off on Wednesday's which of course is what day this was) updated me on what they had done for her, the medicines they put her on and the choices I had for making her comfortable while I decided what I wanted to do.

I left the vet in tears, just wanting to get home and sit with her. Hoping she just looked as pitiful as she did because she wasn't at home. When I walked in the door and set down the carrier, she took enough steps to get out then laid down right on the floor. I just sat down next to her and sobbed. She was telling me what I needed to do. I cried and I cried, the way I never have before. I literally could not breathe. I had her for 18 of her almost 20 years of life and I wasn't ready. I still wanted more time... but I knew. I knew keeping her alive would only be for me. That she was ready, that she held on for me to be there with her, the way she had been there for me so many other times in my life.

I couldn't bear having to wait until the next morning to do this. The thought of having her there another night, knowing what I had to do in the morning was just too much. I called my mom and (somehow) managed to stop crying long enough to explain what the vet said and that I couldn't wait until tomorrow. There was an after hours vet that I had taken her to before, that is the 2nd location of the place where I took her regularly. I called them and asked if they had the resources to do this after hours and how late they'd be open. My mom asked if I wanted her there. Normally, emotional situations I tend to fight on my own... but I knew this was too big, even for me.

Next I called my sister and updated her as well. I told her if she wanted to say her goodbyes, she needed to get to my place soon. Calls out of the way, I remained on the floor next to Spazzie just staring at her. I curled up next to her on the floor and just listened to her breathe. Listened to her purr. Like I would always do when I was stressed out because the sound made me feel so much better. I don't know what made me think of it, but I grabbed my phone and held it up to her, recording her purrs so I would have them forever. Time seemed to slow to a near stop as I just laid there with her, thinking of all the things that we had experienced together. She kept looking at me, as to say, I'm thinking of it too. Those last 30 minutes we shared alone I will never forget.

My mom and sister arrived not much later, and before long I found myself in the front seat of my mom's car, clutching Spazzie like a small child might. It seemed like everything from there on out was an auto-pilot response. We arrived at the other location, and the vet wanted to look her over to make sure that putting her to sleep was warranted. It didn't take long for her to see what was there, and she explained what would happen and asked if I wanted to stay in the room with her.

I wasn't about to walk out and leave her there alone. I positioned myself to have one hand on her head and my eyes looking directly to hers. I watched her sweet, sweet soul leave her body and the life go from her eyes. The doc stepped out to give me (and my mom) some time alone with her. I laid my head next to hers on the table, hugging her and crying into her fur, thanking her for being there for me, teaching me how to love and for loving me for who I was.

I never knew my heart could break the way it did at that very moment... and feel so broken and empty after.

June 8th. The day that will never be just another day for me.

I miss her so much. There will always be a hole in my heart where her presence once filled.

11/16/91 - 6/8/11

Venturing Out

I've been in DC for the last week with 3 of my friends. I had a BLAST!!

We got to do so much stuff, a lot of which most people don't get to do. My friend has a congressman in her family so we got to have a guided tour through the tunnels and other hidden places in the Capitol that you wouldn't see otherwise. We hung out in his office for a while and just chatted. He was also able to get us an internal tour of the White House and Pentagon, which were both amazing!! We did all the other "normal" stuff; monuments, statues, memorials, the National Cathedral, Arlington cemetery, etc. I don't think I've ever done so much walking in my entire life. I have a pretty high tolerance for pain, but my feet hurt so bad on the second day I was almost in tears once we got back to the hotel.

It's probably a good thing we walked like 100 miles because I ate nothing but junk food while we were there! I had more pizza and hamburgers in the past 6 days than I have in the past 6 months probably! Hopefully I didn't do too much damage. I've been doing Jenny Craig this summer and I don't want to have to re-lose the same weight.

I'm glad to be back home! I'm glad to have my own bed and bathroom, rather than having to share with 3 others. It was quite an experience. There were times that we laughed so hard we were crying, and rode back in silence because we were all a little crabby.

My goal while I was there was to be "in the moment". I didn't want to spend my vacation caught up in my head, worrying about things I can't control or things that aren't even occurring anytime soon. I wanted to be happy with what I was doing and try to stay positive, even when I was sleep deprived, hungry or both. I also wanted to be a more genuine me. A lot of times when I'm in a group, I tend to become a wallflower and let others guide the decisions, conversations, etc. Instead of always doing that, if I had something I wanted to say or suggest, I did. There were times that I still fell into old habits (confrontation avoiding, playing peacekeeper, etc) but since those weren't my specific goals I wasn't hard on myself for not challenging them.

All in all, it was an amazing trip! DC is now my absolute favorite American vacation! If you haven't been, go!!! :)

Learning To Be A New Me

It has been a long time since I have felt drawn to my blog. In fact, it wasn't long ago that I thought I'd never blog again.

Funny how life turns out the exact opposite as you expect it at times. Like all of 2011...

These past three months have been quite weird for me. I was in a vacuum. I was literally incapable of connecting with the "former me", the me I'd become so accustomed to over the past 14 years. The abused, broken, hopeless, forever-destined-to-live-life-in-pain me. But these past few months have offered me a quite different perspective of myself. By default I've learned how to live in the moment, react immediately to emotional situations, and enjoy the happy moments in life.

It's like I was reborn into this new person who had to learn what to do, because most of my former coping skills and mechanisms for life suddenly became unusable... and to tell you the truth, I hated it. I hated not feeling like myself. I hated feeling so out of place and uncomfortable. I hated not knowing how I was going to react to things since my normal "put on a happy face and stuff it, maybe deal with it later" routine was not accessible. When I hate things or disagree with things, I dig in my heels and fight against it with everything I have.

But over the past month or so, my heels let up a bit and I've started to feel more comfortable with this "new" me. This me that is really starting to believe that I deserve all the things I've been working towards, rather than just going through the motions. This me that for the first time since I was 13 years old, has hope for my life.

Balance

Geez, these last few months have been an absolute blur. I have been so busy with work and this new thing called "balance" in my life. Previous to my meltdown in January, I worked and stayed home. That was my life. Now that I have found stability with my depression and moods, and actually want to go out, I'm much more busy than I am used to!

Most days I make myself leave work no later than 5, work out 2 or 3 times a week, and have dinner with at least one friend during the week. On the weekends I am trying to make sure that I have one thing planned ahead of time to do for myself, whether it's going shopping for a new pair of shoes, movies with a friend or just an hour to lay out by the pool.

It's crazy. I never thought that I could be happy being so busy. I was always terrified of not having time to be at home, by myself, to sleep all day, or to cut. But I'm finding that as I'm making more of an effort to surround myself with people who I truly trust and WANT to be around, I am okay with giving up "my" time for "us" time.

It's a baby steps process though. I still give myself permission to hole up at least one night a week so I can have my alone time. I still feel the most comfortable when I am alone, but as I'm building stronger relationships that is slowly changing. Some weekends I still find myself wanting to sleep all day Saturday (because I can!) and not make the effort to connect with anyone. That is still a struggle. The little voice in my head keeps telling me I deserve my time, but it's a fine line I have to keep my eye on to make sure it doesn't turn back into socially withdrawing and feeding the depression.

I've felt very disconnected from the abused side of me since I left IOP a month ago and returned back to normal life. At first it was so frustrating to me because that has been my only side since 2008 and I felt like I didn't even know who I was. I hated it. I felt so uncomfortable without that weight inside of me that I have grown so accustomed to. After a while I found that I actually was able to enjoy things that I hadn't in such a long time. I felt light, clear-minded and happy. For the first time in YEARS, I did something for someone else. I actually thought of someone else first and wanted to do something for them... and not only that, I was excited to do that! Before I was so buried in my own pain I rarely even noticed what was going on with other people, let alone think about their pain and how it might be affecting them.

But in the back of my mind, I see this guillotine raised above me, just waiting for something to come swooping in, cut the rope and send the blade back down on my life. I don't ever want to be thrown back into the depths of darkness like I was when this first happened in 2008, and again this last January. I don't want to put myself in a position where I don't see it coming, or can't act in time to keep myself safe.

I went out on a date last night for the first time in almost 2 years... and I actually enjoyed myself. I wasn't in my head, freaking myself out about the what if's and trying to predict the future. I was just there, in the moment and it was great! I had such a blast and really liked hanging out with this guy.

The ride home, however, was not great. The smile on my face faded after about 5 minutes and my weight suddenly reappeared. I honestly don't remember driving home after that. I remember focusing on trying to keep the memories and old habits, thoughts, feelings from taking me over. I know I had a panic attack. But the 20 minute ride home is a black hole... and I got home and had to put just about every strategy I learned from IOP into play just to keep myself afloat. After about an hour I was able to pull myself out of it and calm down enough to go to bed.

I'm feeling better this morning, but am more afraid of life today. I feel the guillotine blade on the back of my neck and I'm afraid to move. But I'm not going to let this discourage me. My life is new now, and I've got to re-learn how to live with my scars.

Round Hole, Square Peg

Man, I had no idea it had been so long since I posted last.

Last week was my first one back to work since December 17th. It was extremely busy but all in all it was a pretty easy transition back. This week is Spring Break, so it was nice to be able to get my feet wet and then take a break. I left Saturday morning to fly out to California to see my dad. He is in a rehab hospital now and doing remarkably well considering everything he has been through (aneurysm and stroke) 45 days ago. His ability to process things is probably what has been affected the most, but he continues to make improvements every day. It's going to be a long road, but I know he will get better!

I got back late Tuesday night and have been in kind of a funk ever since. Normally leaving my dad is hard, because I only get to see him 2, maybe 3 times a year... but this time it was hard for a different reason. I so want to be there and be a part of my dad's recovery, but it just isn't feasible. That's very hard for me to come to terms with.

I had a session with V today, which I'm not sure if I'm satisfied with how it went or not. I've been so distracted by things lately that I have been trying too hard to push myself back to where I was (as far as awareness of how things were affecting me, what I wanted to talk about, etc) and it just isn't working. It's like trying to push a square peg into a circular hole. Push all you want, but it just won't work. That's how I feel.

I've been feeling very lonely lately. So many of my friends are pregnant, and if they aren't pregnant then they are getting married. It's really hard to see all of that (dang you Facebook depression!) knowing you want it, but still feeling too scared to pursue it and unsure if you're ready for it. I know there's no way I'm ever going to get what I want without allowing myself permission to take risks and try things that I might not "feel" ready for, but I'm just in that mindset that I believe it's never going to happen for me. That in 10 years I'm going to be in the same place I am now and have to resort to doing something like AI to get pregnant because I won't be married.

My desire for motherhood comes and goes in waves. Most of the time I just have it in the back of my mind as a life's goal, then other times it is ALL I can focus on. I want nothing more than to have a child. It's like withdrawal. I HAVE TO HAVE IT. I think there's a name for it, biological clock or what have you. The smallest things just set me off... and that's how it has been the past few weeks. I found out my oldest best friend (friends since birth, born a day apart and neighbors) is pregnant. She's not married or even in a serious relationship, but I was SO jealous when I found out. V texted me the other day saying she'd have to postpone our phone session because she couldn't get her little girl to sleep. Stab to the heart. Things that you wouldn't think would be a big deal have just been tearing me to pieces.

Today I found out that two of my co-workers are pregnant. It's like it's surrounding me. Showing me what I want and may never have. I know it's negative and unhealthy for me to be allowing myself to think this way, but I have no evidence that anything but this will be the case, and my logical side is being drowned by my over-emotional somewhat dramatic other side.

For The First Time In Months

I'm almost afraid to write this, lest I jinx myself.

For the first time in MONTHS I am feeling like myself. Not lost in the depths of depression or in the throes of anxiety, but dare I say, content.

For the first time since Christmas, I actually got together with my friends. I didn't cancel and stay locked in my apartment. I even had fun! I didn't feel scared to be out, or anxious to be surrounded by so many people. I didn't even want to leave like I so often do after about an hour. I am even going out to dinner tonight with another group of friends.

It's almost like the past 2 months didn't even happen and I'm just waking up from a bad dream. I am still very emotional about my dad and the situation regarding his health. He has been moved out of ICU and is out of the woods as far as death goes, but he is still having a hard time staying alert. He is only awake maybe 4 hours a day, and is often very withdrawn during that time. He recognizes people and has what the doctors call "automatic speech". Meaning he can talk to you easily using speech that is embedded in the brain from frequent usage; like hello, goodbye, please, thank you, etc. He has a harder time trying to construct longer sentences, but can if you don't overwhelm him.

I am so thankful that he is no longer in any danger of dying, but now I'm having to come to terms with all of this change. It may take years for him to fully return to where he was before all of this happened. He may be the same person, he may not. He may have deficits, he may not. Lots of unknowns. I started crying when I was driving the other day because I realized that when I flew out there in a few weeks that he wasn't going to pick me up at the airport like he always does. He wouldn't give me the huge hug and greet me with "Hi Punkin", like he always calls me. It's a lot to have to take in.

Given everything that's happened in the last couple of months, I am so grateful for where I am right now. It's nice to finally see the hard work I've been putting into my healing us finally paying off.

Ups and Downs

I feel like a broken record. My life is like one giant never-ending roller coaster. It goes up, up, up and lures me into a false sense of hope and security then speeds downhill at a rate that feels like it might kill me.

Last week was pretty stable. I went to IOP every day, talked about things that were on my mind, allowed myself to process the visit to California, and my continued fears regarding him and his health. All in all, I was feeling really well Friday when I left IOP. My mood improved even more when I found out my dad was taken off the ventilator and was awake for the first time in 3 weeks. I even got to talk to him on the phone for a few seconds. My aunt held the phone up to his ear while I told him I loved him. :)

Feeling so fueled by this great news, I had the energy to start doing things that I have been neglecting; namely cleaning. So I started cleaning my apartment all the while texting with my sister about getting together Saturday afternoon at the dog park. So I go into my bathroom to start scrubbing the tub and thought I heard my phone ringing, but with the water running I couldn't tell. When I turned the water off it was still ringing so I went to see who it was and it said "BLOCKED". Normally I don't pick up when I don't recognize the number, but I was worried it was my stepmom or aunt calling from the hospital so I went ahead and took the call. A guy was on the other end and this was the conversation:

Hey Lily.

Who is this?

What? You don't remember me? Come on Lily. I've seen you, you're looking good.

I hung up the phone and started freaking out. I had no idea who it could be or how he got my number. I saw that I had 5 missed calls, in the span of about 3 minutes and that he had left a message. I listened to it and then really started freaking out.

I saw you driving your black Lexus today. You're looking good. And you're in apartment 1509 right? Yeah, I can't wait for our little reunion. It'll be soon.

Oh. My. God. I was hysterical. I was shaking and crying. I ran to my front door and made sure the door was locked. I ran to my patio and locked that door too (which doesn't even make sense because I'm on the top floor and there's no way anyone can get in that way). I got my phone and called 911. I was expecting someone to beat down my door and chop me to little pieces. The switchboard took my information and said they'd be sending a cop my way. As soon as I hung up I started trying to call friends that lived near me because I knew I wasn't going to be staying at my apartment. After no luck getting ahold of the first couple, I tried calling my mom (which I knew would be futile because she let's her phone charge in the kitchen overnight). I knew I could just drive home (about 30 min away) without reaching her by phone but I needed someone to TALK to while I was waiting for the police to arrive. I finally got ahold of one of my friends who lives about 10 minutes away and asked her if I could stay at her apartment that night, to which she said yes, of course. I talked to her a bit but was still feeling very unsafe so I got off the phone with her and decided to call my sister to see if she and her boyfriend could come over so I wasn't alone. They live about 10 minutes away too and I had no idea how long it would take the cops to show up since it wasn't a time-sensitive emergency. I called her phone like 4 times, her boyfriends phone at least 2, and my cousin's phone (they hang out a lot together) but no one was picking up! I was a basket case! FINALLY she called me back a few minutes later and I explained to her what was going on and that I wanted her and her boyfriend to come over here so I wasn't alone.

She started laughing.

Lily, that was me! I thought you knew it was me. I mean, I used a voice changer but we were just texting each other so I thought you knew it was me. I can't believe you called the cops! We were just playing around. You never come over and hang out with us. We were just trying to include you.

OH. MY. GOD. I just lost it. I had finally gotten to a point that I wasn't shaking or crying and I just LOST IT. I have never wanted to kill anyone so much in my entire life. I yelled at her, which she probably couldn't understand because I was crying too but I just let her have it. Not 10 days ago did I confide in her that I hadn't been working because my PTSD was so bad that I had to seek intensive treatment and she goes and pulls this? I was just beside myself. I was so mad I could barely think. I hung up on her and just sat on my sofa and bawled. I was already full of fear, but to add anger, confusion, (relief that I wasn't in danger) among everything else... I felt like an idiot when the cops finally did show up and I had to explain to them that it was my psychotic sister who thought it would be funny to play a joke on me. Jesus. I was such a mess telling them this I'm sure they could tell how well she pulled off this "prank."

This whole situation completely affected my weekend. I am already having a tough time finding the energy to go out and do things. And an even harder time getting together with people. Aside from my family and doctors, I haven't seen anyone since New Years Eve. My desire to hide is overwhelming, but I was starting to feel more secure in leaving my "safe place" (home) to go see some good friends of mine that live about an hour away. But after Friday night, I didn't even leave my apartment for the entire weekend. In fact, I slept the majority of my weekend. I was so upset about what had happened that I allowed myself to shrink away even more.

I've continued to go to IOP, but the group has gotten so big (we had 9 people on Monday) that it is getting harder for me to have the opportunity to process what is weighing on me. We only have an hour that is designated for "open talk" and some of these women have no respect for other people's time. Today we were missing a few people, so the smaller group was easier to speak up in but I had to walk out at the end of our group. There are these two ladies that just have no idea how overbearing they are. They constantly interrupt each other and our IOP therapist when she is talking and it bugs me. Today, she focused on those two women and their issues, and it was a constant hour of listening to them talk on top her, not letting her finish her sentences, interrupting someone else, raising their voices so that they could be heard on top of someone else... it was just too much. My anxiety was through the roof listening to all of this that I was about to have a panic attack so I just walked out. They have no respect for other people and I refuse to be treated that way while I'm there.

I'm "graduating" IOP on Tuesday and I'm terrified. I'll be heading back to work full-time on Monday, March 7th and I just don't know how I'm going to fare. There are so many things at work that are huge triggers and I just don't know if I'm going to be able to shoulder it all and take care of myself. Only time will tell I guess...

It Can't Get Any Worse, Right?

So 2011 has pretty much sucked 100% since it started. It's one of those things that I silently think to myself "It can't get any worse" but then catch myself because I know that's not true. Every few weeks it seems I'm being dealt another situation to deal with in addition to the extreme burden I'm already carrying around. I am just now able to process the last two weeks enough to sit down and write about it.

My sister and I flew out to California on Saturday morning, as we couldn't get anything sooner because of the weather here. We arrived and took a cab to the hospital, greeted by my uncle. My dad had surgery late Friday night that lasted 10 hours, but was successful. It fixed his aneurysm and he was conscious and responding to commands once he woke up from anesthesia. We stopped in the cafeteria to eat when my aunt (who is a doctor) came running into the cafeteria and told us to come upstairs that my dad was no longer responding to commands or talking and she didn't like how things were looking. They were getting ready to rush him to CT and she wanted us to have the opportunity to see him, should anything happen.

It was horrible. He was restrained (because brain injuries often result in uncontrolled/involuntary aggression as a side effect to the trauma) and had tubes everywhere. As a result of the surgery, his whole head was bandaged and his right eye looked like someone had punched him. Apparently that is common because of how they had him situated when they did the surgery. Blood pools in that area and makes the patient look like they lost a street fight. My dad has never been sick aside from bronchitis every now and then, so this hit me like a ton of bricks. I grabbed his hand and asked him to open his eyes. He was only able to open one (as the other was swollen shut) but he looked right at me. I told him I loved him and that I wanted him to be strong.

That was the last time he was conscious. The result of the CT showed that he was having a common side effect of brain trauma and surgery, called vaso-spasming: a constriction of the blood vessels in the brain. If they constrict too much, they cause strokes and irreparable damage. Because of how quickly this came on and how much it caused him to decompensate, his doctors decided to put him in a medically induced coma and intubate him so his body would have time to heal without having to otherwise work so hard. I almost lost my father Saturday.

Sunday they were working on getting his blood pressure stable on the cocktail of medicines he was on while trying to treat the vaso-spasms. He had two procedures Sunday and was put on a ventilator. When I finally got to see him, I wanted to cry. They had to shave his beard in order to intubate him. I have NEVER seen my dad without a beard. He has had it since 1975, almost 10 years before I was born so I've seldom even seen pictures of him without it, unless he was a teenager. I know it was stupid, but I was so distraught.

Monday and Tuesday were pretty much the same. He was still unconscious and intubated, and my sister and I only got to see him for about 30 minutes each day. Our flight back was Tuesday and I was scared to leave. He hadn't really made any improvements since we got there and I was scared that he was going to get worse. When I went in there to say goodbye to him I just lost it. My aunt was in the room with me and just held me as I wept. The past 4 days had finally caught up with me and I couldn't hold it in any longer. She's got great bedside manner and knew exactly what to say to me to make me feel better. Knowing she was staying there with my stepmom for as long as necessary made me feel so much better as well.

My sister and I got back late Tuesday night, right in time for another ice storm. Everything was closed Wednesday so I couldn't return to IOP, but I did go Thursday. I can honestly say I was terrified to go because I didn't want to talk about the past week. I was about to fall apart and I knew it. But my IOP counselor prompted me to share with the group why I had been gone (I had been in contact with her so she already knew) and I just lost it. I cried and cried and felt like crap when I left. I was so drained and depressed that I couldn't get myself out of bed Friday to go to IOP, but a call from my aunt later that day raised my spirits.

They were slowly lifting my dad out of his coma to test his brain functions and he was moving his arms and legs and was able to show two fingers when the doctors asked him to. They kept him under extreme sedation for the rest of the weekend, but my aunt called me this morning saying that he's opening his eyes, responding to questions with nods (he still can't talk because he's still on a ventilator), moving arms and legs and following commands. They will probably take him off the ventilator tomorrow and if he keeps improving at this pace, they'll wean him off all the medications he's on and he could be out of the ICU by next Sunday!

He still has a long road ahead of him. They won't be able to tell how all of this affected his brain until he has some time to gain consciousness. He had a small stroke as a result of the vaso-spasming and the place it was located in his brain is responsible for mood and impulsiveness. Unfortunately those two are already affected with brain trauma, but adding a stroke in that area means that there is a good chance he may act different than he did before. It's likely that he will be able to walk without any problems (after some physical therapy to gain back the muscle mass he's lost/will lose after being bed-ridden for about a month) and talking might or might not be affected. It's all a waiting and patience game at this point, but it appears that he is no longer critical.

It has been a crazy couple of weeks, no doubt. I was glad to be back at home, even though I wanted to be there for my dad. I kept trying to tell myself that my dad would want me to be here, taking care of myself and trying to get better. That's the mantra I keep repeating to myself. I spent Friday to myself, resting and trying to work on my mood. I called a friend who lives a few hours away and asked him a favor. He used to be in the Army and when he was deployed overseas, I cared for his dog. The most sweet, lovable dog I have ever known. I asked him if I could come pick him up and have a little dog therapy time since these past few weeks have been so hard. I was delighted to hear that he would be glad to let me take him for a while! That helped lift my spirits, too. Finally things were going in the right direction and Friday night I was actually a little happy.

Cue catastrophe. My cat, who is pushing 20, came into the living room where I was watching TV, jumped on the sofa like she normally does, sat there for a second then started having a seizure. She has NEVER done that before and it was terrifying. She took a header off the couch onto the floor and started making these horrible noises while she was convulsing. It seemed to last forever, but after about 90 seconds she stopped. She laid there for a while then I tried to get her to stand up, which she did somewhat drunkily. After about 5 minutes she started walking and went straight to her food bowl and started eating. She was acting perfectly normal. Of course this was at like 11 at night, so there was nowhere I could take her to get her checked out. I woke up early Saturday and took her to my vet, who looked her over and took some blood. It should be back tomorrow. There's a possibility that this was caused from a thyroid problem, diabetes or liver issues. If all that comes back normal it may just be a fluke. Every time the vet sees her he comments how she is the healthiest cat he's ever seen at her age. Hopefully that will continue to be true. I don't know if I could handle losing her now.

Life is so overwhelming right now I almost can't even think about it all at once. That's why I waited so long to write here because I didn't want to trigger myself into having a panic attack. I'm doing my best to take it day by day, sometimes even hour by hour. Having my sweet little boy back definitely is helping. We went to the park today and enjoyed the fact that the sun was out for the first time in what feels like months. It was just what I needed. He's the best therapy I could ask for!

Seriously, God?!

If life wasn't enough to handle right now, God has thrown me another curve.

My dad is in the ICU from an aneurysm that caused bleeding in his brain. My sister and I are flying out there Saturday. I wish it could be sooner but the entire state is covered in ice (I've been stuck at home for 4 days, sometimes with power, sometimes not), temps in the single digits with wind chills bottoming out at -18 this morning and more headed our way tonight.

I have pretty much been in a constant panic attack all day today. Please pray for my dad. He's having surgery tomorrow morning to try and stop the bleeding.