Thursday, June 18, 2009

intervention

i watch intervention all the time. i cry every single time. my husband asks why.....and i never tell him.

in my old job, as a child protective services worker, i had a variety of clients. ther ewere a few that stuck out in my mind. a few that i will never forget.

one will never leave my memory. in fact, i think of him every.single.day. he came to me as the father of an itty-bitty baby. he had a drug problem. he was violent and angry. he was manipulative and deceitful. he was charming, he was sweet, he was nice. we will call him brad.

brad was in a hostile realtionship with his daughter's mom. they manipulated each other and manipulated me. he had a serious problem with drugs. a serious problem. when he came to me, he had been through 22 treatment programs and was still using crack cocaine. he had a very inappropriate relationship with his own mother, and she was waaaay too involved in his life. she enabled him and bailed him out.

whenever he would call me, i went to him. i once got a call that he was high and destroying property, and was dangerous to be around. i hopped in my car, arrived at his place, and begged him to let me in. he broke down and cried and we talked. i convinced him that he was better than this, because he was. he came from a nice family, had an expensive education, and he did not belong with the other families that i worked with.

i saw him weekly. he called me no less than 5-10 times a day. he was a little....high-maintenance. :) he would often show up in my lobby, demanding to see me, making a scene. his hair would be sticking out, his fly would be open, but he always greeted me with that rediculous, goofy smile. even when he was in prison or jail, and i would visit him there, and he woudl shout and spit at me through the glass...he would always look like a little boy.

as much as he manipulated me, and made look like a fool, and even as many times as i went to bat for him....i liked him a lot. i always told him so, and that he had so much potential. his mother would scream at me. she would call me names. she would manipulate me, too. they all did.

towards the end, he spiraled out of control. i had a very memorable conversation with him, urging him to "do the right thing....." what everyone knew he was capable of. i reassured him that i had faith in him, and that i would see him the next day at 1pm. he said "sarah, thanks. i may abuse you, but i appreciate all you have ever done for me. you're the only one who has never turned their back on me." i was happy.

the next morning, i arrived at sharon's house (his mom) to see his baby. when i got there sharon told me "well, sarah, you got your wish. brad won't be a problem anymore. he's dead." i stared at her and said no, no he wasn't. that i had an appointment with him soon after i was leaving her home. she nodded and said that brad had taken his own life. and it was my fault.

she said many more things to me, things that i can't even repeat. things i know are not true, but that stick in the back of my mind.....i think about him every single day of my life. i drive by the place where his funeral took place every time i leave my house. i wonder about him and his mom. there were so many incidents with him, on a daily occurence, that stick out in my mind. years of daily interactions. some hilarious, some sad. some that make me furious, some that embarrass me.

i remember the look on his dad's face as i walked to my car that day. the way he chased me and said "sarah! it's not your fault. it's not anyone's fault. it was his destiny." and the way i burst into tears and cried. and cried. and cried. and got sent home from work that day. the way that i layed on my couch and waited for my mom's flight to arrive for my baby shower. i remember every minute of his funeral, and the way his family's eyes burned into my back. the nudges and glances as well as the knowing looks of "oh.....you're the one who was supposed to help him."

i think that is why i watch intervention. i see brad in every addict. i see sharon in every.single.family.member. i look for the thing i missed. i know i did everything in my power, and i know i could not have changed his fate. if he hadn't died by his own hand, he would have died from the drugs. but then why am i still looking?

thankful thursday!

today i thankful for...

a beautiful sunny day with my boy
fresh strawberries
my husband
friends that give just as much as they take
grilling out tonight

Friday, June 12, 2009

jack's new room - jungle themed room

Not the best photos, but these will do. I made the quilt and the elephant pillow. The rocking chair Marc and I stained when I was pregnant. The cubes are from Target, and the furniture is from PBK, as is the window hardware, the lamp, the lion pillow, the rug, and the animal mobile over the bed. I also made the sheers that hang behind the regular curtains. The photos are ones I took last year at the zoo and the animals on the shelves are from the $1 spot at Target.












Thursday, June 11, 2009

so.damn.tired.

i need to stick to my guns. i really need to stop letting things bother me, things people do or don't say get to me, including family. including friends. including coworkers.

my homey dr. phil says that you can't expect reactions from others and then get disappointed when you don't receive them. i need to stop expecting certain reactions from those i love or even just like, even those i know are capable and willing to give the best of themselves to others. even those who i KNOW give those actions to others.

that's it. that's all. the end :)

.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Thursday, June 4, 2009

love this!

this chick rocks. and i will soon be making samoa cupcakes for father's day. i adore her and her blog. check her out:



i love this idea, and will buying one of these asap.

Monday, June 1, 2009

drifters

in 1998, i packed up and left my teeny tiny town in new hampshire. i left behind mountains, bautiful landscapes, a wealthy farm town that was full of equestrian rings and apple orchards, cheap seafood, and a house in the woods. i left my family, my friends, everyone i knew. i left my boyfriend. my clothes. my pictures. my best friend.

i moved to ohio. humid, dry, flat ohio. columbus, where people think a particular zip code is a bragging right. where i learned the rules and rituals of dorm life. where i watched people go home on the weekends, and on holidays. where i watched through email that all my friends from home were still hanging out. i learned to depend on myself, and only myself.

i got a job. 2 jobs, in fact. i still went to school full time and shared an apartment off campus and had a new boyfriend. some of my realtionships from freshman year dwindled and i started a new job on a whim, and never expected my life to change so dramatically. i met her at the daycare, our lives were as about as differnt as they could be. her name was nea and she had a one year old baby girl. she was married and had moved here from sunny california.

although we seemed different at that time, it was amazing to see how much the same we were. we liked the same things, had teh same passions, have the same thoughts. if you ever got on either one of our bad sides......we have been known to tag team. and not in THAT way. i don't even think we particularly cared for each other very much at first.

now, almost 10 years later, we are still tight. i graduated from ohio state, married that boyfriend, and had a baby. she bought a house, had TWO MORE KIDS, and moved away.

i don't think i will ever get over that. thinking about her moving is like being dropped off in my dorm room all over again. that panicky feeling of looking to the left and to the right, wondering "what the fuck am i going to do now?" only she understands truly how it feels to watch your heart walk away as you leave your beloved family members at the airport. or how it is to have no family there to celebrate holidays, or your birthday with. to have no gifts to open....

i recently asked her why she thought i have had so many failed relationships in the past year. she told me that i am trying to replace/reinvent something that i am missing. that feeling of having someone so close to you that they can understand what you are saying when you say "do we need to go to that place, and get that thing?" and know what it is you are saying. she thinks i am desperate to get it.

the truth is, i don't want to replace her. i don't want to, and don't think that i ever could, find someone to fill her shoes.

but i still want her here. i miss you, bonquita.