It's Just One

It's just one of those days
It's just one of those nights
When nothin ain't right
But nothin is wrong
Just one of those crazy times

You can't find the wrong
You can't fix the right
Lost in a foggy world
Head filled with stuffing
Nothin is going your way

It's just them dreary days
Just a sleep it away kind of day
A day that slips into night
Just one of the odd times of life

It's pullin you hair out
Hidin under the blankets
Nerve ends singin kind of times
Screamin seems to be the thing to do
Won't do to scare the dog

Nothin is going wrong and nothin is going right
Not a thing to do, not a thing to think
Just ramblin and shamblin through life
Just ya think now you're zombie like
I'd rather be the Karloff  mummy

Now that I found something funny
I think it ain't so bad,
But then, I'm still wearin my jammies
And I didn't just put them on

Screamin, sounds really good about now

Saroya Poirier © February 2, 2013
I almost typed 1962  hysterical laughter

Today’s Whine

Whine, sad, tears

Fears

Snuffle, sigh, red eyes

Oh my

Depressed, stressed, suppressed

Jest

Lost, wandering, meander

Candour

Well isn’t that special

Revel

Bedeviled, disheveled

Embezzled? 

Happy, sappy, wacky

All done

Saroya Poirier © January 28, 2013

Selfish

I don't know how to start this, scattered thoughts, knowledge that in my own selfishness I ignored signs that grandchildren were being hurt.  That pain will never leave me, and I deserve that pain the ache knowing I could have stepped in sooner.  

When a two and a half year old looks at you, trying to tell you something, imploring you to take her away, and in your own selfishness, you push away the warning bells in your head.  That long stare coming from that small face, her not wanting to get out of my van.  Her mother standing there waiting,  holding out her hands, the child only looking at me willing me to understand.  There are no words to make that pain go away.

It didn't happen once, there were other times, "Go that way, go fast", her pointing the opposite way of the home she lived in with mom.  The home, filled with strangers coming and going, drugs being used on premises, children watching, breathing, ingesting food cooked in that environment.  Lies, teaching lies, drugs are a horrible thing.

Some of it I didn't understand, my generation didn't have the kind of drugs that my children grew up knowing about and or using. I didn't want to think a child of mine would do any thing like this.  I didn't want to believe it was happening, and small children were hurt.  

One year, that was all it was, one horrible year that changed the lives of two beautiful little ones. 

I didn't want it to be true, so I ignored the signs.  My reason, I was already raising one grandchild, I didn't want to raise another let alone two more. 

Then the day came when ignorance truly wasn't bliss. The call from the landlord, eviction, a parade of men in and out of the home and on and on. With the eviction in progress we took the young girls. I still wonder why they didn’t call the police, it is the law when you suspect drugs are being used, but the children would have ended up in foster care, I couldn’t have allowed that.  They came home with us.

I had co-signed the lease; we were responsible, cleaning, repairs, it was sickening to see the way the children had been living.  The cost, my husband angry about the cost and the disbelief that it was all true, the things I had started to suspect and told him about.

I was angry so very angry about it all. I had to look at the ugly truth of what had been happening.  While cleaning out the apartment we found drugs and paraphernalia in the toy box, under mattresses, all kinds of places and residue everywhere.

One child went to live with the other grandma, we kept the youngest.

The child wouldn’t sleep alone, so she slept with me and my husband slept in another room.

Then one night her nightmares started, I was reading when I heard these words, “grandma help me, grandma help me” over and over.  I reached out, touched her head thinking to soothe her. Then, her eyes flew open there was no recognition in them and she started to shake, pulled her arms and legs into her body and said, “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me”.  I pulled back, “it’s grandma, its okay it’s grandma, I yelled for the older grandchild I was also raising.  The 3 year old went into her arms crying, my husband came questioning.

When she was fully awake she came into my arms, wrapped her little hands in my hair, literally shackling her to me. She slept on top of me the rest of the night, her hands in my hair.  This dream came six or more times, every time as she woke up she would wrap her hands in my hair and sleep on top of me. After the third time she would wake to my voice and crawl into my arms. She fell asleep every night with one hand twisted in my hair. My hair was already long but I had to let it grow out more so I could sleep too.   Until the day she finally went home again, four years later, she slept with my hair in her hand.

I will feel guilt for the rest of my life for not opening my eyes and stepping in sooner to help those children.  I love them very much, I am their grandmother, I was there for their births, I am their grandmother, I may not be the biological grandma, but I am forever their grandmother.  I love them and I love my step daughter too, always and forever.

My Mother

Today January 15th is my mother's birthday.

Born January 15, 1930
Eva Rose Poirier, French(grandpa was from Quebec) and German (grandma 1st generation American born) decent.
Married 6 times
Ralph Mennie 1946, Martin Strausbaugh 1955, Jerry Ass hole Holden November 1963 for 6 weeks, Leo Gee 1966, OH my gosh I forgot one, farmer in George WA,  and last Don Ziegler, I don't remember the date

Car wreck, drinking and driving, 1975, broken neck, actually crushed 5&6 C vertebra, low quadriplegic.

Died June 11, 1977  age 47, I am older then my mom.

Mom I am thinking about you.

Wine can be Devine

Hey there everyone!!

I decided to have a glass of wine tonight. I don't drink alcohol often.. sometimes a glass a week, and on occasion every night.. But that doesn't have every year.  Heck, it doesn't happen every week nor every month.
So this very night I decided why not, I said to myself, "self, you bought some wine, why not have a glass."
My self said, "hell yes", is it good?  Self said, " the hell if I know".   So I amble down the hall to the kitchen and open, or rather, try, to open that bottle of wine from QFC (Koger) grocery store.  I put in the opener, twist, twist, that thing that ends up with arms up in the air, and push them down.  Then I pull, wiggle, pull, squeak, squeak, twist, pull, screw the thing deeper into the cork, push those arms down AGAIN, and pull, pull.. YES ta da the cork is out.  Cool uh?

I am so good !!! LAUGHING.. one glass and I am buzzed.  This is fun.  Oh kay, the name of this wondrous beverage is, are you ready?  Well it is...... are you sure you are ready?  The Chocolate Lovers Wine... not bad, not bad at all.  Not as chocolaty as Coco Vine, but hey, do you really want to drink chocolate all the time? Well hell no you don't.

So tonight, I am so happy there is spell check on blogspot.  Laughing, Hey who snorted ?  Oh that was me.

Hey everyone, want a glass of wine??  Hay is for horses,, Hey hey need a lay?

Just call, 555  oh wait, um, well heck.. you are going to have to go buy your own wine.. Laughing hysterically.   Thank the gods of spell check.

Laughing wildly like a demented old broad.. ? old?  is only a matter of years, the mind is younger then you are.

Saroya
just a little tipsy

now to push the publish button and!!!!!!  ;o) I think there is a boo boo, but I can't find it.

 

leaden

I am dead inside tonight

Harassed belittled demeaned

What’s this what’s that

And he wonders why I am depressed

My body feels leaden succumbing to gravity

“Is it all in her head doc”…..?

What the fuck did he really say that in front of me to my doctor?

They say you shouldn’t marry someone then try to change them.

I never tried to change him, wouldn’t have done any good.

Alcoholics’ are oblivious to anyone but themselves.

I am a night person; I like to clean at night

Read all night, stay up, go to sleep at dawn.

He is a day person.

He tried to change me, It didn’t work.

My chest hurts; I don’t feel I can’t fight gravity

It will have its way with me tonight.

A gray fog is pressing in my head.

Holding back tears that will do no good

I don’t want to fight this battle anymore

But it is really, for me, too late to change it all.

Reality is ugly

Saroya Poirier  January 3, 2013  

Unlovable

If I can’t be loved no one can be loved

Am I unlovable or are you?

They say they love you their actions say no

Do they laugh because you believe do they stray?

Are you the only one or are we many

Are we young or are we old

Do we know what love should be?

Or is it only in our imagination?

I know my parents love me, but sometimes I wonder

But logic tells me to believe rid myself of doubt, can I?

If I can’t be loved and no one can

Is love real and how does it feel..

Saroya Poirier © January 2, 2013

Anyone can feel this way, at 6, 16, or 64