Jacqui (jacqui) wrote,
Jacqui
jacqui

More Accident Details, Depression, When Boys Grow Up, Mom's Ninetieth Birthday, Ruby Cat


"This is the end, my only friend, the end...No safety or surprise, the end... "

This accident nightmare is taking on a life of it's own. It's starting to feel like a weird dark movie and I am definitely depressed about it. I'm noticing signs of PTS. I don't really want to go out, but I guess that's nothing new, it's just a little worse lately. When I hear tires screeching I want to duck or run for cover. When I was standing in the street today looking at my totaled car and talking to my insurance agent, I wanted to pull him out of the way of every approaching car. They all seemed menacing, as if they were headed straight for him. It's not like I'm living in Lebanon. I wasn't hit by a tidal wave. But I feel weird; dizzy, sad, lonely, frightened. I've got to find some way to turn this around -- make this negative thing that happened positive somehow. I'm determined to find the silver lining here. Already I'm thanking the creator for saving the life of the man who was also injured in the accident.

I am worried though, that this man who broke his neck, (I guess a broken vertebrae in your neck is the same thing as a broken neck), is going to get some scary sharky attorney and go after me, when I truly believe this is not my fault. But, given my childhood, and my history with my parents, anyone blaming me for, or accusing me of, anything is enough to make me feel nervous and guilty. It's all so surreal and spooky.

I gave my version of the accident to my insurance man today. He came over and took a kind of deposition and taped me. Afterwards Scott kindly put me in touch with a nice attorney who works in his firm and he was upset that I had spoken to the insurance man before speaking with him. He wants me to get a copy of the tape as well as a transcript.

An interesting new development that may work out in my favor, or may make everything worse, is that another driver has come forward who claims that the silver car, that was stopped across the freeway, the car with the man who was the most badly injured, had hit him. He doesn't think I had anything to do with this. I am so hoping this is one of the cars I saw on the freeway before I ran into the whole thing. If the injured man in the silver sedan had already collided with this other car before my car got there, then this will support my version of the events of that night. If it turns out that he thinks I hit the silver car and then pushed the silver car into him, well, then I'm screwed. This is why I'm getting an attorney. I have to protect myself above and beyond whatever my insurance company will be willing to do for me. A hundred thousand dollar policy may not go that far for a man with a broken neck, if he needs surgery.

On the bright side, my burn is healing, slowly, but I'm not too keen on how fast time seems to be passing. I don't want the summer to slip away from us like it always tends to do. I went back to the dermatologist, the super busy dermatologist, yesterday. I had been a little bit worried about what it would be like to have the sticky dressing pad peeled back off of the burn, but it really wasn't that bad at all. She thinks it's healing nicely, but I'll have a scar. It's a pretty good place to have a burn scar, on the inside of your forearm, as opposed to on your face. And I keep collecting grizzly airbag stories, but I'll spare you the details.

Every day someone comes by and buzzes the intercom to see if I'm okay. My neighbors have been amazing. People I notice but don't ever think notice me have asked after me, which is so nice. I think having had my car towed here was a good plan because maybe it's doing some good out there -- reminding people to be more careful when they drive. I see people stop and stare at it every day. It's a little funny to watch. People slow down as they drive by or walk around it with their dogs. My grammar school and high school principals, RSHM Sisters who live down the street, called and talked to me for a while, told me they'd been praying for me, and that was great. I told them that I was okay and asked them to pray for my friend Mary and the other man who was injured instead. My friend Aleida, who is our mail carrier, and who lives just a few blocks away, asked after me, as well as my beloved gardener Tom, whose own wife and son were just in a bad accident themselves.

The adjuster, (I think that's his title), came out and looked at my car. I asked him if he thought it was totaled and he said, "Totaled? Oh it's totaled all right. That car was hammered! Believe me. I'll have it towed away today or tomorrow."

My Mom and her secretary Tina have really been stressing me out. Or maybe I've been stressing myself out. I don't know. It's just super stressful and blechy feeling, all about money, control, neglected feelings, a lack of understanding or respect for my autonomy.

Mom sold her membership to The Beach Club, which is a painful complicated thing that I'm not quite ready to explain or write about.

I feel if I could just get up and get things done, knock some things off of my damned To Do list, and get some real exercise, that I would feel better. But I feel so stuck, dizzy, and slow moving, with nothing but my chemical makeup, my crazy life, a smashed car, and a possible minor concussion as an excuse for remaining here in my room with my cats, where it feels safe, but very boring and oh so lonely.

Acting? What's that?

I have a piece of glass stuck in my finger, but the skin has healed over it and I don't want to have the dermatologist cut it open to dig it out, but it hurts to type, hurts to dial phone numbers, hurts, hurts, hurts. What doesn't hurt? And always in the back of my mind is the thought, "It isn't cancer. Think about how lucky you are to be alive and blessed with time ahead of you, time to dream, and plan, and do."

Today I was grieving the loss of my son's boyhood. I love him so much, but it really hit me hard that I don't have a baby, a toddler, or a little boy any more, and I miss being that Mom, the Mom of a younger child. I thought about the last time he breast fed, the last time I picked him up, the last time he held my hand while we took a walk, the last time he asked me to cuddle him and I said no because I was too busy or tired. There must have been a last time, and had I known that any of these moments were the last of their kind I would have cherished them so dearly and clung on to them, marked them for memory's sake so that I could replay them for the rest of my life. Letting go is so hard.

Earlier this afternoon I sprinted up the stairs because I smelled incense and this alarmed me because I knew that Beau's friend Steven was over. Steven is failing school. Steven is even failing summer school. Steven and his Mother fight all the time. Steven likes to tag things with spray paint. Steven smokes pot. Steven has set fire to Beau's bed.

Before you tell me to ban Steven, let me say that I am not sure this is the best thing to do. I am completely conflicted about this. I care about him because I've been taking care of him since first grade. He has a lot of problems at home and he needs love. When you're good to him he blossoms. I know that his Mom loves him, but she's fed up with him, and she also has trouble controlling her anger and she yells at and hits him. She doesn't follow through on limits and punishments so he does and says whatever he wants at their house. She can be awful to him and he can be awful to her. I don't know which comes first. It seems as if it would be easier for me if I just banned him altogether, but Beau really loves him, and is so happy when they are together. So for now we're taking it one small supervised visit at a time.

When Steven is over, there are limits, the kids aren't allowed to take off and play away from the house in the neighborhood because I can't trust that they won't get into trouble. They aren't allowed to invite anyone else over. Steven is not allowed to leave without clearing it with me because I need to know if he's cleared this with his Mom. And most importantly Steven is not allowed to drink any alcohol or smoke any pot over here. Because of this Beau isn't allowed to light anything in his room when Steven is over. Incense and pot go hand and hand. What's that sickly sweet smell? Oh that's just incense covering up the smell of WEED! So I burst into the room and there was Beau with the butt end of an incense stick dangling off his lip like a cigarette, the smoke floating up into the air in puffy white tendrils that wafted into Beau's nostrils with his every intake breath. "What are you doing?" "Nothing, I like this." "Your lungs! That stuff is going straight into your lungs!" "No it isn't." "Put that out Beau! Incense isn't meant to be held between your teeth!" They weren't smoking pot. But hell I used to smoke pot when I was their age. I remember getting high and eating an entire pear without chewing once before I suddenly realized this and then threw it all up. So when did I become this worried woman, this careful Mother bird?

My Mom's birthday is fast approaching. The big nine-o, but I'm not allowed to throw her a party because she's been lying about her age by just one year since her twenty-first birthday, when she was in a bar in Hawaii, and Zsa Zsa Gabor, or Mary Picford, or Deanna Durbin said, "How old are you Jeannette, twenty?" And vain creature that she has always been, she said, "Why, yes I am." She's been lying about it ever since, a party would reveal the lie. I can't figure out what to do, but I'd better figure it out quick.

I don't know what we're going to do about Burning Man. It all depends on money. Money, courage, health, stamina, and time. I'm also getting tired of being in a relationship but going solo. Beau runs off and does his thing, and I'm left with all of these confused people in this highly sexualized environment who wonder why I never come with a partner. Burning Man, Burning Man is very important to us, and very complicated. It isn't easy to do. It isn't easy not to do. Burning Man is our Mecca and it would suck not to make our annual pilgrimage.

Ruby is still alive. She can't, or won't, eat much, just a bit of baby food, but she's hanging in there. I have no doubt it's because some of you are sending prayers and healing thoughts our way. Thank you!

So here's my Aries horoscope for the week of the twentieth from Rob Brezny of Free Will Astrology. My life sure does feel like a soap opera, been feeling like this for a loooong time, and I am definitely ready for a new chapter. Sounds good; bring it on. Especially the bit about the unicorn and the samurais wearing pajamas. I can do without the ham sandwich;

"I'm pleased to announce the imminent arrival of a new chapter in your own personal soap opera. It could include any of the following plot twists: midnight confessions, madcap sex farces, thumb-sucking saints, an invitation to play leapfrog with a unicorn, work turning into play and vice versa, a showdown between the reptile brain and mammalian brain, a chance to bob for lollipops in a fountain, a thunderstorm coming just in time to douse a raging fire, samurais wearing pajamas, a supernatural ham sandwich, and opportunities to tinker with your "Me Against the World" attitude."


Bye Bye Car : (
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