Mom,
I can't even fucking look at how long it's been since I've written you...not since I've THOUGHT of you, but since I've written.
Besides the fact that I'm feeling more desperate than I've felt in a very long time, I need you to know a few things:
Stan may be joining you....that is, if there IS a you somewhere...and if he goes to wherever that place may be. But I think it's soon. And that saddens me deeply.
Yet...
It makes me happy to think that you will both be reuinited with each other....your one true love for each of you. Heck, I feel bad for Selma...but Stan belongs with you. You left way too soon Mom. Seriously too soon.
Now for the harder part. I, yes ME, I may be joining you both soon. I'm trying super hard not to take any action to make that happen but get this:
The mere thought of the procedure that they will be doing (IF I still go) on Monday, may be worse for me than my own death. I mean, how sick is that? I'm more frightened of the procedure than the results. I might actually cancel it.
Hmmmmm...does Nancy have breast cancer? Who the fuck cares? I mean, really. ok, maybe Stu. Even though he pisses me off something fierce sometimes....he's the only one that I think may genuinely care about and love me. And I know with every ounce of me that he could deal with my death far better than I could deal with his.
Anyway, as the Seroquel kicks in and I type....I may not make much sense. But I need to see how I can function with it so I can take it if I do end up going on Monday. I have to be able to walk.
But I'm also taking it now cuz I can't fucking cope. I'm flipping. I feel more alone during times like these than ever. No one can help me. NO ONE. Yeah, yeah..only me. Well that's not gonna happen. I wish I could, but I can't. I don't have the tools for this one yet.
I may call Mireille for a pep talk. She understands how the sexual abuse is triggered by this crap. I tried reaching out to Lesley for help, but in this area, she didn't really cut it. She also took a scarf that I PAINSAKINGLY picked out over a bunch of day...a scarf that I completely wanted to keep....and have to exchange the previous one I got her...so she could just love something I give her as a gift.
She took the bag that held the scarf, and put it off to the side...not even asking me if I'd prefer that she wait or open it. I had wanted to talk to her about my anxiety in picking something perfect out for her, but she glossed over the gift, almost as if to give me a message that it was too much (in additon to the privately made wine I gave her). It felt punishing...or at least like she was trying to say...."ok, if I don't give too much attn to this, she will see that her gift-giving is not working". You know, the psycho babble bullshit. I feel like telling her that I think that wine is quite enough for her and I would simply love that lovely scarf back.
I just kinda blanked. I think the meds are kicking in...along with the wine. I wonder if Stan is on the same track.
Anyway, I'm gonna go escape to playing computer games now till I can no longer think...no longer feel.
You wouldn't believe how far technology has come. It's so very bittersweet.
That's is for now my love. I love you. I hate you. I miss you. I need you.
Your number one fan,
Nancy Hannah Davis (Kessler....god I hope you were at our wedding)
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
Monday, May 14, 2012
Mom,
Where the hell are you? Are you in Valentino? Are you in the stars? I are you just......gone?
I have more to say than my once-beautiful fingers can type tonight. But sadly for now, I need to say that despite ALL the growth I've done...and so many wonderful things, I have to tell you something.
I AM SUICIDAL.
I have lasted over 9 years since you left me. I met a wonderful guy who still loves and adores me but has the most difficult time consistently showing it. I have a full time job for 4 years, where I have no idea...NONE...how the people who run it can be so dishonest...so cruel....so disrespectful...so unprofessional to the point of jeopardizing innocent people ( me being one of them).
I have most gorgeous house I could have ever imagined. I could go on and on...but just need you to know that I'm so sorry I gave you such grief with all my sadness. And I'm sorry that this is what it's taking for me to write you again.
But I don't know if I could pull this off. Life, I mean. I don't know if I could pull off this life thing. I am, and always have been, way too sensitive. I just don't fit. Despite all my hard work, I'm forever disappointed in people.
If I can't hang in there, and end up finally doing what I thought I'd do when you passed.....I sure hope God (if there is one) forgives me....and I hope you do too.
Maybe we'll be together again....maybe not. I know nothing. I just know that this hurts too much.
Between my physical pain and my emotional pain, I am imprisoned.
No one has the key. Not even me.
I love you more than I've ever loved before in my life. Please forgive me, Mom.
But if you want me to be happy, I just might have to do this.
Your number one fan,
Nancy Hannah Davis (Kessler)
Where the hell are you? Are you in Valentino? Are you in the stars? I are you just......gone?
I have more to say than my once-beautiful fingers can type tonight. But sadly for now, I need to say that despite ALL the growth I've done...and so many wonderful things, I have to tell you something.
I AM SUICIDAL.
I have lasted over 9 years since you left me. I met a wonderful guy who still loves and adores me but has the most difficult time consistently showing it. I have a full time job for 4 years, where I have no idea...NONE...how the people who run it can be so dishonest...so cruel....so disrespectful...so unprofessional to the point of jeopardizing innocent people ( me being one of them).
I have most gorgeous house I could have ever imagined. I could go on and on...but just need you to know that I'm so sorry I gave you such grief with all my sadness. And I'm sorry that this is what it's taking for me to write you again.
But I don't know if I could pull this off. Life, I mean. I don't know if I could pull off this life thing. I am, and always have been, way too sensitive. I just don't fit. Despite all my hard work, I'm forever disappointed in people.
If I can't hang in there, and end up finally doing what I thought I'd do when you passed.....I sure hope God (if there is one) forgives me....and I hope you do too.
Maybe we'll be together again....maybe not. I know nothing. I just know that this hurts too much.
Between my physical pain and my emotional pain, I am imprisoned.
No one has the key. Not even me.
I love you more than I've ever loved before in my life. Please forgive me, Mom.
But if you want me to be happy, I just might have to do this.
Your number one fan,
Nancy Hannah Davis (Kessler)
Sunday, April 3, 2011
I'm back...and I need to stay there
Hi Mom, I really want to come back to you but it just brings up so damn much. Not only sad, miserable painful stuff, but also some crazy beautiful memories. I'm not going to say much right now. Stu is sitting nearby to me talking on the phone with both his parents. He calls them every single Sunday at 11. I always remind him and sit in the background, eagerly listening....almost vicariously. And yet...and it's hard for me to even admit this, but... I'M SO ANGRY! I mean...Stu is almost 13 years older than me and he has both his freakin' parents. Of course I'm happy for him...AND for Pat...AND for Ronni and for all these other millions of people that have their parent/s. But I had the best one anyone ever had. You and I had the best most special relationship known to humans....and no one knows it but you and I. Now, around here on earth, it's just me knowing that. I mean, everyone knows we were "close" and it was a "special" relationship, but those are mere words that are meaningly and used so much with many. Only you and I know, Mom. And now, I think I have to get the hell outta here. Stu's parents went to a meeting on how to die...like a crematorium thing. I can't listen to this. More soon. Love you with everyone ounce, Nan
Thursday, November 5, 2009
You're the first
Hi Mom,
This kills me to write this. And there are many reasons as to why. First, writing you reminds me just how very far away you are....that perhaps you are "reading" this...perhaps you already know what I'm wanting to share...and perhaps, worst of all, you know absolutely nothing...and you ARE absolutely nothing.
The other reason it kills me to write you is because of what I have to say. All those horrible times in my life...those times I've tortured you with my pains...the times I've wanted so much to die? Well, god/life plays a silly little joke sometimes. When I think I may die, I'm petrified. I want so much to live now...and yet I fear I may not live all that long.
I wanted you to be the first to know that this wonderful Dr., in White Plains, is one of the first to ever really hear me. And today, for the first time, I think someone is suspecting that I might have (big pause here)... Cancer. Oh god, I wrote it.
I haven't told anyone....mostly I don't think anyone would truly care all that much. That is, except for Stu. And he is so down already, and frustrated with me, that I don't want to tell him just yet. Yes, I love him that much. You see, I really need him now. But I need him to feel ok more.
Just to clarify, the Dr. didn't actually SAY he suspects cancer, but he examined me, talked a bit to me, watched me sob, and perhaps even "heard" me. He left the room and said that I should get dressed while he left to go think for a while. My pessimistic self listened for, the sounds
of him taking another patient while I waited, already dressed, for him to return. He sent a woman in to draw a bunch more of blood and told me to meet him back in his office. The woman was really nice....another rarity in these places. I asked her for a copy of the tests he's ordering before I leave. We got to talking about a cool movie she liked when we got interrupted that "whenever we were done, the doctor will see me.".
So I went into his office, with all his wonderful plaques of "best Dr" this and that...and I really started thinking he's one of the few that probably didn't pay for those things.
He told me that he thought he needed to start looking at this differently. He felt that it's getting more frequent, more symptomatic in different ways...that it was time to think more about the rest of my body in general. He is starting to wonder if something else might be wrong and it's manifesting itself in my stomach for the most part. He mentioned the idea of me getting a full (upper and lower) GI series, checking for possible "little tumors", checking my blood for (HOLD UP! DID HE SAY TUMORS)!! I just kept nodding along, neither of us missing a beat. And could you believe I didn't even pursue that with him? ME. I didn't want to know perhaps.
Yada yada yada...I start on the long drive back to work. I call Stu and tell him everything. Well, everything except the tumor thingie. I figured I'd save it for in person.
But I'm zoned out for the most part, worried about my own driving, as I impulsively get off an exit and do some shopping and eating. As I'm eating, I wonder, "how on earth am I eating...and more importantly, how on earth did I ever eat with mom had cancer?"
I get to work to put in a couple of hours, and even called Pat ahead to tell her that I'd rather not talk about the dr. visit when I see her....that if we're both there after 5, maybe then. She was fine with that. So I go about my work, which I might add, was rather crazy. Sometime I just have to tell you about what my new job is like! You would be SO proud, Mom.
Anyway, I have that list of blood tests that were done....and actually don't do anything with them. That is, till it's just about time to leave. I look up the 3 I don't know, and all of them are tests for tumors and cancer. ALL of them. I see words I don't want to read yet can hardly help myself.
I'm debating whether or not to keep this to myself until the results come. Part of it is that I'm sick of everyone thinking "it's nothing..." or "nothing ever shows up". It minimizes all the pain and suffering. I swear I think even Stu is thinking it's in my head to a large degree. Although that hurts terribly, I can barely blame him. But today, I told the doctor, as I looked him straight in the eye, "I KNOW something is wrong". And I think he believed me.
Anyway, I also am not sure I'll tell anyone because I really don't think I want to worry anyone. I mean, honestly? I wouldn't mind worrying some folks if I knew it was going to be worth their while, ya know? Like, "Hey! It finally paid off to worry. I have cancer"! Or maybe more honestly, it would be like "You never thought my symptoms were real? Well ha! Take THIS! I have cancer! Who's laughing now?" Yes, I'm angry.
I'm angry that I'm hurting so much, I'm angry that folks get sick of listening to me, I'm angry at my own body for doing this to me, and I'm EVEN angry that you're not fucking here to talk to and hold me close as I cry on your shoulder. ("Go ahead Mireille...have a field day")
Anyway, if I do have cancer? And I die? I sure as hell hope you and I can finally get together again soon. It's been way too long, ma, ya know?
I love you over and over and over again...
Nan
This kills me to write this. And there are many reasons as to why. First, writing you reminds me just how very far away you are....that perhaps you are "reading" this...perhaps you already know what I'm wanting to share...and perhaps, worst of all, you know absolutely nothing...and you ARE absolutely nothing.
The other reason it kills me to write you is because of what I have to say. All those horrible times in my life...those times I've tortured you with my pains...the times I've wanted so much to die? Well, god/life plays a silly little joke sometimes. When I think I may die, I'm petrified. I want so much to live now...and yet I fear I may not live all that long.
I wanted you to be the first to know that this wonderful Dr., in White Plains, is one of the first to ever really hear me. And today, for the first time, I think someone is suspecting that I might have (big pause here)... Cancer. Oh god, I wrote it.
I haven't told anyone....mostly I don't think anyone would truly care all that much. That is, except for Stu. And he is so down already, and frustrated with me, that I don't want to tell him just yet. Yes, I love him that much. You see, I really need him now. But I need him to feel ok more.
Just to clarify, the Dr. didn't actually SAY he suspects cancer, but he examined me, talked a bit to me, watched me sob, and perhaps even "heard" me. He left the room and said that I should get dressed while he left to go think for a while. My pessimistic self listened for, the sounds
of him taking another patient while I waited, already dressed, for him to return. He sent a woman in to draw a bunch more of blood and told me to meet him back in his office. The woman was really nice....another rarity in these places. I asked her for a copy of the tests he's ordering before I leave. We got to talking about a cool movie she liked when we got interrupted that "whenever we were done, the doctor will see me.".
So I went into his office, with all his wonderful plaques of "best Dr" this and that...and I really started thinking he's one of the few that probably didn't pay for those things.
He told me that he thought he needed to start looking at this differently. He felt that it's getting more frequent, more symptomatic in different ways...that it was time to think more about the rest of my body in general. He is starting to wonder if something else might be wrong and it's manifesting itself in my stomach for the most part. He mentioned the idea of me getting a full (upper and lower) GI series, checking for possible "little tumors", checking my blood for (HOLD UP! DID HE SAY TUMORS)!! I just kept nodding along, neither of us missing a beat. And could you believe I didn't even pursue that with him? ME. I didn't want to know perhaps.
Yada yada yada...I start on the long drive back to work. I call Stu and tell him everything. Well, everything except the tumor thingie. I figured I'd save it for in person.
But I'm zoned out for the most part, worried about my own driving, as I impulsively get off an exit and do some shopping and eating. As I'm eating, I wonder, "how on earth am I eating...and more importantly, how on earth did I ever eat with mom had cancer?"
I get to work to put in a couple of hours, and even called Pat ahead to tell her that I'd rather not talk about the dr. visit when I see her....that if we're both there after 5, maybe then. She was fine with that. So I go about my work, which I might add, was rather crazy. Sometime I just have to tell you about what my new job is like! You would be SO proud, Mom.
Anyway, I have that list of blood tests that were done....and actually don't do anything with them. That is, till it's just about time to leave. I look up the 3 I don't know, and all of them are tests for tumors and cancer. ALL of them. I see words I don't want to read yet can hardly help myself.
I'm debating whether or not to keep this to myself until the results come. Part of it is that I'm sick of everyone thinking "it's nothing..." or "nothing ever shows up". It minimizes all the pain and suffering. I swear I think even Stu is thinking it's in my head to a large degree. Although that hurts terribly, I can barely blame him. But today, I told the doctor, as I looked him straight in the eye, "I KNOW something is wrong". And I think he believed me.
Anyway, I also am not sure I'll tell anyone because I really don't think I want to worry anyone. I mean, honestly? I wouldn't mind worrying some folks if I knew it was going to be worth their while, ya know? Like, "Hey! It finally paid off to worry. I have cancer"! Or maybe more honestly, it would be like "You never thought my symptoms were real? Well ha! Take THIS! I have cancer! Who's laughing now?" Yes, I'm angry.
I'm angry that I'm hurting so much, I'm angry that folks get sick of listening to me, I'm angry at my own body for doing this to me, and I'm EVEN angry that you're not fucking here to talk to and hold me close as I cry on your shoulder. ("Go ahead Mireille...have a field day")
Anyway, if I do have cancer? And I die? I sure as hell hope you and I can finally get together again soon. It's been way too long, ma, ya know?
I love you over and over and over again...
Nan
Sunday, April 12, 2009
test
hi Mom,
This scares me to resume writing to you. It makes you more real....but what's most difficult is that it makes your absence more real as well. So I took a first step and re-created a private blog just for you and me. Just like the good ol' days....just you and me.
I've been on a mission of sorts....looking for angels in the sky. Here's one that I saw over our home on Stu's 60th birthday. I often wonder if these angels that I see are you. Perhaps you came to wish Stu a happy birthday. Perhaps it's just a cloud.
god how I hope it's you.
all my love,
Nan
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