Talking about the problem.

Gina Kyle Jackson

After only 4 hours of sleep I spent A LONG time on the phone with the funeral home in Jacksonville, then the Social Security office, and then with my uncle Randy who is helping me manage things.  Turns out I will be able to get my mothers "cremains" and will not be forced to pay $920 for them after all.  Social Security didn't know she was dead so I had to "report" this to them, and there's no "death benefit" unless I'm a minor or a disabled adult. I still don't have a death certificate, and the manner and cause of death are still officially pending, even though I know exactly what happened. One look at the medication list is all it takes. Not to mention my conversation with the cop who worked her death scene.  I actually felt sorry for her too.  She is a 23 year veteran on the Jacksonville police force and said she goes from overdose case to overdose case all the time but my mother's situation made her choke back tears all day that day.  She said she went home and wrote her own mother a letter that very day.

This whole thing, in its entirety, is one very sad story. All I know to do is what I tell our patients families to do when they're going through a death...take it one hour, one day, one week at a time until you begin to feel some peace.  And let the tears come when they will because that's healing too.

If there is anyone in your life that you love who has a problem with prescription pills, no matter how distant you may be at the moment, please encourage them to seek help, or at the very least tell them you love them no matter what.  In my mother's case it was a mental health issue & a physical addiction she battled for more than 30 years.  After she left my side as an 18 month old, that life took her over.  She was beautiful and very intelligent and could have been anything she wanted to be. She could sew like nobody's business, she loved British literature, and she was a neat freak wherever she went.  I loved her as much as I could considering the circumstances, and I know she loved me as much as she could muster.  I know she's in a better place now, but I regret she couldn't see how good this place could have been for her and for everyone else who loved her in spite of her.

Complicated grief is...well, complicated. Tears, anger, frustration, resentment, sadness and all through a sprinkling of, "Is this really happening to me right now in my life?"

I want to start a dialogue about this, to honor my mother's struggle and my lifelong loss of her, and for the millions who need an outlet or who may be struggling with the same addiction (and therefore are systematically losing everything they hold dear in this life).

Use the comments section to discuss.  I'll be checking in and writing more frequently because now the ever elusive story seems to be making itself known.

Sitting with the sad.

I'm sitting down to write just now because I'm not sure what else to do with these hours awake and alone so late at night.  I received a call from the funeral home today in Jacksonville about my mother.  Her body is still at the Medical Examiner's office.  Because I am extremely unsure about this life insurance policy that she purchased last year I cannot give her the funeral that would have been my first choice: that I think all people should have when they die.  Just a clean, respectful end to things.  My father, God love him, despite all the craziness and hurt she caused him - basically forcing him to raise me on his own and without contributing one dime to that process - actually offered to allow me to bury her in his section of grave plots right in our hometown.  So if I had an extra $12K lying around I'd do just that, but I don't.  Instead, I referred her to the indigent burial program the city of Jacksonville has for people of limited means.  Apparently though that won't work either because my very lower middle class salary at the hospital disqualifies her.  What this means is I have to pony up the $920 or "abandon the body" and allow Jacksonville to cremate her and spread the ashes, after a whole year passes, in their memory gardens after they ring a bell and say her name.

Is a box of ashes worth $920?

Right now, I'm in total self-preservation mode and I think no.  I think this woman did not raise me and she let me down over and over and over again in my life.  I can remember days where I sat and waited for the phone to ring because she said she would call.  Sometimes it would ring, but mostly it wouldn't.  I remember the wretched smell of cigarette smoke every time I got near her, usually on the one visit a year that started around age 8, but wasn't every year.  I wanted her to love me, to see me, to hold me in some important spot in her life and she just couldn't.

The drugs got her through it.

Two years ago I had her in my home for two entire weeks at Christmas.  She nearly drove me bananas with the television being on ALL THE TIME. Watching her and Hal fight over the remote was kind of funny, but all in all, I was very uncomfortable with her here even though on some kind of level in my head I knew I needed to do it.  Even when Christmas morning arrived she was too sleepy to watch Sarah open her presents.  But at one point during her visit I asked her why she did the drugs - and she flat out admitted that it was because she was trying her best to forget me.

I believe her.  Because I very much felt forgotten.  I very much felt different from all the other kids at school because I had no mother, because my mother had (gasp) left me - like bad penny.  She'd just disappeared.

Last night I found in one of her albums a picture of me taken the day after I was born.  Oh the serious look on my newborn face.  It's like my soul knew I was in for a wild, complicated, sad to the bones kind of roller coaster ride and my face reflected that from day one.  Here we go.  Next to that was  picture of a very young Gina holding a baby.  My heart leapt at the thought that it might actually be the first photo I'd ever seen of her holding me as a baby.  But then I realized the baby wasn't me.  And my Dad looked at it today and said "nope it's not you."  There's not one single picture of her holding me as an infant.  Of her owning me as her child, her baby, her responsibility.  It was simply never meant to be that way.

The summer I was fourteen I moved down to Jacksonville to LIVE with her.  Three weeks into my visit, she'd raided my savings account and then overdosed on drugs.  She couldn't handle being my mother. There was just no way in hell she could actually contribute to my life in any meaningful way beyond giving birth to me.  I remember vividly sitting in her hospital room and watching the EKG machine flatline a couple of times.  Obviously she survived, and did some time in a mental facility. Then a few weeks later when the rest of my family figured out what happened, one of my aunts took me on the long ride back to Georgia -- with all my stuff -- and with a very empty feeling inside. 

In my mid twenties I spent $99 on a plane ticket to have her come visit.  She stayed with me for all of two days, and was mostly drugged during that time too.  She was too out of it to even meet my friends.  After the second day she had me take her out to the country so she could spend time with her cousins and that's where she stayed for the rest of her time in Georgia.  It's like she broke my heart all over again and took advantage of my kindness.  Every single time I let her in, I got squashed like a bug.  There was my heart.

The night of her birthday this year I got home around 7 and fully intended to call her but my dad called first.  She beeped in and left a message and I called her back immediately.  Our conversations in my adult life were 85% about her.  Once again she dominated the talking and was going on and on about this PBS program she was watching.  She wanted the companion book for her birthday.  I agreed to get it for her.  After about a half hour of her talking I told her I had to get Sarah taken care of and in bed and that I'd call her back after I did.  Sure enough, 2 hours later when Sarah was asleep I felt that pulse in my chest - call her it said.  But I did not want to.  I mean, I really didn't.  I don't necessarily know why I didn't, and I feel guilty for it now, but I didn't want to talk to her any more that night.  But again I felt that tug at my heart and I called her just long enough to let it ring once before I hit "end" and hung up.  Thankfully, she called me back.  And we did talk, for almost another hour.  I love you was the last thing I said to her.  From what I can tell now, she was dead a mere 48 hours later.  That damn book she wanted was in my barnes and noble shopping cart on my phone.  I'd planned to call her back to ask what other book I could add to it so we'd get free shipping.  And there it sits.  I'll delete it out of the cart at some point.

Step by step I'm dismantling her earthly existence.  We packed up her apartment, and we gave lots of stuff away.  Her cat lies here under my feet, happily purring, free of cigarette smoke for the rest of his days.  One by one I'll cancel her credit accounts.  One by one I'll call her doctors and let them know.  I've already started it because this is what she left me with.  A great big mess.  One by one, erase, erase, erase.  Clear up, take away, write off, and delete all the earthly accounting of the mother who could never really be. 

But then there's this furniture here in my house, and the not-so-faint smell of cigarettes that go with it, now a constant reminder that she's gone but yet here still.  Kind of like when I was a child.  Always a part of me but never really there.  Something I wanted but couldn't ever have.

What do I do with all of this?  For a while I think I need to sit with the final stage of my grief.  Final because all my life I've grieved her in some way or another.  Even as she lived I never really had her.  Now that she's gone I'm the only one who's here to take all the things she left behind.

For now I'll sit with the sad.  Then hopefully I can take the sad and turn it into something useful for myself, and for others.  It's the only way I can right her wrongs to me.  Live my life and make it mean something to me and to others even if it didn't mean enough to her.

There are no opiates in heaven mom.

My mother was found dead on Monday morning.  She'd probably been sitting in the floor there like that for up to 3 days before her caretaker found her.  Even though we don't have the autopsy report back yet, I feel in my heart that it was a prescription drug overdose.  Earlier this year CNN did a piece on the epidemic of narcotic and benzo abuse and cited it to be the number one cause of accidental death in this country this year.  I always hated the fact that my mother used narcotics so much and felt that those pills played a large part in her continued absence in my life.  My wheels are turning now about perhaps creating a non-profit organization to educate the public about prescription drug abuse.  Not necessarily in "honor" of my mother, but because of this: I didn't just lose my mother on Monday, I lost her every single day that she was too high to have a normal life, normal feelings, and a normal conversation with me on the phone. 

Get this album now.

NKOTB's new album 10 is out.  You owe it to yourself to buy it now.  Or you can come over to my house and we'll listen to it together.  Let your ears feel the joy! Get it on iTunes or buy at Target!  I love these guys for more reasons than one.  This music just makes me happy, and definitely makes me burn more calories on my exercise bike! 

10 Happy things, in no particular order.

1. My life is now on a bit of a different track, and as scary as that is, I hope this slightly altered path will be full of new love and challenges, while still tipping my hat with respect to where I've been so far.
2. New friends. New things that interest me. New thoughts about old things in my world.
3. Dude, the New Kids on the Block just released a new CD, and its very awesome!
4. I have a 5 star VIP ticket to see them in concert in June! Squeeeee!
5. Since I will be meeting the guys in person, this provides much needed inspiration to lose this nagging tire around my belly.  Already did 2 hour long workouts on my bike this week!
6. I'm writing more.
7. I sold my 4th and 5th Disney trips all in one day yesterday!  Rockstar!
8. The Supreme Court is examining the issue of gay marriage.  About freaking time.  This is a good thing for all of you who believe in the ideals of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, as well as equality and justice for all.  I am impressed by the Facebook campaigns as well.
9. My 2nd grade child is now reading at a 6th grade level.  She's freaking brilliant and I take at least half the credit for that.  Screw my ancestors.  This winner is all mine!
10. Putting a bit more effort into being a girl isn't as hard as I thought.  I am still plucking eyebrows.  I purchased eyeshadow for dummies, and I bought some new jewelry.  Still haven't figured out eye liner yet...but these days I celebrate the little things.  :)

Um. What was I saying?

I don't know why I've waited so long to blog.  I had every intention of writing something every week at a minimum, but I got so busy with my life that I just didn't.  Sorry excuse I know. 

I have sold another Disney trip!  I've been writing everyday in my Happiness Journal!  And I've almost filled up the red leather bound Italian made journal I bought in 2003.  Three more entries and I can go buy a new one to start all over in.  I can't believe I kept up with that journal for 10 years and continued to write in it.  Problem is, that's not where all of the writing I've done is located so I'm not sure how to sort all of it out.  Perhaps I'll just hope to be moderately famous when I die so someone else can take on that task and make some money while they're at it.  My daughter recently told me in the shower that she wanted to be famous and wind up in a Social Studies book when she died.  Perhaps I can hope for a footnote, "oh and Sarah's mom wrote a lot of journal entries - read those here."

The New Kids on the Block are releasing a new album soon!  Yay!  They've already dropped 2 songs and scheduled the tour.  So of course I'm going 5* to the Atlanta show.  That gives me something to look forward to for sure, and perhaps motivation to drop 20 pounds?  I'm going to be in another photo with them and I want to look not-fat!  I might even wear make-up.  Hell, I spent a full 20 minutes tonight plucking my eyebrows.  I'm new at it.  And of course my genetic code gave me 487,000 eyebrow hairs.  Ugh.  So I'm kind of glad I resisted plucking for so long.  Imagine how much of my life would have been wasted on sitting on the toilet (lid down), holding a 10x mirror, and plucking away at my face?  By now, months!  Good thing I found other worthwhile tasks to do instead. 

I even bought a pair of bling-bling jeans to wear to the skating rink.  I'm trying to rebuild my image.  Living on the edge.  Not so bland and nerdy.  But somehow I find it hard to be sexy.  Just doesn't work for me.  No one ever said that a random quote from the news or research inserted into just about any type of conversation was sexy.  Did they?  Cause if they did I haven't read about that yet.

Ah well.  I bought a little book called 642 Things to Write About to inspire me to write more.  I still have this desire, almost now a guttural urge, to write and publish a book before I die.  It's almost like now my entire life might be deemed one giant failure if I don't do it simply because I've felt like I had to do it since the age of 13.  Was this some sort of soul agreement?  Am I supposed to impose some type of knowledge on the population or just tell my own story?  I have a hard time with fiction.  I like research, but not the amount I'd have to do for a book.  What in the heck am I supposed to write this book about?  If I could figure that out, I could write the thing pretty quickly.  Really, I know I could.

Perhaps once I figure out my life, I'll figure out my book.

Beautiful things now.

I'm not quite a week into my "thinking more about happiness" project, and I have to say, things are going well.  Now I'm definitely in my post-workout endorphin influenced high right now, but some positive things are happening in my life and I'm doing my very best to take notes.

• I sold another Disney trip! (yay can't wait to sell more)
• A 77 y/o patient at work told me that I was a "very beautiful girl."  (no dementia)
• I learned THE CROSSOVER at the skating rink!!  (been roller skating since March but a wonderful woman there who's probably the best skater I've ever met coached me for 30 minutes and I got it! what a wonderful gift of her time & energy)
• I went to work and earned money. (thankful to have a job where I only work 3 days a week)
• I made a commitment to start drinking more water and getting better sleep. (yep, 64 ounces a day of pure water, and a benedryl at night to help me stay asleep longer)
• My dad came over tonight to "get [his] Sarah fix." I really enjoyed his humor and the way he loves my child.
• Talked to my hospitalized mom on Saturday and she's doing better after her back surgery and can actually stand up straight now.
• Got my tire pressure maintenance system sensors fixed on my Honda Insight and got the air filters changed out too! (no more orange warning lights, and yay I had the money to do it)
• I've written every single day in The Happiness Project One Sentence journal since I got it!
• I continue to work out by riding my recumbent bike, even when I don't feel like it, and I'm pushing myself hard.

I'm working on myself.  I'm trying to change the way I look at life, specifically my own life. I'm gonna see the glass half full and be glad I've got clean drinking water at all.  I don't have the money to re-carpet my home, buy a new wardrobe and bedroom furniture, or fix the creaking floors upstairs.  I am still not happy with the shape of my body and how much I weigh.  I'd love to have a job where I could work day shift so that I could spend even more time with my daughter.  But I recognize all the beautiful things that are happening to me right now.

What beautiful things are happening to you?