Gone With the Wind

Elizabeth Taylor.

She always reminded me of my mother.

Dark hair, a little husky, statuesque. I don’t think I ever told anyone that. Nobody listened to things like that in me.

And, moreover, my mother was a steeplechaser in her youth in England (See: “National Velvet,”)

So, on a different note, my mother also reminded me, in recent years, of Scarlett O’Hara! (In “Gone With the Wind,” of course.) Unreasonable, dramatic. I was like the sister whose husband she stole.

My mother and father loved movies, and defined themselves by them. Also, recently, British sit-coms.

On Saturday, the cat, Sasha died.

For me, this was the end of an era. I had to adopt her from my father because he wasn’t caring for her; but it was already too late. I just didn’t realize it; I was so preoccupied with my 6-WEEK PSYCH HOSPITALIZAITON because my father ejected me from the home because he thought my mother’s death back in February was my fault. I took off in my lovely Ford Fusion and found myself homeless by the highway an hour south from here and wound up in very good care at a hospital near there. I was always faulted (by my mother) for my trusting nature (and my overuse of paper towels, an anxiety issue).

But, there is a saying, “the kindness of strangers;” a person with a condition like epilepsy (and mine is similar to that–after all these years of psych meds and suicide attempts and being kneed in the crotch when I was little) is dependent on that.

Dr. Taube in Maryland who I saw in ’95-’96 had written a paper on “Complex Partial Seizures” wrote about this, about how people with that condition were dependent on the “kindness of strangers:” I had been tentatively diagnosed with that condition by a doctor in Texas when I was desperate about my condition but we had to leave town. Years later, I circled back and figured out what was really going on. It was just terrifying what was happening to me. And people just wanted to get rid of me!

So, since I returned home from the hospital back in May I was disoriented because it got so bad here before I left; and then, my driver privilege was being reviewed.

For years now, I have been slowly healing. What a blessing. What a MIRACLE!

So, a lot of good has come from all this, and it is sweeping away the SERIOUS NEGATIVES in the past year that wound up with my mother’s death; including my brother’s suicide in November of 2018.

I am FINALLY being treated for MAJOR DEPRESSION which has been an issue all my life and treatment for it was withdrawn twice before because there was no support for this. My mother refused to support this diagnosis because she was desirous of the diagnosis of manic depression. When I had a little baby who needed my help. And I was paralyzed by spasms that were so bad that I could barely deliver the baby and I couldn’t pick him up when we returned home from the maternity ward! This was such treachery and has led to the 25 1/2 years of unbelievable conflict for me and my son and our family.

So, a lot of things are coming out in the wash; and the boom is coming to hit my father; he is left holding the bag.

Just as the evils of the last year are swept away with new positives, by the same principle the whole last 40 years of death and destruction are being wiped away through the positives here turning to the good. because I needed an anti-depressant way back in ’83; to help me with what happened in ’79; also, my father also suffers endogenous major depression and anxiety, mental OCD and PTSD from an abusive mother in an English, WWII childhood: HE needed that help years ago and never got it.

So, instead of being the “designated hitter” for MH treatment needs in the family in a positive way (see “Girl, Interrupted” by Susannah Keyson) I was blamed by my family for therapy that went bad and used for psych help they needed but were blocked from because of my ongoing situation.

All these years!

There’s been so much pain.

There will be a lawsuit.

Mom, we are so sorry. I really loved you.

So, Sasha was her cat. She was absolutely devoted to my mother. She crawled from the road to a little cat house outside the porch door with a blanket in it and my mother found her there.

Sasha turned away from me when I tried to feed her. Someone said that a cat won’t take food from a person who their “person” is afraid of. And people thought that about me and my mother. Because my mother literally advertised herself that way. No matter how many times they did it I never got it, they invited me out, then turned on me in the car, I was in the back seat, and then when we got to the restaurant or movie ticket booth they acted like I was trying to harm them.

I was just trying to live here and I had no idea why they were doing this to me!

I thought I was invited!

I wanted the truth in my therapy, and I assumed that anyone would be on board with that! Especially my own family!

So, I couldn’t take care of poor Sasha. But then, finally, she turned to me, as I was able to get Travis and Tanner my son’s cats who stay with me, to get along with her; so, I could keep her over here in the “cottage,” where I was able to keep an eye on her. But, tensions were running so high, my father was still wanting to put her down! and I was suspicious of that! That poor little animal! She was struggling for her life, and all he was thinking about was that she needed to die!

So, I brought her over here about a month ago; And, I just didn’t realize how bad it was for her. She had been sleeping for months; years! So, I just didn’t get it. I was encouraging her to get up to eat, to drink water; to go outside; she was loving this; she was interacting with the other cats.

But, oh, my God, she was so sick. I thought she had irritable bowel syndrome; that was what the old vet said. So, I took her to a new vet. I took her in becasue I thought she had a urinary tract infection because of when I washed of her poopy butt, I thought she got poop into her private area. Because that happened to me recently!

And in Florida, I had a little girl mouse that I just loved. At the end she got a urinary tract infection. I didn’t realize it. I knew she wasn’t peeing, and she had a terrible fever; but I JUST COULDN’T bring myself to take her to the vet and something really bad happened.

But, it was really bad! What happened on Saturday! A real shocker! I’m not even going to go there.

She had to go and it was merciful to her and, I finally understood; I have been puzzling this out for months. We do to people what we don’t to do animals. Like, abortion; we don’t do that to animals.

Euthanasia: we still don’t do that to people; we DO do that to animals. The English Priest in the Tampa Bay area, Father Gary answered an email about my horrible situation about the little mouse, Coco, who belonged to my son, but I took her over; she died a horrible death. At that time, I was living there, in the Tampa Bay Area. I wrote to Father Gary about it because I was so upset. He had a spot on the Catholic radio station there. He said, animals don’t have souls, they don’t go to Heaven. They have spirits. They are here to help us. But it is very IMPORTANT to treat them well.

Father Gary, thank you so much for this wisdom, I pray that you don’t mind my quoting you here, this is just so important to me right now.

So, I am still puzzling this out, and was doing so as I watched Sasha going through her finally months. weeks, hours, moments; and I just cant reconcile how it all ended.

I feel so horrible!

Just in the last week, or so, I have been looking at MY OWN SIN–after decades of failing to acknowledge this because of my family’s tradition which finally ended with my being behind the 8-ball and on the defensive so that I was constantly afraid of being accused!

So, so much is going down.

I will be starting a second Novena to St. Jude the Apostle, the Saint of the Impossible! and of causes that are lost, difficult, and forgotten. A Novena is a prayer that lasts for 9 days, I am finishing one to St. Jude today, and starting another one tomorrow.

I am so sad. I was praying for a miracle for me and FOR SASHA! For her healing and recovery! It led me to wonder! About what’s going to happen to me!

I prayed. I asked him if He was going to let my father make a martyr of me. He said, no, He was not going to do that. But I had to see that He could.

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