I was sitting here after I wrote my last post and thought, "You know what? I am taking those goddamned cokes back and tell mom what I did!"
And I did. I could see from just my own blog post what I was doing. It was like a light bulb went on. That's when I added that italicized note to the post.
"You shouldn't have just asked me for the cokes," mom told me as I stood at the back door. "I would have given them to you if you needed them so badly."
She was so kind to me and it was nothing of what I expected. I expected her to be snarling mad. I feel so much better! I feel as if the load of Atlas has been lifted off my shoulders! I will get six more in the morning, be content, and be sensible and honest and right. I know right from wrong. Dad tells me that all the time when I get off addiction wise. My old ways of addictive behavior have got to go!!!!
Dad called me on the phone to talk awhile this afternoon which is incredibly odd for him. I usually have to be the one to call him. He was mainly concerned about how I was doing and if I was taking my medications. Surely, I didn't tell him of the Lithium, but I have been diligently taking my Coureg, Risperdal, and Luvox every morning when I get up.
It seems mom is getting off mentally for a few days. She does this from time to time. It makes her want to spend money, and it makes dad hyper sensitive about our mental health. He said mom went furniture shopping the other day and he couldn't believe it. "She seems to be on some kind of manic high," he told me. He liked the furniture though. He said my mother has good, but expensive taste.
Helen cooked meatloaf with a tomato sauce glaze, boiled cabbage, black-eyed peas, creamed potatoes, cole slaw, and cornbread tonight. She brought me by my plate on her way home so mom wouldn't have to drive over here. The plate felt like it was three pounds it had so much food on it.
"Thank you!" I told her excitedly out at her GMC Yukon through her open door. "I love you."
She smiled and said, "I love you too, baby! Now, go and eat your supper while it's hot."
I called dad back a moment ago and asked him what his grandmother fed her many hunting and yard dogs all those years ago. This Maggie and people food issue I am so struggling with is so pressing on my mind. They didn't have many stores in their rural area in the South and they certainly didn't have commercial dog food. Canned or otherwise.
"She would cook a big pan of cornbread every night in a big wood burning stove and I would always want a piece of the dog's cornbread when I was a kid," dad told me laughing. "Isn't that just like a kid? To want what you can't have? They didn't get electricity or an inside bathroom until I was older. Daddy used to hate taking a dookie out in the outhouse. His brothers would rock the outhouse back and forth violently and laugh hysterically while he tried to take a shit. It would make him so mad!"
I laughed. Boy, did I laugh. That sounds like something I would do to my brother Alex when we were kids.