I've been experiencing a strong feeling of guilt since Darcy's suicide. Not because I could have done more for her, or should have seen the signs or anything like that. But more because I know everything there is to know about her daughter. I know all of it. When she reached her milestones, what her favorite song is, where each freckle is located on her body. I know the precise moment during her tantrums when I should bend down and ask her if she needs a hug. I know everything a mother should know. Only Darcy didn't know. She missed out on all of it. Of course I would fill her in, but its not the same as experiencing it.

Today, at the funeral, I felt the resentment from her family. The looks of scorn and anger that said,"What are you doing here". Like I was responsible for the apprehension of her children. For her pain and her fall from grace. I honestly wasn't prepared for it. I accepted it and I understand the need to lash out, but it hurt. I wanted to explain some things to them, but it wasn't the time or place. So I'm afraid I'm going to explain it to you guys instead.

They talked at the funeral about Darcy the mother. How she enjoyed her time with her kids so much. Well, in three and a half years, the only time she got to see her children is if I brought them to her. I had to supervise each visit. For 2 of those years I went 4 days a week so she could feel connected to them. Never once did I tell her I was too busy. I picked her up for every doctors appointment so she could hear first hand what the doctor had to say. I brought her shopping so she could pick out Brookie's clothes herself. I brought the kids to see her at prison, the remand center, the Psych ward at HSC, mental health halfway houses, and various rehab centers. I brought her weekly to sign in at her parole officers so she wouldn't breach and get sent back to jail. Brookie chose her Christmas gifts, birthday gifts, mothers day gifts, and just because gifts. All paid for by me. And I know that most of the time those were the only gifts she received. I researched and helped her access places that could help her. I helped her move her shit from one house to another numerous times.

AAAAHHHH.... I tried to help her in everyway I know. And all they can see when they look at me is an interloper. Someone who doesn't even have a right to be at the funeral. I'm getting mad just sitting here. None of them stepped forward when Brookie was born. I did not sneak into the hospital and snatch her. I was a foster parent and she was placed in my care. I was a stranger who was willing to do what none of the family wanted to do. Raise her child, their relative.

This isn't about me feeling self important. Not at all. I just didn't want to feel so out of place. I wanted to find comfort there with other people who knew and loved her. Instead I found rejection.

Now I'm going to get really mean, and I'll likely delete it in a few days.

Where were you, you who look at me with contempt, these past 3 years while I spent time with Darcy? While I took time away from my family to make sure she saw her kids? When she had to come to my family gatherings, because you wrote her off so long ago. Who did she call every time she needed someone? Who brought her home for a hot meal when she shared she hadn't eaten in days. Who went toe to toe with social workers to advocate for her rights? Who washed her face and the blood from her hair when she was beaten beyond recognition?

And who held her daughter's hand today as she laid a single flower into the grave of her mommy. And who prompted her to say, "Good bye mommy, I love you".

I'll tell you who. Not you.

I know who will be there for Brookie, me, same as always. If that upsets you, so be it.

Rest in Peace Darcy

Brookie's mom took her own life yesterday. My heart is broken for her little girl. How much sadness can one person endure? When I think of the hits this girl took in her life, it seems so unjust. Pain, abuse, addiction, rejection, guilt, loneliness...all one after another, with no real reprieve.

Today I will take her little girl shopping to buy a dress for the funeral. The last thing Darcy bought her were a sweet pair of white dress shoes, so whatever I buy will match them.

I rarely cry...but I will cry for her. It's the least I can fucking do. She deserves that.

...Darcy you know I loved you. Your little girl will grow up knowing about you. I will be honest with her about it all. I will be her mama for you. But I won't let her call me mommy, that was always reserved just for you... Please be at rest, sweet girl. Good bye.

My moment in the Lime light

One of my biggest dreams has always been to sing with a band. Well, last night...I lived the dream!!

We were at a local establishment, and the band was great. I was dancing and having a blast with some friends. I noticed that "Hit me with your best shot" was on their lineup.

Before I could stop myself...I walked right upto the keyboardist and offhandedly said," Ya know, if you want a female to sing Pat Benatar, I'm your chick. My name is Joanne"

Well about five songs later, the lead vocalist announced that they had a guest singer in the house and invited me on stage.

Okay...I ROCKED IT!! I wasn't even nervous. I remembered all the words, my timing was spot on. The band members gave approving looks to one another. The crowd went crazy. My friends were taking pictures. It was such a great moment.

After I was finished, they gave me a T-shirt with their band logo on it. Imagine, giving ME a gift when they were fulfilling MY dream!

It doesn't get much better than that.

When good ideas go baaadd!

I think my ego got the best of me today. I like to think there is nothing I cannot do. No one ever told me anything to the contrary. I probably wouldn't have listened had they tried!




Well, I'd like it noted that perhaps I am not the best dog groomer in the world. Probably not even the best groomer on my street. There is distinct possibility that I am not even number one in my own household! A three years old with crayola scissors could likely fair better.




There was reason for me to believe that I could be succesful at this task. I have clipped horses. I have shorn sheep. I have cut the locks of many human heads, male and female alike. Never had anything like this happen before.




Well, let me show you my Dingo - pre haircut. Lovely little rat bastard, isn't he?

And then... an hour of clipping, with dread locks flying every which way, and I present the finished product. It should be said that my intentions were good. There was no malice involved. Heck, I wasn't even mad at the little shit. Okay...here goes.

Oh...my poor, poor, used to be lovely puppy.He looks OLD. He looks SKINNY. He looks like his owners HATE HIM!!

Does the same quote for humans also apply to dogs? You know the one, "the only difference between a bad haircut and good haircut is 3 weeks?" Please say yes!

I'm sorry Dingo. If you think it will help, I will learn to knit and make you a lovely little sweater. Not much I can do about your head tho. That will just have to grow back.

The worst thing about this situation? My sister-in-law is, by trade, a PROFESSIONAL DOG GROOMER.

How you gonna explain that Jo? Miss Know it all-show off-I can do anything?!?

Being impulsive is fun alot of the time, but once in awhile it bites you in the ass!

Restless...

What is it that causes me to feel so...jittery/bored/understimulated/energetic all at the same time? I constantly feel like I should be doing something, but I'm not sure what. I can't seem to sit still for a second.

I have alot of extra time on my hands since mom and baby moved out, for sure. But it seems more than that. It's like I'm not satisfied. That's it...I'm craving something, but can't put my finger on it.

I guess it'll come to me in time. Until then, I'm having a blast teaching Bella Rue to play volleyball, and my Bowflex is grateful for all the attention its getting after a neglectful couple of months. I've even hosted a BBQ, which isn't like me.

I want to dance.
I want to run.
I want to learn something new.

I want, I want, I want. Me, me, me...

Is it the time of year. Is it the season of my life?

I used to feel content most of the time and now I feel like something is missing.

I'm gonna try chocolate. Maybe I just need more sugar in my life!

The hard part

Well, mom and baby moved out on Monday. The plan all along was for them to transfer to her mom's house. So we packed them up and off they went.
On Thursday, the social worker came and took the baby away from mom. There were some concerns raised and they decided baby would be safer away from his mom.
So out there in our city is a baby in a shelter, and a mom with a broken heart.

I wasn't considered for placement of the baby because he has to be somewhere that his parents don't know about. With the mental health stuff, it would be impossible to predict what their reaction could be. My gang could be at risk if he stayed here.

I'm so grateful that I have the skills and stability to raise my own children. Trusting someone else to care and guide them would be so hard. Being a parent one day and the next having empty arms, with no child to hold.

She may not have been the most experienced parent, but her love for that baby was never in question. And she had help around the clock.

Anyway, I am not the decision maker here, so I guess dealing is all I can do.

After this, I'm gonna try an upbeat post. I sound depressed, and I'm not. Just kinda sad for everyone.

Be Quiet and Listen

There was an incident with mom and baby today. She somehow convinced the respite worker to leave at lunch. She then proceeded to take a bus and went to visit the baby's dad. He has intermittent explosive anger disorder and is under no circumstances allowed to have unsupervised contact with the baby.

He recently broke up with mom. She misses him and thought that if he just saw his son, he would reconsider and want to work towards being a family again. Instead he spilled hot coffee on her, just missing the baby.
And me, I was obliviously at work while it all happened. I got a call, a few details.

I'm a little ashamed to say that I was pissed. What was she thinking? She should know better. Now I have to leave work and make sure baby is okay. On the way home, I prepared a lecture that was sure to get through to her. I really needed to drive home the fact that she would lose her baby if she puts him at risk like this. I planned to tell her that her boyfriend was no good for her and that she could do better. I had a lot to say.

Then I saw her face. She knew she had messed up. She looked shattered.

Something changed in me. In an instant. It was like I could feel her pain.

I saw her loneliness. This no good boyfriend was her only friend. She has people that take her shopping and to movies and such, but they all get paid to do it. Myself included. She has no one that will spend time with her because they just plain like her. She is too low functioning to keep the interest of a "normal" friend. And she is vulnerable so she attracts manipulative people who use her and then discard her. She is sweet and outgoing so she can make friends easily, but she has not been able to maintain a platonic relationship. She is exhausting so she burns people out quickly.

Ouch. That is a horrible place to be.

Where would I be without friends? People who listen to me and share with me. Who love me and therefore affirm that I am loveable?

I didn't give her what for. There are others who will take care of that. I just listened to her and tried to understand what her life must be like. And it hurt my heart when I heard her words. All my self rightousness and anger melted. Loneliness is a terrible thing. It can cloud your judgement and make you desperate. You will grab on to anything or anyone for it to subside, even for a short spell.

I will need to address the concerns, but not right now. Right now she needs a hug.