Turning 34

When I started this blog I started it because when Markus died there really wasn't much on grief when someone died from a drug over dose. Everything I found out there was more about loss to cancer or car accidents. It was loss from an acceptable death. It wasn't about all the emotions you go through with a addict in your life and all the hurt and misery that comes with it when you lose some one to this particular disease. It is taboo. It is seen as an addict made this choice and of course this is what they tell you is in the end result... duh. I wanted to be totally honest no matter irrational the thought was. I think I have stay true that. Of course I have not been able to right every though down here. I am not by a computer and I am not always able to put into words the frustration even today I go through with Markus gone and my ability to accept it.

I turned 34 on October 5. Markus died when he was 34. My big brother. I am about to outlive him. I don't know if anyone could truly understand how this is. I was talking to my best friend about this and she lost her Dad when she was young. He was 27 when he died. The relationship she was in was tough around the time her ex turned 27. She thought that history would of course repeat itself and that his recklessness would lead her to relive her Mothers life and her children fatherless. It was a tough thought to beat and once her ex turned 28 she felt better and could breathe. I was very happy to hear that this was not a uncommon thought. So on my birthday was alone during the day. I had my moment to cry and to reminiscent about Markus. I took my time. Then I went for a pedicure. I don't think I have heard anyone talk about this part of grief. About passing the age of a older sibling. I guess I am writing it to say. It is rational to think about it. It is a tough idea. Markus will be forever 34 in my mind. I will turn 35 and I will keep going. Maybe Bob Dylan was right in writing "forever young". When you die young you are immortalize as young.

Anyways Markus, I love you.

Do you know what its like?

I have this question come into to my head a lot. When I talk to Markus(in my head). I may never get a response but I still talk to him. I guess it is one way of to coping with it all. I think "do you know what its like to miss you?", "do you know what its like to see Mom cry all the time?", "do you know what its like to say your name and everyone becomes silent because they are afraid I may cry?", "do you know what its like to know your gone and have my heart sink to my feet in that moment of awareness?".

Tim and I have been together since we were 16 years old. We had a few years apart but basically have been together that long. He is my husband. I am his wife. We just never made it "official". So this November we are. We are getting married November 15 in Mexico. I am making a honest man out of Tim. I keep thinking "do you know what its like.... to not get married because I had no idea how to handle and where to put Markus alive in my wedding....but now he is gone I am getting married in his birth month to make it a little easier for everyone.". I really hope that I can do this. I started doing all this for my Mom. To see my Mom with a bit of a smile on her face. To give her a wedding and some joy.... now I wonder can I do it too? I really miss my brother. I have another brother and I am so happy he is coming to my wedding. We just aren't close. He pushes me away. He pushes everyone away, but I feel like he pushes me away the most. He really just doesn't like me.

Anyways Markus, I love you.

The Gamble

This song Markus's fiance wrote. It was about all the men that failed in her life. There is a verse about Markus. It is such a beautiful song. I am really proud of her.

Peters Drive In

I took Liam to Peters drive in. I was taking him for a ice cream. Before I could go there I had to get money from the bank because they only take cash. My bank was on one side of the street and Peters drive in is on the other side. Its a major road way so I pulled behind 16th to find the road that will let me access Peters Drive in. When I got to the residential road I saw my first elementary school. I looked at it and thought is that it? Is that really my first school? It looked so small. I never quite knew where it was but had a idea it was near there. I went to kindergarten and grade one there. At the time we lived in low income housing and Markus had to get me on public transit to get me to school. I had these huge flashes of memories of my big brother taking me to school and making sure I got there on the city bus. I really started to miss him. My big protector. One glimpse of my school and I remembered how much Markus tried to take care of me. He was in Grade 4 and 5 when we went to that school. I can't imagine my own kids that young on the public transit by themselves. It was what my parents had to do. We only had one car and the school was far. My Dad had to work and he needed the only car we had.

I wanted to stop and park in the parking lot and look at the school. It looked different. I know they had changed the name of the school and it was something different now but I just wanted to sit there and remember my brother. My hero. How much I really looked up to him. My brother and my Dad were the two people in my life I felt safe with. I could be anywhere and as long as either one was there I felt completely protected. I had Liam in the car and made a note of where it was so I can go there again and sit and get lost in my memories. I would be safe to cry there by myself.

I got Liam to Peters Drive in and another memory came up. I was about four and my Dad went to Peters Drive to get my Mom a banana split. I was so small and could barely look up into the window and a old man was looking down at me smiling. He asked me what my favourite Sundae was and I told him Strawberry. He handed me a Strawberry Sundae and I ate it with such great delight. I later learned that was the man who owned Peters Drive in. We never had a lot of money so the fact he gave me a ice cream was such a treat. There I was with my own son buying him a memory of Peters Drive in. Even with all the grief and the parts of me that is moving on I know I will always miss Markus. I am glad that the good memories are coming. The ones when I looked up to him. Not just the ones of the disease of his addiction. Its been almost three years and learning how my life will be without my brother has been difficult and challenging I can see it has started to become less heavy.

I was thinking today about my dream with the river and the rocks. Filling my pockets with cold stones in a very fast flowing river. How much it bothered me that I thought I was trying to kill myself. I think I really get it now. The rocks was all the heavy emotions I was trying to reconcile. All the anger. All the resentment. All of the disappointment. I was facing a crisis (the river) and I was loading all of these emotions and walking straight into it. I think I have unloaded a few of the rocks now. I feel a little lighter. Even though I hated my brothers addiction I really truly loved him. Sometimes the lines can be so blurry. His addiction started before he ever took a drug. I really get that now. I really wish I could have a big Markus hug now and to see his smile. I think he would be happy that I forgive him. That I have started to separate realistically the two things.

Anyways Markus, I love you

I Broke My Wrist

I broke my wrist 6 weeks ago. A part of me was reliving my youth when I use to go to punk shows and mosh. Unfortunately for me when I was 16 I wasn't nearly as strong as I am now and pushing one of my good old friends into the mosh pit resulted in me breaking my wrist in two places. Of course alcohol was involved. I went to see this band called Dayglo Abortions. They were a real blast from my past. I was having such a good time. I had good friends with me. It was my friend Katharine's birthday. (She is such a awesome person and lately kind of a inspiration for me) I felt like I did when I was 16. The only difference I was legal to drink and we were at a bar. I saw so many people that I once knew at the old punks shows I use to go too. All of them 15 years older. The attitude was the same. One of my friends brought a friend with her that wasn't a part of the scene we were in the 90's. He was moshing. I was blown away. This isn't your normal lame ass big concert kind of mosh pit. This is your mohawk, steel boats, kicked in the face type of mosh pit. The kind I loved when I was 16. Anyways I loved the analysis that Chris (who was never a punk) said about mosh pits. He said " I can really understand why this is so much fun for people. You get pushed and you finally can push back". How true is that. I know for most people to see a mosh pit of that kind they would think we are all idiots. ( I am kind of a idiot as I broke my wrist) But we can push back and if you fall everyone around the pit picks you up. There is a huge adrenaline rush that comes with being elbowed in the face listening to punk music blasting at you. Going in a circle elbows up and marching ready to push and push back. I loved doing this in my youth when I was so angry and so insecure. Yes we marched elbows up and we wanted to push and get hurt to the music but we also didn't want to get seriously hurt. No one does that's why there is someone always there to pick you up. I have fallen many times and been picked up by many strangers.

I have my times when I feel like a patched up human being. That no one would like to know this insecure idiot. If people only knew how damaged I am. The truth is I wasn't alone in the mosh pit. I wasn't the only one that was over 30 in that mosh pit. I guess even though I lost my brother and I went through a very hard anxiety disorder, there was other people there that have stuff too. We can put on masks. We can breath and waste our days away. Counting the times the times that we had to learn how to cope with feeling we never imagined we would have to endure. Who are we truly fooling? Ourselves? I think of Markus everyday. Sometimes that thought makes me so sad and sometimes that thought isn't so bad. Sometimes I remember how he has influenced my life. The way he protected me through out my life. I loved him and I still do.

I have been off work for the past 6 weeks. That gives me a lot of time on my hands. When I have been looking in the mirror I can see Markus's eyes in my eyes. We do not look the same but somewhere in my eyes is his. My eyes are smaller and darker but I can see it. I guess it has given me a sense of calm. We were siblings. We are siblings. I still want to make him proud of me. He will always be a part of me. In blood and in my spirit.

Anyways Markus, I love you.

Its 1:30am

Its 1:30am and I am trying to sleep. Instead I just lied in my bed until I finally just started to cry. I feel embarrassed and stupid. At work tonight someone asked me to grab oxygen. I was holding a saline bag in my hand and they said "now". I panicked. I walked quickly over to the sink drop the saline bag and walk quickly to get oxygen. This is where another nurse comes jogging past me and told me "when someone asks for oxygen they mean run don't walk".

I felt like such a big fucking waste of a human being. Why did my brain not click and understand that simple request of urgency? It use to. I had to finish my shift trying so hard not to cry. I couldn't look at anyone and I could tell one patient wanted to ask me what was wrong. I am so glad he didn't because I would have broken done then and there. I am falling apart even writing this. I panicked then I felt so bad about panicking that I started to have a anxiety attack. I couldn't look at anyone and I couldn't talk to anyone. I was hiding the fact that I was having an anxiety attack. I didn't want anyone to know. I am sure people thought I was pissed off. I wasn't, I was ashamed and then I was in a anxiety attack. I haven't taken Xanax in months upon months but I just took two now. Maybe then I could just let this go and accept it as a learning experience and go to sleep.

Anxiety is only my friend if I actually need to fight or flight. Not I when I stand there trying to figure out what is going on.

Anyways Markus, I love you.

The Big White Elephant

Markus was a artist as well and a Muay Thai boxer. He went to art college and when he applied his portfolio was in the top 5 out of 5,000 submissions. I also do art but I have nothing in talent compared to his. I have recently started doing art again. Before I had my children I did plan on being a hobo to travel and draw. I wanted to see beauty in any form and I was not born a trust fund kid so I was okay with the idea of living out of a back pack and traveling. I was going to draw and send my sketch books home through the mail. Instead I had my first son. I was 20.

In our family I was the one who people would have assumed would have the drug problem. I was impulsive and rarely accepted my consequences. I did hitch hike and suffered from some serious depression for a great amount of time. Markus was my big brother who would talk to me about my behavior. My parents were frustrated with me and pretty much gave up on discipline by the time I was 16. I was the typical teen girl running wild with a little more guts (or stupidity) I guess. That all came to a stop when I had my first son Jacob. It was new and strange to be a Mom and not to act on all my impulses. It really made me sit and think to put value on my life and I threw myself at being a good parent.

It was about that time that I really noticed Markus downward spiral. He took in my travels and did it himself. He went to Woodstock 99 were he lost his ID and wallet and lived in New York for 8 months doing odd and end jobs and finally got his ID and enough money to come home. We are Canadian so he wasn't able to cross the border until that was in place. He told me about being robbed. He told me about cleaning up the gigantic mess after Woodstock. He built bird cages for Gypsies and never got paid for it. He also saw Willy Nelson from front row. (We were never Willie Nelson fans but he really is a legend and something to be in awe of to see in person)He had so much fun. When he came home he hitch hiked another time and decided to live in Vancouver. September 11 happened and the only person I called that day as I stared and cried while watching tv was Markus. We talked for a few hours and watched in horror of what we were seeing. Markus was just there a year before. All this time he was falling deeper into addiction. At first it was so silent I didn't know how bad it was. Part of the traveling I know personally is about finding your identity. Allowing the good and the bad to form you into a person. Part of it is also escaping a part of you you don't like. Trying to reshape it into a person you will be proud of.

I was diagnosed with ADHD when I was 13. My Mom would not hear of it as there was so much bad press about the over diagnosis and over medication on the news. I was diagnosed 2 more times and still nothing became of it. Two weeks before Markus died I finally went as a adult to get the diagnosis again and get medication. I knew people didn't think how I thought and even though I accept we are all individuals with different personalities some of the effects of this disorder was impeding on my life. When the medication kicked in I was finally level enough to start to get my own life organized. The impulsiveness was leveling out to a reasonable stage and I cleaned my home. In 3 days I had organized every drawer, corner and room in my home. I took out 9 bags or trash. My Mom came to babysit my children and saw my home. She joked that she thought she walked into the wrong home and had to go back outside and check the house number again. She then told me Markus was back on drugs. That they had kicked him out of there home as he was stealing and that my Dad and Markus got into a scuffle. When she got home that night the police were at her house. She thought maybe Markus came back and my Dad and him got into another fight. Instead she found out Markus was in ICU and had overdosed. I got home after work at 11pm and she called. She didn't want to call me at work.

Markus was tested in grade 4 because his teacher recognized he was extremely bright. He lowest school put his Math abilities at Grade 10 Math but his English studies was at a Grade 12 level. He was gifted. Consequently this gave Markus a huge ego. He did have a huge ego. He was super bright. He was also super lonely. He had trouble making friends. He was a bully. He was larger then most of the other kids and his social skills lacked a bit. He wasn't the fat kid in the class he was just big. I wonder now if this is were things really changed in Markus's self esteem. If being a gifted kid with little social skills created this bully. That the bully deep down inside was only trying to be noticed to be normal. If all of that made the beginnings of a addict.

A lot of kids are bullied not all of them become addicts. Some become Bill Gates others become Charlie Sheen. There is a huge amount of addicts out there. I know all of them start using because there is a part of themselves that they are trying to escape. We all try to escape from ourselves one way or another at some point in our lives. I guess we just find different ways to do it. I never liked the bully or the addict. I like the Markus that wrapped his arms around me in his gigantic hugs. I liked the Markus that would take me out to movies or long drives to Banff. The one who would love my children and tell me he was proud of me. The Markus that would help me with perspective when I would draw and the one that would talk about music with me. The one who saw past all my chaotic teenage antics and would ask me what I saw and how I felt when I saw it. I wish that Markus would have fought off the addict Markus. I always hoped he would come to terms with his short comings and found a wife and had kids, so my kids would have cousins. That we could have family BBQ's and talk about music, movies and art. That is a big part of my grief. I will never be able to have that now. Instead I have this big white elephant at Christmas and get togethers. That is what I have to come to terms with.

Anyways Markus, I love you.