Depressed

Life is tough for many people. I am lucky to have work, to have two beautiful, healthy daughters. My babysitter cares for them and the girls are happy. I have the freedom to earn money and not worry too much about my girls. I work with great people and I can't complain about the salary.

I tell myself over and over again to be happy, to love my life. Life goes by so quickly, we must savor it and not get too worked up over the little things.

But the thing is, I never made it to the cheerleading squad. Perhaps if I had, I'd be perkier, more resilient less to feel like I'm being hammered.

My job is tough. Every day is at 10-13 hours. I report to work every day at 6:30am and only have a half hour break for lunch. We rehearse, we shoot, I do a fair amount of time consuming paperwork, I have a fair amount of questions aimed towards me and then we finish and I go home. I often don't drink as much water as I should because going to the bathroom can be a challenge when we rehearse and shoot as much and as fast as we do. There are moments of down time but not much. This is a six day work week. Last week, we ended with night shoots so we finished work at 7am on Saturday, only to report to work at 6:30am on Sunday. Over the "weekend" I volunteered at Eliza's school fundraiser, went to the grocery store, did laundry, looked over Eliza's school papers, planned the week's menu for the girls, and discussed this job with the woman who is covering me for one day.

In the meantime, my mother is going through chemo. She drives herself to and from her appointments because she has no one willing or available to drive her. She needs to return to the doctor tomorrow for some kind of shot (her platelets are down) but she's too weak to drive herself and has no one to drive her. I offered to pay for a cab (what's the point of working, right?) but she refused, saying she's in pain and might yell and doesn't want to do that in front of a stranger. Oh sure, there are some volunteer services who offer rides out there but you have to give them at least a week's notice and they kind of come on their own timetable which I'll admit is understandable considering they're volunteering their time for free.

My mother is a wonderful person and she has to fight this battle largely on her own. People have jobs, they have families, they live far away. It's not that she has no one who cares for her, it's just that there's no one available right now. Life in today's world is exceptionally hard for people without immediate family nearby, a spouse, a neighborhood support system. I look at her life and I see what mine will look like, if I'm fortunate to live as long as she has. I don't mean to make her cancer all about me but I can't help but go there. My mother's brother died from pancreatic cancer and now she has it. My mother has had cancer three times. Ask the doctors, they'll start spouting my statistics, how I'm kind of likely to get it.

I'll be going to my appointments alone because I have no one. Sure, I have friends and people who care about me but I can't even find some one to have dinner with let alone ask for help if I really need it. All my friends know what's going on in my life right now--has anyone offered to take me out and cheer me up? Babysit my kids for a few hours? Check in on my mom or even send a freakin card?

I don't want to turn this into some kind of pity party but those are the facts. I see people all the time, most of my friends in fact, married with spouses who might not be the greatest but who are THERE. With siblings they might not like all the time but who show up for Thanksgiving dinner.

I love my daughters and I'm so grateful to have them but why couldn't their father have cared about me enough to be a partner. I remember saying to him once that he had this moment to be a man and decide what he wanted and he did. He decided he wanted me. Why couldn't he decide to stay with me instead of disintegrating into the jerk he's become. The guy I met was a better guy than that. It may of been brief but it was there.

But anyway, I digress. It's late and I have to be up at 5:30am. I'm tired and there's still three more days left in this week. Snow is in the forecast already and it looks like winter will be starting to bear down. And when the snow falls and my car is buried under several feet of snow who will help me out?

that's right, there's no one.

I Miss My Babies

Eliza's learning to read. She's been "reading" short words and phrases for close to a year but now she's really reading entire sentences and getting it. She's reading short stories for kids and finding them fun or interesting. At night, she often has assignments to read short two page stories with her parents. Unlike every other kid in her class, Eliza reads these short stories to the babysitter. Tonight she read a little to me over the phone and it was great, I loved it, I loved how happy she sounded. And then I cried about how much I'm missing.

I'm on a good job. I get to work with good people. I get paid a decent salary. The hours are long, the work is tough but most days I have a lot of fun. But I leave before my girls are awake and I get home after they've gone to bed. Last week I got to see the girls during the day because we had three consecutive night shoots. On Saturday, we finished work shortly before 7am, I raced home, had a decent morning with the girls and then volunteered for a few hours at Eliza's school fundraiser. I came home and spend a nice afternoon and evening with the girls and went to bed early to get myself back on a day schedule. As exhausting as it all was, at least I got to see my girls.

I'm not feeling so well this week and the babysitter is younger and healthier. The girls seem happy with her and I find that it's easier for me to be at work sick then at home with the girls. But I miss them, I miss them, I miss them. They also have us working Saturday this week so I won't really see or spend any quality time with my girls for six full days. This is the longest I've gone without seeing them awake. It's only Tuesday and the week in front of me feels endless.

I miss my girls, I miss my girls, I miss my girls. Elena is exploding with language--all kinds of fun stuff coming out of her mouth and I can't remember any of it. I can't record much more than her favorite phrase "I can't like this" whenever I try to get her to eat something healthy. It's so cute and when I tried to remember it and quote it to the babysitter, she filled in the blank words I couldn't remember. At this point in time, my sitter of 6 weeks knows my kids better than I do. She gets to hear how well Eliza reads, work on her spelling words with her and tuck them into bed every night.

I miss my girls, I miss my girls, I miss my girls. I tell myself this is temporary. This show will stop shooting in March and if I make it that far I won't have to work for a long time. I get to work with good people! I get to have some fun! My job ends! What about the poor moms who have to work every day and hate their jobs? I'm so much better off than they are, right, my life is wonderful!

I see the big picture and I know it's a good one. But right now, all I have is the week in front of me, pages of a script beside my and little girls in bed, the sound of the sleeping breath all I get to hear.

My Mama

Pancreatic cancer is the number one cancer killer. It's not number one based on how many people die from it (more people are diagnosed with colon cancer) it's just number one in the sense that if you get it, it kills you.

With the recent death of Steve Jobs, pancreatic cancer is all over the news. The statistics are grim. Most people diagnosed with it die within 12 months of diagnosis, by the time you have symptoms it's too late, blah blah, blah blah. I keep remember the title of a James Morrison biography I read in 8th grade, "No One Here Gets Out Alive." It could be the sing outside the door at a pancreatic cancer clinic.

Having said that, I'm in complete denial when it comes to the idea that pancreatic cancer is the number one cancer killer and that my mother has it. She says she feels better than she has in years. I believe it, end of story. She's going out more, she's happier, she's enjoying life a little more. She's still pretty tired and doesn't do much. But she's doing some things like going to the Walk Far for Autism Research yesterday.

She told me yesterday that she feels great, that the cancer was in there making her sick and now it's gone. Call it denial, call it a coping mechanism, call it whatever you like. Mom feels better and for now we are going with it. Now that she realizes her days may be numbered, she's actually letting me photograph her. So here's one of her with my two girls from the walk yesterday. Notice the way my older girl is draped across her because man oh man, does that kid love my mom. And then notice the similar facial features between my mom and the little one.

Let this photo just be one of many.