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My weekend adventure
July 21, 2005
9:07 am
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jastypes
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Nothing to do with co-dependency (I think). Just sharing my weekend adventure entitled:
Why I will never EVER go tubing down the Delaware again.

I should have known this day was going to be one of THOSE. It started off when I woke up and went downstairs to get my laundry out of the washer and move it to the dryer. The laundry that 3 people PROMISED me would be put in the wash before they went to bed. The laundry that 3 people FORGOT to put in the wash. And, of course, when I went to put it in the wash, there was a load in there that had been sitting so long it needed to be REwashed. Okay, so I pulled my bathing suit out of the laundry basket, hand washed it, and put it in the dryer.

Getting ready to leave on our trip, I want to go fill the gas tank and get some cash. Can't seem to find my wallet or my car keys. Keep searching. Look in the places I last had them. I'm getting angry. Sheila says she thinks I'm PMS'ing -- it's that kind of anger. She's right. I am. AND I ran out of anti-depressants about a week ago. Not a good combination, let me assure you. I find my wallet in my bag that I've checked at least 3 times. Still can't find the keys. Everybody is helping me look. Mark finds them UNDER my bag that I've looked in at least 3 times, and probably moved just as many. He knows better than to say anything as I walk out the door.

Got gas, went to the bank. Damn, now I'm running late. Go back to get the kids. "Oh, and Greg, give me 200 mg. of zoloft and the sunscreen." Got the zoloft, but they left the sunscreen at a friend's house. Of course.

Got to church, the ride there is fine. We get to the River Country, I check my bag, pick up my inner tube, and get on the bus. They drive you up river, and drop you off. You're supposed to now float down the river back to the place you started. Seems easy enough. I walk down the stairs, put the tube in the water, and 2 people help me sit my butt into the tube. My butt immediately hits the rocks here in the shallow water, and I'm not going anywhere. Look! I have brakes! Greg and Janet push me out into the center of the river, where the current can pick me up a bit. Greg, Janet and Sheila get in their inner tubes and follow me out.

I think I'm getting a little close to shore. Sheila is pretty close to me too. It's really shallow here. Even without my "brakes" I don't seem to be moving. The only thing to do is get out of the tube and move further into the water. Uh-oh. How do I get out of the tube? I flip onto my stomach. I flip off the tube. Okay, so now I'm on my stomach on the river rocks, and my tube is free to float down the river without me. Hey, that's not supposed to happen. I stand up.... on some very slippery rocks. I fall down. Ouch! Sheila gets out of her tube to help me. She falls, but manages to hang onto her tube. I flip back over on my belly, and push myself up to standing again. Take a few steps and WHAM, I fall again. Ouch again! I look up the river bank. There is a boyscout troop having a bbq. They're looking at me. They're finding this amusing. Not one stinking boyscout asks if I need help. Sheila starts to call for help, but I tell her to shut up. Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is?????

Finally Janet and Greg work their way over to Sheila and me, help us up, rescue our tubes, help us back into our tubes, and push us out into the center of the water again. Okay, now I'm relaxed, but I think I strained every muscle in my body by falling and getting back up, and I have a couple of nasty cuts on my hands from the jagged rocks.

Floating.... floating... to the hot dog vendor. Food sounds good. We get some. Then it's time to get back in the water and head downstream. Sheila doesn't want to go back in the water. Hey, it'll be fine, I say. Yeah, right!

We are floating down the water, and now it's a little choppy. There are some small waves, and wakes from speed boats, etc., maybe some of what they call rapids. It's not so bad though, just a little bouncy. Making me a little nauseous. But, hey, I can live with it. Those clouds above me are awfully dark though. That doesn't look good. Oh, I see why now. It's raining. Hard, pelting, blinding, really cold rain. Sheila is screaming. She is freaking out. We're supposed to go to shore if it starts to storm. How hard can that be? We'll start paddling our way to the shore. I'm pointed at the shore, but I'm moving downstream, rather rapidly, in the center of the river. That really wouldn't have been so bad if Sheila wasn't screaming and crying, "We're gonna die! I'm having a panic attack. I'm going to pass out!" She's really looking bad. I figure I'm going to have to swim her to shore. I abandon my tube. It goes floating down the river. I grab onto Sheila's tube and start swimming for shore while being pelted with cold, hard rain drops. We're praying out loud. I slip under a couple of times, and Sheila completely freaks out. We're not really getting any closer to shore, and our group has reached safety way before us, so we're much further downstream from them.

Of course that would be when we see the lightening. Sheila screams. I scream. I figure with the day I'm having, a lightening strike near (or on) me wouldn't be too far fetched. I am swimming in earnest now. Kicking those legs, pumping my one arm -- since the other one is holding Sheila's raft. Hey, did you know that when you swim with one arm, you go in circles? So I'm dizzy, and I'm cold, and I'm tired, and I'm getting a little scared. Sometimes my feet can touch bottom, but sometimes they can't. I can't figure this out. Who do I think I am? Jack LaLanne? Esther Williams? I rest my head on Sheila's tube, and just kick my feet. We are getting closer to shore. Another bolt of lightening, another roar of thunder, another burst of adrenaline pushing me forward, and we're on the ground.

Now I feel horrible. I feel sick, blood pressure dropping, extremities shaking, I think I'm gonna throw up sick. Sheila is clinging to me, sobbing. I really need to sit down, I tell her. I look behind us and there are actually some benches. As I go to walk toward them, I see 3 dead birds -- big birds -- if I had to guess, I'd say buzzards. Ick. And super scary, adding to the horror movie experience I'm already having. (thoughts of Titanic, Open Water, Jaws, Anaconda have been racing through my head all day, no matter those were mostly OCEAN movies)

We wait a while trying to decide whether to wait out the storm and wait for our group, or hike up to the road where the origination place says they will send a bus for you. Since Sheila is NOT getting back in the water, and it is still storming, we opt for the road. Sheila's sure we're going to meet a serial killer at this point. So just as a precaution, I decided to leave clues in case we disappeared and people were searching for our bodies. I had a pink sunscreen bottle. I wrote the word "BUS" in sunscreen on a piece of wood, and then left the sunscreen bottle hanging on a tree where someone would spot it. No serial killers. We did meet a handyman who points us in the direction of the road and tells us we're about a mile and a half from the Clubhouse. Great. A mile walk, in the rain, with Sheila's inner tube, and my nausea. Sure, why not?

Oh, but we were saved from this last humiliation and physical exertion when the Lady of the House said she'd be glad to drive us to the Club if we would give her five minutes to finish something up. We waited, and she ever so graciously piled our wet, muddy bodies (and Sheila's tube) into her SUV, and drove us to the Club.

The rest of our group showed up about 10 minutes later, floating down the river. Greg was absolutely panicked. Janet had her own version of a panic attack, like Sheila's, and Greg also managed to swim them to shore. He, however, saved both their tubes. And when they passed a blue one on the way back, he was sure I had drowned.

We got home safely, although a little worse for wear and tear. Every part of my body hurts. I guess I should have used some of the sunscreen to protect myself from the sun rather than leave lame clues, because I'm bright red and pretty crispy. Mark also reminded me when I got home that one of my medications (which I did have, and had been taking) warns to NOT go out in the sun. Oops, my bad. Maybe that would explain my nausea.

Just had to share my adventure with you.

July 21, 2005
9:52 am
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jamaicanwife
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It's now Thursday, so this must be funny by now! Is it okay to laugh?

I let my husband take my son tubing on my office trip - I refused to get in the water. This is exactly the kind of thing I was afraid of.

July 21, 2005
10:15 am
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jastypes
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Yeah, I can laugh about it now too. My daughter and I really bonded, and we've both gone back in the water this week, although it was the pool at the gym, and NOT the Delaware River!

July 21, 2005
10:49 am
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hoping_2_feel_again
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jas---I so feel for you. I went tubbing for the first time last month in Helen Ga and fell out of my tube, which was tied to my son's. I kept falling on the rocks, while my tube(with my son attached) floated away. All the while he was yelling "SOMEBODY SAVE MY MOM, SOMEBODY SAVE MY MOM! I am having a really crappy day and I laughed, sorry, I know you were really scared and NOT having fun.

Can I add this to this thread? I am overdrawn at the bank, I have a masters degree and cannot balance a checkbook! I took my 7 year old son and his 7 year old friend to six flags yesterday. My son had 3 mild meltdowns and 1 whopping BIG one. I was going to start a new thread to ask for advice, is it ok if i do it here?

Nope, it's too long so I will begin a new thread.

By the way: he says "my bad" all the time when he makes a mistake or something. It really bothers me. When you just said it I wondered if it is a new slang term? When he says it I tell him that he is not bad, please don't say that. Where did you hear it and is it some new slang like..... Sweet!

Hope

July 21, 2005
11:54 am
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jastypes
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Hope,
I guess "my bad" is a slang term I picked up from my teenagers. Your son may have heard it from friends or on tv. It's like "my mistake" rather than "I'm bad."

Thanks for sharing your tubing experience. Nice to know I'm not the only one this crap happens to. LOL.

jill

July 21, 2005
3:20 pm
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kathygy
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I can understand your need to share this story however one of the guidelines is to limit chit chat. This sounds like chit chat to me and makes me feel uncomfortable.

July 21, 2005
3:28 pm
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hoping_2_feel_again
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Kathygy,

How is it "chit chat" to tell about a miserable experience someone had? Isn't it good to tell about it and get it off your chest?

or was my response "chit chat"?

and how was this "chit chat" any different from other experiences shared on this site?

Hope

July 21, 2005
3:37 pm
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kathygy
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the guidelines say to keep the focus on support, respect and feedback. Jastypes said up front that this is not about codependency, he/she just wants to share about their weekend. That implies to me that Jastypes is not interested in anything except telling this story. That makes it sound like chit chat to me if its not about recovery or personal growth or asking for support.

July 21, 2005
10:42 pm
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jastypes
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Geez, Kathy, that hurt. Let me make this about my co-dependency for you. I come to this website and read what's going on in people's lives, and then feel like I'm a part of their lives because I am so co-dependent. I have a hard time separating my co-dependency issues from the other issues in my life -- like saying yes to going tubing because it's what my kids want, or not taking my medications properly because I tend to take care of everybody else, and not myself. And because I am co-dependent and focus so much on the approval of others, I shared my weekend adventure here with people, some of whom I consider friends although I have never met them in person.

jill

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