Tuesday, January 27, 2015

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to

My abusive mother died during my month of wallow. I didn't find out until yesterday.

I almost put the title as "I will always love you," but I don't so I didn't. I care about humans, even those that hurt me, but I don't love everyone.

In that song I almost used, there's a line, "I hope that life will treat you kind." It goes on to wish the person love. I hope those things for my mother. It also spoke of bittersweet memories.

When mother's husband died a couple of years ago, I thought of something funny to say about him. The only thing that comes to mind with mother is the time my sister Cokie and I were riding up to visit grandma. I was about 13 or 14. Mom goes "Look at all those pine nuts on the trees!" and Cokie and I both said "ohhh yeah wow that's a lot"

Mom drove on for a couple of minutes and bursts out laughing. "You guys can't see the trees! Why would you say you could?" We told her that it's just easier to say we see something than make sighted people stop what they're talking about and show us.

With all the neglect and abuse, my mother never EVER laid any trip on me about my eyesight. She also never insulted my intelligence. I have okay memories about her talking to me about sex and taking drugs. Her calm demeanor left me feeling confident I could handle saying no without feeling pressured.

I know that her deep pain drove her to act the way she did. I wish she had found a way to recover from that.

She lived a long life. Old people die. This is the way of things. I will speak of her again. I will complain about what I survived and continue to have moments of grieving. Not so much about her absence from the planet, but from my life since birth.

One never really says goodbye to anything. The trick is learning to weave the experience into life's tapestry. Make flaws a feature.

Mother had a near death experience once. She said she felt calm. I feel calm for her too. I hope she got that.

Friday, January 23, 2015

Short People

Or short posts. I wanted to comment on the comments and a few things going on. I don't know what's wrong with the comment feature, but it appears to be mucked up. I'll ask Murry to help me again on the weekend and we'll see if we can get that fixed up. No promises though, he tired last time and it didn't go.

The book is going well. You would think writing a survival story would make one depressed, but in many ways it's doing the opposite. Thought I wouldn't pretend it's emotionally easy.

I've written about 6000 words so far. It's not really a lot for my goal of finishing a rough draft by the end of February. It's enough for now. I sometimes have to stop and think happy thoughts for a while.

Joy still visits me often. Perspective reminds me that "that was then, this is now." I learned so much. Living well is the gift you find when you unwrap the past.

My past does define me. I encourage it to do this. We don't give potential employers a resume of our being, but of our doings. We share our experiences. Though we do tailor this outline to show only our best side. They still ask what we think we lack.

We get to answer that question for ourselves. Where am I still broken, where do I need to shore up my psyche and how can I be in the now while dealing with the then?

Pondering such things gives ME character and makes me like me more. Like yourself a little and look behind for a few minutes. Might find some gems under that dirt. Ya never know.

Sunday, January 18, 2015

My Romance

I've probably blogged about this before, but my search features isn't working properly and I can't find it, so I'm going to write the story again.

Though we knew each other online, I put off meeting Murry in person for years. Someone who knew him told me that he was weird. I found out later, he snubbed her after she snubbed him and they were in a bit of a personality clash "war."

A mutual friend of ours then told me that Murry was quite normal and I finally decided to meet him thanksgiving day 1999.

He kindly drove out to Pasadena to pick me up. We then drove about 30 miles back to his house. I met his house mate Bob and Bob's girlfriend and later a string of random guests.

Neither of his housemates had local family so it was a lighthearted gathering of friendly people. We all laughed and ate and had a good time. Neither Murry nor I drink alcohol, but some of his friends wanted to go to a nightclub. We decided that was a good time for him to take me home.

I gathered my handbag and we went outside to get in his car. He parked around the corner to give his guests parking room in front of the house.

As I got to the corner I realized I had to fart. I couldn't do that IN the car and Murry was walking right next to me. I decided to slow down a little in the hopes of squeezing out the gas without him smelling anything.

He trod a mere 10 feet ahead as tried to slip out a silent release. No such luck. Maybe had there been more low clouds, I could have passed it off as a foghorn.

Murry just paused a bit as he got near the car. I got to my door and he asked, "Did you hear frogs??" I imagine he could have felt the heat from my blushing. "No, I'm afraid that was me. Better outside than in the confines of the car!"

He just chucked.

After waiting years to meet me, the first night I try and gas him. Ain't I a prize.

Thankfully there's more to romance than our moments of imperfection.

Wednesday, January 14, 2015

Squeeze Box

I looked up songs about breasts and found this title on the first page. I felt kind of funny that I didn't realize this song was about boobs, but it makes sense once I thought about it a minute.

Men love the tatas and they don't mind admitting it. Though some take it into an offensive category, I'm here to talk about another aspect of breast admiration.

I love my boobs. As I gained weight, my biology drove my breast tissue into bulbous, pendulous when swinging free, tatas.

That swinging can be hazardous to an unsuspecting mate too. I nearly knocked my husband senseless reaching past him for a drink of water. After that, we both referred to my breasts as "Hooters of DOOM!"

Said Doom Hooters don't break any records. I can, thankfully, still buy bras in any store. Though I'm told that a proper fitting would probably increase the cup size. I can't afford a fancy bra, so I do the best I can with what I can find.

Not long after I moved into Murry's house we bought a large screen TV. We went from a standard 32 inch to a huge 60 inch rear projection screen. Being sight impaired, I loved the larger viewing area.

Murry's friend Vance came by and was admiring our new set and remarked how wonderful it would be for viewing porn. Then he turned to Murry and said, though I suppose you are used to looking at large breasts.

Around the same time, a friend took a photo of me and upon seeing it, my online friends remarked how large they looked. I told them that it was jsut the angle of the shot. They didn't buy it.

It's weird to me. I don't think of them as that large. They're just a part of me. I hold them (ahem) in high esteem, but I live with them every moment of every day.

A few years ago, I realized why I am so much at ease with the Doom Hooters. They are clearly an adult thing. They show that I am a grown woman and can be as sexual as I desire.

Plus, I didn't have them when I was being molested as a little girl. There's zero confusion about my chest being touched and fondled. That helps me to stay in the now. That helps me enjoy my sexuality.

So, I say, Bounce Your Boobies and love the tatas today. I could have used that song, but I prefer Squeeze Box.

Listen to Rusty Warren sing Bounce Your Boobies here:
Bounce Your Boobies

What part of YOUR body to you love without reservation? Kind comments encouraged.

Saturday, January 10, 2015

Let's Give Them Something to Talk About

Rhonda Britten says that we will always love someone once they've resided in our heart. Though we part, that affection stays with us.

And so it was with my friend, Phil Hurmence who passed away a couple of days ago from complications related to diabetes.

When we met, I lived with my first husband. Phil and my best friend Nancy were dating. They broke up and about a month later, my husband and I split up.

Nancy broke up my marriage by sleeping with my husband on our anniversary. I'm grateful now, but at the time, I felt deeply betrayed by them both.

Phil and I became good friends and a few months later more than friends. I moved in, though I maintained my own room. We both knew it wasn't a forever thing. After a couple of years, I cried and told him that it was hurting me being with someone when I knew it wasn't going to go much of anywhere.

We were close, but we wanted massively different things. It was amicable and I told him that I would find a new place to live. After a bit, he asked me to stay. He said I was the best, most reliable roommate he had ever had.

His friend Steven asked me why we didn't just get married. "You guys love each other." Though that's true, it would have been settling for both of us. Settling for almost good enough.

Phil and I lived in Pasadena a total of six years. We spent holidays together and his father and mother treated me like a member of the family.

When I went to Europe on a study program, Phil emailed me the most delightful letter about my cat Kevin. I wish I had kept it, I've been kicking myself over deleting it. Phil told me that it took Kevin about three days to realize I wasn't coming back. He said the cat wandered around the house meowing and looking everywhere for me.

So he picked up the cat and talked to him. Told him that "mom" was on a "big adventure" in the "outside," and she would return soon. Phil said that seemed to calm Kevin as if he understood. Maybe he did, he was a smart kitty.

A couple of months later, Kevin became sick and Phil had to take him to the vet. They decided that he was too sick to survive. He called me in tears. Such a sensitive guy when it comes to cats.

Phil always joked about the cat being from outer space. Taking Kevin to the vet, he turned on the radio and the song "Come Sail Away" started playing. Phil said he had to pull over he was crying so hard. The song ends with "they climbed aboard their starships and headed for the skies. "

When I met Murry and decided to move in with him, Phil went to live with his parents in Arizona. We had occasional phone contact and as it happens, Murry's sister lives an hour from where Phil's parents lived. We went to visit them both a couple of times.

I will miss my witty intelligent friend. I hope where ever you are now, you get to ride the starship with Captain Kevin.

All my love, your dear friend, Didi

Wednesday, January 7, 2015

Do you really want to hurt me?

Much of my life I've felt like prey. You know, lions eat rabbits. I get it, something always has to provide food for another to live. It's a system like that. 

How did you come to the decision that I was here for you to eat? Who established these roles for you and I?

Maybe I did. Or maybe I am just taking it all too serious. Oh, that's something that I've been told. "Lighten up." Also, "You have to forgive." And let us not forget Attila the Mom's favorite, "stop dwelling on the past."

Right. They have whole departments of history at most major universities, but me exploring my personal past somehow threatens to unravel the universe? Okay, yeah. Don't I feel powerful now. I am the lion, where all the white rabbits at? Yes, I did just parody Blazing Saddles. Gotta problem with that??

It's all a matter of journey. I am both lion and rabbit or maybe bear. I hibernated in a blanket of grief and now I must take my emergence with care. 

Going from a comatose to an awakened state requires a few steps. And while doing that, I am both prey and predator. The mix depends on the needs of that state. 

The trick is to not devour yourself before you emerge from your cave. 

Kind comments encouraged. 

Tuesday, January 6, 2015

Paperback Writer

Be the light you want to follow.
I decided to turn my December 2014 month of wallow in self pity month experience into a book. Here are my EXTREMELY rough chapter outlines. I will change the order most likely, I just wanted to get my "goal" out to the universe.

Be the Light You Want to Follow

What I learned from my month wallowing in self pity

1. Swimming in self pity is like getting a colonoscopy. It's a shitty test but necessary once in a while.

2. This blog and I are both awesome and I have shiny thoughts

3. Dream shitters can fuck off now. Support my crazy ideas on the off chance they're not crazy and you're just afraid.

4. It's OKAY to feel good during a month of wallow and tell funny stories about tragic things or during funerals. You can't force people to "lighten up," but when they do it, you can bask in the glow.

5. I'm sad that my mother is Attila the Mom, but that isn't about me. She has sickness and also did the best she could. I know that. I'm still never going to speak to her or any biological family. I don't see any point. Not from hopelessness, but from awareness. They lack that "be nice" gene. I wish them peace.

6. The goodness or badness or lesson comes from experience only on reflection. Destiny looks only backward.

7. Feeling all the pain heals. It's like picking up the pieces after an explosion. Repressing feelings is like holding a beach ball under water. After a while, we get tired and the ball pops up and bashes us in the face. Better to let it up to float away.

8. Grieving heals.

9. Mistreatment leaves a scar. There is no "magic" in "forgiveness." Forget leads to future mistreatment. However, we can learn to remember with compassion for ourselves and the person who harmed us. US first, though.

10. Reframe failure as the steps to success. No one criticizes a baby falling down when it is learning to walk, so why beat ourselves up for making mistakes? I am an emotional baby taking my first steps into self awareness.

That's it. I'm going to expand on each of these points as chapter heads. I hope to have a completed rough draft by the end of February. I feel that's a very ambitious goal and I think I can do it. I choose happy. 

Kind comments welcome.

Friday, January 2, 2015

She's not THERE

Perfect song for my Zombie Blog! The title of the most famous song by the Zombies. I love it when life gives you the best thing at the right moment.

I totally lost my way with the blog. It happens. I'm going to just take up from here and be happy I got back to writing.

Writing and exploring my soul makes me happy. It took a lot of years and two great therapy experiences to get here. And I am eternally grateful for the Survivors of Incest 12-step group I found in the early 90s. They reflected who I was and showed me who I could become.

I now understand what threw me off the blog horse and it's TOTALLY okay. Last summer, I broke up with my remaining biological family. They began to pressure me to "get over" the rift between me and my mother.

Maybe rift fails to reflect the true nature of my relationship with Attila the Mom. I use that term because my husband pointed out that people would not urge me to reconcile if my mother was Hitler. Of course she isn't a genocidal maniac. Just a psychological self abusing maniac who first made and then abandoned her child.

My mother planned for my birth. She hoped to save her marriage. When I failed at that, she abandoned me. At the same time, she was using me to get back at my oldest sister. I'm sure Attila the Mom had no idea she was doing this, but the more I reflect on the situation, the clearer it becomes.

My mother became pregnant with my sister around the same age my sister was when mom had me. I feel mom resented my sister getting to live her high school years with freedom.

So when I was born, she brought me to my sister to take care of. My sister did care for me as best she could, but this built a deep resentment in her.

I feel so sad that my sister had me as a burden. I couldn't help but bond to her as a child bonds to a mother. There's a story of me getting hurt at a grocery store and I wouldn't stop crying until mother took me to "My Kathey's" high school so she could kiss my booboo.

Kathey married, had a child of her own and moved far away at about the same time as my parents divorced. I was four. I so get that none of this had to do with me. Though my mother and sister acted as though it did. I'm sure they didn't realize they were. That doesn't make it any less painful, it just made me confused until I sorted it out.

So there I was, resented and abandoned by both mother and bonded to sister. These resentments continued into my adulthood.

Attila the Mom hurt me more than MyKathey so that relationship broke down first. Twice ATM and I had major fallings out where I quit talking to her. Both times, my connection to my sister waned as well. I didn't quit talking to her, but I decided not to put any energy to keeping contact.

As an adult, my sister called me three times my entire life. Once when a cousin died, when my grandmother died and finally when my father died. I didn't even know the cousin. She was peeved at me for not knowing him. I do understand they were about the same age and she was feeling very mortal.

People tell me "you have to understand" a lot. When do I get the understanding?

Okay, so, I still had a kind of relationship with my sister because, well, she's my sister. After dad died, she and I were Facebook friends. She didn't post much, I saw more from her daughters. She would occasionally say things like she loved me after a post where I talked about something going on that wasn't working out.

I lashed out over that. I didn't call her by name, but I posted a Facebook where I complained that you can't act unloving and just say you love and make up for all the crap you pull. She replied that I didn't know what was in her heart.

I know that's very true. I don't know what's in anyone's heart. I do know how I am treated.

Last summer, ATM started having some health problems. My niece told me because she '"thought I should know." I told her that, though I wish her peace, I still didn't want to have anything to do with my mother.

My niece got hostile and told me how I needed to "get over this." That stressed me greatly for a couple of days. I realized, they would never understand the depths of the pain I survived. Though that makes me sad, it is OKAY.

I realized that I was holding on to a fantasy that family could "get me." They lacked the capacity to love me where I was at.

I broke up with them. I had to grieve that for all of December 2014. That's a whole other post that I'll write later.

Please understand, I am not asking anyone to quit their family like I have. You get to follow your own path. This is what is best for me. I even encourage others to try and find some common ground.

For me, I had to let go of the family ties the other party had let drop ages ago. Mostly I feel relieved.

Kind comments are encouraged. I'm BAAAACK!