Who Am I?

Reposting from October 2015. The last line of the Haiku could be an explanation of some steps backward I feel I took.

Going back and editing old posts is helping me to catch back up with myself, my healing, my recovery and my progress.

Sleeping Tiger

Pink Tulip Lonely Tulip Yet To Blossom. Photo Credit: Aura Gael/Sleeping Tiger. Haiku written by Aura Gael/Sleeping Tiger.

This Haiku (or the basis of it) came to me when I glanced in a mirror today. When I saw my reflection, I didn’t recognize myself and thought about all the time that has passed and all the lost opportunity to know myself. I felt defeated, old and like I’m too late for life.

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Dream: Restaurant, Round Table and Regaining Power

Originally part of a post put up on September 30, 2015. I’m going back through and editing. This is about a specific dream. Before I just posted the dream, but today (October 27, 2016), I went through and attempted an interpretation with a bit of help from the internet.

power-girlOriginally written 9/30/15
I dream a lot. Some are more vivid than others. Lately the dreams have been more vague upon awakening than usual but what I do remember is pretty clear.

Dream a few nights ago:
I was in a restaurant with others (don’t know who). Sitting at a round table and I think the place/food was Asian. I kept ordering something, but each time the server came back, I wasn’t getting what I wanted.

Restaurant: I interpret this to mean that I am surrounded by abundance (of food).

According to edreaminginterpretation.org:  “To dream that you are in a restaurant suggests you are feeling overwhelmed by choices that you need to make in your life.” I can see this being the case as I do feel overwhelmed by many ideas I get and what to do first or how to organize my time so I can implement them all.

“This dream can also mean you are seeking emotional nourishment outside of your family or regular group of friends.” Bing bing bing…finger on the nose. This is more likely the case although the above still stands at the same time. However, the second part of the dream makes this interpretation even more likely, if I had to choose one. I do not speak to my family, so there is no emotional nourishment there, and in fact there was quite the opposite of emotional nourishment from them when I did speak to them, especially in those last months of contact.

When it comes to friends, this is also true. I have had mostly emotionally unhealthy friends and I don’t derive much satisfaction from my relationship with Mr. B and in fact it’s full of a lot of frustration.

With others and not clear on who: This is a guess: Symbolizes the need for true and authentic friends but since I’m not all that sure about myself and my authenticity, I’m also not sure what the face of a nourishing friend would look like.

Round table: These interpretations are taken from edreaminterpretation.org:
-“Spiritually the table suggests a centre, but one from which all things can begin.”
-“(It) suggests resolution since it gives no one person status over another
-“A round table in a dream is a symbol of wholeness.In mundane terms it can suggest negotiation, since it is used to allow everyone the opportunity to express an opinion.”

Not getting what I wanted: My own interpretation: Not being heard or listened to.

Attempt to put it altogether:
Sitting in a restaurant surrounded by abundance, yet I feel starved. Starved for emotional nourishment and understanding. Feeling the need to start over in my life represented by the round table.

Another part of the same dream or the next dream same night:
I was in the driver’s seat of a car, parked in a short driveway in front of a one car garage. I was alone. Then in another part of the dream I was watching myself (sitting in that car) on a monitor of some sort that someone was showing me. They were letting me know that area was monitored by a camera. I wasn’t sure why though.

Being in the driver’s seat of the car: is about having control in life. But it could be wanting that control, not necessarily having it.  The car being parked, could symbolize the stagnancy in my life.

Short driveway
: According to dreammoods.com “To see or drive up to a driveway in your dream symbolizes an end to your journey. It also represents security and rest. Alternatively, it denotes your path toward achieving inner peace and finding your spirituality.”  My journey isn’t over so it must be about security and rest. And since the driveway was short, that security and rest is/was short-lived.

One car garage: Quoting from edreaminterpretation.org  “A garage appearing in a dream may indicate how we store our own personal abilities. It is the workshop from which we need to move out into the world in order to show what we have done. We are looking at our reserves of drive and motivation and possibly at our abilities.”

Another interpretation for the garage from the same site “Protective covering for one’s power over a situation.”

An attempt at bringing it altogether:
Just sitting in a car, not driving, but still in the driver’s seat could mean that I only feel control when stagnant and sitting still. Which makes sense since I’m perpetually afraid of the rug being pulled out from under me. The closed garage is protecting that power or perhaps hiding the real power from me. The short driveway indicates little time to rest before taking my power back from behind that close door. (Or stalling.)The car is an available tool to use that power if I choose to do so. The monitor would be connected to a camera, which means I would be being watched. I interpret this as my family watching to see what I will do because they feel threatened by my taking my power back.
Trying again:
Behind the garage door are my abilities and my power and my ability to take my power back that my family (I feel) has held and kept from me. The monitor indicates and symbolizes their desire to continue to hold me back and keep my power from me, by letting me know they are keeping a watch over me, so that I feel too threatened by them to take my power back and use my abilities to live my life as I see fit without their approval, because they see that as being against them and a threat to them. The short driveway the car I’m in is sitting in, symbolizes the end of that journey with them (their power over me) while also symbolizing little time to take my power back and to take control of my situation.

Confessions of a Drunk Taker + More Thoughts on a Friend

This post was originally the second half of the post entitled “Sorting Through Challenges with a Friend. I was going to have it stand alone and in reality it is. But at the end, I go more into my feelings about my challenges with my friend.

Most of my friends are/were drinkers and what we did together was usually centered around alcohol.  I was a binge drinker and on top of that, most of the time that I visited people, I didn’t take any beer with me. So I drank theirs.

I wish I knew what was up with that. It’s not like I didn’t have the money to buy it.

I do remember though, that I would leave my house and feel anxious about getting to my destination…whichever friend or group of friends I was going to see. So I don’t know, making a stop for beer, which would’ve been out of the way in most scenarios, would get me there too late?

I took a male friend over to Anna’s one time and we did take beer. But when we left, I took what was left.


Anna actually spoke up to me on the phone the next day. And respectfully too. We talked on the phone the next day and she mentioned me taking the beer. She made mention of all the beer I drink of theirs (her and her husband’s) when I’d been over there in the past, and thought it would have been nice to leave what was left of what I brought.

In fact, my male friend and her discussed it at the door when I went to the kitchen to get it. But then didn’t say anything when I got back.

So rude! I would never do that now.

I apologized to her on the phone. Told her she was right…which she was and was being completely real. I felt like shit. A couple decades later, I wonder, what the fuck was I thinking?

Most of the time, when I visited a friend, I was a complete taker. I didn’t give. I didn’t bring anything to contribute.

For special occasions I bought cards and gifts but the more regular partying, (which was almost every weekend), not so much. I hate that I did that.

Generally though, I would stop at a fast food joint before going over to Anna’s, because I didn’t want to take the time to prepare food, as it would take too long. So instead I’d shove a bacon cheeseburger down my gullet on my way over there.

New Years Eve, 2014, I committed to an alcohol free year for 2015. I made it. In fact I made it about half way through 2016 as well but have relapsed here and there.

After a night or even day of drinking, I don’t feel the need to continue the next day. I have never been a hair of the dog kinda person. In fact the thought of drinking any beer after having binged the day or night before makes me wanna hurl.

For the most part, I still make it a point to stay away from any environment where alcohol would be present.

This was all coming up for me when Anna was moving out of state, which is mentioned in the linked post. And following is what I was struggling with when it came to a possible visit and feeling obligated to ask to see her.

I felt torn at the time because I felt like I should want to see her. But I didn’t.  At the time, I was feeling uncomfortable on Facebook with her…for two reasons. One was the move and my reluctance to initiate any conversation on seeing her.  And the other was that at the time, I hadn’t been on Facebook for a few weeks, so making conversation in her comment section just seemed weird. But mostly because she was moving…

I wondered a little about her feelings about it and questioned to myself:  Is she hurt that I haven’t said anything about it?

And why haven’t I?

Reasons were varied: (besides the alcohol factor I mentioned above):

1. I hated the way I looked. I have gotten so fat and I look like shit. I know that seems superficial but that also kind of goes with feeling like I’m not really a whole person right now.  I’m in a place right now where I’m stuck and wishing to evolve. I didn’t want her to see me like that. And in fact I’m stagnant, still feeling like this.

2. Feeling phony if I’d seen her at the time before she moved, with the resentment I was feeling (and still feel) toward her about the past conversations that didn’t get resolved. I felt at that time, if I was to see her, like I’d like to address them…sort of. I would if I thought she’d be receptive and willing to talk about them.  (Knowing what I know now about the attitude of most people and the way they think about past issues, I wouldn’t feel the least bit comfortable bringing any of it up.)

But she was moving. I felt it would be selfish of me to bring those things up now and since moving is one of the most stressful events in life, the timing of such a conversation would not be good. Truth is, even at a less stressful time, I don’t believe it would’ve been received like I would like it to. I think the response would have been more along the lines of, “Geez, you’re still thinking about that?.  “You’re too sensitive.”

Before she moved, I was feeling pretty sad. It had kicked up quite a bit of shit for me. But I think the sadness might be more about missing the things I thought were good about our friendship. The memories that were really unhealthy behaviors. I’m sad that maybe it wasn’t really a real friendship…from either side. I can honestly say that I was a user of people, although I felt at the time like I loved her.  I think now about some things and think there may have been more bullying and degrading than I was awake to. It was just done in a joking manner, or just chalked up to ‘the way she was.’

I was feeling pretty lost when I originally wrote this. And although I’ve got more awareness about my past friendships, about my behaviors, there is still a lot for me to work out.  But pretending that all is well is quite difficult. Even when I comment on her stuff on FB, I feel like I’m trying to hard now. I used to just not think about my response. Now I’m uber careful, because, well, I might say something wrong or offensive.

Not that I feel like she gave me reason to feel that way. I feel that way because of other experiences with other people. In certain circumstances, like when being funny,  I used to just say what was on my mind and not think much of it. I was like that with Anna too and didn’t worry about her judgment because we seemed to have the same sense of humor. But now, I worry about offending others.

The end of an affair and the abuse via family a couple years after that changed me. I became even more afraid, even more apprehensive to even attempt to be who I think I am.

I had to pretend to be someone and something I wasn’t around my family, especially during those last few months in contact with them. So it’s made me very sensitive to wanting and needing genuine friendships and authenticity from myself and others. It’s important to me to have friends who don’t need me to pretend nothing’s wrong, nor do I want friends who I feel the need to pretend around or who feel the need to pretend around me.

Dark NIGHT of the Soul?

More like Dark LIFE of the Soul.

When does it end? Nothing ever gets better and sometimes shit gets worse.

And most of the time life is just putting out one proverbial fire after another.

And let’s not forget my constant rage and chronic anger and taking it all out on those who don’t deserve it.

I’m in constant state of anxiety.

How can it ever get better when I can never undo the abusive behavior I’ve already done?
I am unforgivable and unlovable.

I don’t deserve better. That’s why it never gets better.

Feeling Sad About a Dog

I’ve been walking a little black Lab mix (Lucy) on Thursdays for a few years now. I say little, but she’s more of a medium size dog, but small in comparison to a full bred Lab.

She’s an old girl, who even in her older age has had quite a bit of energy. Still gets excited to see people. Interested when she sees other dogs, although she’s content to just sniff. Being in the same company with another dog is OK with her, but she prefers to forego the play at this point.

I can see that her joints are getting a bit stiffer with each visit and the muscles in her hips get weaker. It’s sad to see the deterioration of a once active and boisterous dog.

Now as if to add insult to injury the poor girl has recently grown a huge tumor growth on the inside of her upper lip.

After our walk, I noticed some blood on the rug where she’d been napping. And since the tumor had gotten bigger since I saw her last, I could see more of it, I observed the top half to have a yellowish white color.

I called her human to let her know about both of these things.

It was then I found out that Lucy has a vet appointment. The blood, since it wasn’t a lot, wasn’t anything to be alarmed about, but Lucy’s human became concerned about the color I mentioned.

She has a vet appointment tomorrow and the human family will be asking what to do next. There was an initial appointment when the tumor was small and first noticed and the advice was to do nothing but watch it, because of her age.

It’s grown rather rapidly and is now quite large. I can feel the discomfort when I look at poor Lucy.

I don’t know what will come of the vet visit tomorrow, but I get the feeling it won’t be the greatest news.

Car Wreck at 17 or How to be a Neglectful Parent

When I was 17, I got into a really bad car wreck and had no seat belt on.

I was taking a left turn at a busy intersection that had no green turning arrow at the time and it was at night. The traffic light turned from green to yellow just as I got to the end of the turning lane. I saw no cars or headlights coming toward me so I began to take my turn.

Suddenly, (in the middle of the intersection) I could see glaring headlights from my peripheral vision. It seemed like they were right beside me, like an interrogation light in the face. Only the next thing that was in my face was a windshield.

I felt and heard the intense impact of a car smashing into the corner of the passenger side o the small Toyota I’d been driving.

My forehead slammed into the windshield and all I remember after that is panicking and a strong urge to exit the car.  I pulled at the driver’s door handle. It would not open. Quickly, while crying in even more panic,  I leaned to try the passenger door with fear that it wouldn’t open. But it did and I hopped over the middle console and out the door swiftly.

A lot of that panic actually came from knowing I was in the middle of the intersection and fearing I’d be hit again and this time killed.

When I got out, I scurried to the driver’s side, staying close to the car, still being aware that it was the safer side to stand on. I was terrified to cross the road and get out of the intersection, because I couldn’t see.

I was sobbing and put my hands up to my face. When I pulled my hands down, I could see they were covered red in blood. Feeling more fear, and having no idea what part of my face this blood was coming from, I sobbed even more deeply.

As I stood there, I heard one shrill female voice scream in my ear, “Why’d yo go through the red light?!!!!!?” Repeatedly.

I said nothing to her. It was confusing. I couldn’t get my thoughts straight concerning this accusation and I couldn’t even see her.

Then I heard a man’s voice on the other side of mesay, “Do you want me to take you to the hospital?” It was like an angel had swooped down to take care of me. I felt a sense of relief.

Writing now, I feel the sting of the tears that want to break through. I wonder where he is now. And I realized a long time ago I never thanked him. I wish I could do that now. He is my hero.

I nodded, hands over my face, and he gently led me to a car, where I could hear the car door open and then a small child’s voice asking him questions.

He calmly told the child to get in the back seat so I could get in front and they could take me to the hospital. As it should happen the wreck occurred in very close proximity to the local hospital.

When I arrived at the emergency room door, there was a nurse already standing outside, ready with a wheel chair. I was tended to immediately by nurses and doctors. It turned out all that blood was coming from my forehead.

I was x-rayed, stitched up, wrapped up, and questioned by a state trooper.

I never even thought about the fact that I’d left the scene of an accident until later. I don’t remember that being a matter of concern for the cop, as injured as I was.  I don’t remember the questions the cop asked me either.  All I was worried about was how injured I was. What my face would look like.  What the scars would look like when I healed. I also wanted my mother.

I called my mother after I was taken care of to let her know what happened.  It was her car I’d just wrecked and my father was working nights back then and had the other car. She told me on the phone, after asking if I was alright that I’d have to wait until my father got off work to be picked up.

Soon after that phone call, a nurse came in and told me they needed the bed in the ER so I would need to wait in the waiting room.

I wonder as I write this now, what she thought about the fact that I had to wait as long as I did for a parent to get me.

I felt so alone and lonely, sitting in that waiting room. It took me back to my childhood when I’d felt forgotten as the last child being picked up after certain events at school or church.

It helped a little when the friend I was on my way to pick up, walked through the waiting room door, after walking to the hospital from his house. I never even called him. If memory serves, he called the house looking for me since I was so late. My mother would’ve told him what happened. And there he was, right by my side.

For the longest time I chalked it up to my usual luck. After all, my mother didn’t have a car so she had every reason not to be able to get to me. It was just Murphy and his laws and they followed me everywhere.

Years later, my sister told me that my mother seemed to be beside herself that night. She mentioned how weird it was to see her that way. Since our mother never worried about anything.

It was then, finding out how worried she was, that I questioned, why had she not knock on neighbors’ doors and ask for a ride to the hospital. I mean, if she was so distraught, why would she not utilize any resource that would’ve been available. We had plenty of neighbors. We lived in a twin. The whole block was twins. And even a neighbor who didn’t know her, would likely have helped. She knew the people who lived in the house attached to ours. The neighbor on the other side of them had a daughter that was my sister’s best friend.


Would not most mothers, even if the neighbors were strangers, knock on every fucking door until they found someone who would help? Anything to get to her kid, right?

There was no follow up that I remember after being discharged from the hospital. I had a lot of muscle pain through my body which was something I just needed time to recover from. But I hit my head. I don’t know, it seems like a head trauma specialist would be in order.

So since there wasn’t any follow-up after the wreck, I wonder if this injury effected my brain in such a way to alter some of my behaviors, reactions and my emotions. I wonder if it’s a contributor. I’m not saying that the abuse from my parents didn’t effect. Hell, just needing to wait in the waiting room that night before I could get home was damaging.

I know there are plenty of other things that contributed to my anger and agitation and even my seemingly lack of empathy at times. But I don’t remember having outbursts before that wreck happened so I wonder seriously if it has contributed.

I guess since I could still walk and talk after that wreck, my parents didn’t see it as a necessity to follow up to see if there was any serious impact to my brain as a result of my head hitting that windshield.

The only thing I remember doing is going to see a plastic surgeon to see if anything could be done about the scars on my forehead, because as a 17 year old girl, that’s what I was concerned about. But it would’ve been my parents’ job to follow up on any possible brain injury.

In addition, if my parents were actually loving parents, I think anyway, correct me if I’m wrong…my mother would’ve banged on neighbors’ doors asking for a ride to the hospital to pick me up rather than let me sit in the waiting room for hours.

And my father??? Well he would’ve left work.

I excused it because he was a radio announcer. He’d have likely been fired if he’d left dead air to run out and pick me up. But I can’t help but think how could there not have been someone around to ask, to fill in for a fucking family emergency.

More thoughts on this also had me questioning what really happened. Because if I’d gone through the red light at that intersection, the lady screaming her accusations at me would’ve also gone through the red light from the other side.

There was no extended green there on the opposite side I was on, at the intersection where the wreck occurred. and I know that I saw an opening just as the light turned yellow. Even at that age and as a new driver, I would not have attempted the turn if I’d seen someone coming from the other side.

So what I think happened, is that she was going through the yellow light too from the other side, and had come out of the gas station on that opposite corner and forgot to put her head lights on.

So when she fucked up and slammed into me, she thought it would be best for her to blame the young driver…which was me.

I wish I’d had more awareness back then. My parents sucked. What parent doesn’t follow up on this shit?

Oh yeah, mine!

In fact my mother should’ve been there before the state trooper had a chance to question me. Not that I did anything wrong.  And not that he should not have been investigating. But I was a minor and still in shock from the impact.

Just a note here: When hitting the windshield, the part of the brain that’s under that part of the head is the frontal lobe.

Do you know that one function of that part of the brain is for planning? This could be part of my issue with my lack of taking initiative to plan for any part of my future…or at least it may have contributed along with not being guided by the people who are supposed to have taught me how to make plans for myself.

In fact, here’s a link that explains what the functions are of the frontal lobe.

It’s helpful in explaining some other stuff too. Since I’ve never had a brain scan to check for what’s going on or if hitting the windshield may contribute, but it’s interesting to read that some of what I struggle with (impulse control) or have struggled with in the past (using sex as a drug), are things that are controlled by this part of the brain.

When I think back on it now, as I edit this on Friday 9/29/17, I want to say that my mother froze. I am torn because so much is wrong with this scenario. But I understand at this point that she was likely stuck in freeze response that night.  But it’s mixed with not understanding how she would not have been more in a reactive state and go knock on doors, find a ride.  I wish I could ask her. There was nothing more lonely at that point in my life, than sitting in a hospital waiting room, injured, in pain and having bandages wrapped around my head, still wearing (literally) bloody clothes, when all I wanted was my mom, comfy soft pajamas and my own warm bed.

Dream: Little Self Meets Big Self

2675590_teal-black-and-whitelWhile I was meditating tonight I remembered a dream I had when I was in my twenties. I’ve always remembered it and when I think of it my eyes fill up with tears.

It took place in the house I lived in from the ages of 6 to 10 years old.

My maternal grandmother and my little self (about age 3) are sitting in a long blue lounge chair together and her arms are around me.

My young adult self, walks over to stand in front of them and my little self climbs down and walks over to me (my young adult self). She takes my hand and we both stand there looking at my grandmother who stays sitting in the chair.

Just thinking about it again, my eyes are filling with tears. At the time that I had the dream, it didn’t have this effect. I told my psychiatrist at the time about it and his reaction was, “Awwww.”

He was genuinely impacted by it. And I thought it was one of the coolest things I’d ever dreamed, but it hadn’t brought up this much emotion then.

When I was in my 30s, my grandmother started having more and more medical issues and we all knew, including her that her time on earth was running short. At that time, my family and my uncle (mom’s brother) spent quite a bit of time at my grandmother’s place. One of those weekends, my uncle and I were in the same car alone together and we got to talking. He’d battled depression and issues himself with his mother (my grandmother) so we had that in common. (Not that I had issues with my grandmother, but with my own parents.)

He told me that when I was a toddler and beginning to walk and get into things, my father would yell at me. And my grandmom would speak up to him. I don’t recall exactly what he told me she’d say, but I’m guessing it was along the lines of telling my father to take it easy, I’m just a little girl, etc.

And that would explain my attachment to her all through my life. When we had dinner with her, my place was always next to her. Always. When we went to family reunions out of state, I rode with her. I also spent weekends with her when I was a child. I wanted so much to live with her throughout my childhood and even into my twenties.

When I had that dream, my grandmother was still alive and it meant a lot to me then. But now that she’s gone, it means even more to me. And now that I’m getting more in touch with myself and doing some inner child work, it really stirs a lot of emotion up in me.

I think of it as my little self being with her two protectors. It was kind of like my grandmother handing the job over to me and my little self being willing and accepting of that. It’s really sad though because in my twenties (and through my 30s and even into my 40s) I ran from the pain almost any chance I got. So I wasn’t the greatest guardian for my little self.  And I’m so sorry for that.

Thinking First Thing Has to Be First

As you know, (or I’ve talked about it anyway), I started a 12 week program/class to help me heal and recover from childhood emotional abuse and codependency.

I ordered it very soon after we moved because I…well I wanted to get on with it, but also because when I emailed the creator and moderator of it to see if she was going to offer it again in January, she responded by telling me she wasn’t sure because she had been working on something else for therapists. She didn’t think she’d be able to give both projects the attention they need.

So I jumped on it at the beginning of September, so as not to miss out. She has a Youtube channel and her videos are immensely helpful. So I figured the class would be even more so.

I don’t regret signing up. But it turns out she will be offering it again in January. Given the move and my struggle to get settled in, while also trying to work the program, starting in January may have been a better bet for me.

I keep having  outbursts, usually as a result of overwhelm, but also because of my feelings of being out of control. Unfortunately I have not been disciplined enough to take those opportunities and go within, feel those emotions and ride them out. Instead I’ve been continuing the same old habits and behaviors of acting outward, either by raging about it at Mr. B or lashing out at some inanimate object. Today, I threw my office chair down to get to the back of the router to reset it after losing internet connection.

I know a lot of this is from both the change in environment AND the shit this work is kicking up. I’m also overwhelmed by still trying to move in and get settled and feeling really irritated by that since we’ve been here since the end of August.

It’s been difficult because of so much stuff and little space. We down-sized and got rid of a lot of stuff but there is still too much. I can certainly do away with my things that I think are unnecessary but I am not at liberty to do so with Mr B’s things, nor would I want to, as it would take my energy and time.

He’s not interested in parting with certain things and I’m not interested in twisting his arm on the matter. I have more important things to direct my energy toward.

Another thing that has come to my attention (thanks again to bethanyk from Not My Secret).

I have quite a few things that are from my parents’ home together, my father’s apartment (once they were divorced) and gifts my mother and/or father gave me.

And I think much of it is triggering me. Not just because I’m reminded of them and their abuse, although that’s part of it, but also because it reminds me how needy I have been of others in general.

If I parted with every single thing they ever gave me, however, I wouldn’t have a car or blankets on my bed. It’s tough to resist the urge to grab everything and take it all to a dumpster. But much of it can be sold…and to be quite honest, we can use the money.


I have to really start giving myself a big break.  I’m going to continue doing what I can, when I can. It’s easy enough to get the meditations in, if not twice a day, definitely once. I will most likely keep writing and will slowly be working on my time line of events from the age of 0 to present. That’s an assignment from week 2.

I’ve been angry with myself, because I’m way behind. The sections are sent out in weekly increments, so being 7 weeks in and not having finished the intro questions, which I didn’t even catch until I started week 2 and then not finishing other assignments in weeks one, two and three, I’m feeling really behind.

Overwhelm and then paralysis tends to take over. And when I feel overwhelmed, I have outbursts.  It’s like being in a crowd of people and being pushed and pushed, even though there isn’t anywhere to go because there’s a wall of concrete in front of you. After a while, it’s hard not to lose it.

I know I have to go easier on myself. And staying paralyzed isn’t going to get me anywhere but in the same old stagnant place.

I feel like I’ve been pushing, yet slacking at the same time. However, I also feel like the universe (?) has been pushing back with the issues I mentioned in my last post.

So although I feel like pushing back the other way, I’m not so sure that’s the answer.

I need to take a calmer approach. Let go…to a point.

***As I said, the meditations are essential and those will be continued. And I will continue as I can for the next week or two. I am not abandoning this project.*** Edit on this idea below.

However, my waking focus for the next few weeks needs to be on this apartment. It needs to be put in order. It needs to be a place where I can do what I do with efficiency. Being efficient is important to me and that is lacking horribly right now.

This will entail getting rid of things and putting some other things in storage. The garage needs some organizing and although Mr. B whipped our corner of the basement into shape last night, if I put more shit down there, it will need to be organized again. I want to make this MY project because much of the things that are going to be stored are things I’m just going to ‘put aside’ to be sold. Anything not being sold, will be given away either on Freecycle or Goodwill or some other thrift store. Idea edited.

There are prints that my mother gave me that have been agitating me the most lately, given her latest birthday card to me this year.

I had kept meaning to hang them. But they continue to sit un-hung in the living room. It’s not only because I don’t want to put the effort into this place, but also because I’ve had enough of the reminders.

Don’t get me wrong though, and this is where much of my confusion regarding my mother, comes from. Her gifts have always been thoughtful. She has always asked me what I wanted or given me something I may have pointed out and told her I would like to have, to her at one time or another. Or just simply bought something for me she knew I’d like.

And I’ve always loved that about her.

But it’s not these material items I want from her. And I certainly don’t want these things around to trigger me any longer.

It will be a process and I need to feel somewhat organized to even start selling off items. Goodwill trips need no prior organizing and I’ve made several trips there already.  I can’t seem to motivate myself to get out to the living room among the chaos and struggle for a spot to  take photos of these things to sell though. For me to function, I need the place to have some sort of order.

It doesn’t have to be perfect, but I need to be able to move. I’ve gotta make room for me to move somewhat easily around as well, so I can clean and vacuum. I need to get ahead of the fleas…which I also wrote about in the previous post.

I think the fleas are a big message and if I don’t move on that, then the messages will keep coming and just get bigger and more difficult to move around. Enough is enough.

Oh and I am working toward getting my diet in order too. Still struggling with that, but eating better will also help my brain function better.

Update: Thursday 9/28/17: The stuff in red are the things I want to bring attention to. It’s almost a year and some things have changed and other things (unfortunately) the same.

There is truly a separate post pertaining to Lisa Romano’s program. There is much to say there. But I will say here that I did not stick with it. True to form, it’s gone unfinished.   I should not be so hard on myself. There are reasons behind every behavior. I am kicking myself however for spending such a large sum of money on the program, partially because I should know better about myself and how I don’t see things like this through.

Honestly, I do need someone to hold my hand throughout. No amount of on line support works for me. It’s too bad that it had to be an 800 dollar lesson though.

There were issues with the program itself too though. The biggest one being noise on some of the meditations. For such a high price ou would think the creator for a program that is supposed to cater to people with hyper-vigilance issues, would make sure to make a brain wave entrainment recording in a fucking studio instead of sitting on her squeaky home office chair. This sound interrupts some of the meditations and it sucks. My experience was to be just getting into a really good meditation state to be rudely shocked out of it by a squeaky sound. I know it’s her chair because I hear the sound in her YT videos.

I wrote her after the fucking thing was pretty much through to tell her about this. I was too fucking ‘afraid’ to write sooner and complain.  Of course it was too late to get a refund on a program I am not using. It has pissed me off so much that I am not able to utilize any of the program nor am I capable of watching her YT videos anymore without feeling angry.

The other parts of the program are good, but I really need the meditations. They are also decent, with BWE (google it, it’s a cool technology) and the words she uses and her voice is good too. But that squeaky chair ruins the whole fucking thing and although in absolute reality the rest of the program isn’t ‘useless’ as I told her in my frustrated email to her about it, it is to me personally because of that sound/noise that ruins the recording.

I’m also feeling led on because I asked her about the program being available in January and when I got the info that she wasn’t sure, it felt urgent to purchase while I had the chance. When it was released in January and it continues to be rereleased still, I felt completely deceived.   So that’s another reason I have a problem with looking at her face, hearing her voice or reading anything she’s written.

I seriously need to find a place to write about this where it can be seen. I would not have viewed her of having done shoddy work, or deceiving someone the way I felt she did me. But I guess when it comes to making money, that’s what becomes more important.

As for organizing. I am STILL struggling with this. I would get some stuff organized, but shit would get out of place again. I have also begun packing things away for less clutter in the living space plus it will make things easier when we are ready to move or if she kicks us out.  So it’s gone through being cluttered and straightened up. Shit has been moved too. It’s a work in progress still, just to make a long story short and I do not feel at home here at all.

The fleas being a message makes me laugh now. It was just one thing in a series of shit happening. But I do think now that Oz had them when he came here. It’s just that he was not going outside anymore so the fleas had nowhere else to go. Being in a smaller place also probably played a part.

We used a pill that made them jump off of him and die. We kept using frontline, kept vacuuming, used a powder to kill them and then would vacuum. We also used some DE, which may or may not have helped. Eventually, knock wood, they died. We are still using frontline every OTHER month.

And the diet, still a struggle.

More Melt-Downs, Cat Problems and My Response to a So Called Friend’s Comment

I’ve had a series of shitty days and last night was another melt down.
I’m still adjusting to living in an apartment and having a cat who can’t go outside any longer.

I feel bad for him because he went from one place to another overnight and the place we came from was a place where he could safely be outside as much as he wanted.

However, as bad as I feel for him, I’m equally annoyed by him and his behavior.

Last night I was doing a meditation as part of the healing program I’ve been doing and just as I began to really get into a deep state, the cat started crying loudly at my closed door. Even though I had a fan going I could still hear him. I also leaned over to put my white noise machine on, already agitated as hell, but could still hear him outside the door.

UGH!!! I shot up from my sitting position and punched the top of a nearby shelving unit.

The night before, the cat had been in my room while I was lying down, trying to get settled in, watching an ASMR video. At first I had the door open, but Mr B was in the kitchen making a bunch of noise and had both kitchen and dining room light on. In this apartment, if my bedroom door is open, the lights shine in. So with the cat still in here, I shut the door. But soon after I got comfortable the little pain in the ass was ready to leave the bedroom.

Then last night, during the point I was getting relaxed, I started smelling skunk through the window. This is not a new thing. One night when we first moved in, I was awoken at 3 am to the strongest skunk smell EVER. And this is a recurring issue, not every single night, but enough to be a problem.

Last night I’d reached my limit.

And of course Mr. B wasn’t spared either. I raged hard. Mr. B was down in the basement rearranging the corner of the basement so he could fit something on a shelf of MINE!

But I started in on him, first on the phone, then when he got back upstairs, I continued…talking about needing to find a better place for the cat to live. Being sick of the interruptions, feeling like I’m being sabotaged and needing him to stop being in the kitchen putting the dishes away after 9pm.  “I want to heal and if things continue on like this I never will.”

Even when I’m not angry at him, I talk to him like I am. I hate myself and I get caught up in that cycle of self hate, not feeling worth getting to the place of healing and then self sabotage with junk food.

So there’s all that and then there’s the issue with losing internet connection randomly here…a problem I didn’t deal with at the old house often at all. (I need the internet for the work I’m doing.) So that’s got me feeling like the proverbial shoe is dropping and the universe is conspiring to stop my progress.

And then earlier this evening, I saw a little black dot on a cushion on my bed, touch it to see if it’s a flea and I’ll be damned if it wasn’t. I knew the cat had fleas already and we’ve given him some Frontlne not long ago so we can’t give him more yet.

The place needs more dusting and vacuuming, although we’ve each done some.Just one more thing on the pile of shit that needs to be done. The place is still cluttered with pictures needing to be hung and I can’t be bothered. Other clutter is because of the lack of room we have for the things we need. Some of it is from things we don’t need, like a huge CD and record album collection that just sits and is never listened to. We don’t even have a turn table. But some of the other clutter issues giving the place a Fred Sanford appeal, is because we have the tiniest kitchen ever and barely any counter or cabinet space. It’s frustrating because some of those things need to be kept in the dining room. I fucking hate it.

There are other issues too but I think my point is clear.

The whole point of the above is to preface something more than just a little bothersome that I need to get out of my system.

A few hours ago I wrote on FB that it looks like we may need to re-home our cat and explained why…mostly because he’s miserable being strictly an indoor cat and that I would love to find a place where he can be outside when he wants, weather permitting, but live inside too.

This one “friend” Anna who temporarily moved out of state, commented by saying, “Our cat did better than I thought in our apartment. She did have a balcony and lots of big open windows so that probably helped. It’s illegal to let a cat walk unleashed where we were so it was what it was.” (Italics and bold mine.)

This comment pissed me off and I don’t know, maybe to someone who has no history with this woman wouldn’t be fazed. But I wanted to comment back. But I haven’t done so yet. And probably will just let it go “unliked.”

The End of a (Real) Friendship

Years ago, Anna and I were really close. We worked together and she was my best friend. We had a lot of fun together. I trusted her and I confided in her a lot of things and when I did, I trusted her completely. I never felt judged or looked down upon either.

But then one day, after I’d been over there the night before, we were on the phone and she said out of the blue something about me being jealous. I was taken completely aback and said, “What are you talking about?”

She said, “If you don’t know then I’m not gonna tell ya.”

Like WTF is that shit? There were two things I could think of as a reason she may have come to this conclusion. One, that I’d been talking to her next door neighbor/friend about joining them in tubing down the river. She could’ve thought that I was jealous of their separate friendship and not being invited to the beach with them or tubing, etc. Or two, when the next door neighbor’s daughter came over to talk to her mother for a few minutes I looked at her and felt envious about how pretty she was. And also thought to myself that she looked like Mariah Carey.

Anna would’ve had to be reading my mind to know all that though, so I wanted to hear what she thought without giving her any ammo, since she’s the one accusing me so vaguely of jealousy. But she refused.

We ended the call. I was sick. I didn’t talk to her for years after that.

Eventually we spoke and even got together soon after along with the same neighbor who’d been there the last night I’d seen my friend. I was just so excited to talk to her and see her again, I just let that last ridiculous incident go at that point.

Another time, more recently I’d been out of commission in excruciating pain with a herniated disk and no insurance. I felt that I needed PT and that would help get the disk off my sciatic nerve.

I was talking to Anna about it on the phone and also told her what I thought about PT. She insisted like a big fucking know-it-all that I would need surgery and that without surgery I’d never be OK. She came to this conclusion because this was what happened to someone else she knows.

This time I attempted to state my case, but she wasn’t having it.  Apparently in her mind, everyone who has this back problem is the same and the solution is the same for everyone. I ended the call as soon as I could.

So here’s this little comment on FB now and here’s what I want to say:
“This coming from the woman who thought I’d need surgery for my back to get better. Not everyone’s situation is the same and not everyone thinks the same as you do and you are not (contrary to what you seem to believe about yourself) always right.

We don’t have a balcony. But if we did, that would probably be a huge help. This is neighborhood where legally he COULD go outside, but I don’t want him to get flattened by a car on the busy main road we live on.

And your apartment situation ended up being very temporary now didn’t it? Whether it was planned that way or not, you moved, didn’t sell your house, hated where you moved to and now you’re back in your HOUSE. The situations are not identical.

But be that as it may, things as they are, CAN be changed IF someone wants to change them, even if it is yet another contradiction to your apparent thought process and belief system. Not everyone (like you) believes that things have to stay as they are. In fact, you are proof they don’t have to. You moved out of state, hated it and moved back. So wtf? Anna, for god’s sake, you don’t control everything and everyone and you don’t have all the answers. Get over yourself.”

How good would that feel? It would feel awesome. But it would be taken as if I was being over the top. She would not go back in her mind to think about what else may have caused me to reach my capacity for tolerance of her and just simply think it was an over the top comment to hers. If I even brought up the past shit, it would likely then be held against me on how I live in the past and that what happened then is water under the bridge and has nothing to do with what is being discussed now.

I put it out there, asking for some help in hopes of re-homing my cat because I think it would be better for him. I didn’t ask for, nor do I need your approval or permission. If you don’t like it and if you aren’t able to offer the help I’m asking for, keep your comments to yourself.

Over the top? But I didn’t mention the jealousy accusation as much as I wanted to find a way to fit it in.
Besides this response will probably just remain here. As tempting as it is to respond this way, I’m still too worried about the reaction I guess. Or that it’s too reactionary on my part. Better to be thinking more clearly once I’m on the other side of this dark time.

I’m still pissed though. I still don’t think of her as the friend she once was and given her miss know-it-all attitude, I won’t ever feel the way I once did about her, unless of course the impossible happens. (She apologizes and means it.) And since she’s a know-it-all, we all know that’s impossible.

Edit Wednesday 9/27/17: I don’t post much on FB anymore. In fact I rarely sign in.  At least that’s the way it’s been in the last few months. I find it to be a time suck.

My behaviors during this time: I’m still dealing with this. But I am in DBT now and hoping that it helps more than trying to stop the behaviors on my own. It’s difficult to do on your own…at least in my experience. At the time, although I still have problems, the agitation was intense. And I think it had a lot to do with the stress I was dealing with at the time and is likely connected to the exhaustion of my adrenals. Big stressors are not something I tolerate well.

Not making excuses.

I’ve gotten to the point that the littlest things stress me intensely and there is a physiological component to it.  I had still not recovered from the move. And then the card from my mother also had a deep effect on me. As I edit this, I am 9 days away from my birthday again. I know that I am in a rock and hard place situation when it comes to this time of year. It sucks if my mother sends a card and it sucks if she doesn’t.  I’m not looking forward to any of it.

Dilemma: Advice? (No longer necessary. Besides I think comments are closed :)

My father was in radio in his younger days and he wrote copy. He used to cut out pictures from newspapers and type up funny cartoon balloons to put over politicians’ heads and glue or tape them onto typing paper. He wrote funny poetry, poetry based on current events and in fact posted those current events poems to a blog.

He kept all of these things (including his blog posts printed out) in binders and I now have them all.

I remember after my father died, my sister ended up with them and I found this out because my brother called me to say he wanted one of the poems (actually a song)from one of the binders, so he could put music to it for my father’s memorial. Ironically it was a poem/song about his home.

My brother called me asking to get it from my sister.(?) (Memory is fuzzy). There was a good reason for this but I don’t remember what.

Anyway, this is how I found out about the binders in the first place (or actually reminded of them) and I immediately wanted to see them and go through them.

I asked my sister about them and was eventually able to get them. I felt anxious about this and remember keeping on her for a couple weeks until we were able to meet up at her house so I could get them. She’d promised things in the past and hadn’t followed through and I didn’t want that to happen in this situation. Emotions were high but hidden at that point in time as well. And I felt sort of slighted when it came to the distribution of certain things already.

So I wanted to make sure I got these binders.

But now I want them out.

I would prefer someone have them than just take them to Goodwill or dump them in some dumpster somewhere though.

But the person I think is the appropriate person to give them to, I no longer wish contact with.

My brother.

There is a place I know I could leave them so that he can get them and I don’t have to see him. But I would still have to make contact with him in the form of email to tell him that if he wants the binders he can pick them up at that address.

I have his email blocked but I think I can still email him and then not even see a reply from him if he were to even do so.

Mr. B has said that he will take the binders to this place for me, so once they are there, I can email my brother and he can go get them.

But I’m really mixed about contacting him. I’m completely clear on getting rid of these binders and have thought that I could probably keep them stored until I feel stronger and then offer them to my brother. But…

Mr. B and I moved out of the house we were renting from his sister. The house is completely empty (except stuff in the garage) and not on the market yet. But will be soon. And I would like to put the binders on the porch of the house so my brother can just swing by and pick them up. This keeps my father’s writing in my brother’s possession (if he wants them) but also keeps me from seeing him without coming to my current place of residence.

However, he will know that I don’t live there anymore. And I’m not sure he would get into trying to find where I do live, which is still in the general area, but I would prefer not to stir the possibility of that up.

I would love some advice. What would you do?

This is a dilemma for me because of the value I see in my father’s writing and other things he put together. But I was abused intensely, by my siblings and mother during my father’s terminal illness three years ago, so this is why I’m torn about contacting my brother.

Any input would be appreciated. Some angle I haven’t looked at, etc.

Edit Wednesday 9/27/17: I still have the binders. I decided I didn’t want to stir up any bees nest by emailing or contacting my brother in any way. If this is the first post you’ve read and don’t know the story, the reason for wanting to be rid of the binders of my father’s stuff is because he was abusive of me in childhood and beyond.
There is conflict. I wanted them at first and then I was overcome with feelings of wanting to be rid of something so heavy to carry around. They are stored in the garage so as you can see I refrained from dumping them as well. I’ll keep them for now. I hold creativity dear and value it a lot. So input is no longer necessary.