Tailgaters Suck Ass

This happens to me all the time and I’m no granny driver.

However, I do become one in a 15 mile school zone when the lights are flashing. But despite the school zone, it never fails that I get a fucking asshole tail gater. I swear I’m a magnet for these dicks. And I’m sick of it.

Today, one came creeping up from quite a distance and never should have caught up to me if he’d been doing the speed limit.  I was right in front of the school the zone was in and this guy was in my trunk.

The next thing that happens is the guy behind him lays on his horn.

Like tell me WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK is wrong with these people.

It’s a school zone. Kids are everywhere, including crossing the road we’re on.

How the fuck do I stop these assholes who do this from pissing me off? It ruins my entire day and I’m ready to go sit at a bar and get trashed.

I hate this area. Aggressive drivers are everywhere and tailgating is a major problem around here. Even when you’re not a granny driver.

(No offense to grannies or slow drivers. I prefer to do the speed limit myself. But much of the time when you do that around here, you get run off the road or majorly and aggressively tailgated.)

I just wanna know how do I get it to stop making me so angry?

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Email From My Mother

I just checked my email for the first time in a little while. And found an email from my mother with the subject line reading, “???”

I debated only for a moment whether to open it or not.

I did.

She wants to know if the email address is still valid and if it’s one she can communicate with me through.

I haven’t answered. I am shaking. I am confused and don’t know how or even whether to reply.

In my heart I don’t want to sever all ties. And I certainly don’t want this to be about the subject she emailed me about. Her will. .

It needs to be changed to follow the laws and guidelines of the state she moved to.

She wrote, …although I do not plan on dying soon…” (“I need to update blah, blah, blah.”)

I admit, I was happy to read that she is OK and that statement hints to the fact that she is well.

The email is dated 5/22 and today is the 26th. I just got it this minute. She started by saying that she wants to make sure that my email is indeed the same before sending a more detailed message. That may or may not have something to do with her will.

I worry that responding will open up a gate for her to send numerous messages. And as much as I’d like to deny it, I fear that my response will make her think that despite my no contact, that I want to be sure I’m included in the will.

I have often wondered how it will be when she passes. If I will go to the funeral. Or if she becomes ill before she passes, will I go to her? Will it be right for me to go to her?

I miss a lot of things about her and I can feel the wanting of her approval right now.

I’m stuck and not sure what move to make and if I do write her back, if I should just tell her yes, this is still my email address or if I should just tell her to write me out if that makes her more comfortable, considering the circumstances.

It seems like it might be the right thing to do. But then I also feel like I’ve relinquished myself, bowed out, sacrificed myself enough.

Even if I did write back and tell her to write me out, I don’t want it to sound or seem like I’m being a martyr about it.

I’m noticing right now that I’m feeling the desire to relinquish right now. Just throw my hands up and give in. Just forget this whole no contact thing, at least with her.

I felt a disappointment and coldness in the email, despite little words. I feel that pull to stop her feelings of disappointment and possibly frustration of my stance.

I feel so pathetic.

Update: Already, I said, ‘Fuck it.” And sent a quick response to let her know it’s still my email address. That is all I said.

I am now at the point of going ahead and laying it all out. Clearing up her confusion as to why I don’t want to talk to her or see her.

When I hear from her I feel like I’m the bad one.

When I think about laying it all out, I have confused feelings about it.

Why bother? I’ve attempted explanations before and have been fooled into believing she understood only to be stabbed in the heart.

Fool me once and all that you know.

This sense of guilt that maybe I’m wrong and should just lay the shit aside and just be in her life.

Shadows in the Dark

At the in-between, just before complete sleep, sometimes I am visited by a shadow. It comes after me. It wraps itself around me, smothering and engulfing me. It doesn’t want me to get away. It scares me. I want out of its grip.

I fight to wake myself up as I know it’s the only way to escape. But it’s like I’m trapped, sort of. And it feels like attempting to get to the surface from a very dark depth of an ocean. Ocean of fear.

I try to scream and yell knowing the noise from my own voice will awaken me, but no sound comes. And I push to hear myself again.

There are times I’ve actually been able to get the sound out and as it escapes my lips, I awaken, beating heart in my chest. Other times, I have to continue the fight to open my eyelids, feeling desperate to get away from the ‘demon’ yet my body wants to continue its slumber.

It’s a battle between mind and body. And when mind wins out and I pull myself out, my heart beat is intense against my chest while simultaneously, there is a sense of relief.

Another small battle ensues as my mind is frightened but my body pulls me back to sleep.

Frustrated and Stuck

I hate that my words aren’t flowing. My mind is like a car, with a bad transmission.  So many thoughts, so many emotions. But the words won’t come. And if they do, it’s a few then they stop.

I don’t know if I’m trying too hard for an audience that may or may not be there or if I’m genuinely stuck on how to express everything that’s inside me.

In addition, I am overwhelmed and it seems that so much floods in all at once. How do I keep up?

When I go to write, my mind stalls and it doesn’t come out as eloquently as it seemed in my head.

It’s like a tall, thick, stone wall in my way.

Losing

I watched a movie this morning called, “Young Adult” starring Charlize Theron. It’s been billed as a comedy.

The front of the cover of the DVD I took out of the library has a couple quotes on it. One says, “Ferociously  Refreshing!” Which I would change to “Ferociously Depressing.”

And the other says, “Charlize Theron is a Comic Force of Nature.” Which I would replace with Charlize Theron is quite talented at playing a married-man chaser.”

No judgment though because I’ve done that myself.

I’m not sure, maybe I’m missing something here but this movie was sad.

The saddest thing about the character and the movie is that I relate in many ways.

Charlize plays a 37 year old ghost-writer of a young adult fiction series. She decides to go back to her small home town to chase down her high school sweetheart after receiving an email announcement of the birth of his new baby.

They meet up for a drink and talk. Mavis convinces herself he’s not happy and further deludes herself that she can win him back despite his marriage.

Mavis has a little dog that she neglects for the most part and I found myself wondering when the last time was she’d fed the poor little thing.

There wasn’t a lot of time spent in character building and there was a lot left to assume although the writer and director tried to fill in the blanks with dialogue, which worked pretty well.  But if I hadn’t known a lot of what could be behind the obvious dysfunction and toxicity, I may very well have been lost.

What I relate to:
-It’s painfully obvious that Mavis is not fulfilled, despite the success she has had in moving away from her small town.

I don’t consider myself a success at all but I am more than familiar with the lack of fulfillment, aka: emotional emptiness and the feeling of not being loved or even liked sometimes.

-She is self absorbed, determined to get what she wants (her married ex) despite who it hurts.

I chased a married guy 8 years ago. (I can’t believe it’s been that long.) The difference between Mavis and I though, is that the married guy and I hooked up. I was told he was planning a divorce, but getting into all that right now would require too much detail and besides, it just sounds like excuses.  I went after him because I was lonely, bored and needed some excitement. It’s that fucking simple.

-At a couple points in the movie, we see that Mavis has trichotillomania. She picks at her hair one evening while eating dinner with her parents. In that same scene, she lets them know that she thinks herself to be an alcoholic. Both of these issues are minimized and denied by her parents.

Despite not having trich, I have experienced tons of minimization in other behaviors of mine that indicate/d being in need of help. And being a binge drinker, I’d say I have a problem with alcohol. I just prefer to alter my consciousness because life is painful with very little satisfaction. Alcohol is not the only way I’ve done that.

-Mavis’ writing.

This gets tricky. I relate to her being a writer because I do it here, would like to do it for a living and I do actually think I’m pretty good at it. But I feel stuck. Stuck in needing to purge all the anger and sadness, the wasted time, but also the good times and the insights.

However, I feel lazy about it. It’s so much work to include all the detail. It gets difficult to organize my thoughts, to make sense to an outsider. The perfectionism gets in the way and much of the time I just want to run away from the feeling. So I distract myself with something else.

Then there’s the overwhelm that comes over me. Because when I find the urge to write, I also find that there is so much to say. So much back story. So much detail. Too much to make sense of in words and I think, “Maybe I should just sit here and feel what’s coming up.”

It can be good at times, but in my case, there’s much avoidance involved.  It’s just easier not to write about it.

My writing is a bit rough around the edges and I’m actually intimidated (I guess you could say) as well as just down on myself, feeling like I’m not as good as others. This despite feeling like I’m a pretty decent writer.

I’m tired of writing about my feelings about writing. But it did come up in this movie, billed as a comedy that I did not find funny at all. The character portrayed was a sad, unfulfilled woman whose parents reminded me a bit of my own. Neglectful of the needs of their daughter.

Towards the end of the movie, Mavis has an outburst at the baby-naming ceremony for the baby of her ex and his wife.  Mavis’ parents show up at the point just in time to intervene.

It reminded me of my parents in a way…too little to late. Coming in for the rescue they have no idea of how to follow through on.

One morning while I still lived at home, the last house we all lived together in, I was ready to leave for work. I had been thinking about wearing my long black leather coat that day, but when I went to get it from the closet it wasn’t there.

The only explanation for it was that my sister had taken and worn it herself…without asking me.

So much had already built up. Shit I don’t feel I can get across well enough to give it the justice it deserves. My little sister had become an entitled little bitch who seemed to think she was the only one who mattered. Anything that was mine, she was apparently felt justified to take it if she was so inclined.

I had a huge melt down that morning. So intense my parents stood on either side of me as I wept and screamed at the door of my closet. Screaming how sick of my sister I was and how it was always all about her with no thought to anyone else.

At that point in time though, I should’ve been out of the house. I should have been living on my own where my sister couldn’t get at my leather coat or anything else that belonged to me.

But you know what, I was old enough in age but emotionally I was still 12. I had no idea what to do to get out on my own. I had no idea what it took. I worked but I threw my money away on escapes.

Drinking, cigarettes, pot and travel to see my long distance boyfriend. I lived in the present and had no clue how to plan or prepare for the future.

My parents never jumped in to teach me either. I was completely on my own to figure it out.

I never did. This is Mavis too, despite the differences, she and I have a lot in common. There was nothing funny about this movie.

While I Waited

While I Waited

That day while I was waiting
For once it wasn’t raining.

So I took that time
To go inside
As I sat under a tree
Ready for whatever that ride
Had in store for me

Within I dove
And there I found
The truth of how
my heart was ground
to resemble powdered glass

I could clearly see
That lovely day
To my vulnerability

It wasn’t simply
Here and now
Your advantage I’d allow

Every day I’d fear
Your absence
And I’d begun to disappear

The sun shone through
As I waited
And it was then
that I drew

My conclusion.

Stages of Grief and a Good Break Down of Behaviors and Feelings

I decided to go back and list the stages of grief the way the author of Healing the Child Within has broken them down in his book. Obviously he didn’t create the stages but he has added some interesting behaviors, I’m guessing upon his own observations.

Once I take this book back to the library, I want to be able to refer to this and use it in my healing and recovery process because I can look back or even see myself now behaving in some of these ways in stage 2.

Stage 1: Shock, alarm and denial.

Stage 2: Acute grief, consisting of:
Continuing, intermittent and lessening denial.
Physical and psychological pain and distress.
Contradictory pulls, emotions and impulses.

Searching behavior composed of:
-Preoccupation with thoughts of the loss, a compulsion to speak of the loss and to retrieve that which was lost, a sense of waiting for something to happen, aimless wandering and restlessness, a feeling of being lost, of not knowing what to do, inability to initiate any activity, a feeling that time is suspended, disorganization and  a sense that life can never be worthwhile again, confusion and feelings that things are not real, fear that all the above indicate mental illness.

-Crying, anger, guilt, shame.

-Identifying with traits, values, symtoms, tastes or characteristics of the lost object.

-Regression and return to behaviors and feelings of an earlier age or connected with a previous loss or reactions thereto.

-Helplessness and depression, hope or hopelessness, relief.

-Decrease in pain and increasing capacity to cope over time.

-A drive to find meaning in the loss.

-Beginning thoughts of a new life without the lost object.

Stage 3: Integration of the loss and grief.
If the outcome is favorable:
Acceptance of the reality of the loss and return to physical and psychological well being, diminished frequency and intensity of crying, restored self-esteem, focus on the present and future, ability to enjoy life again, pleasure at awareness of growth from the experience, reorganization of a new identity with restitution for the loss and loss remembered with poignancy and caring instead of pain.

If the outcome is unfavorable:
Acceptance of the reality of the loss with lingering of depression and physical aches and pains, of lower self-esteem, reorganization of a new identity with constriction of personality and involvement and vulnerability to other separations and losses.

Note: Grieving isn’t linear.

Salad, Hair Ties and Black Trash Bags

I was standing at the tiny counter in the kitchen of the last house my family and I lived in together.  There was plenty of counter space in that kitchen, but there was this floor cabinet that held our eating utensils and it had a small counter on top.

I was making a salad after having cleaning some lettuce. I’d put it into a salad spinner to store in the fridge and then as I pulled lettuce out of it for myself, the spinner turned into a large black plastic trash bag.

Kim Kardashian walked by and the lettuce turned into button down long sleeve dress shirts with crazy designs.

I seem to remember some confusion and frustration but the confusion wasn’t as strong as the frustration pertaining to how the shirts just kept coming and coming.

After this, as I still stood at the counter, still trying to make a salad, taking longer than it should, my sister stood across from me and we were talking. The wind started blowing hard then, through the kitchen window. It was to my right, above the stove. My hair blew all over the place, making it difficult to keep it out of my face.

My sister asked, “Do you have a hair tie?”

I said, “I do, but I don’t know exactly where they are.” And I began rummaging through something on our small table in the kitchen…with no luck in finding a hair tie.

I didn’t want to go downstairs to my bedroom (I had a custom built bedroom in the basement of this house for a while) because I didn’t want my sister to get distracted and not come back to our convo.

I went around into the living room (sister in tow) and looked in a desk that was right there on the wall opposite the kitchen. (IRL, the desk wasn’t really there but on another wall in the living room.)

My sister and I were still talking about hair ties and finding one.But she also asked me something about a salad…I think she asked if there was more lettuce and I took it to mean she wanted a salad. So I went back to the kitchen and reached in the back to check for the spinner.

Then I went downstairs to look for a hair tie, while she took a look in her room down the hall.

In my room, I looked inside a wooden box on top of my dresser. (A tall chest of drawers and the box was a handmade wood box I use for jewelry.) I had to dig to the bottom of the right, back corner before I found one.

My sister appeared at my door-way while I was pushing through all the clutter inside the box and asked if I’d found one.

I pulled out two. One yellow and one black. I chose the yellow one and started putting my hair up in a pony tail. But then, what was supposed to be the hair tie became a red powder that I smeared onto a pane of glass that was upright and leaning against on wall.

After this weirdness I turned to look at the room. I was a guest and was going to sleep in this room. I walked through and mentioned that I needed to find my futon and it was then I realized how late it was and how disorganized I was. And that I had no idea where any of the sleeping material was.  I was also feeling tired and finding something to sleep on felt urgent but I didn’t show it.

By this time, my brother was down there with us too. After I’d talked about sleeping in that room and finding my futon, I turned to see a huge pile of big black trash bags that I knew were full of my brother’s stuff.

I said, “I’m sleeping in here.”

My sister left the basement, going back upstairs and it was just my brother and me.

It’s not clear what he replied but the way he replied was calm. He said something along the lines of needing to put his stuff in there but it’s not necessary for him to sleep in there.

He made a funny but martyr-like comment in a very calm and non-confronting, non-aggressive tone with a really gentle look on his face.

We knew we weren’t the only guests in the house and space was limited. (Remember the Kim K. kitchen walk through?)

I said to my brother, “I don’t mind sleeping in the same room with you. We can just put our beds far away from each other.” (Something along those lines. My exact wording isn’t clear to me now.)

In this dream, I was aware of the tension but my two siblings didn’t seem to be. I didn’t feel afraid of them or nervous. I didn’t even feel fake or like I was forcing myself to be ‘nice.’ Being in each other’s flowed and the interaction came naturally, like it used to. There was no elephant in the room and we were just ‘normal’ siblings.

I also had this strange sense that what happened between us then (whatever was going on in the dream) had the power to dictate how we behaved toward each other in the future.

 

 

Personal Bill of Rights

The list below is from the book Healing the Child Within. I left a few out at the end because I didn’t really like them for this blog.

-I have numerous choices in my life beyond mere survival.

-I have a right to discover and know my Child Within.

-I have a right to grieve over what I didn’t get that I needed or what I got that I didn’t need or want.

-I have a right to follow my own values and standards.

-I have a right to say no to anything when I feel I am not ready, it is unsafe or violates my values.  (I’m adding: I have a right to say no for any reason I see fit.)

-I have a right to dignity and respect.

-I have a right to make decisions.

-I have a right to determine and honor my own priorities.

-I have the right to have my needs and wants respected by others.

-I have the right to terminate conversations with people who make me feel put down and humiliated.

-I have the right not to be responsible for others’ behavior, actions, feelings or problems.

-I have the right to make mistakes and don’t have to be perfect.

-I have a right to all my feelings.

-I have a right to be angry at someone I love.

-I have a right to be uniquely me, without feeling I’m not good enough.

-I have a right to feel scared and say, “I am afraid.”

-I have the right to experience and then let go of fear, guilt and shame.

-I have a right to make decisions based on my feelings, my judgment or any reason that I choose.

-I have a right to change my mind at any time.

-I have the right to be happy.

-I have the right to my own personal space and time needs.

-It’s OK to be relaxed, playful and frivolous.

-I have the right to change and grow.

-I have the right to be open to improve communication skills so that I may be understood.

-I have a right to make friends and be comfortable around people.

-I have a right to be in a non-abusive environment.

-I can be healthier than those around me.

-I can take care of myself, no matter what.

-I have the right to grieve over actual or threatened losses.

Here’s a few of my own:
-I have the right to not forgive.
-I have the right to proceed with caution.
Conversely:
-I have the right to forgive.
-I have the right to trust.

What rights do you declare for yourself?

Are there any you don’t like above and if so why?