An Update

I’ve gotten so far away from my blogging that it seems ridiculous to even write this. But I’m feeling so restless I feel like I need to write something.

I don’t think I’m going to keep this blog as just for dreams like I had planned and decided just a little while ago. This indecisiveness is what keeps me from blogging in the first place, which is so frustrating to me.

I have started so many blogs on this account as well as a lot of others, both here on wordpress and on blogger. It’s rather insane to be quite honest.  I am compelled to hide, to keep myself from being real and honest. I am terrified of being real.

I think I realized this before now, but the longer I stay away from blogging the more it floats to the surface for me to see.

I have started so many blogs on this account and others. Both at wordpress and blogger. It’s kind of pathetic. But more than that, it’s anxiety producing.

I have tried to tell myself that it’s to separate categories. This is how blogging works if you want both readers and to make money from blogging.

But I get scared about having readers. I am terrified of judgment and being real. It’s weird because I’ve been real here. I

 

So before I elaborate more on what I wrote above, I want to address the fact that I was supposed to have designated this blog to posting and working out my dreams.

Well it’s not working out so well. When I’d made that ‘decision’ I was beginning to have vivid dreams and they were easy to write about, explain and even attempt at interpretation. Not that I mind a challenge.

But lately, the dreams have been very jagged, for lack a better word to explain them. I can remember so very little of them and there’s a bunch of them through the night, it’s difficult to figure out how to write them out, at least for others to read.

The other issue is that, as usual, I’m back and forth. I have changed my mind about this blog many times and have thought abut putting all the old stuff back up. It’s all still here. Those posts are just marked private or draft.

Indecisiveness is true killer. I don’t know exactly what has come over me. I was writing here so well and not worrying about judgment so much and then all of a sudden I started worrying.  I don’t even know why. It’s not like anyone said or did anything here. So many of the comments I’ve received here have been so helpful and so valuable in helping me with insight. So WTF???

Now I’ve been away so long, I don’t know how to or if I want to kick start it back up again.

I’ve been organizing all my posts from this blog and others though, not online. To try to see the categories that I’ve written in/about. I’m in a way trying to get to know something about myself by doing this. And hopefully to be more organized (which seems to be very important to me even though I can’t seem to get there) in my blogging and writing.

Of most importance for organizing, is the incident(s) that happened with my family when my father was dying. I’d like to tell that story in an organized fashion. I don’t even think all details were written here, even scattered throughout what posts I did write about it.

I still am not sure what exactly I’m doing yet with all this, but at some point I’d like to say that I’ll be back. I just don’t know when or exactly how right now.


 

Why I Would Now Rather Be a Lousy Cook

I have an understanding as to why and how my mother could’ve been such a shitty cook when I was a child.

When you’re stuck with a man who acts like a child, who does things to indicate that he doesn’t appreciate the time and effort you put into it, the last thing you want to do is show him love.

And cooking, making good, tasty and healthy food is love, it’s an expression of love.

Some men just don’t deserve it.

Done with the Health Food Store

The plan right now is to say goodbye to the health food store I’ve been patronizing for at least a couple decades. It’s disappointing but I need to find a way to make a statement. I know it won’t make much of an impact on their business but it’s the only thing we can really do.

First of all, with PTSD, I am utterly freaked out by all the people walking around in masks right now. Even before it became “mandatory” (which in reality it is not), many folks already believed the MSM narrative and started wearing muzzles, er…I mean masks.

The Friday before the mask reinforcement, B and I went to this health food store together. This place is run by Christians. Sweet, practicing Christians who seemed to genuinely care about everyone who walked through the doors of the establishment.  I loved it there. I would drive over there on some days just to feel a sigh of relief from the calm energy inside.  The quiet relaxing music that played over the speakers would calm me. The friendly employees and helpful service was like walking through a portal into another dimension, away from the angry, rushing, tailgating, dense population that is rampant in the county I live in.

But that oasis is no more.

In the last 10 years, there’s been a manager there that I didn’t really like, but meh, it was really  no big deal. She and her loudness was a small blip in the bigger picture that was still a calm environment, despite her presence.

I still always cringed if I had a return and she had to be the one to process it. She would say things that felt really intimidating if I was returning something that had been opened. I don’t mind giving the reason for the return, but can we keep the transaction between the two of us please? The entire store doesn’t need to know about it.

B and I went to the store together the Friday before  the muzzle wearing was to be enforced and waited in a short line to be let in.

Not long into our shopping, we were approached by  loud-mouth manager who announced to us that if it’s possible for just one person to do the shopping while the other waits in the car, that would allow for more people to be let in to shop.  She said, “It’s not mandatory, but I’m just putting that out there.”

Sounds like a strongly suggested guilt trip but that’s me.

B went ahead out to the car and I continued shopping. But now I was alone in a sea of masks and the loud mouth manager weaving through the aisles and making sure everyone was ‘behaving.’

When I was finished shopping, I ended up standing in the wrong place to wait for the register. When loud-mouth manager saw me, in an amplified tone, letting me know I was standing in the wrong spot.

I did actually know the spot to stand in, because they’d had it set up like that for a couple weeks already and I’d been in there since then.  But I’d forgotten at that moment, with all the chaos going on. I really thnk she made things more stressful and chaotic because she comes across so intimidating.

I’m not against being guided, but this place went from being my sanctuary to being utter chaos and seemingly run by gestapo.

When I got home, I called and asked for a manager to talk to about the exemption in the governor’s new “order” about masks.

Loud-mouth was the only manager on duty still and so she came to the phone.

She let me know that the mask order would be enforced with no exception…despite it being written in the order itself.  When I pressed her about the exception/exemption, she basically shamed me for even asking.

So B has been shopping there for us and today was the last straw for me in reference to spending our money there. He told me that he was reprimanded and “YELLED AT” for standing in an aisle too long!

The aisle was the one with the eggs. They have many types of eggs brought in from a variety of different farms.  And he was looking specifically for eggs from hens NOT FED SOY. You have to look for that label. Most of them are fed soy. So looking for soy free takes some looking and reading.  So ‘too long’ would be subjective.

She has reached bully status at this point and they can take their loud-mouth bully tactics and shove them.

We’ll need to sacrifice some of the stuff we get from there, but we can still get stuff straight from one of the farms they deal with.  And there is a co-op less than a mile down the road from them that gets some of the same foods brought in, so I’ll look into that option.

They probably won’t care about my opinion. I’m one customer. They have been in business in this area for 150 years. I’m but a blip to them. But when I calm down and am not as angry as I am, I will get in touch either by phone or letter to one of the owners.

But something tells me he knows what she’s doing and how she’s behaving.  I may not shop there ever again so it is just one more thing to mourn through this BS.

Mothers’ Day/Feeling Vulnerable

I spoke to my mother for the first time since the end of 2018 I think it was.

I called her to simply wish her a happy mother’s day and keep it all on the surface, not getting into anything emotional. I knew that just calling her would drain me emotionally so I resolved myself to keep it at a more intellectual level.

I even thought, you know, maybe I can do this and not worry about resolving anything. I mean, she made it pretty clear last time that she isn’t really capable of it.

So there I was, before I had much time to even think about it, calling her on our land line and even expecting her not to answer. But she did and she seemed happy as well as surprised to hear from me.

We talked for at least an hour before anything that falls under the ‘elephant in the room’ was brought up and guess what! It wasn’t even me that brought it up.

Well, kind of.

We’d been talking a little about my siblings and I’d asked if they were still not talking to each other.  It turns out they are and from there she asked me if I was in contact with either or both of them.

Well with that, the emotions are difficult to curb and I even said that this brings us dangerously close to exactly what I didn’t want to get into in this phone call.

But I found myself explaining my feelings again, the abuse and bullying and the betrayal, including her part in it.

She seemed to validate, acknowledge and she even apologized! Which took me by surprise.  However, last time we talked, after we’d hung up, I had something else come up for me, something that hit me like a ton of bricks. I had realized that I had felt insignificant to her, in the midst of my siblings and I caring for my dying father.

And when I emailed to tell her that, her response was quite dismissive and illustrated that she had not understood what I’d said to her during our phone conversation.

So after this time, even though it seemed to go well, I still don’t trust that she truly and authentically understands and I know putting myself out there to her, yet again, is a big risk.

She invited me to visit again, when all this crazy ‘rona shit lets up. She has invited me every time she’s had the opportunity, offering to pay my air fare. So I have to admit that makes me feel good.

This time though I think I was more clear than last time about where I was at, concerning any sort of relationship. I said yeah, we can talk about it, but let me have some time, absorb this conversation and we’ll see how it goes.

I want to go. I want to visit her in Florida so much. I haven’t been out of my state in years. I also miss my mother.

I don’t know if this is going to work out. It hasn’t so far. I don’t know if she is capable of talking more or further. She said she is, but she said that before and she wasn’t too receptive when I attempted shortly after.

However, last time she didn’t apologize. This time she did. Last time she fell so short of validating my experience. This time, she was very validating.  So when she said to me, “I’m glad we got a chance to talk through some stuff and (something like) we can work through more in the future.”

My thought was, “Well you said that last time and that didn’t work out so well.”  But I didn’t say it, because, at least for today, it feels like a better outcome.

There were some disappointments within the conversation. Some things we didn’t agree on that I wasn’t as prepared to prove differently in reference to the ‘growing up’ environment.  But I also have to realize that she has her own perspective and certainly her own baggage.  She seems to think that the three of us were raised the same way, at least for the most part.  I differ in that opinion and said a few things about my take on it, which she listened to.  But then I thought of other things that proves that wrong.  And that’s where I think listening to and hearing her perspective is important.  I mean after all, there were interactions among us three that she wasn’t present for.  And when she says that I think she is thinking things like, where we went to school, how much money they spent on us for clothes, birthdays and Christmas.

I of course want to go deeper on that topic and think our experiences were pretty different, despite the attempts fairness on both parents’ parts.

I was just satisfied to know that she seems to be open and receptive to hearing what I have to say.

We’ll see. It was nice to talk to her. I do miss her. But for my own self-protection, I can’t get my hopes up too high and I think I should be prepared for disappointment.

Happy mothers’ day to all my motherly friends out there.

Richard Grannon-How to Shrink the Inner Critic Using Techniques from Pete Walker and His Book CPTSD From Surviving to Thriving

There are two parts to this. Part one on top and part two is under it. Even if you don’t think it will help you in regards to CPTSD/PTSD, give a listen anyway. Richard has got a lot of great content on Youtube and has struggled with and also done a lot of his own healing in regards to trauma. He is easy on the central nervous system, meaning he’s calm and easy to listen to. As a bonus, he’s got a British accent.

If you want to check out his other stuff, I linked his channels below these videos.

 

 

This channel: Richard Grannon Fortress Mental Health Protection focuses on exercises and things you can actually do to help with healing yourself. This is the channel I got the above videos from.

This channel: Richard Grannon Spartan Life Coach is his main channel and the one I originally found back in I think 2013 I think it was. Lots of good stuff to just listen to there.

This channel: Richard Grannon Philosophy
I think was meant for his philosophical talks, which has posted some of that there, but I think he just kind of posts there when he thinks to. Plus there is some duplicate material there from the above channels.

Dear Alumni…?

As I held an envelope in my hand earlier today, I read a typed return address that I didn’t recognize. Although it looked a little like junk mail, there was something about it that didn’t quite look like something I should discard before opening it.

So that’s what I did…Opened it.

Before I even started reading, I noticed the name of the Catholic school that I didn’t go to and when I looked at the line that said, “Dear Alumni,” I thought, “This came to the wrong person.”

Then I noticed the name of the (Catholic) school I had attended, was also in the first sentence, “As an alumnus of (Name of school) and (Name of school), you are part of our legacy alumni…”

It goes on to talk about  memories being different from year to year and the traditions varying. Apparently there’s an association (or board) that runs both schools. I never knew.

I grew up in a little town called Media…for the most part, anyway.

For a few years, from the ages of 6-10, I lived in a town next to Media called Wallingford. However even in the years I lived in Wallingford, I still went to the school in Media and attended that same school from first through eighth grade.

I hated it.

Since we lived right in the town where that other school was, we drove by it often. I used to look at it as we passed it and think, “I wonder what it’s like there? I wonder if the kids are nice? I wonder if the teachers are nice?” I just “knew” that it must be different than what I was experiencing.

So within the letter that I received today, the person who signed it, (the new principal) says she’d love to hear from me.

“Oh really,” I thought sarcastically.

One of the things she said she wants from me, is to share some memories.  Okay, to be fair, she uses the word “favorite” to describe the memories she wants to hear about, but I can’t help but feel snarky when I think about responding to her.

I wonder if she’d welcome hearing about the abusive nun I had in first grade, who pulled pony tails and ears in front of the whole class. If homework wasn’t done correctly or wasn’t done at all, watch out. That shit hurt.  That little demon wasn’t much taller than us six year olds, but I was terrified of her. Not only was the hair and ear pulling painful, it was humiliating to be abused in front of classmates.

In eighth grade (age 13) I was laughed at sometimes for how I looked. And if I got the wrong answer when called on, I could usually hear one of the popular boys, mumble from the corner of his mouth the mean nickname they’d all assigned me. That nick name basically meant ‘stupid.’  It was more humiliation. And it tore down what little self confidence I already had.

So no. “FAVORITE memories??? Nah.

And then the punch line of this letter was to ask for a donation.

Shaking my head and laughing my ass off.

I Get So Irritated, Annoyed and Angry At This

So just a few minutes ago, I found a crusty dish that B had eaten from and (supposedly) washed.

This is a common and ongoing occurrence. For some time now, I have found greasy, crusty and obviously still dirty dishes in the cabinets.  We don’t have a dish washer and both B and I do dishes. Well that’s how it used to be.

Since it’s just the two of us, I am usually aware of what dishes I’ve done and which he’s done.

This is something that has transpired only in the last few years. It used to be that he had no problems with washing dishes at all and in fact he was better at it than I was, once upon a time.  But not anymore. Oh, he still stands at the sink and runs a soapy wash cloth over any dish that may be on the counter next to the sink or in the sink. But I’ve gotten into the habit that if I don’t want to do them until I’m finished eating, I’ll tell him to just leave the shit there.

I have remedied the issue a lot by serving our food in dishes that are designated as either mine or his. We have always had some dishes that were exclusively mine or his, but I have also not thought too much about it in the past and we’ve always just shared our dishes.

However, this time, I must’ve not finished something in one of my bowls and gave it to him to finish. And so, he washed it when he was finished.  I mean that part’s great. We’ve never had to fight over who’s doing the dishes. We’ve never had a sink full of dishes because either of us refused to do them. In fact he hates a pile of dirty dishes about as much, if not more than I do. And if I left every single dinner dish in the sink after cooking a three course meal, he’d stand at the sink and wash every single one of them.  But now, he doesn’t seem to be able to wash them correctly.

He leaves plates and bowls crusty and sometimes greasy. And this is a guy who uses much hotter water than I do. Thing is, (I’ve seen it) he doesn’t use much elbow grease, so if the plate or bowl hasn’t soaked, it doesn’t get clean. Plus, when dishes sit in the sink, they get greasy on the bottom and he seems to forget that that part of the plate/bowl/pot/pan exists. It’s really disgusting to pull out a pan to cook some burgers in and find the bottom of the pan feels like Crisco.

I admit, I’ve raged about this. That’s my issue and I hate that I do it. I am committed to stopping, hence this post. When I found the bowl all crusty just before writing this all out, I told myself, “It’s not worth getting all ragey. The only thing I accomplish when I start yelling and berating is that I ruin my day, I ruin my body and I make him feel like shit.  I don’t want to do any of that.”

Besides, it never changes anything. Even if I were to approach him calmly and say, “You know it really bothers me when I find crusty dishes and greasy pans in the cabinets. Do you think you could pay more attention and wash them correctly?”  it would change nothing.  I’ve tried that. It remains the same.

So not only do I cook because he can’t be trusted to not set the place on fire, (because he walks away from what he’s cooking even though he’s repeatedly agreed to stay with it) but now I also wash most of the dishes. He washes what he eats from because I usually serve him in his designated dishes.  This solution has been better for me because then I don’t feel the flooding of anger that overcomes me.

I’m thinking it’s a mix between an emotional flashback (check out Pete Walker’s book on CPTSD on that) and a present day frustration of feeling disregarded and unheard.

If he does wash the pan I used to cook in, after dinner because I’m too tired to give a shit, most of the time I say, “Make sure you wash the whole thing. Inside, outside and all around.” If I don’t say that, I usually find the bottom of the pan greasy, but when I do say it, I feel like I’m talking to a damn 10 year old, which makes me angry.

I find it hard to believe that someone can go from being able to do dishes really well, to leaving them crusty and greasy but also sometimes cleaning them to the point of being so shiny it was actually above and beyond.

When asking him about this, and getting a shaking head for an answer, I’ve asked, “Is it because your shoulder hurts? (He had a torn rotator cuff that he’s had surgery on but it still gives him trouble.) I’ve actually asked him about this a couple times and he says, “No. I don’t know what my problem is.”

So the conclusion I’ve come to, is the only sane thing to do is to just not say anything.

But I know I’m still angry about it because after I washed the bowl, got another (clean) one to use and then walked past his room to mine, I gave him the finger behind his back.

 

Changing Up Yet Again…I Know-I’m Indecisive

I wrote a post a bit ago saying I was changing things up to just write my dreams and maybe do some interpreting as well. But I need a place to put things out there that bother me. Not so much rant, but who knows, I won’t say it’s out of the question or anything, although it really doesn’t help me.

I’ll probably keep writing out my dreams that I think are worth writing out. And I really want to take all the old posts out of draft and just have them public again, but I just haven’t gotten there yet. Besides I’ve been a little indecisive about them and whether to move them elsewhere. But honestly, there are so many great comments that add to the content so at the moment, I’m leaning toward just leaving them here. I just have to get around to going through them all and publishing them again.

But right now, I have something else to say. I’ll make a new post for that.  I know I haven’t had much of interest to say lately, but comments are open so if you have input, I’m open to it. Just be respectful. Thanks.

Blurred Vision

It started out in some rather big building where I was supposed to be an employee. I was trying to get to a certain dining room to pressure wash the floor before my boss got in there to celebrate her birthday with certain employees. But by the time I had finished serpentining the hose and got there, my boss and her ‘pets’ were already in there. She was in fact in the midst of blowing out the candles on the birthday cake someone had brought in for her.

About ten people/employees were sitting at a cafeteria style table, helping her celebrate. She was a mix between the boss I had irl at a doctors’ office job and a ‘narcissist abuse coach’ from YouTube. (eyeroll.)

I was disappointed I had missed my window of time since I really wanted to have it done. But another woman/employee (also not included in the birthday celebration) said to me, “You could just do it when they’re finished in here.”

I remember sitting down in a chair at another table at a distance from my boss’s birthday ‘party’ then. But I really didn’t want to wait, because I had no idea how long they’d be. For all I knew it would be after quitting time before I had another chance to pressure wash that room and I didn’t want to stay late.

Next thing I knew I was looking for a cord to hook up a computer from a big distance across another large room. On one end of that room, there was this huge metal wall where all these power cords were wound up and hung on pegs. I took one down and strung it around all these cubicles to get to the person and cubicle I was looking for.  The cord was black. When I got to her and started to hook up the power cord to her computer, she had a white cord and she started to hook that one up. I was confused.

She started to explain her preference but then some guy, another employee, who was at a desk above us, said something about cordless and that what we were doing was ridiculous and outdated. He talked about some computer show to learn more.

Next thing I know, I’m at what I think is supposed to be a computer show in a rather vast room with not much around. But I’m waiting for B (my SO) to get back from something.  He appears at a distance and I can tell he wants me to walk over to him. But I want him to walk over to me. He has his mouth covered as if he is trying to stifle a laugh and cover a smile.

He eventually walks over to me and talks about wanting to go to some island (?) or some place off site that’s also supposed to be part of the show we’re at. But I’m apprehensive and I say, “Well I don’t know anything about that, I want to ask around first.”

When I ask others, they tell me things that make it obvious that it’s dangerous to  go there. I can’t remember what they said, but basically they wouldn’t trust the person running it.

Next thing I know, I’m sitting at a long table, covered in a white table cloth. The seating was really tight and I was sitting next to a man about my own age. We could see from where we were sitting, a bunch of people, taking ugly (but quality) furniture off of box trucks. They were discarding it all into a large creek.

I said to the guy next to me, “It must be nice to be able to afford to just get rid of furniture like that.”   And then he said something to me but I don’t know what. I just know I acted like I understood him. After that, I said a couple things about make-up.

Then across from us, a few girls were looking for a place to sit at the already crowded table. The guy next to me was talking about moving and putting his computer in the other room. (He had no computer in front of him.)

I didn’t say anything but I didn’t want him to move. I didn’t want to have to make room for three more people on our side of the table because we were already squeezed in there.

The three girls eventually settled in across from us/me.  I then noticed that everyone had gotten a salad but me and I was still waiting for mine. I moved around a lot in my chair, trying to act like this didn’t bother me, but it did.  One moment, no salad was there, the next, still expecting no salad, I turned my chair and body straight at my place and saw the salad right in front of me.

It was just some little pieces of iceberg, black olives, green olives and some chunks of cheese. I didn’t notice the dressing. It looked like there was none and I said, “There’s no dressing.” The one girl across from me said, “Yeah there is.”  And when I looked again, the salad was swimming in a clear liquid that looked like water, but tasted like oil and vinegar.

I made a comment back to her that I really couldn’t see it before and thought that was weird. Then I scooped up a bunch of the salad onto my fork, trying to avoid the black olives. But I think I picked one up and was trying to seeing it under all the green leaves and cheese I’d picked up.

She asked me if I had double vision and did some action with her head that was supposed to be an imitation of what she’d seen me do to get the impression that I had double vision.

I said, “I have blurred vision now.”