A Kind of Catch-22

I started blogging because I believed that purging all the pain and telling the story that my family refuses to listen to would help me heal.

Well I’m not sure that is the case anymore. Meaning I don’t know if that is true for me.

I have adrenal fatigue. And that’s from all the years of living under stress as a child. My father was as unpredictable as an alcoholic despite not being one.  When he yelled it was loud. He’d been trained to enunciate as well as project his voice. He startled me a lot as a child and also as an adult.

When I got older I worried about disappointing my mother. I was let go from a job once. When she came to pick me up and I explained to her what I was told was the reason I could see the disappointment on her face, in her eyes.

I was young when that happened and I never forgot that. I tripped over myself to keep a job so as not to disappoint her. I was terrified to miss any work even if it meant driving for miles in the snow as to not piss of my boss. I didn’t want to take any chances at all.

The last quite a few posts have been posts I wrote a long time ago on another blog I’ve set to private. So I’ve been working on transferring them over here to ST.  But it’s been difficult. Not only emotionally, although that’s a part of it. But also because it’s taking a toll on me physically.

One of the last posts I transferred had me so angry and otherwise emotional, it brought on heart palpitations. I know they could’ve been from something else and I get them anyway. It’s weird. I can go months eating like shit and not have one heart palpitation. But the minute I start eating healthy, I get them every night.

But the ones I’m pointing out specifically, were a little different and I could feel them coming on while I was writing. And why would that not make sense? My heart was breaking. It’s painful to think back on those things.

I’ve written and talked about some of the same things. I have journals piled in a drawer in my night stand. My goal was to go through them and post here anything relevant after I’ve gotten whatever I want off of private here and transferred from the other blog.

But thinking about how this is effecting my heart, my adrenals and my thought process in general, I’m thinking it might be time for me to take a break. Maybe learn more about how to heal. Because I’m not sure writing about it is healing for me anymore.

I don’t know though. I have not made a definite decision yet as to whether I will stop blogging about all this. Or whether I’ll just burn the journal pages without rereading them or tapping them out here. I just needed to write my thoughts and what I’ve been experiencing related to blogging, out. As much as my OCD and the need to organize is pulling me to keep going, it seems as though my body is in need of another way. At least for now.

I’m tired all the time. And I’m angry and agitated much of the time too. I have felt some improvement with a change in diet but it’s difficult to stick to changes when the set-point is something else. My mid-back has given me pain when standing to long for years and I noticed tonight it felt worse than ever before.

I’m tired in another way too. I feel like my family, my abusive, callous, sick family is taking up way more residence in my mind and my life than they deserve, even though they are not physically present. 

I know that blogging is a great way to bond, validate and get validated for all the pain. It’s what’s kept me going. And I’ve definitely seen improvement in myself in many ways. I’ve gotten so much insight and love. It’s why I’m on the fence.

I also don’t think everyone is effected in this way. I’ve seen people keep going and then organically evolve into other topics. But I just seem to get more tired, more beaten and more weary.

For years, I had spent time feeling like I was waiting for something to happen before I went on with my life, now I feel like I’m waiting to finish something, before I can go on with my life.  Both scenarios are like a trap.

I’ve felt trapped all my life. My home environment was a trap. School from K-9 was a trap. Other kids made me feel trapped. In fact a couple kids I thought were my friends when I was 13, tricked me when they apologized for something they’d done, then trapped me between them to bully me.

All my life I have not been able to move forward. In many ways I have not been allowed to move forward. And now even though I’ve gotten away from the bullies, the assholes and abusers, I still live in a cage.

It’s like that line from the song,

Right after the line “Heaven knows it wasn’t you who set me free” there’s an instrumental sound that used to make me turn and look at the door to my bedroom because it was the sound it made when it opened. Just another startle response. But I always loved this song.

One thing though, I’m not feeling very strong.

More on Roy and Confusion of a Young Woman

Image found on Google Images

I was thinking more about Roy and our affair, today in the car as I was driving. My usual thing is to look back on events like that and take blame and feel guilt and shame. And today when I was thinking about it, I was like, “Fuck that.”

He was older. he should have known better, he could’ve stopped himself, blah, blah, blah. This is completely out of character for me. But you know, my usual habits have not really served me all that well, so there.

I don’t really even think that stuff. I’m sure he was just as fucked up as I was. But it made me feel better to blame someone other than myself anyway. I need practice placing blame where it actually belongs and I transferred that feeling to my parents and it worked. Because when I drive my mind goes all over the place and I made that jump. The cool thing was, I didn’t feel like a horrible person for placing blame, in either scenario.

Anyway, back to Roy…and me. It’s weird the way I think about him. I don’t think about him much at all. I don’t sit around missing him and I don’t really regret what happened. I don’t even remember his last name. He was a gorgeous man I thought of as being out of my league and I had the chance to hang out with him. The sex was fun.

At the time, when all that crap I wrote about in the previous post went down, I did feel devastated. But he was never really available anyway. And you know, neither was I.

I was a year away from experiencing deep depression and being aware of it. I was already depressed but didn’t have the words to describe what I was feeling.  At the age of 20, I’m truly surprised, when I think about how dark things were for me, that I didn’t attempt suicide. But that didn’t have to do with Roy.

In fact when I was “dating” Roy, I was actually seeing two other guys. I was somewhat of a player myself, I guess you could say. But it was a matter of confusion than anything else. PLUS I wasn’t married.

I had asked Roy, while lying in bed together at his shore house that weekend, if he’d stop seeing me if I was seeing other people. I figured it wouldn’t really matter since he was married. He said, “Yeah, I probably would.” And so I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t feel the least bit guilty about it. But that was only because he was married.

I don’t know he didn’t know though, when, he’d seen me drive away from the restaurant one day with, Tom, one of the guys I was seeing. I remember feeling sad when I got into his truck because I really wanted to be with Roy.

Roy waved as he stood next to Dianne on the loading dock and Tom and I drove away. Dianne had a huge grin on her face.

The relationship between Tom and me had become long distance. But we dated rather seriously when I was 18 until he moved away about a year later. I cheated on him early in our relationship with someone I’d known previously and I almost lost him.

Things were really good between us (well, my perception of good anyway) when Tom moved three hours away and I had no car. That was difficult. I still remember how sad I was the last night I saw him previous to his move.

We still talked a lot on the phone and he came up to visit a lot. Later when I did get a car, I started going down there on a regular basis. I used to love to drive down and spend weekends down there.  He and I had a lot of fun together. He still came up for visits too.  But there were certainly rough patches and I sabotaged things there myself.

I also dated another guy, Tim. I had actually dated him for a short time before dating and getting serious with Tom. At the time I was dating Tim, Tom and I were friends and hung out with some of the same people.  I also had fun with Tim but that relationship had more rough patches than the one between Tom and me. And Tim had many more issues than Tom did. Tim wasn’t as easy going although he had a great sense of humor. Tom was funny as hell and would have me belly laughing a lot.

Tim could be abusive. Tom was unavailable in other ways. (But he wasn’t married.)

I would push them both away and pull them both back in. And not usually simultaneously.  Different things took place internally for me at different times.  Tom would start to get on my nerves and I’d stop seeing him for a while and then I’d spend time with Tim. Then I’d either begin to feel engulfed or tired of Tim too and go back to seeing Tom for a bit.

I would sabotage in other ways as well, like, confessing things I felt guilty about to each of them. I would sit and write long tormented letters about each thought I felt awful for, or something I’d said that I felt might be deemed as disrespectful.  I had this obsession with being completely honest so that they knew every nook of my brain, no matter how hurtful what I told them was.

I’ve always had a difficult time explaining this. I’m not sure anyone else has ever dealt with this. I never wanted to deliberately hurt them. The reason was about being honest. I figured if they stayed with me after I was honest, at least I gave them all the details to make an informed decision then I’d done the right thing. And if they still loved me after I was honest then I wasn’t bad after all.  Problem was, those letters became never ending.

Each time I wrote one thought down, another one would pop into my head and I’d continue to spiral down with each thought or deed I felt the need to write down.  And it just kept going. I’d write endless letters and a lot of times, I found myself squeezing in sentences where I’d forgotten to write them previously, crowding words together so tight, it would make some of the letter unreadable.

Those letters caused a ton of anger within the receiver and a lot of tears from me.

I can feel a tinge of shame, but mostly I feel sad for the young woman who felt the need to confess every adverse thought she had about her boyfriends. I grieve for her and all that lost time sitting on her bed, chain smoking cigarettes, as I wrote endless pages of dark and hurtful thoughts.

I read recently about it, although I don’t remember where or what I’d been looking up. And the article wasn’t about the same scenario I went through. But the explanation was similar enough for me to make a connection. So I got to learn that wasn’t really my fault either. It turns out that there is a good chance there was a nutritional deficiency that caused me to behave like that.


This isn’t Roy’s car. His was black. I took this at a car show in my old hometown some years ago.

Roy was a chef at a job I had a long time ago. It was a job I couldn’t get to by foot or any form of public transportation and I didn’t have a car.

I’m not sure what even made me go out to apply and interview for it knowing all of that, but I did. I was able to get there for the interview borrowing my mother’s car, but I would not be able to have it on a daily basis.

Roy hired me that day and since I’d been up front about my transportation issue, he arranged with one of the staff to pick me up at a certain place each morning so I could get to work.

Each morning I would walk about 8 blocks to meet my ride on a main stretch of road, we’ll call the pike, the same small highway the restaurant was on actually, however, miles down the road. Rose was my ride in the beginning, but she was also pregnant, so her days at the restaurant were numbered.

Later I got rides from Sally who would pick me up at the same place. She and I became friends outside of work as well. But this is about Roy, so let’s get to it.

It did not take long for me to develop a crush on Roy. He was gorgeous. He was tall, with jet black hair and oh so handsome. He was 26. I was 19.

My direct supervisor, in the pantry, Dianne and I were talking one day and she asked me if I had a boyfriend. I told her I liked someone right there in the kitchen. She got all excited and asked me who.  So I told her.

Immediately the grin dropped from her face and she said, in a hushed urgent tone, “He’s married. You can’t date him.”

“Oh wow, I had no idea.”  And I didn’t. He didn’t wear a ring. The news was so utterly disappointing. I assured her I’d forget about it.

But I didn’t. In fact, I didn’t really care that he was married. I didn’t exactly set out ‘to get him.’ But the fantasy of being with him stayed alive.

Much to my surprise he seemed to be flirting with me when the opportunity presented itself. I’d catch him staring at me from time to time as well.  Roy then made flirting between us even easier when he assigned me to make the daily soup after the lunch rush was over and I’d cleaned up the pantry/cold side of the kitchen.

The huge pot that was for making soups was near the butcher block he spent most of his day at. The massive pot was a permanent fixture in the floor, so there was no moving the soup pot.

He taught me how to make soups and I would use his recipes to do it.  It gave me something to do since I had to wait for Sally anyway, who worked until at least 5:00pm everyday and usually later.

I didn’t mind staying as long as whenever. There was plenty of food and soda available if I wanted it. It was a restaurant after all, and I worked in the kitchen. But my main focus was Roy.

One day, the exact circumstances of which I cannot remember, Roy and I were alone in the kitchen at the end of a Sunday, a day I didn’t usually work. I think what happened was that Roy asked me to stay a little later that day, when Sally was getting ready to leave and said he’d give me a ride home.

Perfect! Yes of course.

So when we left, I climbed into the passenger seat of his sleek, black, beautiful Corvette. I was so excited. We drove down the road and as we neared the mall on the pike, he asked me if I’d ever driven a Corvette.  I chuckled and said, “No. I don’t even know how to drive stick.”

So he made a left turn into the vast empty parking lot of the mall, stopped, yanked the emergency break up and got out. I watched him as he walked in front of the car, over to the passenger side, opened the door and said, “Climb over.”  So I did.

I could not believe this guy was going to allow me to drive such a beautiful car. But that’s what happened. On Sundays that mall (which is no longer in existence now) closed at 5 pm so I had a lot of room to learn. I never mastered that car, but I certainly had fun trying.

I think we must’ve stopped for a bite to eat as well, because by the time we pulled up to the front of my parent’s house, it was dark. It was a nice night though and we got out of the car and spent more time talking. By the end of that night we were all over each other on the hood of his car. It was a wonder we were still clothed by the time he left.

Our affair had started.

We’d kiss in the walk-ins. He initiated this. I remember being so nervous about others walking in on that.  He actually initiated everything that happened between us. I didn’t have to chase him at all. I just fell into his arms… so to speak.  I reached a point where I felt completely special and I’d believe anything he told me.

We spent a weekend once, at the shore house he owned and had fun on the rides on the boardwalk.

I didn’t see him a whole lot outside of work, but when I did, it was exciting and fun. The sex of course was phenomenal.  But one day brought the kind of excitement I did not enjoy.

Roy and I were sitting in a fast food parking lot by the mall in his car one late afternoon, kissing. All of a sudden I heard a sharp sounding thud and simultaneously felt the car rock…hard. Startled, I looked out the windshield and saw a woman jumping up and down on the hood of the car, yelling, screeching actually, “Roy, what are you doing? She’s just a kid.”

Scared. the. shit. outta. me.

It was Pam, one of the cocktail waitresses from the restaurant. She was obviously not just upset about me being so young. It was then I’d figured out she’d been another one of his girls.  But after he/we made our escape from this woman, who actually chased after us in her car, he assured me it was over.

This actually explained why the woman would stand and talk to him before her shift every day. I never thought much about it since the restaurant had been in business for years. They’d likely worked together for a long time and were friends. Big deal.  I was friends with everyone on the kitchen staff in one capacity or another, including the men and I was particularly close to one of the cooks, who I thought of as a brother. At some point, I had partied with most of them as well as some of the wait staff.

I believed his lies about he and Pam being over. And to be honest I don’t remember how I faced Pam after that. Knowing what I know now though, I have no doubt that he told her some lie that settled her down, just as he’d lied to me.

And all this time he is still married and has a small child. However, he did tell me he was divorcing. I was 19 and quite naive. I had no idea.

I remember there was a weird day when his wife came into the restaurant and Roy, his wife, Pam and my direct boss, Dianne, all gathered into the chef’s office and shut the door. I never did find out what that was about.

But down the line, I found out late at night, after a party, at a Denny’s, that he and Dianne (my direct supervisor) had also been fucking around. She’d actually told me while Roy was in the rest room.  I had been chewing on a french fry, when she delivered the news. That fry, quickly turned to cotton in my mouth and my appetite immediately dissipated.

I got up and went outside. I couldn’t believe I was hearing this. Dianne herself was married. She’d been the one to discourage me away from crushing on Roy.  It all made sense.

The only jealousy I ever remember feeling pertaining to the two of them, is one day I saw them walking back toward the kitchen together from dry storage. They were talking, laughing and Dianne actually glowed.  I shake my head even now.  I never once addressed that. I mean, people get jealous. They worked together. I let it go.

Dianne chased me out to the parking lot and talked to me like a friend. I don’t remember the words exchanged but I was so hurt and felt like such an idiot. Roy soon followed to find out what I knew.

Dianne wanted to give me a ride home that night, but I said no and went with Roy instead. While he drove I asked questions and he answered with lies. But of course I didn’t know they were lies and wanted to believe him.

I’d been hopeful when I got out of the car that we’d see each other again. By this time, the restaurant as we’d known it had shut down and was running in a different way. He wasn’t working there anymore, but Sally, Dianne, and I were, along with one of the guys (the one who’d felt like a brother to me).

Some time later, I tried to call the number I had for Roy and discovered the number was out of service. I hung the receiver up in a sort of shock and went to my room. I sat down on the corner of my bed, knowing that he was gone forever from my life and cried.

The Weird Thing About Facebook…and

Actually this is more about the weird thing about the area I live in combination with Facebook, because hey, most of the people in my friend list are from this area.

I have lived in this county most of my life. I moved here when I was 3 from a nearby state and have lived in numerous places within the county. My parents moved with us kids, four times since I was born. I’m the oldest.

The county we are from has a lot of school districts and is densely populated with over 560,000 people, so in that respect I guess you could say it’s a large county. But…and this is a big but…the area it covers is less than 2000,000 miles.

That, my friend, is a tight squeeze.

There are still many school districts though and since most people meet in school and still know each other, around here, it’s not like everyone knows everyone here.  Small town size and we even have some farming as well as woodsy/forest-y areas. Most of it is suburbia but it can feel like city in some of the more busy areas, like the main terminal for public transportation, between city and burbs and the just the area its in, has more of a city feel.

Let’s just say, although it’s a small area, it’s not like we all know each other nor are we just running into people we know, every time we leave the house. It happens, but not every time.

My siblings and I started off in Catholic school, a very small school in the town we grew up in.

Once we each reached a certain grade, we went to public school.

I finished my one year of Catholic high school and I started public school in my sophomore (10th grade) year. My brother switched over that same year as well but started at the middle school. My sister stayed at the Catholic school until she was finished with 5th grade. She had one more year to go when my brother and I made the switch. She had lots of friends, so I’m not sure if she minded much.

For some strange reason, only known to my fucked up father, he didn’t want to put any of us in the public elementary school.

{Side note: The year my brother and I both switched over, was the same year they moved 9th grade over to the high school and 6th grade over to the junior high, making the junior high a middle school.}

Thing is, because the school district we lived in is so small, I wouldn’t say that each person from that school district knows everyone else from it. But a lot of people know each other, intertwine and there are small degrees of separation.

I can see this so well on Facebook and even though I have my siblings blocked, there are times I can see that one of them has commented on a mutual friend’s post.

This just happened.

It doesn’t set me back or anything but it does make me sad.

The post that prompted this post is one from an old next door neighbor. She posted a picture of her and her father on her wedding day.

My father and her father would have long chats when they’d run into each other outside. The woman who’s post I’m talking about here, ‘babysat’ us once in a while also. So we have some memories there.

I was going to comment, but then I noticed my friend, addressed someone with the same name as my sister and I figured it must be her.

Since I have her blocked, I can’t see her comment but can tell by the friend’s response that she is indeed addressing my sister, not someone else with the same name.

So that kind of changed my mind about commenting.

I know one thing I could do is un-friend anyone with connections to my siblings. I have actually thought of that. But that’s the crazy thing about the area I live in. So many of us are intertwined with each other. Even though I’m more than five years older than my sister, we know a lot of the same people. She’s even got people in her list that she wouldn’t know unless she knew me. So that’s a bit weird as well.

I’m guessing here because I can’t see her profile anymore with blocking her. But I had been on Facebook before and after a breakup, I deactivated my account and allowed it to completely close. I’d closed it before waking up to who and what my family is so before that, I’d been connected to my siblings through Facebook.

When I made a new account a few years later, one of the first things I did was block my siblings.

In some cases, I’ve done just that. I graduated with my brother-in-law’s cousin. We were friends before I closed down my original account. And I, in fact didn’t block her in the beginning, likely because I didn’t think about it. I’d seen her in threads and just didn’t engage. This was a bit of a battle for me because I like her and wanted to friend her again, but knew it wasn’t a good idea considering the circumstances.

I eventually did block her, but didn’t feel good about it.  You can bet however, you’d see many matching names (because of school) in our friend lists.

But I refuse to do that with every single person who is intertwined with one or both siblings and myself. Whether it be for the principle behind that or because I enjoy their posts, want to keep up with their news, or because I don’t want to hurt feelings or whatever, I just don’t feel good about bowing out of every connection.

The woman I did block from my graduating class, is also family…sort of. My sister and her husband are close to his cousins so yeah, that’s too close of a connection and that’s different.

I see the presence of lots of people who I’m not friends with as well, who could possibly, probably and some I know for a fact, know my siblings. I don’t generally initiate the friending when it comes to those people. But I will friend them back if they request it.

Last I knew, both my siblings were also still friends with a friend of mine I met in a work place, through an old boyfriend. She is from the same county but from a different school district. So they didn’t know her until long after I did.

So, it gets a bit sticky there on Facebook. I’ve navigated for long enough now though that I don’t really think about needing to be careful or anything. Not as of yet, at least. I don’t use Facebook to air the family shit so there’s no worrying about anything getting back to anyone.

I mostly post cute animal and pet stuff. Once in awhile I might take a stand on something. I generally stay out of politics although I’ve made a comment here and there. But most of my comments in other people’s threads are benign and sometimes attempts at being funny.

There’s cool things about so many people having small degrees of separation. But sometimes it has this entrapping feeling, just because of the situation I’m in with my siblings.  The good thing though is that the county I live in, has many school districts and the population is dense.

I mention school districts for a couple reasons. One…it seems to be a way to divide areas in our county that makes sense to pretty much anyone you talk to around here. And two…because that’s where a portion of the people come from that people meet.  One hundred people out of 242 are from my high school. A couple of those are a friend’s kids. But that’s still quite a ratio.

Thankfully the large population of the county, makes it so that run-ins with my siblings are not highly likely.

{Now watch me see one of them tomorrow, since I said that.}

Either way, I’m not going to just de-friend all those people. If anything, I would shut down the account completely. But I’m not gonna do that either.

I try not to get on too often because when I do I get sucked in and waste a lot of time there. I admit I’m not close to anyone in my friend list on Facbook though. I do see it as a good way to stay connected and especially with future in mind. You just never know when you might want to reach out to someone…or vice versa.

I do have issues with a couple people in my list, but I don’t make anything of it on FB. I’ve thought about un-friending there too. But have not and at this point don’t have the intention to. Radical acceptance in the works.

I’m feeling a bit sad and nostalgic after “seeing” that my sister commented on our old next door neighbors post about her dead father, who I liked, and so I would’ve liked to have comment on the post too, but the sadness will pass.

It’s not like I bumped into her physically, so I’m still safe.

I know there’s a lot wrong with FB and it can really be a time waster. But there are positives about it too. I don’t post a lot and I don’t comment much either. But I do want to keep the communication lines open there, for myself to the people I may want to or need to reach out to at some point.

Luckily there’s a block function and I know how to use it.

Emotional Flashbacks Out of An Old TV Series and Faded Sunlight

treesun1The way the sun…I think it was the sun, created a section of lighter pink on the hallway carpet. It didn’t even look like the sun was in a place to beam in that way. The appearance, the angle, the way it was shaded in a smoky sort of way, all captured something that remains in my subconscious.

I immediately felt the sadness of grief, the moment I noticed it. In my desire to know what this was while walking back and forth, I’d look for a bit then look away. Go do something else, look again and look away. The grief felt more intense with each time I glanced at the faded light. And I wanted to know what it was about and where it was coming from.

My paternal grandmother’s house came to mind and maybe in her house, there was a time of day and a window in her house that allowed the sun to shine on one of her rugs in a similar way. But I don’t know if that’s true.

I just know I thought of her house. And when I think of her house, I think of her, and the most prominent memory I have of her is a small event that happened often.

In the dining room, next to the doorway that led immediately to the kitchen, I can see myself standing there. I’m a small child and my grandmother is a tall and thin woman. She is holding a freshly opened box of cookies and bending just a little so I can see inside the box, to make my choice.

Back in the present moment, I opened the front door to take a look for our cat. But the only cat out there was the neighbor’s round tabby, napping on the porch.

I said hi and then told him he wasn’t the one I was looking for. I asked if he’d seen his best friend. (Our cat.) Right after that, I couldn’t get the theme song from “The Courtship of Eddie’s Father” out of my head.

Depressed Kid In America

kid depressedI’m compiling lists of music on YouTube because I’d like to listen straight through while doing things and not stop to switch the video. The reason behind that though, is that I want to use the music as a tool for feeling. Music is one thing that will really get in deep, chip away until the tears come. It causes flash backs while bringing up feelings that I know I need to feel.

I’ve been numb too long. I’ve avoided all the shit I need to peel away and shed.

I was a teen in the 80s so I’m choosing a lot of that music, at least right now. I like a lot of other music too, and although other music brings up emotions too of other things, it’s the memories of the 80’s I’m after in that list.

One video I specifically looked up is “Kids in America” by Kim Wilde because I was a kid (at 15/16) when the song was released and it was being played on every pop station, probably around the nation.

The song “Kids in America” takes me back to my teen years, in good ways as much as sad.  But while watching the video and looking at the singer’s face, I was taken back to when I was 19. I think it’s because she was close to that age in the video. I was more than a year out of high school and going nowhere. And I continued to go nowhere all the way up to this day.

I looked at Kim Wilde’s face and compared myself to her. How she was doing something, creating something, putting something out there to be remembered.  And at that age I wasn’t even driving myself to the job I hated. I was walking several blocks to meet my ride.  I was smoking pot at every opportunity, including sometimes on that ride to work. I was living day to day to find some sort of escape from the depression that had taken such a tight hold by then and continues to this day.

It saddens me so much the potential lost as a result of no guidance in direction by the adults in my life at that time.

The most relatable line for me sadly:
“You know life is cruel, life is never kind.”