My brain is a harsh and cruel place. Sometimes I hate being stuck in it and with it and I would do just about anything to get away for a while, or even forever.
We were driving by a mega-church this morning, and there were little kids on a hayride driving around the borders of the expansive church property. They were enjoying the warm fall day and waving at the people in the cars driving by with little-kid innocence and abandon.
My companion said: "Awww, look at those cute kids waving"
My Brain thought: "Its a shame, they are there because their parents attend that terrible mega-church and they are probably being indoctrinated in the newly-built mega-wing that is going to be a school."
Sometimes I blame it on my parents and the teachers they listened to and who they let teach me and my siblings. Because THEY TOLD US LIES.
And being lied to does something to a brain and a heart and to a child's person that is hard to take back of fix or heal.
They lied to us.
They lied.
They told me that if I ever left home, and my father's umbrella of protection I would never be successful. No one would hire me or see my good qualities and I would never make it. I would turn out having to sell my body as a last resort and probably end up pregnant and homeless and a drug addict.
They told me that if I learned to be "Independent" I would never be loved and no guy would want me because I would never be able to work with him or have a giving and sharing relationship.
They told me if I had sex with a guy without some kind of long-term commitment (marriage, etc) that he would use me and then abandon me when he was tired of me.
I was told that if I seek I would find. I was told that "God" would respond to an open and desiring heart. I was told that I would find peace at home with my family and a true calling.
I was told that pursuing higher education was pointless and a waste of money because my "highest calling" was marrying some man I was told was a good man and having 15 of his children.
I was told that my intelligence was only for teaching kids and not for changing the world.
And I was told not to develop ME because what God wanted from me was to be the mirror of some man.
And all of that was LIES.
So now, 2 years away from all of it, and I am still fighting for my life.
Literally, for my every day-by-day waking moment to be free and to find out the truth.
And I have to fight against my cruel instincts and my head which seems to want nothing more than to destroy all my progress so far.
But I keep fighting.
Because giving up is a lie.
October 23, 2012
October 19, 2012
Therapy Diaries
"One of your best assets is that Tenacity of yours..."
I looked up and he was smiling kindly at me.
"How would you summarize what I've been saying so far?" he asked suddenly.
He had never asked me that before. And I tilted my head and tried to put together a cohesive sentence in the jumble of things that came up today...
"I'm thinking 4 or 5 words..." he tried to help me along.
"Go your own way?" I tried.
His face split into a big smile. He like that and liked the wording and the fact that I was on the right track.
"Mine was going to be 'You are underestimating yourself.'"
He had me again. Large warm tears came spilling out. It had been a while since I sobbed in Therapy, so I didnt bother getting a tissue. I dont know how it always seems to happen like this. I did NOT want to go to therapy that morning. It was so warm in bed and I was so tired from a long week and an emotional altercation too fresh for much inspection. I went anyway and tried to think up plausible manipulative things to say to get out of a double session this week.
Sometimes, I go knowing it is the best thing for me. But today I went knowing that I had promised others and most of all myself that I would make the effort to get better for myself and for my future. And I couldnt get out of that promise. Yet, as always, I left feeling like no matter what awful terrible things life could throw at me, I could handle it.
Tenacity. He said it was remarkable and a good thing and that he wanted me to keep going and keep working on the goals I had set for myself. Because in the end he said I would be triumphant. I could find my ceiling and break through and find a new ceiling.
Because I couldn't control his thoughts, or how he judged people.
Because I wasnt going to try to win in a losing system.
Because I could find my role and not confuse it with someone else's.
Because I didnt have to be dependent on anyone, no matter how easy it was/is to fall back into that mode.
Because what other people say about me is none of my business.
Because I am. Things are. There is no deeper meaning or message to life. So many things merely are and exist as a function of cause and effect and choice; that attempting to perform harsh introspective surgery to wrest some divine imprint is foolishness.
"The door handle IS," I tell myself. Besides performing it's duty it is of no consequence to me.
And so I keep plugging away at life.... oh yes... my enduring tenacity.
But also learning to find happiness.
I looked up and he was smiling kindly at me.
"How would you summarize what I've been saying so far?" he asked suddenly.
He had never asked me that before. And I tilted my head and tried to put together a cohesive sentence in the jumble of things that came up today...
"I'm thinking 4 or 5 words..." he tried to help me along.
"Go your own way?" I tried.
His face split into a big smile. He like that and liked the wording and the fact that I was on the right track.
"Mine was going to be 'You are underestimating yourself.'"
He had me again. Large warm tears came spilling out. It had been a while since I sobbed in Therapy, so I didnt bother getting a tissue. I dont know how it always seems to happen like this. I did NOT want to go to therapy that morning. It was so warm in bed and I was so tired from a long week and an emotional altercation too fresh for much inspection. I went anyway and tried to think up plausible manipulative things to say to get out of a double session this week.
Sometimes, I go knowing it is the best thing for me. But today I went knowing that I had promised others and most of all myself that I would make the effort to get better for myself and for my future. And I couldnt get out of that promise. Yet, as always, I left feeling like no matter what awful terrible things life could throw at me, I could handle it.
Tenacity. He said it was remarkable and a good thing and that he wanted me to keep going and keep working on the goals I had set for myself. Because in the end he said I would be triumphant. I could find my ceiling and break through and find a new ceiling.
Because I couldn't control his thoughts, or how he judged people.
Because I wasnt going to try to win in a losing system.
Because I could find my role and not confuse it with someone else's.
Because I didnt have to be dependent on anyone, no matter how easy it was/is to fall back into that mode.
Because what other people say about me is none of my business.
Because I am. Things are. There is no deeper meaning or message to life. So many things merely are and exist as a function of cause and effect and choice; that attempting to perform harsh introspective surgery to wrest some divine imprint is foolishness.
"The door handle IS," I tell myself. Besides performing it's duty it is of no consequence to me.
And so I keep plugging away at life.... oh yes... my enduring tenacity.
But also learning to find happiness.
October 14, 2012
To him who knows to do good...
Last time I talked with my mother it ended with me basically shouting at her for over 5 minutes.
I dont talk/communicate/email/text her much. But she has my Birth Certificate and Passport (expired a bit ago, but I would still like to get it) which I asked for when I was in her area back in July. She looked at me (shocked) and said something about how it was her property, but she supposed I could have a copy.
I had been pestering her since July to send me the promised copies (and I have had tabs up on my Moz since then on getting a passport renewal and the necessary steps to getting a copy of a Consular Report of Birth Abroad since then as well) and she has been giving me empty promises since July.
Nothing new in that behavior, though. For shame.
Then, one of the times I reminded her (sometime in the middle of September, I believe), she manipulated a phone call out of it. I knew it was manipulation, but I hoped for a bit of reconciliation, and perhaps a semblance of a relationship? Yeah, way high hopes. Isnt it almost foolish how we keep hoping against all logic and past experience?
Anyway, the conversation started out pretty safe, talking about things and people and I was even honest with her when the conversation switched to me and my current life choices and some of the changes Ive been making recently...
Then, she asked me what I had done that day (my day off). I told her the truth. I had spent most of it at the Community College. I had been over my Application for Dependency Override again with a FAFSA counselor (which made me upset and cry, because he told me that since I could at any moment call my parents we were not estranged and I was not eligible) and turned down. I had taken an "Accuplacement Test" and done rather well (according to the Proctor, who should know, I guess). I had gotten in with an Advisor who looked over my scores, signed me up for an Associates in Business, and who wrote down a handful of classes for me to try my first semester. Then, I got my residency proven, so I can get the In-State Tuition rate.
I asked her for my Highschool Transcripts (which in the past she has sworn she can produce and would be willing to give out copies of), and one last time asked her to allow me to access the information I would need for a FAFSA.
She asked me: "Well, do you WANT to be my daughter?"
I got angry and began a tirade. She was completely silent the entire time. I told her that I was her daughter no matter what happened because I could never get away. I told her that SHE needed to act like a real MOTHER as well, I told her that I was an adult and that adult daughters did not (in the real world) lay around the house sucking off their parents teat. I also told her that to pretend that I would be allowed to go to college were I living at home was laughable and ridiculous.
I told her she was living in a fantasy world, rules by some outdated old book and made-up rules. I told her that they (she and her husband) were reading the book wrong, and that they loved their book and the rules more than they loved their children. I told her all their good works for keeping these rules were pointless. I told her that if she really wanted to live by the book's rules, here was one: "To him who knows to do good, and does it not, to him it is sin."
I told her that she and my father were living in sin because they had the power to do unlimited good. They could do SO much good, but they refused, and therefore all their works and rule-keeping and book-reading were going to backfire. I told her that by refusing to send me an email with a handful of numbers they were sinning. They didnt have to send me any money, they didnt have to support me currently (either financially or supporting my 'lifestyle' and/or life choices) and they didnt have to expend any energy or resources. They make so little and have so many kids that I would probably get a free ride anyway.
I ranted for quite some time. Then, I told her that I was angry and that I should probably stop because I did not see the conversation getting any better. I told her I wasnt sure if she was still there because I hadnt heard a sound since I started ranting, but I hoped the rest of her night was better than the phone call, and I was going to hang up now.
And then I hung up.
She texted me a couple minutes later saying that she was listening and hadnt wanted to say anything that would be seen as 'judging' me.
I never replied.
I dont talk/communicate/email/text her much. But she has my Birth Certificate and Passport (expired a bit ago, but I would still like to get it) which I asked for when I was in her area back in July. She looked at me (shocked) and said something about how it was her property, but she supposed I could have a copy.
I had been pestering her since July to send me the promised copies (and I have had tabs up on my Moz since then on getting a passport renewal and the necessary steps to getting a copy of a Consular Report of Birth Abroad since then as well) and she has been giving me empty promises since July.
Nothing new in that behavior, though. For shame.
Then, one of the times I reminded her (sometime in the middle of September, I believe), she manipulated a phone call out of it. I knew it was manipulation, but I hoped for a bit of reconciliation, and perhaps a semblance of a relationship? Yeah, way high hopes. Isnt it almost foolish how we keep hoping against all logic and past experience?
Anyway, the conversation started out pretty safe, talking about things and people and I was even honest with her when the conversation switched to me and my current life choices and some of the changes Ive been making recently...
Then, she asked me what I had done that day (my day off). I told her the truth. I had spent most of it at the Community College. I had been over my Application for Dependency Override again with a FAFSA counselor (which made me upset and cry, because he told me that since I could at any moment call my parents we were not estranged and I was not eligible) and turned down. I had taken an "Accuplacement Test" and done rather well (according to the Proctor, who should know, I guess). I had gotten in with an Advisor who looked over my scores, signed me up for an Associates in Business, and who wrote down a handful of classes for me to try my first semester. Then, I got my residency proven, so I can get the In-State Tuition rate.
I asked her for my Highschool Transcripts (which in the past she has sworn she can produce and would be willing to give out copies of), and one last time asked her to allow me to access the information I would need for a FAFSA.
She asked me: "Well, do you WANT to be my daughter?"
I got angry and began a tirade. She was completely silent the entire time. I told her that I was her daughter no matter what happened because I could never get away. I told her that SHE needed to act like a real MOTHER as well, I told her that I was an adult and that adult daughters did not (in the real world) lay around the house sucking off their parents teat. I also told her that to pretend that I would be allowed to go to college were I living at home was laughable and ridiculous.
I told her she was living in a fantasy world, rules by some outdated old book and made-up rules. I told her that they (she and her husband) were reading the book wrong, and that they loved their book and the rules more than they loved their children. I told her all their good works for keeping these rules were pointless. I told her that if she really wanted to live by the book's rules, here was one: "To him who knows to do good, and does it not, to him it is sin."
I told her that she and my father were living in sin because they had the power to do unlimited good. They could do SO much good, but they refused, and therefore all their works and rule-keeping and book-reading were going to backfire. I told her that by refusing to send me an email with a handful of numbers they were sinning. They didnt have to send me any money, they didnt have to support me currently (either financially or supporting my 'lifestyle' and/or life choices) and they didnt have to expend any energy or resources. They make so little and have so many kids that I would probably get a free ride anyway.
I ranted for quite some time. Then, I told her that I was angry and that I should probably stop because I did not see the conversation getting any better. I told her I wasnt sure if she was still there because I hadnt heard a sound since I started ranting, but I hoped the rest of her night was better than the phone call, and I was going to hang up now.
And then I hung up.
She texted me a couple minutes later saying that she was listening and hadnt wanted to say anything that would be seen as 'judging' me.
I never replied.
October 13, 2012
Long overdue, but short
Dear Readers:
(if there are any of you left!!)
I have been silent for a long time. I will be working on finding my voice again, but I'm not sure what all that will take. I have been through a lot this year, and this summer especially. And maybe some of this will come out in the wash, OR I will tell you about it in time....
But for now an update on current events and future plans!!
I am looking for a new/different/better job. I have been in retail in various ways for two years now with a very messed up company. I have been applying to about a dozen different retail jobs over the past two months now. I have received only one response from one company, and that was a letter in the mail saying that my application did not merit me a further interview.
I was encouraged to branch out of retail and look into corporate places for secretary work or some sort of clerical position. I will be working on that in this next week.
The unemployment rate in Charlotte is a bit higher than the national average and there are too many people willing to work for minimum wage. I survived a whole year on minimum wage and it was HARD. Because I have moved around my job a bit, I have gotten to a feasible rate that is high enough over minimum wage that I think no one wants to hire me for that much, especially in retail. I have been able to save a lot of money and to improve my living state and do things I would not have done otherwise. (Ie. I dont want to go back to scrounging at minimum wage)
So I am off to try for other kinds of work.
I am finally going to plunge ahead with college. I have been wanting and wanting and hoping to do it, College and have signed up for an Associates in Business starting in the spring. I am not sure exactly how many classes I will be able to take, and how much exactly it will cost, but I will do as much as I am able.
I cannot get Financial Aid due to refusal of my parents to lend me their tax information, and I cannot file as an Independent Student for another two years. I am not desirous of getting into debt, so I wont be taking a bank loan or any kind of student aid or anything like that.
HOWEVER, if you know of any awesome scholarships, or anyone willing to sponsor a determined, but poor, ex-fundie-daughter on her path to higher education and freedom: PLEASE send them to me.
I have plans to take a couple classes and work as much as I can to make ends meet.
I have decided to stay in Charlotte for the time being, at least until I get this degree and/or I get a solid direction on where I'm headed in my life.
I am/have been going to Therapy/Counselling since late June. It has made a tremendous change and it is significantly helping me in a couple things. In fact, it is partially his insistence that I go to College that has put the fan to my dimly lit embers of hope. I WANT to do this and he keeps encouraging me towards it. Says it will be a much better use of my intellect than the petty drama of Retail Life.
Any questions or things I missed?
I dont know. That is is for now, I think.
(if there are any of you left!!)
I have been silent for a long time. I will be working on finding my voice again, but I'm not sure what all that will take. I have been through a lot this year, and this summer especially. And maybe some of this will come out in the wash, OR I will tell you about it in time....
But for now an update on current events and future plans!!
I am looking for a new/different/better job. I have been in retail in various ways for two years now with a very messed up company. I have been applying to about a dozen different retail jobs over the past two months now. I have received only one response from one company, and that was a letter in the mail saying that my application did not merit me a further interview.
I was encouraged to branch out of retail and look into corporate places for secretary work or some sort of clerical position. I will be working on that in this next week.
The unemployment rate in Charlotte is a bit higher than the national average and there are too many people willing to work for minimum wage. I survived a whole year on minimum wage and it was HARD. Because I have moved around my job a bit, I have gotten to a feasible rate that is high enough over minimum wage that I think no one wants to hire me for that much, especially in retail. I have been able to save a lot of money and to improve my living state and do things I would not have done otherwise. (Ie. I dont want to go back to scrounging at minimum wage)
So I am off to try for other kinds of work.
I am finally going to plunge ahead with college. I have been wanting and wanting and hoping to do it, College and have signed up for an Associates in Business starting in the spring. I am not sure exactly how many classes I will be able to take, and how much exactly it will cost, but I will do as much as I am able.
I cannot get Financial Aid due to refusal of my parents to lend me their tax information, and I cannot file as an Independent Student for another two years. I am not desirous of getting into debt, so I wont be taking a bank loan or any kind of student aid or anything like that.
HOWEVER, if you know of any awesome scholarships, or anyone willing to sponsor a determined, but poor, ex-fundie-daughter on her path to higher education and freedom: PLEASE send them to me.
I have plans to take a couple classes and work as much as I can to make ends meet.
I have decided to stay in Charlotte for the time being, at least until I get this degree and/or I get a solid direction on where I'm headed in my life.
I am/have been going to Therapy/Counselling since late June. It has made a tremendous change and it is significantly helping me in a couple things. In fact, it is partially his insistence that I go to College that has put the fan to my dimly lit embers of hope. I WANT to do this and he keeps encouraging me towards it. Says it will be a much better use of my intellect than the petty drama of Retail Life.
Any questions or things I missed?
I dont know. That is is for now, I think.
July 2, 2012
Listless
I am having Bi-Polar fears again.
I was having the best month all of June. Well, for the most part at least.
I felt really settled in to my new position at work and things were smooth and nearly effortless.
I found two awesome friends who invited me out to go bowling and watch movies and just hang out at the mall or at a park. It felt like I belonged and that there was something to look forward to.
Also, the summer finally set in with days reaching for triple digits and sometimes even hitting them.
I LOVE love love the heat and it made me feel energized and alive.
You couldnt wipe that smile off my face.
And then it happened. I was just too happy for it to last.
And I hit the low low last night. It was a bad time.
And today I just feel empty. Nothing matters and I dont care.
A lady tipped me $5 for washing out some jars for her and for having memorized her order and always making it the way she liked. A friend stayed up late last night texting me for an hour and a half at 1am just being there for me. It was a lot cooler, but still warm enough to be nice out. It is almost my birthday and I have always loved my birthday.
I am tired and depressed and I really dont give a fuck.
I feel listless and dead.
My shadow heart is the only thing thats beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
Till then I walk alone.
I was having the best month all of June. Well, for the most part at least.
I felt really settled in to my new position at work and things were smooth and nearly effortless.
I found two awesome friends who invited me out to go bowling and watch movies and just hang out at the mall or at a park. It felt like I belonged and that there was something to look forward to.
Also, the summer finally set in with days reaching for triple digits and sometimes even hitting them.
I LOVE love love the heat and it made me feel energized and alive.
You couldnt wipe that smile off my face.
And then it happened. I was just too happy for it to last.
And I hit the low low last night. It was a bad time.
And today I just feel empty. Nothing matters and I dont care.
A lady tipped me $5 for washing out some jars for her and for having memorized her order and always making it the way she liked. A friend stayed up late last night texting me for an hour and a half at 1am just being there for me. It was a lot cooler, but still warm enough to be nice out. It is almost my birthday and I have always loved my birthday.
I am tired and depressed and I really dont give a fuck.
I feel listless and dead.
My shadow heart is the only thing thats beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
Till then I walk alone.
May 25, 2012
Premature Grief
Grief is an obvious result when loss happens.
I have been working on this post for about a month now. It has been really hard to write and verbalize.
I will always remember her as one of my most favorite people in the world.
I remember thinking of her as the most beautiful person I had ever seen. I still do, in fact. She was what I wanted to be when I was her age.
I remember spending a lot of time doing things to please her.
I remember picking her flowers and making little gifts to give her and to get to spend more time with her.
I remember telling her things that I did not feel safe telling my own mother or parents.
I remember feeling safe confiding in her.
I remember one phone call where hearing her voice made me cry. She asked me what was the matter, and why I was crying, and I answered (honestly) that I loved her and missed her and was looking forward to seeing her soon.
I remember laughing about funny things.
I remember loving to hug her, and how welcome it felt to stop by their house.
I remember crying as we shared problems, as she gave me advice that I still believe and live by today.
I remember her being the only one who would stand up to my father and point an accusing finger in his face.
She did a lot to create and maintain a relationship with me and our family and my sister. I was always a little jealous that they were closer (or seemed closer) than I felt to her.
She was honest to a fault and always so sure of herself.
She felt deeply, but knew when to keep her mouth shut, and always had wise and far-seeing counsel when I needed it.
I loved her more than most people in my life, and I didnt know very many.
I also remember her eyebrows running together in a hard line as she surveyed me with disappointment and disapproval.
I remember sending her Martina McBride's "This One's For the Girls" because it made me think lovingly of her, and her cold response.
I remember crying when I read the hurtful things she said to me and my sister.
I remember feeling the betrayal and pain that consumed me.
I remember hearing her voice in my head as her last email cut me, basically invalidating my thoughts, feelings, and emotions, and pushed me away.
I remember hearing from a third party the rumors that were being told about me.
I remember waiting for them to confront me with the allegations and at least allow me to answer the charges, or explain them, or laugh because they were blatantly untrue.
I remember spending a terrible Christmas Eve and the next morning, hurt and wanting nothing more than to run out the door when I had flown back there to purposely spend the holiday with them.
I remember feeling unwanted and stonewalled. Not allowed to even defend myself, they all just 'knew' it was true.
The last I heard about her, she sent my sister some texts which I was allowed to know the contents. I remember crying with my sister on the phone as I could hear her heart break and bleed.
I still hurt when I hear that song on the work radio station.
I hurt when I want to call her and just talk, but know that I cant.
I grieve when I talk with other people about their family.
The thing is: she isnt dead.
As far as I know she is alive and doing fine.
I miss her, and I wish I could reach out and hug her without being afraid of being stabbed by her disapproval and negative comments.
I wish I could spend a holiday with her and the other people in the family just being family.
She meant more to me than my own mother, and suddenly I find myself with another hole in my life where a friend used to be.
I feel like she died, when I know she is very much alive.
I love you, Grandmom. I miss how you used to be.
I have been working on this post for about a month now. It has been really hard to write and verbalize.
I will always remember her as one of my most favorite people in the world.
I remember thinking of her as the most beautiful person I had ever seen. I still do, in fact. She was what I wanted to be when I was her age.
I remember spending a lot of time doing things to please her.
I remember picking her flowers and making little gifts to give her and to get to spend more time with her.
I remember telling her things that I did not feel safe telling my own mother or parents.
I remember feeling safe confiding in her.
I remember one phone call where hearing her voice made me cry. She asked me what was the matter, and why I was crying, and I answered (honestly) that I loved her and missed her and was looking forward to seeing her soon.
I remember laughing about funny things.
I remember loving to hug her, and how welcome it felt to stop by their house.
I remember crying as we shared problems, as she gave me advice that I still believe and live by today.
I remember her being the only one who would stand up to my father and point an accusing finger in his face.
She did a lot to create and maintain a relationship with me and our family and my sister. I was always a little jealous that they were closer (or seemed closer) than I felt to her.
She was honest to a fault and always so sure of herself.
She felt deeply, but knew when to keep her mouth shut, and always had wise and far-seeing counsel when I needed it.
I loved her more than most people in my life, and I didnt know very many.
I also remember her eyebrows running together in a hard line as she surveyed me with disappointment and disapproval.
I remember sending her Martina McBride's "This One's For the Girls" because it made me think lovingly of her, and her cold response.
I remember crying when I read the hurtful things she said to me and my sister.
I remember feeling the betrayal and pain that consumed me.
I remember hearing her voice in my head as her last email cut me, basically invalidating my thoughts, feelings, and emotions, and pushed me away.
I remember hearing from a third party the rumors that were being told about me.
I remember waiting for them to confront me with the allegations and at least allow me to answer the charges, or explain them, or laugh because they were blatantly untrue.
I remember spending a terrible Christmas Eve and the next morning, hurt and wanting nothing more than to run out the door when I had flown back there to purposely spend the holiday with them.
I remember feeling unwanted and stonewalled. Not allowed to even defend myself, they all just 'knew' it was true.
The last I heard about her, she sent my sister some texts which I was allowed to know the contents. I remember crying with my sister on the phone as I could hear her heart break and bleed.
I still hurt when I hear that song on the work radio station.
I hurt when I want to call her and just talk, but know that I cant.
I grieve when I talk with other people about their family.
The thing is: she isnt dead.
As far as I know she is alive and doing fine.
I miss her, and I wish I could reach out and hug her without being afraid of being stabbed by her disapproval and negative comments.
I wish I could spend a holiday with her and the other people in the family just being family.
She meant more to me than my own mother, and suddenly I find myself with another hole in my life where a friend used to be.
I feel like she died, when I know she is very much alive.
I love you, Grandmom. I miss how you used to be.
May 4, 2012
Free; still
I am still free.
I have to keep reminding myself that.
All the old pathways in my brain want to keep me in bondage and under the yoke; but it is my prerogative to undermine, overthrow, and vanquish them.
It has been warm, hot, beautiful, and muggy out. Singing comes easy to me again, at work, at the house, driving.... any time. I finally found a corner of the store where I can work my heart out and people notice and appreciate my efforts. I am generally undisturbed, and I can hide very easily from people I dont want to see or talk with. (yay!!) (not that I espouse the idea of running from troubles, but you know when you are having a more vulnerable day, the last thing you need is to get into that conversation that could be the bug-zapper to the rest of your week...)
I was walking in to work thursday (the night were we have a kid's eat free promo that brings 200 some kids and their nightmare parents) and I was singing under my breath. I was wearing a pretty shirt that I have liked since I was 12 or so (yeah, they still fit) and striding up to another day like I owned the world. I noticed something out of the corner of my eye and realized that The Big White Van They Drive was in the handicapped parking spot (all the people at work call it that). The one older daughter was in the driver's seat, and she was staring at me hard. Inside, my mind recoiled at my outfit and called me immodest and I realized how unladylike my walk was and my dark eye-makeup and my hair down and shown-off for the whole world to lust at....
And then I LAUGHED at myself.
I was still free.
So I kept on walking into my job where I support myself, having driven there in a car I bought with my own sweat and that I dont owe a penny on, and had a normal day. I know she just recently learned to drive, being the only one of the girls with a driver's license. Her father is obviously quiverfull as the checks say " (dad's name) and Sons" and the women do all the shopping. I know she is stuck at home caring for her large family, elderly parents, disabled sister, special dietary needs, and probably a farm and a 'ministry' to boot.
The night before I had gone out with friends from work and drank a couple beers. We laughed, talked, made plans for a "May the 4th" Star Wars party, I drove one girl home, and slept like a log.
I am still free.
Later that night, as I was in the midst of the chaotic "after-closing-cleaning-time" for my section, I saw the other person who could make me feel inferior: the local ATI mom. She was at the Deli case, glaring at the Indonesian lady who was cutting her ham for her. I was singing and walking around with my huge colander on my hip and stocking veggies for the next business day. I looked at her hard and then turned around sharply (flipping my hair) and walked into the dish pit.
I am still free.
She can go home to her balding, ATI husband and her hard-working, depressed, unmarried daughters who have already made and served and cleaned up dinner after working in the garden all day, and wonder why they try so hard and dont really feel happy inside.
I could give her a couple pointers, but I dont think she would listen to a word I said.
Who cares? I am FREE.
I have to keep reminding myself that.
All the old pathways in my brain want to keep me in bondage and under the yoke; but it is my prerogative to undermine, overthrow, and vanquish them.
It has been warm, hot, beautiful, and muggy out. Singing comes easy to me again, at work, at the house, driving.... any time. I finally found a corner of the store where I can work my heart out and people notice and appreciate my efforts. I am generally undisturbed, and I can hide very easily from people I dont want to see or talk with. (yay!!) (not that I espouse the idea of running from troubles, but you know when you are having a more vulnerable day, the last thing you need is to get into that conversation that could be the bug-zapper to the rest of your week...)
I was walking in to work thursday (the night were we have a kid's eat free promo that brings 200 some kids and their nightmare parents) and I was singing under my breath. I was wearing a pretty shirt that I have liked since I was 12 or so (yeah, they still fit) and striding up to another day like I owned the world. I noticed something out of the corner of my eye and realized that The Big White Van They Drive was in the handicapped parking spot (all the people at work call it that). The one older daughter was in the driver's seat, and she was staring at me hard. Inside, my mind recoiled at my outfit and called me immodest and I realized how unladylike my walk was and my dark eye-makeup and my hair down and shown-off for the whole world to lust at....
And then I LAUGHED at myself.
I was still free.
So I kept on walking into my job where I support myself, having driven there in a car I bought with my own sweat and that I dont owe a penny on, and had a normal day. I know she just recently learned to drive, being the only one of the girls with a driver's license. Her father is obviously quiverfull as the checks say " (dad's name) and Sons" and the women do all the shopping. I know she is stuck at home caring for her large family, elderly parents, disabled sister, special dietary needs, and probably a farm and a 'ministry' to boot.
The night before I had gone out with friends from work and drank a couple beers. We laughed, talked, made plans for a "May the 4th" Star Wars party, I drove one girl home, and slept like a log.
I am still free.
Later that night, as I was in the midst of the chaotic "after-closing-cleaning-time" for my section, I saw the other person who could make me feel inferior: the local ATI mom. She was at the Deli case, glaring at the Indonesian lady who was cutting her ham for her. I was singing and walking around with my huge colander on my hip and stocking veggies for the next business day. I looked at her hard and then turned around sharply (flipping my hair) and walked into the dish pit.
I am still free.
She can go home to her balding, ATI husband and her hard-working, depressed, unmarried daughters who have already made and served and cleaned up dinner after working in the garden all day, and wonder why they try so hard and dont really feel happy inside.
I could give her a couple pointers, but I dont think she would listen to a word I said.
Who cares? I am FREE.
April 20, 2012
The Old Standby
It was a dark and dimly lit hallway.
Dead light bulbs hadn't been changed in a long while, and the ones that remained were mostly older and looked like they were about to meet the same fate as their companions.
The carpeting was flattened and pulled up in places from careless passers-by. It had probably not been cleaned since it was first installed, and certain places were molding, matching the leaky water-spots in the ceiling above it.
The rooms that this hallway accessed were all back-doors to places that could have been anything. Walking through a doorway might transport you across the continent. It was always a chance he took.
The man expertly traversing the dirtier parts of the carpet looked like he didnt belong. Much older than his well-designed clothing, he had the suave, yet ruthless way of commanding attention when he appeared on the scene. No flashing accessories made him stand out, apart from his demeanor, yet he obviously knew exactly where he was going and what he was going to do there.
He marched over to his chosen door and knocked sharply. It made rather little noise, considering how quiet the hallway always was. He waited a moment and then in a smooth, practiced movement, he pulled a single key from his vest pocket and opened the door.
The girl inside the room had heard his knock. She was waiting for him to force his way in, as he always did. No matter how many times she tried to change the lock, or move to a different building, he would somehow find her and weasel his way into the room she tried to hide in. Somehow, the rooms all looked the same when he came in. Bare, colorless, and almost sharp-edged. The color would shrink from the furnishings and the lights would fade, like he dimmed them with his sheer mind power. A general grey hue spread from the door as he pushed it open and engulfed the room. He didnt seem to notice as he greeted the girl with a sour smile and called her by name.
She didnt look up right away, focused sadly on the patch of floor he was standing on. When she looked up, her eyes were sad and voice tired.
"I thought you forgot about me. It has been a few months."
"How could I forget one of my favorites? I am your Old Standby, after all." His voice just as syrupy as his sneer.
Her voice was quavering when she managed to whisper out her reply:
"I was hoping you wouldnt come back."
He laughed in that terrible, heart-wrenching way of his. It struck fear into your very soul.
"There is no way you will ever be rid of me, dear," he growled as he strode across the room and glared down at her. He bent over and gripped her chin firmly and made her look into his eyes.
"You tried last time and remember how THAT turned out?"
He let go of her and her shoulders fell and she couldnt help but cry. It was true. No matter what she did the lurking shadow of Depression seemed to have access to her....
Dead light bulbs hadn't been changed in a long while, and the ones that remained were mostly older and looked like they were about to meet the same fate as their companions.
The carpeting was flattened and pulled up in places from careless passers-by. It had probably not been cleaned since it was first installed, and certain places were molding, matching the leaky water-spots in the ceiling above it.
The rooms that this hallway accessed were all back-doors to places that could have been anything. Walking through a doorway might transport you across the continent. It was always a chance he took.
The man expertly traversing the dirtier parts of the carpet looked like he didnt belong. Much older than his well-designed clothing, he had the suave, yet ruthless way of commanding attention when he appeared on the scene. No flashing accessories made him stand out, apart from his demeanor, yet he obviously knew exactly where he was going and what he was going to do there.
He marched over to his chosen door and knocked sharply. It made rather little noise, considering how quiet the hallway always was. He waited a moment and then in a smooth, practiced movement, he pulled a single key from his vest pocket and opened the door.
The girl inside the room had heard his knock. She was waiting for him to force his way in, as he always did. No matter how many times she tried to change the lock, or move to a different building, he would somehow find her and weasel his way into the room she tried to hide in. Somehow, the rooms all looked the same when he came in. Bare, colorless, and almost sharp-edged. The color would shrink from the furnishings and the lights would fade, like he dimmed them with his sheer mind power. A general grey hue spread from the door as he pushed it open and engulfed the room. He didnt seem to notice as he greeted the girl with a sour smile and called her by name.
She didnt look up right away, focused sadly on the patch of floor he was standing on. When she looked up, her eyes were sad and voice tired.
"I thought you forgot about me. It has been a few months."
"How could I forget one of my favorites? I am your Old Standby, after all." His voice just as syrupy as his sneer.
Her voice was quavering when she managed to whisper out her reply:
"I was hoping you wouldnt come back."
He laughed in that terrible, heart-wrenching way of his. It struck fear into your very soul.
"There is no way you will ever be rid of me, dear," he growled as he strode across the room and glared down at her. He bent over and gripped her chin firmly and made her look into his eyes.
"You tried last time and remember how THAT turned out?"
He let go of her and her shoulders fell and she couldnt help but cry. It was true. No matter what she did the lurking shadow of Depression seemed to have access to her....
April 13, 2012
The Constant Loss
I had intended to write more last month. In fact, I had a lot planned, most of which got lost under the trampling footsteps of everydaylife.
I have been working this week on 'getting over' some old issues (stuff never seems to go away, ALL the way). I was very worked up one night this week because I read through some things I wrote/said a long time ago. Somehow my mother got mixed up in all this and I spent a good bit of time very angry and crying.
Walls are very understanding and good listeners.
The things that is hitting me now is the constant feeling of loss. Total, complete, and overwhelming loss. As an MK, when you move, or change countries, or schools, or mission agencies, you lose precious things. People, places, memories, special pets, climates..... the list is long.
When you experience serious changes in yourself, or in your life, especially in my case, you lose again.
You lose friends and whole portions of the family get lopped off like an arm infected with gangrene.
You lose your position in society, or your connections, because vicious rumors get spread around (in my case, I apparently cuss like a sailor) and people assume they are true. All because you changed.
Loss is like a phantom arm (that got cut off because it was infected with gangrene). You can still feel it even years after it was removed. People and situations remind you of this constantly. I had a customer greet me with: "Howdy!" just this Tuesday. I asked him if he was from New York, and he had just gotten off a plane, he said. My mother often uses that, and whenever she talks with her relatives from up there we kids can tell. Linguistics is another thing of hers that some of us kids got. I can hear faint elongations of vowels and I have started a couple nice conversations asking people where they come from and about how people talk.
I get barraged every day with all kinds of families that pass through the store. Some obviously hate eachother; like the old couple where the husband pushed the wife's food aside in order to grab some silverware, or the wife being rude because her husband spilled some rice on the counter. The children who order expensive drinks because they can and the parents rolling their eyes and grumbling at the kids under their breath. Some obviously are trying: like the mom who stopped talking to me and informed her daughter that right now she was busy, but in a minute she would give her a fruit smoothie. The daughter was about 8 months old, so I dont know how much of the message she got, but it worked to keep her quiet another couple minutes.
I am continually seeing signs of hurt in the children, like the one daughter who spilled soup onto her lap. She started crying (of course) but her mother refused my help (and the paper towels I had) and scooped the hot soup back into a cup and told her daughter to stop crying and eat. I am remembering and hurting with these kids, and wishing I could do something for them. I also remember my parents treating my problems with equal nonchalant-ness and curtness.
People with money troubles who ask their parents or grandparents for help leave me remembering that I have to stay healthy and not make any mistakes because I have to take care of myself.
People who talk about their childhoods and favorite locations in Charlotte, cartoons, childhood friends, music, etc remind me that it would take about 2,000 dollars and a lot of time to go visit the place where I grew up.
People who talk negatively about 'foreigners' dont know it, but they remind me that I have lived more than half my life in a country that was NOT the USA.
I try not to dwell on it, I promise.
But sometimes it catches up to you. The total, overwhelming loss of so many things that are (or were) precious to you.
And loss is a problem that is not curable.
Stress you can cure with a hot shower, a massage, chocolate or other good-feeling-enhancing foods, and by talking or exercise.
Pain you can take care of by R&R or ibuprofen.
Sickness can be helped with a bit of garlic and perhaps a prescription.
Anger you can take out on a punching bag, a friend, your pillow, or with a good cry.
:Loss is something that is not fixed without going back in time and/or effort on the part of many people that would be the equivalent of pulling the Grand Canyon back together.
I understand that it is part of life and everyone deals with it in differing degrees and blah, blah...
Right now; I am dealing with long term, constant loss.
Give me some space to weep.
I have been working this week on 'getting over' some old issues (stuff never seems to go away, ALL the way). I was very worked up one night this week because I read through some things I wrote/said a long time ago. Somehow my mother got mixed up in all this and I spent a good bit of time very angry and crying.
Walls are very understanding and good listeners.
The things that is hitting me now is the constant feeling of loss. Total, complete, and overwhelming loss. As an MK, when you move, or change countries, or schools, or mission agencies, you lose precious things. People, places, memories, special pets, climates..... the list is long.
When you experience serious changes in yourself, or in your life, especially in my case, you lose again.
You lose friends and whole portions of the family get lopped off like an arm infected with gangrene.
You lose your position in society, or your connections, because vicious rumors get spread around (in my case, I apparently cuss like a sailor) and people assume they are true. All because you changed.
Loss is like a phantom arm (that got cut off because it was infected with gangrene). You can still feel it even years after it was removed. People and situations remind you of this constantly. I had a customer greet me with: "Howdy!" just this Tuesday. I asked him if he was from New York, and he had just gotten off a plane, he said. My mother often uses that, and whenever she talks with her relatives from up there we kids can tell. Linguistics is another thing of hers that some of us kids got. I can hear faint elongations of vowels and I have started a couple nice conversations asking people where they come from and about how people talk.
I get barraged every day with all kinds of families that pass through the store. Some obviously hate eachother; like the old couple where the husband pushed the wife's food aside in order to grab some silverware, or the wife being rude because her husband spilled some rice on the counter. The children who order expensive drinks because they can and the parents rolling their eyes and grumbling at the kids under their breath. Some obviously are trying: like the mom who stopped talking to me and informed her daughter that right now she was busy, but in a minute she would give her a fruit smoothie. The daughter was about 8 months old, so I dont know how much of the message she got, but it worked to keep her quiet another couple minutes.
I am continually seeing signs of hurt in the children, like the one daughter who spilled soup onto her lap. She started crying (of course) but her mother refused my help (and the paper towels I had) and scooped the hot soup back into a cup and told her daughter to stop crying and eat. I am remembering and hurting with these kids, and wishing I could do something for them. I also remember my parents treating my problems with equal nonchalant-ness and curtness.
People with money troubles who ask their parents or grandparents for help leave me remembering that I have to stay healthy and not make any mistakes because I have to take care of myself.
People who talk about their childhoods and favorite locations in Charlotte, cartoons, childhood friends, music, etc remind me that it would take about 2,000 dollars and a lot of time to go visit the place where I grew up.
People who talk negatively about 'foreigners' dont know it, but they remind me that I have lived more than half my life in a country that was NOT the USA.
I try not to dwell on it, I promise.
But sometimes it catches up to you. The total, overwhelming loss of so many things that are (or were) precious to you.
And loss is a problem that is not curable.
Stress you can cure with a hot shower, a massage, chocolate or other good-feeling-enhancing foods, and by talking or exercise.
Pain you can take care of by R&R or ibuprofen.
Sickness can be helped with a bit of garlic and perhaps a prescription.
Anger you can take out on a punching bag, a friend, your pillow, or with a good cry.
:Loss is something that is not fixed without going back in time and/or effort on the part of many people that would be the equivalent of pulling the Grand Canyon back together.
I understand that it is part of life and everyone deals with it in differing degrees and blah, blah...
Right now; I am dealing with long term, constant loss.
Give me some space to weep.
March 12, 2012
while you are making other plans
Mrs. G always reminds me of this when I get caught up in how life is overwhelming me and/or when I am ranting about some manner of problem/inconvenience that life is filled with.
Life is what happens while you are making other plans.
I keep making plans and then doing something else entirely, and then going back to the original, and then doing nothing or anything, just to make do.
It is a different way of living for me and it is taking a lot of getting used to.
I am keeping up the work. I make enough to live and a bit to save. (and yeah, that is different from making a good living and saving) I got my first credit card (a secured one from the new bank I am with) that will hopefully give me a credit score sometime in the future and a good footing for any banking I will do. I took a class with certification to expand my knowledge and resume (Mixology, woot!!) and I will be trying to use that as well.
Oh, in other news I FINALLY got my GED diploma (yeah, dated September 1, 2010). And here I thought that the RP had slow agencies. :P
So, in the past 3 weeks I got two certificates to hang on my walls, and a bit more life-experience cred.
I am going to see my sister for St. Pat's and that should be awesome, as we havent seen eachother since December.
I am also seriously considering moving. Maybe it is the moving bug, maybe it is the irreplaceable boy who resides up in the frozen northland who keeps knocking over my walls and pulling me closer.
Oh, have I not mentioned him?
So.... there is this boy....
Life is what happens while you are making other plans.
I keep making plans and then doing something else entirely, and then going back to the original, and then doing nothing or anything, just to make do.
It is a different way of living for me and it is taking a lot of getting used to.
I am keeping up the work. I make enough to live and a bit to save. (and yeah, that is different from making a good living and saving) I got my first credit card (a secured one from the new bank I am with) that will hopefully give me a credit score sometime in the future and a good footing for any banking I will do. I took a class with certification to expand my knowledge and resume (Mixology, woot!!) and I will be trying to use that as well.
Oh, in other news I FINALLY got my GED diploma (yeah, dated September 1, 2010). And here I thought that the RP had slow agencies. :P
So, in the past 3 weeks I got two certificates to hang on my walls, and a bit more life-experience cred.
I am going to see my sister for St. Pat's and that should be awesome, as we havent seen eachother since December.
I am also seriously considering moving. Maybe it is the moving bug, maybe it is the irreplaceable boy who resides up in the frozen northland who keeps knocking over my walls and pulling me closer.
Oh, have I not mentioned him?
So.... there is this boy....
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