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Warning: This contains language designed to at least elicit a bit of laughter. Please put beverages down while reading. My rock, my constant source of laughter and total joy... was gone. At that time, I was also under complete financial duress at the point of coming to grips with being too ill to work and the further slide down of the housing crisis. I had no money for a plane ticket and nobody was offering from the 'family'. Her death came as no great surprise as I knew from the previous year that my visit with her would be the last. She was indeed completely miserable in the hospice place with unfamiliar people and to her palate, "shitty institutional food". She had every right to say that because she was a phenomenal cook. While I wasn't given any choice in the matter where she resided, her sons with exception of one constantly complained about her. Sure. Thanks for putting her in a smelly box-like room with a curtain and a handful of drawers where the staff would rifle through and take anything of value. I know! I bought her this amazingly fun cashmere bright green lap blanket for a special occasion. Sticky fingers by 'nursing staff' is what happened to it. Not to mention the Aunt that walked off with ALL of her jewelry. I see now why she detested J. so much. But then again, J's mother was as 'cray cray' as could be. Psssst... it's the distant 'relative' by marriage people that never go in for professional help that I avoid! That makes my holidays I celebrate QUITE delightful without any excuse. "You m'lady are a wretched ass and I have to eat Valium to be around you for an hour." So I do not. That's how I gauge situations with certain people. Strangers are generally not at all a discomfort. Pretty much people know that those closest to us can indeed do the most damage. But not Gran. Oh my fun and second mother who took up the job after my Mom passed way, way too young. We danced. We could be silly. We could sing off key. She would quote Shakespeare in the kitchen and then I'd be expected to 'remember my lines' to keep whatever Act was going. It was never monetary. She was as practical as it got. If something didn't need replacing, it did not happen. After she passed, the one empathetic Uncle said, "what woman does not ever replace the carpeting, wall paper or furniture?" While not remarking about his now ex-wife's inability to keep a single career path... "It was good and perfect expensive carpeting when it was installed and shows no sign of wear. Not everybody follows design trends or keeping up with neighbors." Oh. Yeah, Depression-era kids who realized everything had value later on passing those critical values on to the offspring might have prevented the disposable society we have today. There were ZERO abuses in my maternal grandparent's home where I had the only safe space in my life. When she was gone... home went away forever. All I have left are photos, a few heirlooms and memories. But she would want me and you to smile and not cry. Out of all of her own personal tragedies with the death of several of her children, she always got back up. I hope if you are down, there are so many wonderful people here at AS to lift you back up!
so most people will say im crazy for even thinking or believing this but, ive died four times...in my dreams. so i believe that when we dream we experience things outisde this world we live in with other souls. i believe this is why we can recognize someone in reality and not know where you saw them before. so, the first two dreams ive had was years ago but i remember them like it happened two minutes ago. i was standing up to this bully, some guy, and i remember being shot in the chest. i remember feeling the burning sensation, feeling my blood leave my body, feeling my life come to an end as my breathing slowed down. there was no white light, no flashbacks on my life, no moments of regret, no confessionals of undying love. just silence. a stillness, no voices in my head, just stillness. the third time i was in a stadium, the earth was coming to an end. im surrounded with hundreds of people trying to escape this tsunami but the stadium starts to fill with water anyway. there is this preacher trying to calm everyone, helping them ease into the death. my birth family is there (B, my aunt, uncle, cousin and her 3 kids) then everyone panics and tries to run again knowing there is no escape but try anyway. they try to convince me to leave but i stay as well as my uncle. we sit on the steps listening and watching people run as the water rises. then it reaches me and i feel myself holding my breathe then letting go. i feel the water enter my lungs, i feel it all over my body and in my ears, then i take on last deep breathe and stillness. i feel that my heart has stopped beating, i feel my body begin to float a little but its quiet, no voices, a calm settles over me. after each dream i wake up slowly and feel at least for those few minutes a sense of peace i can never describe. its like a chance at being born again of something. im not a religious person by any means nor am i deeply spiritual but i do believe in living multiple lives and i feel like thats what ive experienced. i believe we die only to come back and try life again. most will probably chalk it up to heartburn while im sleeping or whatever but its indescribable the feeling of dying. i dont know when i will ever experience it again but, i will always remember those dreams. i will take from them every thing i will ever need to learn about life.
So... life has this way of sucker punching you. Although recently I have become more distant from reality... which I am realizing is fucking dangerous... it's not so much... distant from reality, because I am aware of my life, but more... just... being ambivalent about it, and even if I feel the emotions, I'm not overwhelmed by them.. I've carried them for so long.. I feel... just... yeah. So.. my mom just called. The man who has worked for her, for my family since we moved here and bought the business, Rick, just died. Suddenly, unexpectedly. He was one of those... kinda creepy... criminal record, but basically a fucking good person. Would do anything for you, just a little rough around the edges. He helped my mom through the divorce, he was fiercely protective of us kids. I distinctly remember one time P (my abuser) made me cry, don't remember why, and Rick asked me who made me cry, and I told him, and he yelled at P. If he had known that P had.. that we had... were involved sexually, he might have killed him. Or beaten him up. He was funny, he cared about me, was proud of me, and was overall a father figure. Here's where this gets all kinds of fucked up... but I wanted to explore it because it's... So.. even though he never ever EVER touched me sexually, never even anything close.... he did... sexualize me? Or.. add another layer to it? Let me be fucking clear. I love Rick. I love him, he NEVER did anything to hurt me. I am not trying to befoul his name, I am just... realizing some serious shit. I just need to process this.. and work through it. So. I also have distinct memories of when I started... developing. Who knows how old... sixth grade through 8th grade? 7th and 8th? Anyway, I seem to recall wearing a thong or something, and that a man (I think it was Rick...?) made a comment about it. Not in a way that made me feel threatened at all, I was flattered by it. There's another time I clearly remember that he told me I swung my hips when I walked, or something about the way my ass moved. Ever since then, I am pretty aware (and hopeful) that men are noticing the same thing.. And, his tattoos were some of the first ones I ever saw. He had a Tasmanian Devil, a naked Smurfette, and a naked lady with a truck running up on her body. The truck had these... tubes? suckers? that were attached to her breasts, and her groin. I... I liked those tattoos. I liked the things he said to me (that I'm pretty sure he said to me) about my body. What the fuck... I also know that when he found out about P, because he did find out about P... he cried... I know he loved me. I know he did. He was someone who was very important in my life... just.. maybe in ways I wasn't really expecting. So. Yeah. Life. And today my husband and I are going to therapy too. Ha. Anyway... Life keeps rolling. There's no stopping it. I guess over all, I am just realizing how fucked up I am... that feeling abandoned by my dad, and searching for it, then receiving it in sexual ways too young... I can't... that is what I am good at, that is what I know, that is what I want. I am this way, sex runs through everything I do, it is a constant thought, a constant thread... And that so much of my own self fulfillment and contentment comes from being.. from being the most prized, coveted, and cherished thing in a man's life. Yes his possession, at least in some capacity (sexually). Is that fucked up? Maybe. Probably. It's me. I'm just trying to figure out how "me" fits into the life I've built.