to have someone in my life who gave a rat's ass about me?
I was just working on the whole feeling feelings thing and I suddenly experienced such longing, and not so much for the loss of things, but for the loss of opportunity to have love and a loving person in my life.
To be honest, I accepted long ago that I was destined to be pretty much alone in my life. I might be lucky to have nice people around me, but not so likely to find intimacy or love. The romantic kind.
In the midst of all this longing is knowing how foolish it is for someone my age to be thinking so immaturely. I have a great life now. I have an amazing family and some of the best friends on the planet. I have truly meaningful work. I have a safe place to live. I have some of my art stuff and the opportunity to begin that part of my life again. If I ever get my stuff together.
Then, today happens and I go off and read on the DV site from earlier and I read about my life, there it is, right on the page, right on their site, the way it was and I become all emotional again. I accept that it has been only months since all of that ended, and, still, I want it to stop holding so much energy for me. Loss. Stop. Now.
Instead of feeling gratitude for what I now have I am feeling this stupid loss. When will I get past this. I am so fucking immature and selfish.
Monday, October 15, 2012
from each according to his ability,
to each according to his need.
Dear Diary,
From each according to his ability, to each according to his need.
From Marx's Critique of the Gotha Program. Although I am not Marxist, it certainly a principle for social organization. Certainly food for thought. Certainly worth considering, especially when working with one's own issues, or when working with others and theirs.
The only reason this popped into my head is because I just found out that October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month. Really? Yes. interesting. The only reason I know about it is because it was in a newsletter I receive from a Veteran's organization. I work with veterans and I know a bit about PTSD because my brother came home from Vietnam with it, although it was not called that and no one knew about the whole thing, or at least if someone knew they were not sharing it with the rest of us. He came home from Vietnam, but he actually died over there; only his walking, talking body came back. He was not him, and none of us had any way to help him because there just was not.
Anyway, I know a bit about it, but I never connected it to my life until my therapist did. And, now, today comes this newsletter that connects everything with everything. Me, my work with veterans, my work in general, my brother (of whom I have not thought for some time). My life before now. Man.
Not only have I made a commitment to work on the whole recognizing and expressing healthy anger, but I have this opportunity to help tie a whole bunch of stuff together. Lordy.
Anyway.
National Coalition Against Domestic Violence
Dear Diary,
From each according to his ability, to each according to his need.
From Marx's Critique of the Gotha Program. Although I am not Marxist, it certainly a principle for social organization. Certainly food for thought. Certainly worth considering, especially when working with one's own issues, or when working with others and theirs.
The only reason this popped into my head is because I just found out that October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month. Really? Yes. interesting. The only reason I know about it is because it was in a newsletter I receive from a Veteran's organization. I work with veterans and I know a bit about PTSD because my brother came home from Vietnam with it, although it was not called that and no one knew about the whole thing, or at least if someone knew they were not sharing it with the rest of us. He came home from Vietnam, but he actually died over there; only his walking, talking body came back. He was not him, and none of us had any way to help him because there just was not.
Anyway, I know a bit about it, but I never connected it to my life until my therapist did. And, now, today comes this newsletter that connects everything with everything. Me, my work with veterans, my work in general, my brother (of whom I have not thought for some time). My life before now. Man.
Not only have I made a commitment to work on the whole recognizing and expressing healthy anger, but I have this opportunity to help tie a whole bunch of stuff together. Lordy.
Anyway.
National Coalition Against Domestic Violence
Sunday, October 14, 2012
depression
Dear Diary,
Depression.
Apparently I have a lot of it.
Frankly, I think I come by it honestly.
Alcoholic parents equals bad brain chemistry, for which I hold absolutely no responsibility.
But, the rest of it is due to being one the most stupid people in the history of peoplehood, by staying in an abusive marriage for 45 years. Sure, it was not all blood and strewn guts, but it was mostly not good, and I stayed and stayed and then stuck around for more. My therapist called it a relationship, perhaps trying to minimize the married part, but it never was any kind of being in relation, unless you count the license and ceremony.
So, anyway, I bailed on therapy when it became too difficult to avoid doing any actual and real work. This was back in, oh god, maybe July. When I was living in the shelter, it was not a shelter where they made programs and help available, it was a Program that just happened to have emergency housing available.
Enter the shelter environment and I was assigned a therapist and the responsibility for attending at least three other things, groups, activities, whatever I chose from all of the stuff scheduled each week, most days actually. It was difficult to take a few steps without tripping and going-ass-over-teakettle over some kind of help.
I stayed in therapy even after I left the shelter to repair and prepare the house for sale. That is a whole other life-altering, separate experience.
But, when we started to get close to the abuse issues, you know, the nuts and bolts and just plain nuttiness of living that way, I could not handle it. I was still being threatened and harassed by someone who is not me. Every day was a struggle. Fixing the house. Being assaulted via his attorney. Trying to stay safe in that house, or at least capturing the sense of relative safety and get a decent night's sleep. Threats. More threats. Not having any money. Not being able to find a place for myself and CoolCat for when the house sold. Waiting for the next assault/threat/attack.
I cannot share the worst of what I experienced because there might come a time when someone from that old life could access this safe place and use it against me, but there were several times of significance when I truly believed that I would not be able to go on even one more day. Sometimes survival was from hour to hour. And, yeah, someone who is not me would love to know that, that I was that seriously affected by every stupid, pointless, cruel, threatening, disgusting thing he tried to do to me after I fled for my life all those months ago.
So, when we began to get too close to those core issues, I stopped working with my therapist. I just stopped.
Then, in the past month or so, I began to have those cannot-do-any-of-this-anymore feelings, which is stupid because I have been doing this. All of it. I kept it all together when preparing the house. I kept it all together after the house sold and CoolCat and I lived in a motel for a while because I did not have any other place to stay that would allow cats, and could not stay with my daughter or any friends because it seems that I have a talent for choosing friends with life-threatening allergic reactions to fur-bearing creatures.
During those last weeks in the house, I continued to look for a place to live, without success. In the last week and a half, I had two appointments to euthanize CoolCat because I had no place to take him and he is un-adoptable due to chronic and expensive health issues and because his temperament, well, it sucks. He is fairly unfriendly because one of his health issues is back problems as a result of not having a tail. It sometimes causes spine problems which cause pain which cannot be properly treated with pain medication, due to being a cat, which is risky, which makes him cranky...the pain. The reason there were two euthanasia appointments is because I could not do it the first time and I could not do it the second time either. Until I thought of the motel thing, my plan was for us to live in the car in the back driveway of a friend.
But, there was a happy ending. The short version is that I found a place to live, where CoolCat was welcome. This place is barely within the limits of my resources, but I like it and we are safe here. We have decent shelter, enough money for food, utilities, litter and the occasional carton of ice cream from Walgreen's when they are on sale or I am feeling desperate for some junk/easy/indulgent mood altering.
Some who is not me extorted a good portion of the proceeds of the house from my share because I was so invested in getting free with as few complications as possible. Now, if I had known that one of his activities was to steal and hide a huge portion of our joint assets and investments, I might have been more assertive about him continuing to fuck me over and over and over.
No, that is not true. I was not capable of being assertive about anything. Nothing. I knew it then and I know it now. I would not have done anything differently. And, whilst it means that something who is not me has most of our assets, I have something he will never have.
I have come through all of this with my ethics and morals and standards for decent behavior intact. I never responded in kind to any of his shenanigans, which is how I choose to think of his crap. In fact, I never responded to him at all. He and his sister would make all of these threats through his attorney, who would send it to my attorney, who would tell me, and that would be the end of it. Our response (mine, really) was no response. No 'yes', no 'no', no nothing.
I think that never losing myself, never becoming caught up in the terrible stuff that can be part of a divorce was perhaps the one thing over which I had control, in an adult life of never having control over anything, not even my body.
Interestingly, now that the worst is over and I am comfortable with so much, I feel that doing what I did and how I did it is worth everything. You know, like everything.
And, still, with everything I have experienced, I am feeling the occasional impatience at not being recovered and healed by this time, even though it has been only a few months. I guess I am simply weary of it all. I know that it takes time, that it took decades to bring me to this point in my life, that healing takes time, that I will be dealing with the PTSD for a very long time. Very long. I take medication for the depression. I have medication to help combat the anxiety and panic attacks, but I made the mistake of reading the prescription insert and it causes drowsiness, and I just cannot have that. Lordy.
I need either a different medication(s) or a higher dosage of the one I already have. I am stalling. However, I have gone back into therapy. Two sessions worth in the last week or so. And, in those sessions, my therapist is pushing to work on the issue over which I quit.
It is anger. Or, actually, my inability to feel anger, much less express it. It is a foreign language in an equally foreign location, to which I have no access, having swallowed it for most of my life. Just ate all of it up with a spoon.
It served me well. It helped me survive. I am not complaining. Except, of course, that is exactly what I am doing, because working on this is horrible. It scares me beyond articulation. I made a vow to do this work, and I will. It still scares me, but I will do the work, because the panic attacks are returning and that scares me even more.
The practical aspect is that I am supposed to write down what I am feeling as I feel the panic building.
What happened just before.
What is happening now.
How I was feeling before it started.
The specifics of how I am feeling now.
I thought that I would also note what I had been eating, drinking, sleeping, whatever.
I have not had one in this week or so. Had one tonight. Something difficult happened, no worse than any recent difficult things, but this one knocked me on my ass, and I have no idea why I reacted to this one thing when I have not done so to any of the other things that happened last week, which was a terrible week.
Writing all of this is helping, although it is not bringing me any closer to understanding any of this. I am trusting that this is the process.
I am not running away again. I am sticking with this.
Depression.
Apparently I have a lot of it.
Frankly, I think I come by it honestly.
Alcoholic parents equals bad brain chemistry, for which I hold absolutely no responsibility.
But, the rest of it is due to being one the most stupid people in the history of peoplehood, by staying in an abusive marriage for 45 years. Sure, it was not all blood and strewn guts, but it was mostly not good, and I stayed and stayed and then stuck around for more. My therapist called it a relationship, perhaps trying to minimize the married part, but it never was any kind of being in relation, unless you count the license and ceremony.
So, anyway, I bailed on therapy when it became too difficult to avoid doing any actual and real work. This was back in, oh god, maybe July. When I was living in the shelter, it was not a shelter where they made programs and help available, it was a Program that just happened to have emergency housing available.
Enter the shelter environment and I was assigned a therapist and the responsibility for attending at least three other things, groups, activities, whatever I chose from all of the stuff scheduled each week, most days actually. It was difficult to take a few steps without tripping and going-ass-over-teakettle over some kind of help.
I stayed in therapy even after I left the shelter to repair and prepare the house for sale. That is a whole other life-altering, separate experience.
But, when we started to get close to the abuse issues, you know, the nuts and bolts and just plain nuttiness of living that way, I could not handle it. I was still being threatened and harassed by someone who is not me. Every day was a struggle. Fixing the house. Being assaulted via his attorney. Trying to stay safe in that house, or at least capturing the sense of relative safety and get a decent night's sleep. Threats. More threats. Not having any money. Not being able to find a place for myself and CoolCat for when the house sold. Waiting for the next assault/threat/attack.
I cannot share the worst of what I experienced because there might come a time when someone from that old life could access this safe place and use it against me, but there were several times of significance when I truly believed that I would not be able to go on even one more day. Sometimes survival was from hour to hour. And, yeah, someone who is not me would love to know that, that I was that seriously affected by every stupid, pointless, cruel, threatening, disgusting thing he tried to do to me after I fled for my life all those months ago.
So, when we began to get too close to those core issues, I stopped working with my therapist. I just stopped.
Then, in the past month or so, I began to have those cannot-do-any-of-this-anymore feelings, which is stupid because I have been doing this. All of it. I kept it all together when preparing the house. I kept it all together after the house sold and CoolCat and I lived in a motel for a while because I did not have any other place to stay that would allow cats, and could not stay with my daughter or any friends because it seems that I have a talent for choosing friends with life-threatening allergic reactions to fur-bearing creatures.
During those last weeks in the house, I continued to look for a place to live, without success. In the last week and a half, I had two appointments to euthanize CoolCat because I had no place to take him and he is un-adoptable due to chronic and expensive health issues and because his temperament, well, it sucks. He is fairly unfriendly because one of his health issues is back problems as a result of not having a tail. It sometimes causes spine problems which cause pain which cannot be properly treated with pain medication, due to being a cat, which is risky, which makes him cranky...the pain. The reason there were two euthanasia appointments is because I could not do it the first time and I could not do it the second time either. Until I thought of the motel thing, my plan was for us to live in the car in the back driveway of a friend.
But, there was a happy ending. The short version is that I found a place to live, where CoolCat was welcome. This place is barely within the limits of my resources, but I like it and we are safe here. We have decent shelter, enough money for food, utilities, litter and the occasional carton of ice cream from Walgreen's when they are on sale or I am feeling desperate for some junk/easy/indulgent mood altering.
Some who is not me extorted a good portion of the proceeds of the house from my share because I was so invested in getting free with as few complications as possible. Now, if I had known that one of his activities was to steal and hide a huge portion of our joint assets and investments, I might have been more assertive about him continuing to fuck me over and over and over.
No, that is not true. I was not capable of being assertive about anything. Nothing. I knew it then and I know it now. I would not have done anything differently. And, whilst it means that something who is not me has most of our assets, I have something he will never have.
I have come through all of this with my ethics and morals and standards for decent behavior intact. I never responded in kind to any of his shenanigans, which is how I choose to think of his crap. In fact, I never responded to him at all. He and his sister would make all of these threats through his attorney, who would send it to my attorney, who would tell me, and that would be the end of it. Our response (mine, really) was no response. No 'yes', no 'no', no nothing.
I think that never losing myself, never becoming caught up in the terrible stuff that can be part of a divorce was perhaps the one thing over which I had control, in an adult life of never having control over anything, not even my body.
Interestingly, now that the worst is over and I am comfortable with so much, I feel that doing what I did and how I did it is worth everything. You know, like everything.
And, still, with everything I have experienced, I am feeling the occasional impatience at not being recovered and healed by this time, even though it has been only a few months. I guess I am simply weary of it all. I know that it takes time, that it took decades to bring me to this point in my life, that healing takes time, that I will be dealing with the PTSD for a very long time. Very long. I take medication for the depression. I have medication to help combat the anxiety and panic attacks, but I made the mistake of reading the prescription insert and it causes drowsiness, and I just cannot have that. Lordy.
I need either a different medication(s) or a higher dosage of the one I already have. I am stalling. However, I have gone back into therapy. Two sessions worth in the last week or so. And, in those sessions, my therapist is pushing to work on the issue over which I quit.
It is anger. Or, actually, my inability to feel anger, much less express it. It is a foreign language in an equally foreign location, to which I have no access, having swallowed it for most of my life. Just ate all of it up with a spoon.
It served me well. It helped me survive. I am not complaining. Except, of course, that is exactly what I am doing, because working on this is horrible. It scares me beyond articulation. I made a vow to do this work, and I will. It still scares me, but I will do the work, because the panic attacks are returning and that scares me even more.
The practical aspect is that I am supposed to write down what I am feeling as I feel the panic building.
What happened just before.
What is happening now.
How I was feeling before it started.
The specifics of how I am feeling now.
I thought that I would also note what I had been eating, drinking, sleeping, whatever.
I have not had one in this week or so. Had one tonight. Something difficult happened, no worse than any recent difficult things, but this one knocked me on my ass, and I have no idea why I reacted to this one thing when I have not done so to any of the other things that happened last week, which was a terrible week.
Writing all of this is helping, although it is not bringing me any closer to understanding any of this. I am trusting that this is the process.
I am not running away again. I am sticking with this.
happy
Dear Diary,
This is what normal feels like, at least the new normal I am crafting. I may have written about the three times I have felt happiness since being here. Three actual moments of a deep and comfortable feeling of contentment, but mostly safety I guess. No matter, it has been decades since I remember feeling like this. Sure, I have felt happy, pleasure and joy during that time, but not happiness, and I do not know how to explain this. Perhaps it is the quality of safety that makes a difference. Just do not know.
Whatever it is, I am grateful, happy even.
Today's happiness is my fourth. The grandbabies just left. They have been here since Friday and it was just plain great. As are all grandchildren, they are bright, brilliant even, funny, delightful, brilliant, creative, adorable, brilliant, cute.
I have more fun and love and just everything with them than I deserve. Truly. I knew that having grandchildren would be wonderful, but I had no idea of how wonderful. I adore my daughter and her husband (my own sweet boy, frankly, and who loves me right back), but these children, gosh, I really did not have any concept or expectation that there was so much love inside me to be expressed. Since their births, maybe even before that, I feel about them the same way that I do about my daughter. She is a great mom, we all get along famously and try to spend as much time together as possible.
When I was looking for a home, I spent most of my time searching for a place near to her. It did not work out and I think that living in this new city is probably one of the most significant disagreements we have ever had. Of course, disagreeing for us means her saying that I really need to live closer to her and the guys and me saying that I cannot afford anything near to her and that, given that circumstance, my preference is to live here, less expensively and close to my work.
So, we had fun this weekend. The only reason they went home this morning is because their mom missed them so much. She called this morning and asked to fetch them if we did not have any plans for the day, and said that she nearly called last night.
And, now they are on their way home. I cannot bear to clean up their toys, although they did some of that before they left. I just want to see stuff strewn around for a while longer. When I was married, they could not ever come to the house. There could never be any disturbance in the 'force' and other people in the house, those he liked were fine, but not so for his own child and her children.
But, whatever. All of that is in the past and the boys and their parents can visit Grammy any time they fucking well please. I do not use that kind of language around others, but it perfectly expresses my new sentiments.
Totally unconnected, but I turned on the television after they left and there is a Bette Davis movie on public television. I have no idea what it is about, I think she is ill and might lose her sight, but it has Ronald Reagan, Humphrey Bogart, and Bette's eyes and her, heretofore unaware consciousness, amazing breasts. Holey-moley, she really was the whole package, brains, talent, beauty and a sweet person to boot.
This is what normal feels like, at least the new normal I am crafting. I may have written about the three times I have felt happiness since being here. Three actual moments of a deep and comfortable feeling of contentment, but mostly safety I guess. No matter, it has been decades since I remember feeling like this. Sure, I have felt happy, pleasure and joy during that time, but not happiness, and I do not know how to explain this. Perhaps it is the quality of safety that makes a difference. Just do not know.
Whatever it is, I am grateful, happy even.
Today's happiness is my fourth. The grandbabies just left. They have been here since Friday and it was just plain great. As are all grandchildren, they are bright, brilliant even, funny, delightful, brilliant, creative, adorable, brilliant, cute.
I have more fun and love and just everything with them than I deserve. Truly. I knew that having grandchildren would be wonderful, but I had no idea of how wonderful. I adore my daughter and her husband (my own sweet boy, frankly, and who loves me right back), but these children, gosh, I really did not have any concept or expectation that there was so much love inside me to be expressed. Since their births, maybe even before that, I feel about them the same way that I do about my daughter. She is a great mom, we all get along famously and try to spend as much time together as possible.
When I was looking for a home, I spent most of my time searching for a place near to her. It did not work out and I think that living in this new city is probably one of the most significant disagreements we have ever had. Of course, disagreeing for us means her saying that I really need to live closer to her and the guys and me saying that I cannot afford anything near to her and that, given that circumstance, my preference is to live here, less expensively and close to my work.
So, we had fun this weekend. The only reason they went home this morning is because their mom missed them so much. She called this morning and asked to fetch them if we did not have any plans for the day, and said that she nearly called last night.
And, now they are on their way home. I cannot bear to clean up their toys, although they did some of that before they left. I just want to see stuff strewn around for a while longer. When I was married, they could not ever come to the house. There could never be any disturbance in the 'force' and other people in the house, those he liked were fine, but not so for his own child and her children.
But, whatever. All of that is in the past and the boys and their parents can visit Grammy any time they fucking well please. I do not use that kind of language around others, but it perfectly expresses my new sentiments.
Totally unconnected, but I turned on the television after they left and there is a Bette Davis movie on public television. I have no idea what it is about, I think she is ill and might lose her sight, but it has Ronald Reagan, Humphrey Bogart, and Bette's eyes and her, heretofore unaware consciousness, amazing breasts. Holey-moley, she really was the whole package, brains, talent, beauty and a sweet person to boot.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
vehicles
So anyway, I am sitting in a comfortable chair at the DMV. I thought that I had an easy issue, but no one seems to know where to direct me.
I have had only stellar experiences here so this should be interesting. This also seems to be the firs day for several of the employees.
Maybe, staff-wise they are trying to have everyone fully trained before the holiday season.
The wait is fine. I get to sit and people-watch, but other patrons are fit to be tied up and moved to padded rooms. I am feeling very glad that I chose to do this now instead of waiting until the last moment.
Monday, October 8, 2012
lost week, most likely
I am back on-line. Internet here. Man. This will significantly reduce the amount of time I spend at the Library, taking care of loose ends for clients.
I thought that I would get this back and immediately become involved with all sorts of stuff, but the need to do that is apparently gone. Interesting. I wonder if it will return in some way. All that is better because of this new connection is that I can use an actual keyboard.
Just have to see.
I thought that I would get this back and immediately become involved with all sorts of stuff, but the need to do that is apparently gone. Interesting. I wonder if it will return in some way. All that is better because of this new connection is that I can use an actual keyboard.
Just have to see.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
lost weekend
Another weekend of not much done,which is fine because there are no actual agendas or pressing schedules,well other than making sure that CoolCat and I are properly fed and watered.
We are.
Of course,this upper respiratory thing can disappear any time now.
My great plan for CoolCat's scratching post is a fail . Poor guy.
So,clean or nap. Huh.
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