The Bucket List…..

I want to be the girl in this video….travelling across the world, uninhibited, throwing caution to the wind.  Chances are, the likelihood of this happening is akin to a camel poking its head through a needle, and then realizing he still has to get his body through it.

I love, love, love to travel.  It’s just that we have no extra moolah, and what we do have goes to silly things like food, vet visits and electric bills.  I don’t have a bucket list in all actuality, but here is a sampling of things I would like to do before I leave this planet:

I would love to go to Ireland, in search of my ancestors.  If I do go to Ireland, I will be tempted to drink an ale with the kin folk-you know, raise up a glass to the country that turned us out-I hear they’re very folksy and welcoming, but let’s face the facts, I would want to live there, or perhaps petrify in one place, sitting at the pub, drinking Guiness, and singing the songs of my people.

Big Sur was a big draw, until I read about Bohemian Grove.  With our luck, we would find the wrong place at the wrong time, and I apologize, but becoming a blood sacrifice for the elite in this world?  Let’s just say I have no time for the big, wooden statue of Baphomet, and I don’t like people telling me what to do.

Hawaii was big on my “list” at one point, and now I see the error of my ways.  The fat faced dictator from HELL has threatened their peace, and I don’t want to spend my whole vacation in an underground bunker.

And lastly, there was Sea World.  Yes, I wanted to ride the dolphins with abandon, you know, be that girl: the one who never stops talking about her relationship with a fifty year old she met out in California, and then you come to find out it was a sea mammal.  No thanks.

So for now?  I’ll stay in this sleepy little town of horse and buggies, biting flies the size of Texas, and more cow manure than you can shake a stick at.

 

Helpless, Helpless, Helpless……………

My brother came up to visit yesterday, and it was a gas, man.  We laughed until our stomachs hurt, ate gimongous cheeseburgers and red velvet cupcakes, and had real, quality time together.

I don’t do well with saying goodbye, and I spent most of the day, repeating, Please don’t leave me yet, over and over again in my head.  He stayed for a long time, and when he got ready to leave?  My heart stuck in my throat………….I am sick and tired of goodbyes.  The better your experience, the worse the downer when it’s over.

We walked down to the driveway, and he said, I don’t know what’s going to happen to the family………it broke me.  I don’t have the answers, dear brother.  But this I do know, I will love you with an everlasting love…….it’s hard to put your finger on the emotions you feel, when what’s left of your family drives down the street, on their way to Philadelphia, then LA……..but one of the hardest things?  Learning to let go, and not feel alone, forsaken, misunderstood.

So for now, let’s just say, “see you next time around.”

 

She’s Got the Look…….

via Daily Prompt: Glaringhttps://youtu.be/8gRRou8rJgc

Blame it on my Irish blood, but I have been known to give the evil eye, and judging from what friends and family alike have noticed, it will kill you dead.  My husband has tried to break me of the habit of staring at people, and for the most part?  I don’t believe it is as much of a habit any longer.  But looking back, I believe that my temper has down right terrified those who have been the subject of my ire.

As a teenager, I suffered from anorexia nervosa.  I still have an eating disorder, and it is on my bucket list to have it addressed at some point.  Don’t get me wrong, I eat, and no longer suffer from bulimia, but I will only eat one meal a day, and this has led to some pretty awkward situations, let me tell you.   Give my mother in law a call, and ask her about holidays with me, I am sure she’d be thrilled to get some things off her chestSadly, I don’t even give myself a break during holidays, and she has glared at me more than once.  I don’t blame her, anymore anyways.

The point is my anorexia made me mean.  I didn’t know it until years of therapy and research later, but I was starving to death so my emotions and electrolytes were off.  My sister and I shared a bedroom phone.  It is legend in the suburbs of Philadelphia that I scared the absolute life force out of her friends.  They would hang up if I answered.  Looking back, I can’t even believe it was me.

I come in a small, 5 feet, 0 inches and weigh about 135 pounds.  But hell hath no fury, and I mean no fury like that of a daddy’s girl who doesn’t get her way, or who has been treated unjustly, or even worse-seen other vulnerable people be taken advantage of.  I have fought for what I believe in since I can remember.  I remember, in sixth grade?  A little snot named Kim Something was the Crossing Guard.  She had a chip on her shoulder that manifested in all of it’s glory on poor, unsuspecting, why does this shit always happen to me? girls and boys.  I remember one day I spit out my gum and she wrote me a ticket.  And there I am, at Belmont Elementary, in her face screaming “IT’S BIODEGRADABLE YOU ASSHOLE!!!!!!”

Another incident comes to mind:  I was a waitress through my twenties at a Houlihan’s in King of Prussia.  I loved the people I worked with, but there were a few exceptions.  One afternoon, hung over and praying my station would close, another waitress butted in line for the computer.  I snapped.

Why don’t you do another line, Sady?  Go do another line so you can be faster at doing nothing but getting in my fucking way.”  Yeppers.  Yelled it right out into the dining room.  My boss was literally speechless.

I pushed Mark Folsom down the church steps after he picked on my brother one Monday evening, after CCD.  He broke his front teeth out, and I couldn’t have been more pleased.  He didn’t try that again for a long while, not until High School-where my brother surprised the crapola out of him by knocking him out in the hallway.

As Christians we often presume that we are to be as meek as church mice.  Jesus overturned a table or two at the Temple, and standing for something means not falling for anybody else’s bullshit.  God made me to roar like a lion when something is evil, and I pity the fool who mistakes my kindness for meekness.

Don’t let anyone take you out of your integrity.  Fight hard for what is just, and remember-you didn’t really do it if you didn’t get caught.  🙂

 

O Brother, Where art Thou?

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I swear to God in heaven that I was going to write satire today, as I know I needed it, and maybe a few of my readers did as well.  I was preparing a little number about my husband’s hilarious bedside manner if you will.  I saved the draft, but after just promising my brother that family was off limits for my writing career, I write a blog about, well, family.

When I grew up, Craig and I were very close-he was my best friend.  Our crazy childhood was a bonding agent, and that explains why it was so hard for me to let go of him when he went out to California.  We were younger, stubborn, and hadn’t matured in the way we finally and fabulously have now.  He on one side of the country, me on the other.  When this song came out, I don’t know why, but to me it was “our” song-maybe it was the girl with the long blonde hair…..I don’t know, but I could literally feel his presence when I heard it for the first time.  It was so comforting.

When we went out to visit him ten years ago (prior to my sobriety, and I have to say-I had a blast and it was worth it) I cried from the minute he walked away, through the entire flight back home, and for weeks and weeks straight.  I was going through such a depression (alcohol didn’t help) when we came back from LA, that my therapist agreed to hypnotize me to the place I felt safest, and for whatever reason, my brother’s apartment was the scene.  It ended up to be a futility, as it turns out, I can’t be hypnotized.  (I once went onstage with 40 other people at a Renaissance Faire.  The magician was going to put us all to sleep.  Imagine my surprise when people fell over by the dozens, and I was the sole person sitting up and alert on the stage)  I felt loved and understood out there, had quality time with my adorable niece, his wife and their cats.

But I have something to say, and in our family-let’s face it-it is very difficult to talk of our feelings.  But this is on my heart, my brother, and I want you to know that I am so thankful that we made it out of the shitstorm, and back to one another.  You have always seemed to get me, and I feel a lift in my loafers at the prospect of a genuine friendship once again.  Having just one person understand you, know your entire history, appreciate your uniqueness and faults as well as your assets, well, that person is a keeper.

He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother………..

Paranoia Will Destroy You…….

I had just begun to settle in, feel like myself again, feel real joy…..when the shadow people paid me a visit.  No, not THOSE shadow people-my family of origin, as my recently fired psychologist likes to call it.  They seem to think I am owed nothing in this life, not even my writing-and then a discussion with my bestie, in which she told me I was wrong to include information about my nieces and nephew’s childhood.  At first, I argued the point.  And then, sadly, I came to the conclusion that she was right as rain.  One sentence out of one blog post had effectively terminated my integrity, and for that I am deeply disturbed.

Speaking of anxiety, you would be amazed at what triggers CPTSD, and why.  The texts from the Adirondack Mountains, in which my husband was placed in the middle, again-well, that was just the tip of the iceberg.  My weekend was ruined the minute Dwain spoke the words, “I need to tell you something.”  A friend of mine, Gordon, and I were laughing hysterically in church yesterday: we were laughing at the way people give you bad news and how they preface it.

“By the way……..”

“Don’t shoot the messenger…….”

“I didn’t want to have to tell you this,” and the most mind crippling of all?

“You’re going to be really upset, but….never mind, I shouldn’t be the one to tell you this,” which leads you to think the worst about the people that surround you, your husband and the SAT scores you had in high school.

CPTSD triggers can come in many forms, shapes and sizes. and we don’t see them coming.  One word, one look, one bad day…and the anxiety comes back, full throttle, in your face, mocking the idea that you have a right to be happy and at peace.  They turn your world upside down, and as far as you have come with your emotional health?  Well, that is all shattered and you have to start at the bottom, again.

But the fight is worth it, to get back on top.  And I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me.