Holiday dealings…

This morning I woke up to 25 texts about the upcoming family meal! Really, Folks?!! Didn’t we already do this two weeks ago?

Anyhoo, I have tons of cooking to do, a side and a dessert. Doesn’t sound like much, but the fact is, I have to make a ton of them to feed everyone at least one serving each.

I’m making twice baked potatoes, and some cupcake thingys everyone loves so much they steal and smuggle them off, for eating later! Now here comes the tricky bit. There will be 14 kids there – under the age of 13! We also have 2 grandmas, and like 16 other adults. This is no small affair! We are having 3 kinds of meat – and no, a Tur-Duck-en has ever been laid at our table! I’m not even interested in finding out how that tastes! There will likely be more food than we need, so I am taking along dishes to bring home leftovers! Makes the food budget last longer!

Personally, I am just glad my house is too small for gatherings. I really like that about my house. Well that, and we don’t live too close, or too far for random visits, or guests! Perfect!

At any rate my aforementioned bio-dad had planned to have dinner with my little family. First it was here, then it was there and now they have just called it off completely. I feel like it had to do with my situation. Perhaps, some people don’t know how to handle me. They might not know where I would fit. Whatever the reason, I just feel jipped!

He cancelled on taking my son for a birthday lunch, and now this. I am seeing this pattern, and I don’t like it. I am the kind of mom who hides things about events, or vacations, or visits from my kids until we are in the car going there. They obsess, and ask a million questions every day, until they are at the event anyway. So I just cut that drama stuff out. And they don’t know that we were dumped again. I am grateful that I haven’t disappointed them about this!

I’m quite upset with my dad since he didn’t even tell me himself. I heard it from my cousin. And I am even beginning to questions his motives for doing that. Either way, my kids wont miss anything. they’ve only laid eyes on him twice. I’ve only seen him a few more times than they have, so I really don’t know what I am in for.

Should I trust him? Should I act like it was nothing, even though it caused me to cut, again? I told him flat-out, that it bothered me and I wasn’t coping well. What he does about that is entirely up to him. I can only text and wait. My older son has a birthday soon, and of course then its Christmas! I’m not going to say a word. If he wants anything to do with us, he will say so.

I think he doesn’t know how to handle all the things he missed with me. Finding out my childhood was far worse than he hoped for, and my own psychoses which he blames himself for, can be hard to digest. But I fight everyday to love myself. I can’t sit around worried about what other people think (even though its all I think about)…

Thankful, and honored, I am not!

What makes it a feeling?

I’m no philosopher, nor do I ever read such literature, so I basically have no idea what its true meaning is. I could grab my Webster’s, or google it; but I’m not even sure THAT would give me a proper understanding of the differences between philosphy, emotion, and thought.

I can think about feelings. I can feel a few emotions. I can think thoughts, and have feelings about them. But… does one truly sit back and ponder the convoluted intricasies of philosophy? Maybe, that’s what I am doing, unknowingly! I have no clue!

The only reason I ever considered thinking about feelings, in the first place, was because I wondered if my parents knew how lonely I really was! Did they realize what they were doing to me; and by my ignorance of my feelings, or hiding them, did anyone even notice it?

As a mother, I watch my kids like a hawk! I watch their reactions to things, and I hide them from the bad, or harmful. I ask questions about their feelings, or check if they have questions about their own feelings. I don’t remember anyone doing that with me. I feel as though everyone should have a someone that does that for them. Either forcing them to confront ideas and emotions they want to hide, or just by being the person which helps them to vent those emotions. It should be a basic human right. But it isn’t.

It should be a requirement, I think. I also think Ethics should be taught in schools, not just colleges! I would probably break most ethical ideals, but I do still believe in having rules. My shrink says I am so used to being unseen, that I like breaking rules just to check that I am still invisible. And so far I have yet to be wrong.

Maybe I am about 50% crazy, and 50% conscientious. I know right from wrong and I still make mistakes, or purposely push boundaries and break rules. But I also have respect for each person’s individual rights. I take care not to trip over ALL societal rules and regulations, when I purposely choose the Dark Side. If I were a Jedi…I’d be a Grey…at best!

Even now, I sit here typing away, knowing only the tiniest percent of people who are on this website will even see the title, let alone read the damned thing!

So why do I post? Because, I have no one to listen. Still… at my age, I have no one to tell my secrets to. I can say that I have reservations about seeing my dad again, but no one I know, would understand the feeling. I can tell anyone who’d listen all my horrors and woes…but they couldn’t share the ideas emotions which caused them.

But how do you find a Someone? Some have best friends, some have spouses, or family members, and some pay a psychologist or counselor. But again…these people wouldn’t understand HOW I feel. They’d have no point of relation. Millions of people have divorced parents. Nothing new. Most of those parents were adult enough to keep the lines of communication open for both parents and children. I didn’t have that.

Hell, I still have no idea why my mother even wanted to keep me around. She clearly didn’t like me. She went out of her way to be sure I knew that in her eyes, I was half Demon. So why keep me? Why not just let me go to someone else. She certainly threatened to drop me off at orphanages plenty of times! For that matter, why didn’t my father fight to stay in my life, or to keep me?! I feel like the loser’s prize in a contest of responsibility!

I don’t know the specifics of my own upbringing! What the fuck does one do with that kind of reality?! I mean…it’s a part of me as much as my blood and bones, but I am not allowed to talk about it, or feel the utter void of it. I don’t even know if, or HOW I should deal with it!

I’ve tried online chats and so forth, but those people all seem to want sex, or a relationship out of it. I can provide neither of those things to anyone. And I don’t want that kind of attachment. Counselors, and psychologists would listen…but again, no point of personal reference, AND I’d have to pay them. IS there a term for people like me? I know I CANNOT be the only one!!!

It’s all so confusing, and I have no one to ask, without a major emotional ordeal. I want answers and the only people who can give them, would be hurt or appalled at my asking, and likely never speak to me again! I risk losing my unknown heritage, just by asking about it!!!

Seriuosly, what the hell kinda screwed up bullshit is my life?!

I wish there was a lawsuit or some kind of mediation, I could use to force them to both be open and rational enough to just tell me both sides, and let me deal with what I need to without all the emotional turmoil! What would that be called? Adult mediation for children of divorced parents? I don’t know. It’s all too crazy for even me to wrap my head around!!!

Additionally, if someone DOES read this, and wants to use me as a study case, I am all ears. Maybe you can find answers I can’t!!!

Shadows…

I am laying at the edge of my bed, running my fingers through my hair, as it hangs off the side. The cool air of the window unit, blowing through every strand. It’s getting longer; even if it’s a bit thinner. Longer and much darker than you’ve seen it. I like the color, it suits me so much more than baby blonde. I realize you liked the blonde, but it’s blue/black now. 

It falls like an inky, sinister shadow, clinging in curls around my neck, and spiking downward past my shoulders. I do my best to keep it shiny and smooth. Brushing lightly, or finger combing it to relax. Daydreaming, remembering,  and viewing new scenarios in my head, with a happier tone than what we have now.


You knew me as a blonde girl, able to wrap men around my pinkie with a sweet smile or an insolent pout of my lips. While I know my hair isn’t the part of me you treasured, it is the one thing I could change, one that could halt you, if only for a moment.


I imagine you catching a glimpse of me, on a crowded square. People rushing between us, but you see me watching you. My eyes, the ones you fell for, holding you for a scant few seconds. You feel me, see me, and your breath stops as you stare into the eyes of a different woman than you knew.


The same eyes you stared into for long minutes, between breaths. The same eyes that rendered you speechless, and shaking as we met in the airport. The same eyes that never stopped smiling when you looked into them.


The same eyes that cried tears…when you forgot me.


I cannot change my eyes. I dont want to. I do wish it were you stroking your fingers through my hair. I still dream it. I still beg the stars, as always. 


Your eyes won’t see these words. Yet, I pray to the stars every night, asking them to carry my thoughts to you…

Only you know if it works.


Psychoses In Pooh…

As I love to read, and I especially appreciate older, classic books, I recently found myself re-reading a dusty copy of the original Winnie the pooh series, as created by Milne and Cummings. Not that I have issues with the Mouse House Version, I read those books to my children. However, I noticed, having dealt with my own mental health issues, that these characters are chock-a-block full of their own little issues.

And yet, The Hundred Acre Wood still functions as an adorably sweet society. Every quirk and compulsion accepted as simply “normal”. This is not so in our real world, which is likely why children adore the stories and adventures. Everyone gets to be themselves, and feel no reproach for doing so.

Let’s begin…at the beginning.

Pooh, a charming little character, none can deny. However, if he were a person in this world he would likely have been labeled. His love of honey – Eating disorder. His forgetfulness and constant “think-think-think-ing” – A.D.D. His need for loves and cheerfulness, would likely land him on the Autism spectrum. Not to mention his home being labeled as “Mr. Sanders”, makes me think perhaps he forgot his own home, or is simply a squatter! Yet, he is simply “Oh Pooh!” Of course, the lack of chickens in The Hundred Acre Wood, could mean that Mr. Sanders simply moved on and became “Colonel Sanders”.

Piglet, you darling thing! Scared of everything and needing comfort. Honey, you got G.A.D. All his friends care for him. They work to calm him, and even accept his delusion that “Trespassers Will”, was his relative. Sorry sweetie, you need help.

Rabbit…Oh Bother! Its obvious he is an obsessive, farming, vegan. No problems there. Good health and likely provides food for all his friends, begrudgingly -I’d assume. However, he shows definite and clear signs of O.C.D. Everything must be just so, and he must always be correct. I know so many people like this! Even his compulsions seem to somehow make him an overall grumpy sort of guy!

Owl…Dear, old Owl. So wise…in a Cribb’s Notes, Reader’s Digest sort of way. He can recite (incorrectly) any literature put in front of him. His memory is like a steel (lobster) trap. And he is always the one the others seek out for solutions, however misguided and/or affable that advice may be. His strong desire to be revered, is a charming form of narcissism. You go Owl!

Kanga and Roo, the ever loving mother, and the always inquisitive child. My only findings here are that Perhaps her apron is covering some stretch marks. And there could be a touch of an oedipal complex, when it comes to Tigger.

Eeyore…oh you poor dear. Depression, and denial have run over you like a Mack Truck! You live in a house made of sticks, which constantly fall down. Your only joy comes from blowing dandelions in the breeze. And for goodness sake, Dude! Your tail is always falling off! You actually have a reason to feel the way you do! It’s a good thing you have such friends to help you keep it all together!!!

And finally we have Tigger! Always super happy! Bouncin’, Trouncin’, and generally being his regular, blissfully ignorant self! Slightly Narcissistic, though I suspect that is more of a coping mechanism, as he seems to also have long term memory loss. Why not make yourself so much more of a character, when you don’t even know where you come from? A.D.H.D is definitely running rampant all over his little brain. He has no real sense of the world around him, or the destruction he rains down upon his other friends. Its all “Me, me, me”! I’m thinking a tad bit sociopathic as well. It only matters to Tigger, that Tigger has fun!

On the whole, this dysfunctional group of pals seem to balance out and live well on their own. Not to mention the possible use of magic mushrooms, which would explain the Heffalumps and Woozles they all share a fear of….

Issues…

So…my dad decided to walk back into my life. And he wants my kids to be a part of his life, too.

Which, on the whole, is a healthy thing. Or so my shrink says. 

And I’m happy about it. I really, really am!

But, my mom’s gonna find out. And I’m gonna have to deal with the Fallout of that… I can already hear the bullets whizzing by me! And that is actually true, she’s armed and legal.

So why did I cry for an hour and a half over this? I haven’t a fucking clue! I tried listening to music, and all I could hear was words I wanted to say to you. 

They don’t  make books for this. They don’t have classes to help you deal when your parents hate each other. They don’t make songs about healing a 20 year void in your life. And we all know I don’t know how to deal. I can’t  handle healthy and happy. I don’t know what it looks like, and I will always run away from it. I can keep it a secret for only a little while, eventually one of the kids will say something. And I’m gonna be shut out, or shot at…whatever kind of day she’s having. 

And I don’t even know why that scares me so much! I’ve already told her to shoot me. Dared her, even. And I could see on her face that she considered it. He body went stiff, and she eyed her gun safe. She may not realize that I saw her do it. But I did.  

More than that, I’m afraid of actually hurting either of my dads. One raised me, and one made me.  I mean….is it disloyal to want to know the man who shares my blood? Is it wrong to feel at odds with myself, when I realize that they both have a claim on me?

I have hated myself my whole life because of my genetics. My mother and father hate each other, and am a living, breathing reminder of that hate. Everyday, in every way…To one or both of them, I am a mark of pain.

As they are to me…

As a little girl, I used to look up at the stars and whisper my words to them, so they could carry them to my dad. I do that now with you. I know even then, it was stupid, but I did it…do it so I can say what I need to. I guess a part of me always knew it never worked. But a part of me still wished….still does wish on the power of those stars…

Now how do I make this whole, horrible train wreck of life look like a functional and healthy way to live? I can’t.  I’m keeping secrets from my parents and asking my kids to do the same, all while telling them it’s wrong to keep secrets from their own parents. How much of a hypocritical jackass am I? ! How do I protect them, and ask them to stay open with me. I really am a wreck of a human being.

I don’t blame you, or them. I blame myself. I’m the person who tries to keep all of the little world around me, predictable and comfortable. Ordered. Controlled. I need to know what is coming at me. So I know what armor to put on. How to defend myself.

I can’t deal when I don’t have time to prepare. Which version of me can handle that? I have no idea who I need to be.

All I want right now is someone with strong arms to hold me so I can cry and feel protected. But we all know how h feels about me crying…so that ain’t happening anytime soon…

I just don’t want to be me, right now…

Not Sleeping In This Bed…

I made a special effort to take my meds early so I could sleep more and not miss my son going to school this morning. I’ve never missed a first day and even if he is going to an optional two week pre course for his seventh-grade year, I WANT TO BE AWAKE!

However the animals and my brain are more interested in making that impossible. The cat and kitten are firmly wedged between my husband and me, and my darling 90 lb dog is curled up near them at the foot of my bed.

While this all sounds so sweet and loving, the older dog (who is blind in one eye, and sleeps rolled up in blankets), is on the floor on my side of the bed. Which means that I not only have to squash myself into a small space to try to be comfortable enough to rest, and somehow navigate blindly on the way to the toilet 10 times a night, hopefully without kicking someone, or stubbing a toe.

I have a headache, and my jaw is killing me for some reason. Not only do I have the pain, but I also have to go to the labs for more bloodwork. The problem is I need to have them done in enough time for them to get the results to my doc. Which means I may also have to reschedule my appointment, just to be sure she has the results.

And on top of all this my bio-dad wants to go shopping with my boys for some school clothes. And to be a part of their lives as well. I love the idea, but I have no idea how I am going to hide it from my mother. She hates my father more than anything on this planet. Yeh…. so that’s going round in my head!

Other than those things, I think I am handling it all well…

Hello Bio-Dad….

Yes, my biological parents are divorced. Most people have step parents, or absent parents. This in no way sets me apart from millions, perhaps billions (I haven’t done the research), of other people. I haven’t seen my Bio-Dad in 20 years. When I told him I was getting married. when I delivered the invitation to him. No he did not come, even though it had been my Dream to have both my fathers walk me down the aisle. I never divulged that information to him or anyone else. I’m not even sure if it would have made a difference to him, or to anyone else. But it would have, to me.

In a lot of ways I am old fashioned in my romanticized dreams about love, relationships, and ceremonies. Yes, someone should accompany a girl down the aisle, Mother, Father, Brother, Sister, Best friend, the family pet…Whoever! But it should be the person of HER choosing.

I’m not sure how grooms feel on the big day. Hung-over perhaps, second-guessing the choice to get married; I have no clue. I have 3 brothers, and between two of them there have been 4 weddings. Who am I to judge! At any rate, I don’t know what men want where weddings, or children, or lives are concerned. I assume, it is basically, to find a woman who is faithful and smart, perhaps beautiful, and easy to live with, who would take care of him when he needs it. I could be very wrong on all of this, and I am rambling because I am emotional right now.

My Bio-Dad contacted me, and wants to do lunch. 20 years since we had a conversation and I don’t know why he wants to talk now. I have been trying to figure it out. We didn’t part on bad terms or anything. just never really entered each other’s lives anymore. I keep rolling over the ideas, reasons, and possibilities in my mind like a rock polisher! Its all noise, and I can’t take the waiting. I know that he will text me in the morning. So I set an alarm to make sure I wake up. Lately my meds make me sleep til 2pm! Obviously past lunch, but before dinner. He offered lunch, I can’t refuse. I never could.

He has always been a big weakness to me, as well as an enormous question mark in my life. I don’t know him. I don’t know him as a father, a friend, a man. I don’t know what he is expecting from this meeting. I don’t know how to act, and I don’t know what he will think of me now that I’m all medicated and numb.

I’ve already disappointed everyone I know, so losing his faith in me should be easy, painless, and expected. For now all I know is that I am not speaking to my husband, because I can’t talk to him about this kind of thing. We had an argument over nothing, but my emotions are high, and I tend to be sensitive. As does he, when we argue. So I am being silent to him. I can’t fight, if I can’t speak.

So I have this lunch possibility, weighing on me. and the cryptic message he sent today saying something about Monday and then texting me in the morning to go eat Mexican food. I’m so confused and so very messed up in my own mind that I can’t think straight. I made dinner for the kids. I just don’t know what else to do…