Uninvited Memories

Relationships are complicated. It's as simple as that. To intertwine your life with another can be exhilarating, terrifying, confusing, fulfilling or possibly soul destroying. It is especially difficult when you are young.

When you are young you are still trying to find you way your way in the world. You are still trying to determine who you are and how you will fit into this world. You think you know EVERYTHING but you don't know crap. Really...what you think you know...throw it away...because it will only confuse you even more when it all falls apart. If you are in your 20's for 30's right now trust me when I tell you that you will be a different person in 10 years. We change and we grow and we discover that we want different things. It's normal. It's natural. We are supposed to grow and explore our intricacies. 

I have made so much progress and right now...in this time...I am the happiest I have ever been in my life. I worked with a therapist for two years to rid me of the PTSD that haunted my every step and only recently did I have an epiphany about who I am that took years of resentment and seething anger and just melted it away. I am so much more even emotionally and so much calmer. It's been an adjustment. I keep wondering who this person is that has taken over my brain but I like her and we are keeping her.

All this being said there is this little irritant from my youth that keeps popping up from  time to time and I have been trying to figure out why. The memories are uninvited, unwanted and just generally annoying. Thanks to my work with my therapist these memories no longer send me "down the rabbit hole" but I don't like it so this blog in another step in purging this stuff from my brain.

When I was almost 21 I was manipulated into meeting someone whom I always refer to as "the Evil One". (We'll shorten it to E1 for this blog) Now...was she really evil you ask? I have honestly tried to see her as just another flawed human being but in reality she was a sociopath and her choices were "evil" in that she did not care who she hurt or who she had to manipulate to get what she wanted. She was ridiculously androgynous and I thought beautiful. She was everything...or so it seemed...that I was not. She was confident, bold, she knew what she wanted and I was infatuated with the idea that someone like her would want to be with me. Because I thought I was ugly and fat and shy and unlovable and weak and just less than everyone else. I let my self fall deeply in love with a total train wreak of a human being and the carnage was brilliantly epic. 

She took all my vulnerabilities and all my doubt and she used it to further whatever agenda she had going. Really...I should have known when she said she would visit me and then go on to Colorado to basically be another woman's mistress that she was trouble. How could I not see this as a red flag? Ah youth.... I think a part of me thought she was kidding. Who would want to live that way? I was so naïve. Maybe I thought I could rescue her of fix her? That was my modus operandi for most of my 20's and into my 30's. I think I was almost 40 when I realized I could not "save" everyone or "fix" everything that was wrong in other people's lives. 

I think we were only together for maybe 3 or 4 years but it was not fun. Toward the end I finally realized that she was sleeping with someone else and had been for awhile and had also most likely slept with all of my "friends" at the time or had at least tried to sleep with them. She decided she was leaving one early December and I asked her to stay until Christmas was over because my mother loved her and had no idea what kind of douche bag she really was and I did not want to hurt mom's feelings. My feelings, of course, did not matter because, after all, I didn't deserve to be happy now did I. By Christmas I had made progress into letting her go. I was going to be okay. And then Christmas came and went and she stayed. I was puzzled. I watched her break the woman's heart whom she was supposedly leaving me for and I mean that literally. She talked me into going with her when she told her she had never loved her. I should have ran screaming into the night but I stayed and kept trying to find a way to make her happy even though I later realized she was breaking her heart because she had already lined up her next mark. Evil.

I have not spoken to the E1 in almost 30 years. I have no idea where she is and don't care. I am sure she is still sleeping her way across the lower 48 manipulating people along the way to get what she wants. It's probably a little tougher for her now since she's in her early 50's but I am sure there is a whole new generation of women she can charm into giving her whatever it is she is searching for these days. So why does she pop up in my brain every now and then? It's usually triggered by a song or an emotional reaction to something else.

Maybe these memories are a reminder of how far I have come? Maybe I have to admit that deep down there is a tiny spot left, I think it's buried behind my pancreas, that still cares for the person I thought she was? When you realize that someone is a sociopath and you know you want nothing to do with them EVER but you find that you still care for them...it's unsettling and irritating and I think this might be why she still pops in every now and then. 

So...Dear Evil One:

I loved you with the passion that only youth can provide. It was reckless and foolish and soul destroying. Now all that's left is residual resentment and contempt and that tiny speck of love that I can't seem to purge from my soul. Your memories are unwelcome and unbidden. I will not ever be able to forgive you for the way you treated myself and others. I know that you do not care what I think or feel and that is fine because the feeling is mutual. Go on about your self-destructive ways and good riddance. A tiny part of me will always love the potentially decent human being that was buried in your heart and I will accept that fact now and put it away. I have said it out loud finally and now it can rest. 

Sunsets and Uncomfortable Realizations

I think I have visited this topic before but since I clearly have not resolved anything we shall wander there again I think. Yesterday was a lovely day filled with errands and later an outing and ending with my fried chicken and a newly put up Christmas tree. All in all a most wonderful day spent with a most wonderful friend.

We ended the day out at Kellogg Lake for sunset pictures. While we were strolling around the lake taking some very festive apocalyptic looking geese shots I was thinking about my dad. I think I have clearly established that my dad and I had a strange...I can't even call it a relationship...thing. Our lives were spent vying for the attention of my mother, not really talking to one another, resenting one another and generally holding one another in contempt until they were suddenly both dead and I was left with a LOT of unresolved issues with them both. But that is my issue to put to rest and I have been working on it. Sometimes it just makes me a little sad that we had no time for me to get old enough to understand them both better and maybe...just maybe...fix some things. But that was not to be and they left without really saying goodbye. It was all so sudden. Mom has congestive heart failure at the beginning of April and by the next November they are both gone. Poof...just like that...I was a 30 year old orphan and I was lost. 

I have spent the last 25 years trying to make peace with the grief. We were such an isolated and insular unit that losing them was like dropping me in the jungle somewhere and expecting me to find my way out in a week. I wandered around making horrible decisions for a few years. I just was not able to process the grief or find a way to not be overwhelmed and paralyzed by their loss. It has gotten better. With the help of a counselor and my poor friend who constantly has to talk sense to my anxiety I have made progress. But at times...like last night...I begin to wander into parental nostalgia land...which can be either cathartic or a trip down the rabbit hole and into the dark.

I am pretty proud of myself that I managed to opt for just nostalgia and not the darkness. 

I realized...walking around that lake that I am not so very different from my dad. Those of you who knew my dad...please don't be terrified...there are important differences that remain. I do not hold women...or men for that matter...in general contempt. I NEVER use the C word and I don't irrationally yell hateful things at those I purport to love...so I've got all that going for me. 

The similarity lies in our shared extreme introversion. I suddenly realized that my dad's dream life would have been to spend all day...every day...at the water fishing. He would probably enjoy it if mom or I went along but we would have to sit in silence with him...just fishing. But his true nirvana would have been to sit in silence with himself fishing 24/7. I am not so different. My dream life would be either driving or hiking around outside with my camera...in silence. When I am out by myself in the car taking pictures there is no radio there is no speech...unless I am talking to critters. I do like it when my friend comes with me because we can talk but she understands the silence and treasures it too. It's kind of sad but it's my truth...I am the most comfortable when I am by myself. I enjoy the silence, I need to be quiet, and I need the solitude. Without them I become very grumpy. 

So...I think I have decided to make peace with, and embrace, those parts of my dad that live inside me. I have always done what I think most kids do when they have a difficult parent in that I picked a side and determined that I would NEVER...EVER...be like the other parent. I have spent my whole life trying to be the polar opposite of my dad and there are some parts of his personality that I have successfully avoided but I need to accept the parts of him that live in me and deal with them in a healthy way. I will accept that I am a bit too judgmental at times but I will remind myself that my problems are usually with the behavior and not the person. I will strive to be better but acknowledge that it's there. I will accept that I have a LOT of unresolved anger and a temper that still rears its ugly head from time to time but I will find a way to vent that anger without maiming anyone in the process. I will accept the fact that I am happiest by myself and stop criticizing myself for it. I will sit in the silence and enjoy it and not worry that it's not normal. The more my fellow introverts speak their truth the more normal I feel.

Rather than fight that image of dad sitting out in his lawn chair, judging the world as it goes by with his own weird standards, wallowing in his anger, resenting those who seem happy I will embrace that lawn chair. The only difference is that I will sit in that lawn chair and accept my flaws and enjoy my silence and my solitude and leave the resentment and bitterness behind. I mean...really...if I were skinnier I would wear overalls every day too...they are so comfortable and you never have to fight with a belt. We are not so different, Lester and I, but that's okay because I can accept it and change the plot to a more happy ending for me. I am just sorry that he left before we could find a way to sit in our silence together. 

Someone's a little moody today

For some reason I have been a little on the grumpy side today...not a roaring bitch...although...I have had a moment or two...just a little off-kilter and I am tying to write myself out of it...or conversely just lose my shit and be done.

My day started off well enough. Whiskers deigned to give me some purring and allowed me to pet her for awhile this morning. Then the day got decidedly dodgy. You want to know the bad thing about mild OCD? It really messes with your schedule. Here's my conversation with myself this morning.

Sane me: "Aw...shit the dogs need to go out again and I am going to be late for work."

OCD me: "You know...it's trash day and now would be a good time to toss that expired food in the cabinet".

Sane me: "Did you not hear me? I am going to be late as it is."

OCD me: "But it's trash day and now would be a good time to toss that expired food in the cabinet."

Sane me: "NO! I need to go to work."

OCD me: "But it's trash day and now would be a good time to toss that expired food in the cabinet."

OCD me: " I win! It won't take but a second. We won't be that late."

Sane me:  SIGH....

Work was busy but fine. The pigeons weren't too dastardly with their poop deprivations. Then I decide to go to Walgreen's and get my flu shot at lunch because it won't be that busy on a Wednesday at lunch. Right? There were four people in line ahead of me and at least that many behind me. The shot itself doesn't take two seconds but it's the form and then the insurance print out and taking your turn. It took 40 minutes!! And my stinking arm hurts.

So...I am now running it close getting back to work. I zip down to Taco Bell. CRAP! The line is a mile long. It's going pretty fast though so I stick with it. Then I notice the woman in front of me feels that if she gets within 20 feet of the car in front of her we all might die!! Cue pet peeve of people not knowing how to navigate a drive-thru. I passively aggressively critique her lack of driving skills and call her a jackass and convince myself that my griping at her will actually accomplish anything. I finally get my food and zoom back to work where I proceed to have 5 minutes to eat my lunch. So I consume my tacos at the speed of light...get clocked in and go about my business.

I finish my day and I come home and I open the door to the screeching and barking hoards and smell poop. It's not all that unusual...my rescue poodle does not get house training and I give him a pass because the first 2/3 of his life was hell. The problem is...I can't FIND it. Now I start looking at them with the scary mom face because that means someone has sought to help mommy out and eat it. While I appreciate the intention the ensuing barfing/diarrhea I could do without. We shall see.... Then we start the "Let's annoy the shit out of mom game." First we shall bark at nothing in particular...Dibley will both try to hump Baker and growl at Biscuit. I get Baker back up on the couch and Biscuit tries to rake his back with his jealous poodle paws. Kitten Face is trying to lay low and I am using ALL of my good threats...including if you don't stop that I am going to punch you right in the face. That one never works because they know I don't mean it. Sigh....

The Yankees are winning and I hate the Yankees. The Cubs are losing and I can't watch that...it's just too stressful. The noise of the TV is making me even more cranky. I don't think this writing it out thing is working. I should just give up while I am ahead. I am going to go look at my vacation pictures again and dream.

Adventures with Boobage

For the last year or so I have been having a fairly mediocre relationship with a small cyst in my right boob. I didn't name her or anything but we've just been hanging out together. She was about the size of small marble and I knew who she was so I just accepted her presence and went with it. I made sure my x-ray tech knew about her at my last mammogram. It came back okay so we have just been living with each other with no expectations except to co-exist peacefully.

My boobs and I have always had a weird relationship. I was born with them and I tolerate them but I have never been just all that fond of carrying them around. I understand that they are very important to a lot of women, and of course the entire male population of the world but to me they are just something to contain and manage. When you are younger and actually have a libido they can be quite festive but as you age and hit menopause they seem less exiting. And for a lot of us who have breast cancer in our family tree the older you get the more you feel like they are simply ticking time bombs.

So...as I said...my cyst and I had just been hanging out together but this past holiday weekend something changed. Somehow I seem to have offended her and she became angry with me. I thought...WELL...how dare she get angry with me I shall just call my doctor and we shall see about ending this relationship if she's going to be all grumpy and shit. She was trying to vent her displeasure so much so that her little face was turning red and she was making my cleavage an inhospitable zone. 

I was practicing my procrastination superpowers on Thursday when I noticed a shift in the breast/cyst dynamic. I was heading out to lunch and went to the bathroom and I thought I had better check on her because all of a sudden she was not cranky anymore and I had not take any Ibuprofen to appease her. I lifted up my shirt in the bathroom at work and HOLY SHIT she was 4 times as big as she was the day before when I checked. I thought...hmmm...that's not good. I debated for a minute or so and then fled to urgent care. They were not too busy so I only had to be KIND of quiet while I had to describe my "issue" to the helpful person at the desk. I mean...you don't want to announce to the whole waiting room that your right tit is about to explode...although that might clear it out for you. 

I explained it again for the nurse who made a scrunchy face when she saw it and then again for the doctor who amazingly enough repeated the exact same scrunchy face when he saw it. He was a very nice man so I did not roll my eyes at him when he stated the obvious that it was infected and had abscessed. I thought...only me...only I seem to have this weird shit happen. So I gowned up and prepared for the unpleasantness that awaited me. The nurse and I had great fun tying to fold the pillow into an actual pillow type shape so I could lie on the table without feeling like I had just lost a vigorous game of Twister with a bunch of double-jointed tater tots. The doctor came back in and I apologized to them both. I said..."I'm sorry about this...I know this is not what you wanted to do today." WHY do I do that??? I always apologize when I have weird stuff. Not only do I have to pay for the service but I apologize to them for having to perform it. There could be something seriously wrong with me.

He asked if I had ever been through something like this before and you should have seen his face when I burst out with this odd, maniacal laugh and proceeded to tell him about my Peri-rectal abscess I had about 8 years ago. He laughed and said..."Well this is going to be a walk in the park then for you." Yea me! Then he proceeded to apologize to me as he stuck a needle into my right tit to numb it. Can I just tell you how festive that was?? Then he said..."Unless your evil twin pops out of here we will just take a little culture and send it off to make sure you are not growing odd stuff in there." Then he opened up my own personal boob skylight and left it open to do its thing.

I then...went back to work because I am a dumb ass and I was feeling all cocky because it was numbed up and I had a prescription for giant ass antibiotics. Can I just mention here that 850 milligrams of Augmentin twice a day does your intestines no favors? I was not nearly so cocky when the numbness left. I came home after a stop at Walgreens for really big band-aids and my antibiotics. I decided to put on my jammies and put on a clean band aid. So I PEELED the old band aid off and said..."Oh would you look at that...I think I will pass out now." That is when self-preservation kicked in and my brain said NOOOOO...don't pass out...while you are unconscious the boys will either lick your boobs or pee on you...neither one of these bears thinking about so I stayed upright and re-covered my new easy access boob. 

I hope my cyst is happy now. Our relationship is so over. I have an appointment Monday for a referral to a surgeon to have her removed permanently. I do not hope she is happy. I am very bitter that she betrayed me in such a heinous fashion. Tick...tick...tick....

Those fleeting moments of time travel

Lately I have been having these unsettling, happy, nostalgic, realistic and vaguely disturbing time travel episodes. It used to be only every now and again that I would get the slightest whiff of a memory and the sensation would be gone but more recently they have become more intense.

They are from what feels like another century. The great thing about nostalgia is that it allows you think that a particular era or decade was so much better than the present. We tend to think of it as a less complicated time...a time of freedom...it's one of our favorite lies that we tell ourselves. There are truths there in the mist of memory. It was a slower time. We did not have cell phones and computers and all the electronic distraction we have today. We did have the TV with all 3 channels...if you were lucky and could get the UHF channel to come in. That being said, you could still ignore one another pretty easily, you could go outside, go to your room, read a book etc...It was trickier but it could be done and in truth it was more subtle than pretending like you want to interact with someone and then just staring into your phone all night.

This elusive memory/sensation of which I speak is Friday night. Friday nights had a special feel to them for some reason. Dad always got paid on Friday and we would swing through Gayle's Package Shop and he would buy a case of Busch and a carton of Kools. It was our bonding moment. Every other Friday night was even more special though because Mom would get paid and we could treat ourselves to fast food. This was more of treat back then you see because we had very little in the way of fast food in Carthage. You would not have believed the excitement when we finally got a McDonald's. Before the big chains came to town we would visit places like Harvey's Broasted Chicken, Whisler's Hamburgers, Goettles Drive-In, Mr. Quick or maybe take out from Ray's Café. Ooh...or maybe a root beer float from A&W. It was such a much bigger deal back then because it was "special". I would kill for some Harvey's Broasted Chicken some days.

Fridays were also often special because it would be sleep-over night. My best friend Elaine spent a lot of Fridays with us or it might be Mike and Myra or Carol. We would get fast food and watch TV on a big makeshift pallet in the living room. We would get to stay up late and try and scare ourselves silly watching "Dimension 16". Our local channel 16 would show B horror flicks on Friday night starting about 10:30 or so. They are pretty funny at my current agedness but back then it was a little more terrifying to watch Dracula prey on young women or Godzilla battling Mothra and Gammara. Then we would wake up on Saturday and spend the day playing until they had to go home.

It's that promise of special food and fun and the beginning of time to spend with my mom that held such magic. It was the hope that this weekend we could do something fun. Maybe she would feel like playing catch with me or play cards or games with me in the evening? Maybe she would have the energy to tell me a bedtime story tonight? Maybe she could stop giving so much of herself to others and give a little of it to me? You see, I have no doubt that my mother loved me, probably a bit too much. She wasn't cold and distant. But she did grow up in a different time when just keeping your kids alive was accomplishment enough. She loved me but she didn't have the energy or the understanding of how to "parent" a child. She was exhausted from killing herself trying to make as much money as she could because she knew she could not rely on dad. Dad did his best with what he had and he was never going to have a better job. He did what he could mentally do and after he stopped drinking it was easier to get him to do it everyday but it still was never enough. We were always one bad month away from homelessness. It was unsettling as a child to know this and understand it.

Still...despite the benign neglect and the instability of my childhood there is still something so wonderful about that Friday night sensation. The sounds, the smells, the music, the feeling of hope and the happiness. A time before adulthood. A time before you had your heart broken for the first but not the last time. A time before you realized that there are wonderful people in this world but there are ugly ones as well. A time before those closest to you begin to age and die. A time before you have to watch your parents die before you have gotten old enough to understand them better and before you had a chance to try and fix it. A time before human behavior made you feel so very weary...before you too got tired...just like your mother. So here's to Friday night and the wonderful, nostalgic, totally unrealistic picture I have of the 70's. May I forever wallow in that happy sensation and relive the hope and promise that seems so illusive now.

A Lot of Random Shit

I cannot seem to come up with a theme that is not bitter and depressed sounding so I think I will just go with random things that have struck me recently.

The r key on my computer keeps sticking or not working and it's pissing me off to no end. It seems like it shouldn't be a big thing but it's really annoying. Do you know how many words have r's in them?

Cats are sadistic voyeurs. Kitten Face has decided to come into the bedroom every morning as I am trying to get dressed and am at my least clothed and demand attention. I suspect she is looking for denim to molest but if there is none in the offing she just goes for pets at the most awkward time. Worse yet she looks at me with those judgmental eyes..."I see you're still fat mommy"...how's about I slice off some of that for you with my handy toenails? She also stares at my boobs as if they are going to somehow leap off my chest and attack her...it's very disconcerting. The other day she came into the bathroom for her "captive audience" dance and requisite petting frenzy. She sat down in front of me and then noticed the little strings on my shorts. I cannot find the words to explain the way the life of my coochie flashed before its eyes (I know just go with the imagery here) as she began to expand her pupils to 5 times their normal size and began trying to chew/attack the strings. If a vagina could panic and scream in terror mine would have done so. She's staring at me from her cat post right now with a look of both adoration and contempt. How do they do that??

I took the boys outside a bit ago thinking they might need to potty. It's such a nice evening for a change. We were just hanging out listening to the near deafening chorus of cicadas when I noticed a mosquito the size of the Titanic on Biscuit's back so in the house we came. My illegal furniture refinishing neighbor has pretty much just abandoned the house next door and so the yard has not been mowed all summer. The crop of mosquitoes squatting in her yard is impressive and they are hungry and making my life hell. Today...on my nice quiet Saturday she sent a power washing guy over to try and clean up the mess she made on the back patio and to clean out the trees (that's no joke...they were small saplings) out of the gutters. The poor guy was here for five hours!! So much for the quiet.

My other neighbor is an older lady who likes to tell me what I should do in my yard. It's a bit annoying really. Anyway...her child uses her for a day care. As a child who was dumped on my grandmother's crazy doorstep most of my childhood I can tell you this is not a fun way to spend your summer. There are a couple of kids in the neighborhood close to her age but that's it. Tonight they brought her for what looked like an overnight. She had her little back pack with her. (You are probably asking yourself...how does she know all this...well...I will tell you...my front door was open and they park their car in my line of sight EVERY single time.) They drop her off and about 10 minutes later they cruise back up and dad has a happy meal hanging out the window for the child to run out and pick up.

Quite honestly I am surprised he didn't make her catch it as they drove by the house. Now, maybe she's a good grandma and she loves her granddaughter and doesn't mind but come on people. You chose to have a child. The least you can do is get your lazy, grown up ass, out of the car and take your child her dinner...such as it is. I hope she got a good toy. I am being bitter again...dammit!

I better stop now while I am ahead.

A New Adventure?

I am a large human being. That is not a value judgement...it is just a fact. I will never be dainty. I am 5'7" tall with the build of defensive tackle. I do not have a problem with bone density. I have been told that people find me intimidating, although, I have no idea why. Maybe it's my serious, scrunchy thinking face that throws them off?  I don't know. Sometimes I am genuinely cranky about something but most of the time I am just concentrating on trying to control my rampant anxiety or just trying to work out a problem in my head.

I started becoming a horizontal over-achiever around 3rd grade when my PCOS began to kick in and my body began changing and my metabolism slowed to the pace of a 1,000 year old snail. I was a reasonably active kid yet I just kept getting bigger and brawnier and more masculine until I eventually turned into the current version of me. Now...granted...in the last four or five years I have taken the horizontal over achievement thing a bit too far. At my last weigh in I came in at an attractive 310 lbs. I have also become very inactive. All this has rolled down hill to the point that I am miserable and unhealthy and cranky about it.

I stopped beating myself up about being fat a long time ago. When I say I am fat it is simply the obvious truth and not a judgement. I know that it is vey difficult for me to lose weight because of the PCOS. I also know that I don't eat as much as people would assume I do. I do eat a lot of rubbish but it's not in vast quantities. I also know that I drink too much Coke but that is my one big vice and it's not likely to go away any time soon. I have however, been beating myself up about my inactivity and my health.

When I had trouble a couple of summers ago with my breathing in the heat they tested me for CPOD. They said I did not have CPOD but I was 451% more restricted than normal because of where I wear my weight. I do not undestand the difference. My hiatal hernia has been crankier than normal. My whole body hurts ALL the time. My legs have been especially cranky and my knees have been exploring new ways to hurt. I have felt weak and tired to the point of exhaustion. I have therefore been angry with myself and berating myself about the general state of me. I mean...seriously...Karen...how bad does it have to get befoe you do something about it? Because it's pretty bad right now and here we sit.

So...today I finally got up and did something about it. I went for a walk. It wasn't too hot yet so I put on my headphones and headed out for a short walk just to get started. I planned for a 1/2 an hour. I walked down to the park and made the loop to come back home. I walked for 45 minutes at my own pace and did not get hot or tired feeling until I got within a block of the house. I was surprised. I did far better than I thought I would. When I got home I forced myself to drink a 12 oz bottle of water. That doesn't sound like much but to a girl who only consumes water in a carbonated form surrounded by Coke it was something. I am proud of myself.

I am not so much concerned with losing weight this time around. I much more concerned about feeling better and becoming more healthy. The weight will do what it is going to do. I do not know if I will be able to maintain this new determination. Past history does not hold out much hope for me but maybe this time I can stick with it? I am going to try and that is really all I can do. Maybe this will be the beginning of a new adventure to find the normal sized person inside me who just wants to be healthy and happy. Wish me luck!