Tag: writing

The Accidental Kindness of Strangers

Published on by cmglife

Yesterday I backed into a car while attempting to get into a parking space.

I got out of my car and we looked at the damage. I had dented and cracked his bike rack. No damage to mine. The man wasn’t very nice and actually said, “You’re not going to skip out on this are you?” He stated this in several different ways several times. The nerve!

Side Note: I did not have a terrible reaction the way I used to when I did something wrong. My eyes only filled with tears and lips quivered. Almost, but not quite, my face began to crumple into “oh god I’m going to cry” phase. Honestly I’m not ashamed of any of that. I think that would be a normal reaction to an unpleasant situation.

While standing there trying to keep my calm, I felt a hand on my shoulder and it was the director of the event I was working. He asked if I was alright. He had such a genuine look of concern, a few more tears leaked out. He asked if I needed to go home he would understand. I said I would be alright and he gave me a hug.

On my way into the event someone else approached me to ask how I was and she gave me a hug.

Half way through the event a volunteer checked in to see if I needed anything and I got another hug.

When the event was over the director came by again and I thanked him . I said I couldn’t believe how kind everyone was and how much it meant to me that I wasn’t standing there in the middle of the street alone.

This maybe a bit dramatic, but it was human nature, as it could be and was that in that moment.

This accident was no accident. The more I think about it, to experience kindness and worth as a human being, well, was worth the deductible.

hi·a·tus

Published on by cmglife

A pause or gap in a sequence, series, or process.

I don’t want to write about my relationship with my oldest daughter again. Let’s just say that after 8 years it is the same. I see my two grandchildren about a couple of times a year.

It’s taken me three or four of the 5 years to make peace with it. It’s been tenacity, therapy, good friends, my son and ketamine that has enabled me to live with it.

Now my other daughter, the youngest, has caused me more stress and heart ache, because it has gone on for most of her life.

I can actually admit now that I have been emotionally abused by her. She is not a narcissist like my ex husband and my mother. I think she has borderline personality disorder. Since she is my child I hung in there through it all while dragging her to every kind of professional under the sun because she was clearly unhappy (which is what I thought).

Last year she began texting me and wanted to get together. I hadn’t heard from her in a year, not from lack of trying on my part. It was wonderful! It’s like this person was behaving in a way I had never experienced with her. She would come over for dinner about once a month and we watched Sherlock and Vampire movies…not sure how we got on that one, but it was fun and I could finally love her in a real way.

I’m not completely delusional. I was puzzled by this new and improved child. Maybe I was pushing away the probably end to it with screaming, yelling and unfounded accusations from her. I was a bit tentative giving too much of myself emotionally to the situation, but it was so lovely while it lasted.

First she cancelled Christmas with us. I hid how disappointed I really was “walking on eggshells” kind of thing. We had never spent Christmas apart. Fast forward to early May, that was the last time I saw her. I did get a “I’m fine” text in late July when I asked her if I should file a missing persons report. I texted her on and off since then. The usual things. Memes, videos of the cats, silly stories, etc.

Last Sunday I called my son to see if he had heard from her. He said no. A couple of hours later I got a text from him saying “I’m Alive”. So he had texted her, I don’t know the extent of the conversation, but I know he doesn’t have patience for the way she treats us.

Another hour went by and I got a text from her “I’ve blocked you”.

This caused a familiar reaction. I had been blocked by my sister and my oldest daughter during the hardest time of my life when I divorced my husband. The reaction was that horrible pain in my chest followed by uncontrollable sobbing. This time though I got myself together within minutes instead of 30 which it usually takes.

I rummaged around in my head to figure out how I was feeling. This was new. How did I feel? I went to bed. The next morning rummaged some more trying to pinpoint this strange non-reaction.

Before I left for work I wrote on the back of an envelope “this could be a good thing because now I don’t have to worry about her and take all the abuse”.

By the time I got to work I felt so strong and relived about another rejection from another daughter. Finally I could say “NO” to this, That feeling lasted all day.

I saw my therapist that afternoon and she could see the difference in my reaction. She has always given me advice that makes me feel either real with the way I process things or gives me clues as to how I can see it differently. She was really positive and then she slipped in something like “While you are taking this hiatus from her it will be good to….” can’t remember the rest.

I was disappointed that she had said “while”. Just her saying it broke that wall down a little bit knowing that it is just a matter of time that I won’t be able to keep up this persona. It’s not me, I’m her mother.

I’m not thinking about it now though. I figure if she needs anything she can go to her brother, sister or dad. I’m checked out for now. I may just block her. That would feel so good until I unblock her 10 minutes later.

Revised definition: hi·a·tus: A pause or gap of emotional reactions to my estranged daughters.

Sin City – Day 3 (Last Entry)

Published on by cmglife

Sin City – Day 3

After lunch on the third day in Vegas, we went down to Fremont Street where I convinced John to try the oxygen “rip off” bar. Then he stood on the huge scale in front of a hamburger restaurant. He weighed in at 216. He looked so dejected that I ran up and took the packages from his hands and he ended up at 206.

On the second day of the dirt track races, I decided not to go and nobody was surprised.  I had the whole night planned.  First I would get a drink and play the slot machines by myself.  Big move for me doing anything by myself, but for some reason I felt confident. Then I would go back up to the room, take a bath, have some wine and do some writing.  I was really looking forward to some alone downtime.

Around six o’clock, everyone left for the races and I began my plan. Before he left, John had bought a margarita for me.  He warned it was strong because he had seen the bartender put two shots of tequila in it.  I drink too fast and eat too fast. So after guzzling the one John got for me, I had another free one the waitress gave me.  Big mistake…. I ended up drunk!  I did make it back up to the hotel room by myself. It was a bit creepy walking down the long lonely “Stanley Hotel” hallway. I made it without being kidnapped or murdered.

When I got into the room I lay down on the bed and passed out!  It was 7pm.

Time for Bed

Published on by cmglife

My husband just came home and ruined the little cave I have built tonight. It’s not his fault, he has a right to come home.

My cave consists of a glass of wine, putting head phones in the computer, listening to my iTunes and writing about what usually starts out as nothing and sometimes ends up as something.

I’ve been in my cave a lot more than usual lately because Allison has been at a friend’s for a week.  It’s been a very comfortable and well-deserved hibernation for me.   Now, the time is getting later and later to start though because of summer break. Allison’s bedtime for school used to begin at 8:30 pm or so and now it is 9:30 – 10:00. Actually, I have been trying to remember to call it “time for sleep” because “time for bed” sounds too babyish and Allison is certainly not a baby as I’m constantly being reprimanded for. That doesn’t sound right to her either and I get an eye roll.

How about “time to go to bed”, “time to retire” or maybe she would rather it be what my mother called it for years “time for bobos”? No, that shouldn’t generate an eye roll or a sound like a tween cat coughing up a hair ball!

 

 

 

What Next?

Published on by cmglife

A little confused tonight as to how to look at my life. It’s been four years since I set out on this journey.  For the first time since then I feel really well. It’s almost what I imagined life to be. You know, being normal.

I am still a little sensitive to mood changes though. Every time I have a different feeling I wonder if it is normal or are my moods shifting again because of my “special” brain chemicals.

The depression is gone! The highs are gone! I feel regular all the time. What does that do for me? Not sure yet.

I’ve been going along at a pretty good pace. When summer break began I had a list on two sides of the paper. It has been reduced to one of those skinny magnetic grocery lists that hang on the fridge. Good for me, but what happens when I run out of things to do frantically?

I know what I’ve gained, but what I will lose?  It can’t possibly remain the same. Will I begin to lose my energy? How about the ability to write anything worth reading? Sense of humor? God, no.  Anything, but that.

 

Nothing to Salvage

Published on by cmglife

Anything to salvage?

No.

I had an idea and rushed to the laptop typing quickly before I forgot.

It just poured out of me.  The first few paragraphs felt like they meant something, but then it just went downhill from there.  I kept writing anyway, forcing words through my fingertips.

I didn’t even read over it before I clicked save and went to do some housework or something.

I’ve just now gone back to it, thus this post.