All I got is an internal battle so old it needs Ben-gay to get its dander up. I'm sick of IT and I'm sick of me and I'm sick of talk talk talking because here I am AGAIN fucking again, like a horse race I'm so far behind I think I'm ahead.
I suffered under a narcissist but I harbor no illusions that he/they were of the malignant variety. Where I was ignored and sidelined and yes abused (which was bad, don't get me wrong), most of you all were in the Auschwitz to my Orphan Asylum. So many have dealt with so much worse and come out light years ahead of where I am emotionally. Mentally. Psycho-ly.
I read you all and read your struggles and your progress and your fucking BATTLES with like BRAIN TUMORS and horrifying mothers and fathers and BROTHERS and MILs and ET SETT ER UH.
I have geraniums on my patio. I believe in ghosts and positive energy wahhh! and I'm all personal power, wheee! and YET I'm fucking FIFTY TWO YEARS OLD and yes. TW, you were so right, progress not perfection, right? But I've been buying and selling this same shirt for so fucking long and look! Nobody else is in line to buy it OR sell it! LA LA LA it's just ME!
I married a broken guy, and lo and behold we have problems, but he tells me he loves me more than pants and I love him right back and I'm really fairly happy and HONESTLY NOW - wouldn't I have problems anywhere I was? Cos, let's say it together - no matter where you are, there you are.
OH OBV., I am not taking this blog down. I have to stop running away from myself. How's this --> I HATE that I was honest and told all my crap in typical vomit-the-story-on-everyone fashion. Because DUH I can't revise my own history now like I've been taught to do from the git go. And no, I don't need y'all to tell me it's FINE because yes I know it is, it's FINE and I'm me and I actually DID get back up faster this time, I'm at peace faster this time, so yes progress but shitballs. I bore myself.
When I hear the phrase "let's go have a drink", this is what I see in my head:
What a drink actually tastes like (so why drink it? I dunno, axe my brain)
this is how I think we look at a bar:
And the reality:
And then there's this. Like, too often to be ignored.
So yeah. there's another truth to nail my mouth shut.
I wish I could help you I have beat that horse until it is glue.
ReplyDeleteGladys, I enjoy reading your shit. You make me smile. Even if it's about the struggle. And yes, you have every right to sit down and have yourself a pity party...once in awhile. I've been there. We've all been there. Just don't forget to decide when the party's over.
ReplyDeleteI've got geraniums and pretty flowers on my deck too. I've got a nice home and a fellow ACoN husband who has stuck this shit out with me (even when neither of us knew what the hell was going on and we were just bumping against each other blind in the FOG). I have wonderful kids, enough money, good memories, time to have hobbies, and a sweet cat.
But this shit hurts and is hard. Geraniums don't take that shit from the past away or "even" it all out. And I'm glad you are vomiting all your crap out here. I'm glad you are here.
Me too!
ReplyDeleteBTW, if you could take the vomiting old lady up there and put a dachsund ("weiner dog") in her lap? Cover the dawg in barf-mine. That's what happened the last time I drank whine with my dear neighbor. On maybe half a glass? "Bad Box 'o Wine" lead to an immediate projectile vomit and I figured the dawg wouldn't mind half as much as my neighbor-and I could clean that ankle-biter up a lot quicker than her, the kitchen table etc.
But no worries, she was already in the bathroom doin' the same thing and she's a much more experienced drinker than I am so I was able to get most of it cleaned up before she returned to the kitchen for round what-ever for her. Unfortunately, there was another 2 legged witness who doesn't drink and instead exhaled a huge F-4 gust of pot smoke in a fit of uncontrollable laughter at the two of us....I think I'll stick with the Natural Route myself! It's a whole lot less hazardous to my "image."
Such as it isn't...;)
TW
I was WAAAY classier than you TW. I would never vomit when anyone was around or even mess up the toilet with puke. Nope! I'd stagger to bed, pass out and wake up face down in my own barf. How's that for one up?
DeleteYeah, Gladys, even with the geraniums and sobriety, life can be shit. My daughter's sponsor tells her she has 24 hours to feel sorry for herself then get on with life. I just give some thought to how much better it is than before...not perfect, just better and that'll have to hold me for now.
Pls don't stop writing. I like your style...and you!
I spend some art of every day in full tilt pity party mode so don't sweat it. The closer I come to grasping the enormity of the barbarian the more I start asking myself why me why me why me why me why me why me why me why me why me why me why me why me why me why me why me why me why me why me why me why me why me why me why me why me why me why me why me why me why me why me why me why me and about the time I am slinging a length of rope over a rafter and bribing the cats to kick the chair out from under me after I fashion a noose and stick my head through it..... it passes.
ReplyDeleteI'm bored with me, too, Gladys. But I've never been bored with you. :)
ReplyDelete