Lump.

Last weekend, my Mother called me up and said she needed to come over so I could look at her neck (as if I am some kind of professional on mysterious growths, or something). She arrived earlier than she said she would, as she tends to do these days, a look of sheer terror on her face. Upon looking at her neck, I was immediately concerned, as she has grown a notably large lump on the lower right side of her neck, near the collarbone. We obviously didn’t talk much about it, and she proceeded to make an appointment for a biopsy; that appointment is today. I will be driving her to this appointment today because she asked me to; and in all honesty, I feel like I wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world.

 

Anyone who reads me, knows about my deeply embedded Mommy Issues that reside within my heart and mind, stemming from childhood and very much alive and well to date. A few months ago, I decided that because the Holidays are so incredibly horrendous and ugly for me, and because they are so extremely difficult to get myself through alive each year, that I will do something different this year. I basically feel tired of spending my holidays alone, in the fetal position underneath the dining table, in tears, beating myself to an emotional pulp through with guilt and regret and failure. I have written also about the Hell that my offspring is currently putting my parents through, resultant of their own enabling behaviors towards her throughout her life. My mom claims to feel like a hostage in her own home etc. Needless to say, I can totally relate to what she says in regard to my daughter; I have so been there with her in the past as well.

So, in a moment of frozen brain capacity, I said to Willow:

“Let’s start a new tradition this year for Christmas, just you ‘n me…”,

completely expecting her to laugh in my face at such a proposal.

 

When she actually showed interest in my idea, and I explained to her what I had in mind for my own part (a quiet, peaceful, nostalgic, quaint Bed ‘n Breakfast in the heart of Gold Country for Christmas Eve and Christmas), she was so excited and intrigued that she actually asked me to take her online for a virtual tour (she hates the internet and anything even remotely associated with it), which I did. We have, since that time, hammered out every minute detail of our upcoming holiday excursion together; and I must say that it feels like it has been a healthy form of bonding, somehow. I even got her a snow suit and boots that she already wears at night when she goes outside in the cold to smoke and play Mahjong until 0-dark-thirty, it’s cute. And in all truth, this year’s holiday feels much less painful already, as a result of the above described circumstance.

 

I am cursing the Gods for even putting that lump on Willow’s neck, whatever it may turn out to be; and I am secretly terrified by the possibility of losing my mother now, at this stage of things in my own Life (or lack, thereof). When I was still very actively suicidal (the state of my being upon starting my blog in the first place), Willow used to guilt-trip me into Life often. She would say things like,

 

“If you love your Mama at all, you won’t leave me in the wake of another lost child…”

or

 “What would happen to me if you killed yourself?”

 

Naturally, being the empath that I am, these statements always struck that chord in me that connects somehow directly to my dead little brother (who committed suicide very young); and the reality of such things would always anchor me once more to Life. I know she wasn’t even necessarily trying to save me from death, but she did. When I think about the prospect of her being gone after all those times of refraining from suicide simply to avoid destroying Willow the rest of the way, as her daughter and then I think about being left behind in the end, after all, well….my abandonment issues flare up and I become semi-manic.

 

Ten Far-Reaching Notions of Gratitude on “Thanksgiving”.

meh

  1. Today, I am grateful that I am not a Republican.
  2. I am equally as thankful for not being a Democrat.
  3. Today, I feel gratitude towards my home and hearth; however, I will add that EVERYDAY holds sentiment for me – the roof over my head is something I do not allow myself to take for granted in any context.
  4. Today, I am glad to be a pothead, and feel thankful for the plentiful reaping of many crops this year, despite the seemingly perpetual amounts of labor attached to them.
  5. Today, I am thankful to have the double-edged ability to “dissociate” and/or “detach” from emotional torment or torture, as the holidays unfailingly suck worse than any time of any year for me, this year being no exception.
  6. Tomorrow, I will go to the Sempers and chop a beautiful tree that will enrich my home and hearth with its beautiful presence for the next 35 or so days, and I love trees so I am grateful for that.
  7. Although at this particular moment in time, I feel thoroughly perplexed by BOTH of roommates, at the end of the day I am grateful for each in his own, totally unique and irreplaceable way…an element in life that is not lost in me, as I have lived with some truly horrible people in the past, so I can appreciate and be thankful for that, too.
  8. My mother was not shot by some psychopath with a gun as a clueless, neighboring bystander to a recent tragedy.
  9. My father is recovering from his near-fatal beating considerably well, despite the continued vision problems.
  10. I have my freedom to be loser fuck-up with no motivation, direction, or driving force because I am a fucking “Muuurcan” (American).

Happy No-Donner-For-Dinner Day, Y’all.

Bashful and Insecure.

Um Bashful...

Insecure.

Nope.

Nope, still too shy.

Nope, still too shy.

Burn.

Fallen.

Fallen.

The one thing that I ask for this year,
Would be to just myself, completely disappear –
Somewhere quiet and cold, without a single memory to fear.

Wishes don’t come true, Blind One.

No trace of the paces I’ve left behind,
No bet to reset the mouse wheel inside my mind –
No way to lose or find myself – solitude of the most intrusive kind.

Truths aren’t acceptable, Lone One.

I’ll show myself the things I used to love,
I’ll sport my old jeans that still fit like a glove –
Maybe I’ll drink ‘til the bottle is all I can think of…

Acceptance can’t be lit on fire, Drunken One.

Maybe I’ll run for the tree line,
Sprinting and screaming like I’ve lost my mind –
Cry until my tears don’t sting – make the horizon mine.

Fire won’t burn the ice off your heart, Broken One.

Bah Humbugz!

Bah Humbugz

Bah Humbugz