A Strongly Opposing Inability.

It’s true:

I am a precariously teetering creature; fragile, on the edge between the ability to cope and survive, and a strongly opposing inability.

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I’m good at allowing people to assume that I am “normal”;

I don’t know how to reach out to others for comfort or support;

I was born anti-social, and Life’s experiences have only hammered this trait irretrievably deep into my being, in turn;

I am honestly not sure how long anyone can make it in Life behind a facade before finally just coming undone;

I have realized that I am running on empty – and have been for some time now – and am puzzled in stomach-wrenching way by the fact that I haven’t sputtered and died out yet.

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Here I was all this time, thinking I had things pretty much in order; in terms of the emotional handling of recent and life-altering circumstances and the associated outcomes, at least. My seasoned readers know about the struggle with my kid, how it’s been so long-standing and draining yadda yadda yadda. To the point where it is all just so incredibly bad and dark and regrettable that I have detached myself totally from it all out of sheer necessity. Do not get me wrong, it has been HELL; but it has been something that I have been “dealing with”, even if that means detaching myself (from a situation that I hold zero control over anyway). I have also written lots about my mother; about the lifelong boxing match (I mean this emotionally, more than physically, but she is a psychopath who likes to scrap, too) between us. I have also described the unfolding ugliness surrounding the relationships between my kid and my parents these days, as my daughter has pretty much taken over control of their household and rules with thievery, destruction and chaos; I have written about my need to break away from the never-ending toxicity and generalized unease that is naturally and unfailingly attached to any dealings with any of them.

I haven’t been in contact with my daughter at all; which has been surprisingly easier this time than ever before because she disgusts and shames me on a whole new level. I have been trying to maintain some semblance of a relationship with my mother throughout, however, which I have already admitted here as being a stupid idea, and one that is counterproductive to my emotional status. I love my mother, in spite of myself; and genuinely long for closeness with her – the one that she has dangled in periphery all my Life. I am willing to bend for her; I am open to trying, but she is just so seemingly set permanently in her unhealthy and dishonest ways that it has begun to feel futile. I have straight out told my mother that I desire “no-contact” with my kid; and she always puts on this song and dance about how she totally gets it and is proud of me for being able to take care of myself, to put my foot down, etcetera. She plays as if she is totally in my corner to my face every single time, without fail; but is totally being a Fatmouth.

She sings a different song to other people; many have said this to me over the course of the living nightmare with my kid for the last ten years or so. She thinks my own brother (who does not sit there and let her badmouth me without defending me in outright defiance, for the record) won’t be so angry that he won’t tell me about it afterward, which is just mind boggling to me. In such instances, there are typically other family members present to witness what will ultimately become argument between them; my mother doesn’t even consider that any of those people might foster any relationship with me strong enough to warrant a bite to her tongue, either. She vows secrecy over touchy issues and then turns around and tells the very secret thing to the very person who wasn’t meant to be told. When confronted by the secret teller, she plays the ol’ “oh, I wasn’t supposed to tell them….? I didn’t realize you didn’t want me to tell them…” o convincingly that the only options you’re left with is to bludgeon her to death with clawhammer or just suck it up and move on. I realize more and more daily how toxic she is, even when she isn’t trying to be. She is toxic to me, at least. And, the reason behind her seemingly “exceptional” relationship with my kid is suddenly blatantly clear to me as well:

Of course they share a closeness that neither one has with me…they are so similar and alike in personality and behavior that it could be no other way!!!

 

I know what I need to do, like…for real; doing it will be the part worth mentioning in the future.

Area Locals.

And…they’re all against me…

Okay, not really; but each animal encountered thus far has proven ornery in his or her unique way.

  1. I was nearly stampeded by a disturbingly stealthy sounder of wild boar in a clearing (where there was fire going) at like 5:30am; after some initial screaming and table climbing, my (much more outdoorsy) relatives came and essentially shooed the lot of them through our camp.hogs
  2. The local bird situation: We all know how I feel about birds…but I realize that I am in their’ territory so it’s not been too bad, all things considered. There is a woodpecker however, who insists on pecking away at the acorn tree right over MY head for hours on end, which is super annoying at first but you learn to tune it out. Acorn WoodpeckerAnd there are the California Condors, who fly overhead because they have a preserve at the Pinnacles; I had no idea how fucking ugly those things are in the face, wow…condor pinns
  3. A few Grey Foxes have been scampering and playing in the distance, one is much more curious about our camp than his mates.greyfox
  4. There are big cats all over the place – Mountain Lions and Bobcats, at least…and they have evolved into very ballsy beasts that fear no human. The curiosity trait supposedly akin to all cats is definitely present in the wild cats in this area; they keep you on your toes at all times.bobcatMountain Lion
  5. THE OLD SAYING “They are more afraid of you than you’re afraid of them.” DOES NOT STAND HERE.

In short, the local wildlife is engaging enough in collective behavior to render any trip out here to “relax” totally out of the question, which is fine with me – I have ADHD and PTSD so relaxing is an elusive idea to me under any circumstances.

 

 

 

Notes to Self #420

Self-memo RE:cowl neck blouses and smoking weed:

Dear Self,

Yes, you’re still a pothead…puff – puff – pass.

Being of the branch in the pothead tree that is populated by less socially glorified potheads; as in: the kind who find smoking utensils and miscellaneous pothead paraphernalia to be (in the spirit of the good Miss Pross from Dickens’ Tale of Two Cities) absolute nonsense; it is now a recognized necessity to NOT combine the two elements if I plan to leave the house.

Imagine…

what the person thought when I leaned over to sign a document and spilled like a quarter ounce out of the folds in my neckline from hours before – when I rolled a joint (and apparently spilled a bunch down into my shirt, somehow…

 

Notes to Self: Note 325

Dear Self,

Yes, you are going to become one of “them”… you know who I refer to…you’re closer everyday to fitting the profile dashingly; just go out and get the 23 stray cats, already…get it over with.

Early morning, pre-coffee birthday wishes in the German language when you’ve forgotten it’s your birthday, as well as the fact that you live with a German, can be cause for it’s own follow-up therapy session; just sayin’.

The “word on the street” seems to be lazily conveying that it’s time to go home and put your jammies on.

“Going out” for your birthday isn’t supposed to entail a trip to CVS for laundry detergent.

Maybe this will be the year that you finally accept the reality that you don’t get carded anymore when you buy liquor or smokes.

Yes, you still live (and therefor, must drive) in the Silicon Valley; you can’t, or shouldn’t wonder why you always get home feeling like you just jumped out of a plane.

Try calming the fuck down, somehow – before your heart explodes; you’re not getting any younger.

Bubble Bath.

I thought you’d left while I was in the bubble bath;

So I paraded around sporting bitchy tits ‘n ass…

I wrapped myself up in your freshly washed towel;

telling myself I was glad that you were gone now…

Silly me; you actually never had gone anywhere at all;

I found you standing quietly with your mouth opened in awe …

Beads of sweat dot your head; a crown of liquefied guilt;

Swallowed whole – from all you know; desire you’ve never felt…

And when you see my red-ruby pouting start to pucker,

and sense how my insides tense;  you sexy mother-fucker…

Lick me clean of my tears – salted by such childish fears;

strike a match against the fuse between the filthy and the pure…

tonight I stroke your hidden side – that displaced face you always hide;

Allow me to perfect your view of how a good girl will abide…

you stood there, your hands wringing with intensity;

shirtless and hungry like a pre-meditative beast,

I was yours bendable expendable – that’s right,  wrapped up tight;

And you were yourself – an animal, ever-ready to bite…

the time became a sucking noise from the drain,

you manhandled my body and I hijacked your brain;

I’m glad you never left while I was in the bubble bath;

it’s sad to think about it now after so much time has passed.

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Come.

Come see me –

this night;

in my dark cornered dreams

I beg of you to make me scream;

Come touch me –

Once more;

sweat your saliva from my pores

cut the wire and kick in the door;

Come stay with me –

come closer; revive;

wake me up until I come alive

let me feed the carnivorous side;

Come with me –

come in; confide;

touch every steaming hot place inside

never look into my crying eyes;

Come ruin me –

this night;

see my body writhe beneath

Come tonight and leave me empty.

Q and A.

Q: If you could be any character in the cast of ‘One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest’ who would it be? Why?
A: Oh c’mon now…this is a no-brainer – as I would surely be the Chief (Bromden), hands down; I suppose my reason for choosing the Chief would be simply based on his vision and perception in regard to the world and how he believes it to operate (the Combine)…his character is uniquely insane, his tactics are admirable, and indeed, my own genetic Heinz is even similar to his.

Q: What is the definition of a ‘Lightning fast’ reply?
A: OMFG! You are such a bitch for this question, because, you know as well as I do how I want to respond to this!!! I DID actually find the screenshot you sent me early last year that was an excellent summary the answer to this particular query…hmmmmmmm…I plead the 5th.

Q: Name three Pirate Weapons suitable for wall art?
A: Are we talking generalized Pirate Weapons or “African Tools of Death”? Because in that arena, you have a fine selection displayed in your living room…as for my own wall art (if we’re talking about the Scurvy Ridden Sailor Pirates), I’d go with
a) the good ol’ Cutlass blade for its unfailing aesthetic pleasure
b) the twin pair of wheel-lock pistols
c) that long wood (and sometimes iron-tipped) stake that was used on deck whatever it was called, I don’t know but they look cool

Q: If you could choose only one Dan Simmons quote to put on a sticker to be made in bulk to stick on the windscreens on the cars of whoever you chose, which would it be?
A: Uuuuggghh! This is so not fair of you! How can I choose just one? Okay, either:
“Better to die on your feet than your knees.” – Ilium
OR
“Stupidity has a price; and it always gets paid.” – Hyperion

Q: What part of pop culture do you wish would just go away?
A: Ummm…can I say all of it, and it would count as an answer?

Q: If you could name a racehorse, what would you name it?
A: Chongo Machismo; or something.

Q: If you could have a drink with someone from history who would it be?
A: Abe Lincoln; Cutty Sark.

Q: If you HAD to sing karaoke, what song would you sing?
A: No Sleep til Brooklyn.

Q: If you were allowed to have Serge for two whole days, what would you do?
A: Omg, the possibilities…hmmmm…definitely take him somewhere local on the Light Rail because he obviously has a fondness for trains – he might enjoy a baseball game or the beach…we could go to the zoo but not go inside and he could take selfies in front of the sign or whatever…I wonder if he swims….

serge the llama
Q; I set you up on a blind date. 10 minutes in you decide the bloke is totally not floating your boat. How do you escape?
A: First of all, you would NEVER set me up on a blind date with anyone dude, c’mon geez… and, I guess you’d have my escape route all mapped out for me already if you ever did.

Q: Weapon of choice for ‘interviewing’?
A: Does my tongue count?

Q: You could inhabit the body of another human being – still living – for 3 hours. For any reason, and you could do anything you wanted. What would you do?
A: I’m thinking I’d become a teller at the bank for a few hours; and you know damned well what I’d do. 😉

Q: Where does your love of words come from?
A: My Dad’s father, my Papa Joe; he was a wordsmith from the old school.

Q: What meal do you make best?
A: Lasagna from scratch; or my French Toast is pretty good, too.

Q: If you could master any skill / trade – what would it be?
A: Taxidermy

Q; What was the last thing you laughed at?
A: This questionnaire. My fucking sides hurt now…

Q: Have you ever shoplifted, and if you have what did you lift?
A: Yes. Once when I was super young I was in Mervyn’s with my Dad and I popped open the plastic covering on a bath set in a basket in order to take a single bath oil bead, because the curiosity was eating me alive and I had to know what it felt like.

Fill in the blanks: (In bold-italic)
You won’t believe! She said “fuck“ and then I said ”oh fuck” and then the whole place just exploded because he had tried to be a fucking Magician. It was crazy. Did you see my eyebrows? Because, seriously, they’re like…gone, dude.
Q: Miss me yet?
A: Always.