I have noticed that:
- When you wake up in the morning and the first thing that comes out of your mouth is, "I hope So-and-So is at the bottom of Lake Michigan (or large body of water of your choice) with a harpoon through his head", it's probably not going to be a good day.
- The urgency with which you have to relieve yourself grows exponentially, the closer you get to a bathroom. And when you get there, there's usually a line.
- Big, really big, ridiculously big hair can dramatically improve a bad day. (Example: On Friday morning I was feeling like hell: discouraged, disappointed, mad, frustrated. At 2 p.m. I had an appointment for a haircut. I happened to mention to my stylist, in passing, that I thought big hair was cool. Once the cut was over, he broke out the gel, extra-hold hairspray and big velcro rollers. When he was done, I looked like Peggy Bundy from Married With Children. I was tickled pink. No more doom-and-gloom. He said that next time I come in, he'll make my hair even bigger!)
- You can be in excruciating agony but the minute you sit in the dentist's chair or hop up on the doctor's examining table, your misery will disappear and you will feel like a big hypochondriac.
- On the nights you need to look/feel really gorgeous and hot, you will put on your seldom-worn, special occasion bra and panties and find in one or both garments, a hole big enough to make wearing them impossible, thus rendering your sexification null and void.
- You can spend an eternity on yourself before some special event - revitalizing or deep cleansing mask, full-body exfoliation, long bath, shave, full-body moisturization, makeup, hair, manicure, pedicure, clothes, shoes, accessories and sexy perfume, and come away looking like a 20-car pileup and guys overlook you, but the nights when you can't be bothered to do more than slap on a careless coat of mascara, a little lip balm, and throw your hair back into a ponytail, you end up looking like a total SEX GODDESS, and the men fight each other to the death over who gets to say hello to you first. (Been there, done that...more than once, too)
- When you've been mad as hell at somebody for some time and are ready to chew them thoroughly, they do a total 180 and make you feel like an ass for being angry with them.
- Pedicures don't take anywhere near as long to dry as they say they do, but manicures take double the time.
- "New and Improved", usually isn't.
- The minute a new woman starts working on camera for The Weather Channel, it's only about 4-6 months before she's pregnant. When the pastel wardrobe gets replaced by navy and black clothes, that's the first clue, whether she's showing or not.
- If you're a writer, the minute you fall in love with a certain kind of pen, the company will either "improve" your pen or discontinue it completely.
- People with the brattiest, least-talented children always give them piano lessons and then ask you, after an atrocious, impromptu concert, "Isn't he/she wonderful?" You can't say no. All you can do is summon up a sickly smile and nod.
- People who insist on respect and boundaries are often the ones who cannot take no for an answer.
- You cannot ask some people how they are, because they'll tell you. And you'll be very, very sorry you inquired.
- Size 10 shoes always sell out first.
- Pink is NOT the new black. Neither is gray, blue, peach, red, brown or mint green.
- The uglier a garment or purse or pair of shoes is, the more expensive it will be.
- When someone says his/her dog or cat is friendly and a big ol' love-muffin, it usually means the dog snaps and the cat likes to hide under the couch and hiss at newcomers.
- Smokers tend to be very generous people.
- Men and dogs have the same kind of hearing. The more you scream, rant, nag and repeat yourself, the less they listen.
- Men, bless their lovely hearts, are just as gossipy as women.
- Men do not notice whether our eyebrows are perfectly groomed or not. (The only thing they do notice is a unibrow.) This means we can start saving more time and money.
-When you least expect it, guys will start checking you out and like what they see.
- Guys are eager to explain the rules of Football, Baseball, etc. to women. Unless one of the guys is my brother.
- Most men have really good taste (except my brother). If you ask a guy what dress he likes better, go with his choice.
- Guys like it when chicks can talk about Classic Rock. I've had many a lovely conversation with the opposite sex over music.
- Guys love it when a chick goes berserk at sporting events.
- Men like cookies.
- People who make fun of others for their choice of career usually expect freebies from that person (My dad is case in point. He's a musician. My mother's family has always looked down on him for it, but whenever one of the bastards dies, the survivors expect him to provide music at the funeral, FREE OF CHARGE, of course. The bastards).
- The best-looking shoes always hurt the most.
- Hospital cafeterias always have the greasiest, fattiest, saltiest, sweetest, unhealthiest (but most delicious) food on the planet. Except the jello. That shit is always like rubber.
- The more you pay for a coffee drink, the crappier it will be.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Crap.
The car behaved itself nicely for 24 hours before the Service Engine Soon light came back on. I think it might have something to do with air being trapped in one of the power steering lines. When I go around a curve to the right and turn the steering wheel, I hear a strange low humming sound.
I spent Friday night in the ER with a family friend. Just before 5:00 p.m. I got a call from B saying, "You've got to take me to the emergency room. I'm having severe stomach pain". I sat there til after 9 p.m. as they did tests, x-rays, a CAT-Scan, palpated the area (when the doctor tapped on his stomach, it sounded just like he was thumping a watermelon). As I sat there in Admitting, I noticed several goofy things. For instance, when you walk in to the ER, doubled over in pain, or limping or bleeding, the first thing they do is hand you crazy paperwork giving them permission to treat you. I understand why they do it, but it seems to me that if you have sporting equipment protruding from your head (or other sensitive orifice), the forms should come later. Who is going to walk into a hospital, ashen and bleeding profusely, and refuse help?
Second anomaly: The free coffee. It's plentiful. And it is HOT. Mt. Pinatubo-blowing-magma-25-miles-into-the-atmosphere hot. The cups are thin and kinda flimsy and there are no thermal sleeves to slip around their molten circumference. The one comforting thing is that the coffee station is mere steps away from Triage Room #3. Nota bene: There is powdered coffee creamer at the coffee station. I've read several articles saying that powdered creamer is actually FLAMMABLE. Good thing Triage Rooms # 1 and 2 are just around the corner.
From what I overheard, the ER was quiet for a Friday night. Could've fooled me. A number of limpers came in - several people with blown-out knees and a kid with a broken leg. Then there was that 2-yr. old who had a slight concussion from driving his mini car carelessly and flipping it. Around 6:30 p.m. a couple brought in their 4-month old, who had a high fever. An hour later, a man came in having complications from bowel obstruction surgery. I learned more than I thought possible about bowel obstruction surgery, especially the consequent pain,vomiting and diarrhea. Now, pain, vomiting and diarrhea don't faze me one bit. That's a typical Christmas in my family. What made me queasy was the sight of the growths on that poor man's face. Finally, around 8 p.m., I saw my first bleeder. A man had been playing with his 4-yr. old son. The kid seized a toy and flung it indiscriminately, accidentally striking his progenitor in the face. The poor man had quite the nasty gash in his eyebrow that needed stitches.
Around 21:00, B was finally admitted and wheeled up to a room. The problem? Possible bowel obstruction. No clue how he got it. All I know is that his poor gut was terribly distended. He looked like he was in his 3rd trimester. I kept wanting to ask him if he'd picked out any names for the baby.
I'm going to go up and visit him in a little while. With any luck the tube they snaked down his nose will be out and he'll be able to talk. I also hope I run into his doctor. That guy was HOT. Married, unfortunately. Well, he's neither the only hot male at the hospital nor the only delectable fish in the sea...
...And speaking of delectable fish in the sea, I have a dishy new neighbor, named Josh. He could eat crackers in my bed anytime he wanted to and not one word of complaint would you hear from my lips.
This means I'm probably going to have to wear makeup when I leave the house, now.
I spent Friday night in the ER with a family friend. Just before 5:00 p.m. I got a call from B saying, "You've got to take me to the emergency room. I'm having severe stomach pain". I sat there til after 9 p.m. as they did tests, x-rays, a CAT-Scan, palpated the area (when the doctor tapped on his stomach, it sounded just like he was thumping a watermelon). As I sat there in Admitting, I noticed several goofy things. For instance, when you walk in to the ER, doubled over in pain, or limping or bleeding, the first thing they do is hand you crazy paperwork giving them permission to treat you. I understand why they do it, but it seems to me that if you have sporting equipment protruding from your head (or other sensitive orifice), the forms should come later. Who is going to walk into a hospital, ashen and bleeding profusely, and refuse help?
Second anomaly: The free coffee. It's plentiful. And it is HOT. Mt. Pinatubo-blowing-magma-25-miles-into-the-atmosphere hot. The cups are thin and kinda flimsy and there are no thermal sleeves to slip around their molten circumference. The one comforting thing is that the coffee station is mere steps away from Triage Room #3. Nota bene: There is powdered coffee creamer at the coffee station. I've read several articles saying that powdered creamer is actually FLAMMABLE. Good thing Triage Rooms # 1 and 2 are just around the corner.
From what I overheard, the ER was quiet for a Friday night. Could've fooled me. A number of limpers came in - several people with blown-out knees and a kid with a broken leg. Then there was that 2-yr. old who had a slight concussion from driving his mini car carelessly and flipping it. Around 6:30 p.m. a couple brought in their 4-month old, who had a high fever. An hour later, a man came in having complications from bowel obstruction surgery. I learned more than I thought possible about bowel obstruction surgery, especially the consequent pain,vomiting and diarrhea. Now, pain, vomiting and diarrhea don't faze me one bit. That's a typical Christmas in my family. What made me queasy was the sight of the growths on that poor man's face. Finally, around 8 p.m., I saw my first bleeder. A man had been playing with his 4-yr. old son. The kid seized a toy and flung it indiscriminately, accidentally striking his progenitor in the face. The poor man had quite the nasty gash in his eyebrow that needed stitches.
Around 21:00, B was finally admitted and wheeled up to a room. The problem? Possible bowel obstruction. No clue how he got it. All I know is that his poor gut was terribly distended. He looked like he was in his 3rd trimester. I kept wanting to ask him if he'd picked out any names for the baby.
I'm going to go up and visit him in a little while. With any luck the tube they snaked down his nose will be out and he'll be able to talk. I also hope I run into his doctor. That guy was HOT. Married, unfortunately. Well, he's neither the only hot male at the hospital nor the only delectable fish in the sea...
...And speaking of delectable fish in the sea, I have a dishy new neighbor, named Josh. He could eat crackers in my bed anytime he wanted to and not one word of complaint would you hear from my lips.
This means I'm probably going to have to wear makeup when I leave the house, now.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
"I Been Drivin' All Night, My Hands Wet On The Wheel"
At long last, my car is fixed!!! God bless the gentleman who worked on it. He did a damn fine job, too. For a vehicle that's going on 10 years old, it runs like it's almost new. It's purring like a kitten and right now, I am too.
I'm so glad I didn't go with the dealer's garage. For the leaky fuel gasket alone they were going to gouge me for over $500. The other place only charged $368. The guy went over my car with a fine tooth comb. Took it in at 9 a.m. yesterday and didn't get it back til around 5 p.m. He did a ton: Fuel intake gasket replaced, fuel injector cleaned out, power steering flushed, a bunch of other stuff (I'll have to check the invoice), checked why the engine coolant light was on and fixed whatever the problem is, then changed the oil and replaced the air filter. The dealer missed a number of issues that this guy found and the jobs that needed doing were going to cost a minimum of $8-900. I got everything for $678. That's still pretty high but I k now I saved at least $150-200, if not more. I'm pleased. I plan to go there for tires.
So, for the first time in MONTHS, I went for a nice, long, leisurely drive last night. It was so nice to be able to idle at red lights without the car shuddering like a paint shaker (thanks, crappy fuel injector) or squealing horribly (I'm talking about you, icky power steering). It was also nice not to have the instrument panel not lit up like the Vegas Strip (Nobody likes seeing "Service Engine Soon" or the Engine Coolant light staring them in the face). I just put some good music on and let my baby do its thing. I made sure to get up extra early so I could get a coffee, go to the lake and see the sun come up. Mother Nature did not disappoint.
Tonight, I hope to go down to the Paine Art Center in Oshkosh and attend a lecture on the current exhibit. If I don't make it tonight, there'll be a repeat performance next Friday afternoon.
I feel like I can finally start living and I'm thrilled!
I'm so glad I didn't go with the dealer's garage. For the leaky fuel gasket alone they were going to gouge me for over $500. The other place only charged $368. The guy went over my car with a fine tooth comb. Took it in at 9 a.m. yesterday and didn't get it back til around 5 p.m. He did a ton: Fuel intake gasket replaced, fuel injector cleaned out, power steering flushed, a bunch of other stuff (I'll have to check the invoice), checked why the engine coolant light was on and fixed whatever the problem is, then changed the oil and replaced the air filter. The dealer missed a number of issues that this guy found and the jobs that needed doing were going to cost a minimum of $8-900. I got everything for $678. That's still pretty high but I k now I saved at least $150-200, if not more. I'm pleased. I plan to go there for tires.
Tonight, I hope to go down to the Paine Art Center in Oshkosh and attend a lecture on the current exhibit. If I don't make it tonight, there'll be a repeat performance next Friday afternoon.
I feel like I can finally start living and I'm thrilled!
Monday, September 12, 2011
Monday.
On the Shrink Yourself forums this evening, some kind soul posted the link to a great little YouTube video that shows what one pound of body fat looks like. Just looking at the anatomical model of body goo makes me feel slightly ill. Can you imagine something that revolting living in your body? It makes me want to never eat crappy food or skip exercise again. It makes me want to live on salad and fish, nuts and fruits, whole grains and water. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sd1bQPnPJXQ&list=FLYXyAjolNrcAmofY8_Jnxgw&index=1
Another good visual for 1 pound of stubborn, ugly fat is a pound of butter. Imagine 4 sticks of butter in your arteries, around your organs and on your thighs. Nasty, isn't it? Have you poked out your mind's eye yet?
So, never again will I step on the scale and lament, "That's it? That's all I lost after one week of eating spinach and exercising my ass off? One measly pound?" Instead, I shall do the victory dance to end all victory dances.
Speaking of exercising my ass off, I have resumed T-Tapp. Since I have gone so long without physical activity, I will have to do the 15-minute Basic Workout to reaccustom myself. I have also begun dry brushing my body in the hopes of speeding up the process. Right now, my goal is to get into these jeans by or before November 12th. That is the date of the local team's home opener and when I hope to set eyes on CG again. I want those jeans to either fit perfectly or, better yet, be a little big. They're awful, aren't they? Enormous. Ginormous. Shamefully big. And yet, they run small. The label says they're my size but they're cut small. I have to work my way into them.
My ultimate goal? To fit into sexy knickers. I bought a pair 7 or 8 years ago as motivation and inspiration to get busy, get fit, and lose enough hideous bulk so that I could fit into them and others of their ilk. What lady doesn't like pretty, lacy, sexy lingerie? I know I do. Unfortunately, the size of my derriere, hips, thighs and gut prevent me from wearing cute things. Frankly, I'm sick of it.
Any new insights? Yeah. The most important one I've gotten in the past week is that, for a lot of people (myself included), fat can be proof of mental/emotional pain. When you begin bingeing at an early age, it's proof that you've got more pain and upset than you know how to deal with. Through inexperience or because of your young age, you lack the skills to deal with it in more effective ways.
Insight #2: Why so many people (myself included) eat when anxious/scared: Adrenaline. You get that adrenaline running through your system, it awakens the butterflies in your tummy. You want calming and soothing, so you chow down. I notice that I do this when I'm excited in a positive way, too. The excitement butterflies feel the same as the anxiety butterflies. A family friend asked if I'd drive up to Winnipeg with him next Autumn. I love Winnipeg, I love to travel and I love a road trip. I was and still am stoked. I found myself eating to calm the butterflies.
Insight #3: I've got to learn how to forgive. Yeah, I've taken my fair share of shit from other people. Sometimes I think I got more than my fair share - who hasn't? I was talking to my favorite cousin late last night and she's in the process of learning to forgive. She told me that, as an adult, she's learning that a lot of the shit she endured when she was young was not due to people's indifference but rather due to the fact that they were so overwhelmed with difficulties in their own lives that they just couldn't give her the help she wanted/needed. I can see how this happened with my family and me. It's a hard pill to swallow, especially with the way I always thought that everything was my fault when I was little. I wonder if the reason why I'm clinging to the resentment is because I want someone or something to make it all up to me. And it's just not going to f***ing happen.
O.k., enough heavy crap. I haven't exactly been Little Mary Sunshine lately. It's kind of scary what comes bubbling up when you begin dealing with dilemmas without Cheetos, General Tso's and Snickers bars.
Anything positive going on? Well, the car goes in tomorrow. I can hardly wait. God willing, it will be fixed well and as inexpensively as possible. When it is sea-worthy, so to speak, I plan on going for a long, long drive. Gas prices be damned!
Wednesday night I'm thinking of attending a lecture at the Paine Art Center down in Oshkosh. The curator of the museum is going to be giving a little lecture on the current exhibit and I'd dearly love to attend. If I can't go this week, there is another lecture on the 23rd. I'd also love to sojourn in the beautiful gardens before everything goes to wrack and ruin. I hope I'll get there in time. This week, the night temperatures are forecast to go down around freezing, so I'm sure that'll put paid to all the flowers and plants in the Paine gardens, particularly the roses. Which is a shame.
Next Tuesday night is the Garrison Keillor show at the Fox Cities P.A.C. I wonder if he's as excited to see me as I am to see him? Keillor is desirous of retiring in the next year or two, so I'm doubly grateful for a chance to see him live. He says that he's searching for someone to take over his live shows for him. With any luck, that search will take a couple of years and he'll come back to this area for at least one more live show. I'm hoping next week's performance won't consist of him standing on the stage, bitching about politics. I love GK's writing, I love his Prairie Home Companion radio shows but when he talks politics, it's no fun. He comes off kind of whiny and belligerent. If I want to hear someone whine and bitch about the Federal govt., I'll stay home and turn on MSNBC or CNN or FoxNews and listen to the pundits kvetch. Yawn...
Another good visual for 1 pound of stubborn, ugly fat is a pound of butter. Imagine 4 sticks of butter in your arteries, around your organs and on your thighs. Nasty, isn't it? Have you poked out your mind's eye yet?
So, never again will I step on the scale and lament, "That's it? That's all I lost after one week of eating spinach and exercising my ass off? One measly pound?" Instead, I shall do the victory dance to end all victory dances.
My ultimate goal? To fit into sexy knickers. I bought a pair 7 or 8 years ago as motivation and inspiration to get busy, get fit, and lose enough hideous bulk so that I could fit into them and others of their ilk. What lady doesn't like pretty, lacy, sexy lingerie? I know I do. Unfortunately, the size of my derriere, hips, thighs and gut prevent me from wearing cute things. Frankly, I'm sick of it.
Any new insights? Yeah. The most important one I've gotten in the past week is that, for a lot of people (myself included), fat can be proof of mental/emotional pain. When you begin bingeing at an early age, it's proof that you've got more pain and upset than you know how to deal with. Through inexperience or because of your young age, you lack the skills to deal with it in more effective ways.
Insight #2: Why so many people (myself included) eat when anxious/scared: Adrenaline. You get that adrenaline running through your system, it awakens the butterflies in your tummy. You want calming and soothing, so you chow down. I notice that I do this when I'm excited in a positive way, too. The excitement butterflies feel the same as the anxiety butterflies. A family friend asked if I'd drive up to Winnipeg with him next Autumn. I love Winnipeg, I love to travel and I love a road trip. I was and still am stoked. I found myself eating to calm the butterflies.
Insight #3: I've got to learn how to forgive. Yeah, I've taken my fair share of shit from other people. Sometimes I think I got more than my fair share - who hasn't? I was talking to my favorite cousin late last night and she's in the process of learning to forgive. She told me that, as an adult, she's learning that a lot of the shit she endured when she was young was not due to people's indifference but rather due to the fact that they were so overwhelmed with difficulties in their own lives that they just couldn't give her the help she wanted/needed. I can see how this happened with my family and me. It's a hard pill to swallow, especially with the way I always thought that everything was my fault when I was little. I wonder if the reason why I'm clinging to the resentment is because I want someone or something to make it all up to me. And it's just not going to f***ing happen.
O.k., enough heavy crap. I haven't exactly been Little Mary Sunshine lately. It's kind of scary what comes bubbling up when you begin dealing with dilemmas without Cheetos, General Tso's and Snickers bars.
Anything positive going on? Well, the car goes in tomorrow. I can hardly wait. God willing, it will be fixed well and as inexpensively as possible. When it is sea-worthy, so to speak, I plan on going for a long, long drive. Gas prices be damned!
Wednesday night I'm thinking of attending a lecture at the Paine Art Center down in Oshkosh. The curator of the museum is going to be giving a little lecture on the current exhibit and I'd dearly love to attend. If I can't go this week, there is another lecture on the 23rd. I'd also love to sojourn in the beautiful gardens before everything goes to wrack and ruin. I hope I'll get there in time. This week, the night temperatures are forecast to go down around freezing, so I'm sure that'll put paid to all the flowers and plants in the Paine gardens, particularly the roses. Which is a shame.
Next Tuesday night is the Garrison Keillor show at the Fox Cities P.A.C. I wonder if he's as excited to see me as I am to see him? Keillor is desirous of retiring in the next year or two, so I'm doubly grateful for a chance to see him live. He says that he's searching for someone to take over his live shows for him. With any luck, that search will take a couple of years and he'll come back to this area for at least one more live show. I'm hoping next week's performance won't consist of him standing on the stage, bitching about politics. I love GK's writing, I love his Prairie Home Companion radio shows but when he talks politics, it's no fun. He comes off kind of whiny and belligerent. If I want to hear someone whine and bitch about the Federal govt., I'll stay home and turn on MSNBC or CNN or FoxNews and listen to the pundits kvetch. Yawn...
Friday, September 9, 2011
Dredging Up Muck and Playin' The Waiting Game.
I can't believe it's been a month since my last post. It's been a strange, mostly shitty month. Two good things? It's finally cooled off and the car goes in on Tuesday. Oh, and Domino's does a fantastic sub. There. 3 positive things.
I'm about to head into my 6th week of the Shrink Yourself online program. I haven't really lost more than a couple of pounds but I'm not bingeing or overeating, either, and for me, that's huge. Typically, the smallest thing will have me dumping groceries down my neck.
What's going on right now is I'm asserting myself a lot more (which is also huge for me. I've always swallowed everything and blown up at a later date) and a lot of shit is coming up from the past. For instance, at 4:00 yesterday morning I remembered being 7 years old and getting slapped across the face hard in the locker room of the local YMCA. Apparently, an older girl, whose little sister I'd been playing with, accused me of calling her a bitch. At the age of 7, I was not using language like that. I never called her anything, but she said I did and she drilled me in the face, wet-handed. I recall blowing up and trying to hit her back, only to be restrained by 2 of her friends. When I tried to get help from a lifeguard, I was told that there was nothing to be done and that if I'd been slapped, I'd probably done something to bring it on. The only person who stood up for me was the bitch's 3rd friend, who read her the riot act about not smacking little kids. Let me tell you, this memory had me alternating between shame, grief and blind rage. If I were ever to see that bitch again (and I'm sure I won't), I think I'd be hard-pressed not to rip her face off. I'd settle for tearing into her verbally, and making her cry.
I recalled having to sprint home after school in 5th grade to avoid getting my ass kicked. Sometimes I didn't make it. On a couple of occasions I had to hide out in the bathroom of the church that was a couple of blocks from my home.
I recalled joining an after-school intramural basketball program and getting punched in the gut by a little bastard named Bradley, because I made a mistake during a dribble-and-pass drill.
I remembered moving to Minnesota after 5th grade and encountering my next tormentor, Chris, who started in on me, unprovoked. There I sat, doing my Math like a good girl, and he lit in to me. One morning during gym class, a few months later, he began attacking me with a hockey stick, covering me with bruises from knee to waist and blackening my eye with the blade of the stick, leaving a scar that remains to this day. That was when something in my brain snapped and I hauled off and bitch-slapped the little fucker across the face, as hard as I could. Then, I got him in deep shit when I went to the nurse for First Aid. Happily, he never screwed with me again.
I remembered being left out of games at recess from grades 1-4, all the moving we did, having a hard time making friends in the new places, not being allowed to sit with anyone at lunch.
Fast forward to high school. My 5th new school in 6 years. Right from the beginning life was hell on earth. Being stuck between two groups of evil fuckers, intent on wiping me out: A group of 6-8 nasty, horrible girls and a group of 8 wretched, awful boys. The girls ensured my isolation by turning potential friends against me and the boys delighted in telling me what a dirty, foul, disgusting, ill-mannered, fat, ugly, worthless whore I was. I think "Frigid whore" was my favorite epithet. So much scope for imagination. I always wondered how a frigid woman could be a whore and vice versa. Hours of entertainment. The two groups were in addition to random, group-less bastards who roved the hallways, looking for hapless innocents. In 9th I was in tears on almost a daily basis. I puked from nerves at least once per week. By 10th grade, I'd stopped puking because migranes had taken the place of nausea but the tears continued. I begged and pleaded school officials for help. I begged to be transferred out of certain classes. I was refused, point-blank, and told that it was my fault for being hyper-sensitive. These events took place a few years before the whole anti-bullying crusade caught fire. If it were going on today, I'd sue the holy shit out of those little fuckers and the school and the school district and wouldn't think twice about it. Back then, I had to take it.
Shall we add a domineering, bullying older brother to the mix? Someone who couldn't shut the hell up if you nailed his lips together? Someone who will do anything (and I mean anything) to win, whether it's an argument or a game of Scrabble? Someone who will threaten bodily harm if he doesn't get his way? Yes, let's.
It's a miracle that:
1. I'm not an alcoholic.
2. I've never touched a drug.
3. I've never self-harmed.
4. I've never snapped since that incident with Chris in 6th grade.
5. I've never run away.
6. I never once thought of creating chaos at my schools.
7. I've never need to be institutionalized.
8. I still respect those in authority.
That's not to say all this shit hasn't made a dent in my head, because it has. My self-esteem is rock bottom, I'm enormous because I eat emotionally (snarfing down super-sized fries isn't illegal; hiding in your tormentors' bushes and assailing them is). I'm not at all happy and I feel paralyzed by fear, guilt and shame. With the Shrink Yourself thing, I'm learning to deal with the aftermath and it's not at all pretty. This brings me to my next point...
A few weeks ago, a long-time friend told me that she was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. When I look back on our relationship, I can see that she had it as a kid, and the diagnosis explains A LOT about why she acted the way she did. I feel bad for her but I'm also royally pissed off (I've been reading up on this disorder and all the shrinks say that anger is par for the course) at her. For years, I thought that she ignored me, blew me off for others, demonized me, clung to me, ragged on me, mouthed off to me, because I'd done something wrong. I thought that I was a bitch, demanding, horrible, weird, that there was something wrong with me. I have another friend who has had some mental issues and his treatment of me was similar. Again, I thought it was all my fault, when it was really their issues doing the talking. I'm angry that I spent so many years blaming myself and I'm even angrier that now these two people expect me to be patient with them and supportive and loyal, especially since the one with BPD sometimes uses her condition as an excuse to shoot off her mouth and be a snot. Everything I'm reading says that no matter what, you've got to set boundaries with these people. So, that's what I've been doing. Asserting myself. It hasn't always been easy. In fact, at times it's been scary, because I don't like it when people are mad at me or disapprove of me. I've stuck to my guns, though, and I haven't regretted it for a second. We shall see how things develop, Shrink Yourself-wise and friendship-wise, in the coming months.
Now for the Playing the Waiting Game part: Yes, more bullshit about that damn CG and about the car. Luckily, the car goes in on Tuesday. I'm praying that the place I'm taking it to will do the job well and not charge me a heart-stopping amount of money.
As for CG, I know that he's spending the summer working for his Dad in another state. I'm praying that he's not going to make that his permanent residence. I figure I should know in about a month or two (I'm keeping my ears open). I feel like where he's concerned, I've got to strike while the iron is hot, get my foot in the door, etc. I feel like I'm on borrowed time with him and I've got to make a move or he'll leave the area (it's complicated). Yet, I also catch myself kind of hoping he'll stay away so that I'll have no choice but to stop mooning over him and focus on making a fabulous life for myself. One good thing is that my attitude is changing a bit. Up until recently my attitude was that I'd follow him to the ends of the earth. These days, my attitude is, "Well, if he's sweet, I'll let him come with me as I pursue my interests. If he's really sweet, I'll let him actually ride in the car with me, rather than stuff him in the trunk." This is progress.
I think...
I'm about to head into my 6th week of the Shrink Yourself online program. I haven't really lost more than a couple of pounds but I'm not bingeing or overeating, either, and for me, that's huge. Typically, the smallest thing will have me dumping groceries down my neck.
What's going on right now is I'm asserting myself a lot more (which is also huge for me. I've always swallowed everything and blown up at a later date) and a lot of shit is coming up from the past. For instance, at 4:00 yesterday morning I remembered being 7 years old and getting slapped across the face hard in the locker room of the local YMCA. Apparently, an older girl, whose little sister I'd been playing with, accused me of calling her a bitch. At the age of 7, I was not using language like that. I never called her anything, but she said I did and she drilled me in the face, wet-handed. I recall blowing up and trying to hit her back, only to be restrained by 2 of her friends. When I tried to get help from a lifeguard, I was told that there was nothing to be done and that if I'd been slapped, I'd probably done something to bring it on. The only person who stood up for me was the bitch's 3rd friend, who read her the riot act about not smacking little kids. Let me tell you, this memory had me alternating between shame, grief and blind rage. If I were ever to see that bitch again (and I'm sure I won't), I think I'd be hard-pressed not to rip her face off. I'd settle for tearing into her verbally, and making her cry.
I recalled having to sprint home after school in 5th grade to avoid getting my ass kicked. Sometimes I didn't make it. On a couple of occasions I had to hide out in the bathroom of the church that was a couple of blocks from my home.
I recalled joining an after-school intramural basketball program and getting punched in the gut by a little bastard named Bradley, because I made a mistake during a dribble-and-pass drill.
I remembered moving to Minnesota after 5th grade and encountering my next tormentor, Chris, who started in on me, unprovoked. There I sat, doing my Math like a good girl, and he lit in to me. One morning during gym class, a few months later, he began attacking me with a hockey stick, covering me with bruises from knee to waist and blackening my eye with the blade of the stick, leaving a scar that remains to this day. That was when something in my brain snapped and I hauled off and bitch-slapped the little fucker across the face, as hard as I could. Then, I got him in deep shit when I went to the nurse for First Aid. Happily, he never screwed with me again.
I remembered being left out of games at recess from grades 1-4, all the moving we did, having a hard time making friends in the new places, not being allowed to sit with anyone at lunch.
Fast forward to high school. My 5th new school in 6 years. Right from the beginning life was hell on earth. Being stuck between two groups of evil fuckers, intent on wiping me out: A group of 6-8 nasty, horrible girls and a group of 8 wretched, awful boys. The girls ensured my isolation by turning potential friends against me and the boys delighted in telling me what a dirty, foul, disgusting, ill-mannered, fat, ugly, worthless whore I was. I think "Frigid whore" was my favorite epithet. So much scope for imagination. I always wondered how a frigid woman could be a whore and vice versa. Hours of entertainment. The two groups were in addition to random, group-less bastards who roved the hallways, looking for hapless innocents. In 9th I was in tears on almost a daily basis. I puked from nerves at least once per week. By 10th grade, I'd stopped puking because migranes had taken the place of nausea but the tears continued. I begged and pleaded school officials for help. I begged to be transferred out of certain classes. I was refused, point-blank, and told that it was my fault for being hyper-sensitive. These events took place a few years before the whole anti-bullying crusade caught fire. If it were going on today, I'd sue the holy shit out of those little fuckers and the school and the school district and wouldn't think twice about it. Back then, I had to take it.
Shall we add a domineering, bullying older brother to the mix? Someone who couldn't shut the hell up if you nailed his lips together? Someone who will do anything (and I mean anything) to win, whether it's an argument or a game of Scrabble? Someone who will threaten bodily harm if he doesn't get his way? Yes, let's.
It's a miracle that:
1. I'm not an alcoholic.
2. I've never touched a drug.
3. I've never self-harmed.
4. I've never snapped since that incident with Chris in 6th grade.
5. I've never run away.
6. I never once thought of creating chaos at my schools.
7. I've never need to be institutionalized.
8. I still respect those in authority.
That's not to say all this shit hasn't made a dent in my head, because it has. My self-esteem is rock bottom, I'm enormous because I eat emotionally (snarfing down super-sized fries isn't illegal; hiding in your tormentors' bushes and assailing them is). I'm not at all happy and I feel paralyzed by fear, guilt and shame. With the Shrink Yourself thing, I'm learning to deal with the aftermath and it's not at all pretty. This brings me to my next point...
A few weeks ago, a long-time friend told me that she was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. When I look back on our relationship, I can see that she had it as a kid, and the diagnosis explains A LOT about why she acted the way she did. I feel bad for her but I'm also royally pissed off (I've been reading up on this disorder and all the shrinks say that anger is par for the course) at her. For years, I thought that she ignored me, blew me off for others, demonized me, clung to me, ragged on me, mouthed off to me, because I'd done something wrong. I thought that I was a bitch, demanding, horrible, weird, that there was something wrong with me. I have another friend who has had some mental issues and his treatment of me was similar. Again, I thought it was all my fault, when it was really their issues doing the talking. I'm angry that I spent so many years blaming myself and I'm even angrier that now these two people expect me to be patient with them and supportive and loyal, especially since the one with BPD sometimes uses her condition as an excuse to shoot off her mouth and be a snot. Everything I'm reading says that no matter what, you've got to set boundaries with these people. So, that's what I've been doing. Asserting myself. It hasn't always been easy. In fact, at times it's been scary, because I don't like it when people are mad at me or disapprove of me. I've stuck to my guns, though, and I haven't regretted it for a second. We shall see how things develop, Shrink Yourself-wise and friendship-wise, in the coming months.
Now for the Playing the Waiting Game part: Yes, more bullshit about that damn CG and about the car. Luckily, the car goes in on Tuesday. I'm praying that the place I'm taking it to will do the job well and not charge me a heart-stopping amount of money.
As for CG, I know that he's spending the summer working for his Dad in another state. I'm praying that he's not going to make that his permanent residence. I figure I should know in about a month or two (I'm keeping my ears open). I feel like where he's concerned, I've got to strike while the iron is hot, get my foot in the door, etc. I feel like I'm on borrowed time with him and I've got to make a move or he'll leave the area (it's complicated). Yet, I also catch myself kind of hoping he'll stay away so that I'll have no choice but to stop mooning over him and focus on making a fabulous life for myself. One good thing is that my attitude is changing a bit. Up until recently my attitude was that I'd follow him to the ends of the earth. These days, my attitude is, "Well, if he's sweet, I'll let him come with me as I pursue my interests. If he's really sweet, I'll let him actually ride in the car with me, rather than stuff him in the trunk." This is progress.
I think...
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