It is believed that we all have an Inner Child, one who has not grown
up and either, retains alot of the hurts we've buried, or is pretty
well healed depending on how evolved we are. Strictly my definition, I
didn't look it up in the dictionary or anything.
In therapy, I've started working with this Inner Child. Some people
use dolls, and I've read webpages that suggest one writes first with
their dominant hand then with their nondominant hand to represent the
Child.
I of course, am blind, so unable to do that. Therefore I've stuck with
the doll idea and right now somebody is working to make my Inner Child
doll look the way I did before I had all my surgeries.
Onto the dialogues, they aren't written out speciffically, so much as
it's noted that I've done them. I plan to keep an update of this from
now on however.
My first one I had was kind of clumsy
and awkward. . .
but I asked if she had any other name she preferred over Baby
Michelle. Nothing came to me so I took that as a no. So I officially
christened her Baby Michelle.
I asked her if she was feeling anything and she wasn't at the moment,
so I explained who I was and why I was doing this, that I was there to
help her, and that she was me as a Baby, so I was really helping us
and that we weren't separate, we are two halves of a whole.
Dialogue II:
The second time she had something come up, which naturally, was kim
and what I told you in therapy, so we discussed that.
What I told my therapist was that kim complained about me talking
about my friend in front of her. I was discussing how my friend was
doing in casual conversation with her and Becca (my sister). kim
complained that talking about my friend was depressing and she'd
rather play with Sweets (sister's daughter, also known as Cricket
among other things). Anyway, she carried on playing with Sweets and I
was silently pissed because I felt like I was being ignored and shot
down. As though my life and the updates I had weren't as important as
hers for example.
Thing is, it would have been like her saying something about one of
her friends and me telling her I didn't give a shit about her/her
friends. I mean, friends, other family members, coworkers and news all
come up during casual conversation and that's what it was, casual
conversation.
So that left Baby Michelle and I pretty pissed.
Dialogue III, this is from last Saturday:
And now, after seeing kim this morning, I asked her to give me the
print copy of my autobiography back, Baby Michelle is upset again.
Here's why, in a poem I wrote:
WTF?
I asked you to bring the print copy of my autobio back, you did. . .
blew through here like a hurricane. . .
gave me bulbs and garland and so forth for a tree, point out I didn't
ask about your colonoscopy. . .
So why after you left am I the one sitting here feeling pain. A not in
my gut, a cramp in my lower belly, pain everywhere and an
uncontrolable need to cry. . .
Reality is perception, change one change the other. . . you say you
know you mean nothing to me.
My brain wasn't on your colon, sorry I was doing other things. Sorry I
wasn't thinking about that.
But you know something? I know why I'm hurting and you'll never know
why you are the way you are.
I'm hurting because I know I hurt you, and unlike you, I have a heart,
I have feelings, and so I'm hurting.
You lash out like a 4-year-old and wonder why people won't stay.
That's why. You aren't 4, you're 50, but you've never learned to act
like it.
You hurt because you make yourself hurt and you lash out because that
4-year-old is still seeking attention she believes she'll never get. .
. and, that's the other reason I hurt, because I know that little
girl, I know her because I have one of my own and that hurts.
I won't mother you though, I just won't. I'm not your mother, I'm your
child by birth and by blood and by lineage. . .
I am not your mother. . . I. am. not. your. mother!!!!!
I. am. your. daughter!!!
But you know, I'm not angry, no, not this morning. this morning I am
bloody and I am raw, but I am not angry. I will not respond with rage
today. . . I will not lash out in response to you lashing out. . .
I will always love you. . . unfortunately (it feels sometimes), or
fortunately, depending on how one looks at it, these bonds will never
be severed. They are what they are and always will be.
So while I am hurting today and I am in so much agony I can't even
crawl, I am not angry.
That to me is a step forward.
I will always love you, but I will not care take you.
So, if you all didn't figure it out, between her complaint about my
friend, and then her saying I didn't care about her, because I didn't
ask how her colonoscopy turned out, Baby Michelle and I were very
upset and very hurt.
After that we cut ties with kim for the second time and I have no
plans to go back.
It's imparative that I protect my Inner Child (Baby Michelle), and
myself by extention from toxic relationships/comments/emotional abuse.
My therapist called it emotional abuse and stated that she is selfish
and that a mother by definition, must be able to put herself/her needs
aside for her child. Ovbiously, when necessary/within reason, but not
being able to have a casual conversation with somebody is within
reason.
If Olivia and I were discussing her friend (Olivia being the Daughter
I will have some day very soon), and I felt the conversation was
triggering (as we discuss in my online mental health group), I would
gently and calmly explain to Olivia that talking about her friend was
triggering for me at that moment and I would like to switch to another
topic and come back to her friend when I felt better able to handle
it.
I wouldn't say to her what kim said to me.
Anyway, in a nutshell, that's what happened and where Baby Michelle
and I find ourselves now.
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
You.
It's amazing how much power I've allowed you to have over me these
past 9 years. Hard to believe it's been that long actually.
And truth be told, you had power before that. . . however, I draw my
line in the sand there, because I was a child and didn't get it.
You have no filters, never think before you speak. It's as if whatever
pops into your head, you just blurt it out.
"It's depressing talking about your friend. It's much more fun playing
with Cricket."
And what I heard was:
"I don't care about this part of your life. I don't accept it."
Since when? My friends, online or off, are part of my life and if
something effects them it effects me. It effects me in the sense that
I feel for them and I'm thinking about them and so, I talk to my
"family" about them/their issue(s) like any person would.
And you're words say: "Stop! Reject! Move on!"
The drinking and smoking bothered the fuck out of me. . . why? because
it's not healthy and you're my bio mother and I was hoping you'd take
care of yourself.
But what I must focus on is me!
Give me my book back since you'll never read all of it anyway.
Here's your gov't phone back, I can text and walk, I don't need it!
Here's your bath towel and 2 hand towels back, I don't need them either!
In fact, take back the towels you bought me and everything you gave me!
Take back your genes and your words and deeds, take them back because
they aren't mine!
I am not you!
I will not be you!
I don't need you!
I am standing on my own 2 feet! Perhaps unsteadily as a toddler is
want to do, but I am there!
Take back everything, because I don't need you!
In fact, I don't want you!
Yes, I wish for a Woman to mother me, who is kind and loving and
caring, who will nurture me and tell me things will be alright. . .
that it's okay to stumble and fall and have success spit up backwards
on me (failure), but it's not you!
It never was you!
You're a toxic dump and I've been soaking it in!
Why? Because I "loved" you. . . well, no more!
I. am. done! And this time, I will walk away and never look back!
It will hurt as it's been hurting, but it will hurt and damage me much
more to stay!
Good-bye
Kimberly Kay Bennette
past 9 years. Hard to believe it's been that long actually.
And truth be told, you had power before that. . . however, I draw my
line in the sand there, because I was a child and didn't get it.
You have no filters, never think before you speak. It's as if whatever
pops into your head, you just blurt it out.
"It's depressing talking about your friend. It's much more fun playing
with Cricket."
And what I heard was:
"I don't care about this part of your life. I don't accept it."
Since when? My friends, online or off, are part of my life and if
something effects them it effects me. It effects me in the sense that
I feel for them and I'm thinking about them and so, I talk to my
"family" about them/their issue(s) like any person would.
And you're words say: "Stop! Reject! Move on!"
The drinking and smoking bothered the fuck out of me. . . why? because
it's not healthy and you're my bio mother and I was hoping you'd take
care of yourself.
But what I must focus on is me!
Give me my book back since you'll never read all of it anyway.
Here's your gov't phone back, I can text and walk, I don't need it!
Here's your bath towel and 2 hand towels back, I don't need them either!
In fact, take back the towels you bought me and everything you gave me!
Take back your genes and your words and deeds, take them back because
they aren't mine!
I am not you!
I will not be you!
I don't need you!
I am standing on my own 2 feet! Perhaps unsteadily as a toddler is
want to do, but I am there!
Take back everything, because I don't need you!
In fact, I don't want you!
Yes, I wish for a Woman to mother me, who is kind and loving and
caring, who will nurture me and tell me things will be alright. . .
that it's okay to stumble and fall and have success spit up backwards
on me (failure), but it's not you!
It never was you!
You're a toxic dump and I've been soaking it in!
Why? Because I "loved" you. . . well, no more!
I. am. done! And this time, I will walk away and never look back!
It will hurt as it's been hurting, but it will hurt and damage me much
more to stay!
Good-bye
Kimberly Kay Bennette
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Dearest Olivia Marie Morgan Medina:
Dearest Olivia Marie Morgan Medina:
I bearly know where to begin with this. . . I considered a poem and a
letter, but this? I have no idea what this will be.
At first I was angry, so I ranted. Then I waited for a response and
received none. Seems like I do that alot, rant and rave only to find
no solutions. . .
Then I started thinking about all the reasons I'm an unfit person. . .
your sister Sadie was outside barking for me. It was 12:10AM and I
went out to her but she didn't come in the house when I opened the
door so I left her. I really was intent on coming back in a second,
but a second turned into almost another hour outside. It was 1:01 when
I started typing this, I had just let her in, sat and petted her for
between 5-10 minutes and gave her a tiny drink of water before bed.
Anyway, that barking, the initial barking that led me to the door is
where this line of thinking started. I'm unfit because I didn't let
her in the instant I heard barking. I'm unfit because I rarely drink,
but when I do. . . I drink to completely numb myself (though I never
get there). And believe me, after all the surgeries I've had, I can
handle some drinks. . . try 6-8 shots, half a bottle of wine and. . .
I don't know how much tequila. The worst thing that happened was that
I gained new admiration for the floor. Not because I fell on it, but
because when I walked or rushed around the apartment, it felt like the
floor was literally coming up to meet me! Lol. What can I say? I was
happy that night (for a few hours anyway). I also have this horrible
self-destructive streak. If I can ingest it, I want to, even if
society tells me I shouldn't want to. Any drug, even illicit ones hold
an appeal for me. It's like I've walked the razor's edge and I like it
so I keep coming back to it. and fast driving? I'm up for that. 120
down a steep hill doesn't sound bad at all to me, even if I can
imagine my fractured self staring up at me as the life drains from me.
Then there's my few cutting incidents, my fantasizing about drinking
household cleaners and occasionally considering all the ways I could
end this misery once and for all. I have borderline personality
disorder, PTSD and major recurrent episodes of depression. What can I
say? I'd make you a fantastic mom!! Lol.
Then it got to a point, after I'd let Sadie in and came back in myself
where she was barking and it all felt to loud. The barking, though
cute and utterly adorable was to loud and left a ringing in my ears
and it seemed to bounce and echo off the walls. Once we were in my
bedroom with the door closed I couldn't decide if that made it better
or worse. She knew something was up and kept rolling all over the
floor, rubbing her face and nose against my nightgown, barking and
whining. . .
Before that, but after I'd let her in I stood outside on the porch
with my head resting on my crossed arms, which rested on the rail of
the steps. I heard the wind whipping through the trees and felt the
breeze lifting my nightgown and bringing it back down. My gown never
went far above my calves, but I imagined it to be an insistent lover
struggling to get it up over my hips and eventually my head. I
listened to the hum of lights in the trailer park, the occasional car
passing and the wind whipping and thought about you.
I find myself hearing Baby sounds in my head and I wonder. . . I don't
know that I could ever admit it verbally, but I hear the sounds your
cousin makes and it shatters me, makes me wonder if I really and truly
fucked myself.
It'll be hard to explain when you get here (the cynical part of me
seeks to write "IF" you get here), just what I did and why I did it.
I love your cousin so much. . . I hold her and I've said it before,
it's like the sun shines out of her ass! The flowers are in bloom and
I'm skipping through the lilacs and roses and dandilions and violets
and everything's perfect!! The sun blazes and the world is full of
sound and color and texture, it's brighter than the bluest sky you can
imagine and more pure and innocent and perfect than any childhood
dream ever was or ever will be again. . . and it's also crushing,
stabbing, jagged!! I'm cut over and over and over again! My insides
are raw and oozing pus, their leaking out everywhere and I can't do a
thing to stop it! I'm ripped limb from limb and my torso is sawed in
half and then in half again, and the halves break and burst into
halves until I'm in a trillion pieces and I can't put myself back
together! I'm the walking wounded and I can't explain the decisions
I've made and I wonder if staying here is keeping me from you. . . but
I can't leave!
She talks to me the way I know you will, she sings to me and coos to
me. . . She babbles and gurgles and I swear she says "Yay!!" in her
Baby voice and "Uh-huh!" I swear she does!! She trusts me and I love
her so much I think I might die if she wasn't here! I try to imagine
your Aunt from before and I can't! I can't because it physically
hurts! Your cousin has my heart and my soul and my spirit and there
isn't ANYTHING I wouldn't do to protect her!! I would crawl through
hell to reach her and swallow a mouthful of hot coals to get to her! I
would dodge bullets and even take them for her. . This isn't an Aunt's
love I don't think. . . I don't know what kind of love this is, or, I
think I do, but I haven't the strength to voice it.
I tried so hard to set boundaries Livia, please believe me I did!! I
held her the day she was born and swore I would make rational, sound
decisions based on my future. . . on our future, but there's nothing
rational about my love for her, for Babies in general. . . nothing!
It's like all rational thought goes out the freakin' window!! I tried
so hard Liv, I've just failed though and failed miserably. . . I can't
think straight anymore I guess. I'm all wrapped up and I keep
following this road and when it's easy it's fabulous!! And when it's
hard. . . it's the hardest thing I've ever done. I thought just
living, existing was hard, but this? This blows my existence out of
the water! This over powers everything!! This is irrational and not
level-headed and eratic and crazy!! It's absolutely ridiculous and
all-consuming! But then it's grounding and perfect and loving and kind
and patient. . . everything I'm not with the adults around me. It's
trust and innocence and the brightest light you can imagine, the
brightest thing you'll ever see in your life!
And yet, as I said, I find myself wondering if I'm one step closer to
you or one step further away.
I have no idea how this can feel so perfect and so imperfect at the same time.
About the only thing I gathered from standing outside and all my other
experiences tonight is that I love you! You have a name and nothing
more, but I already know I love you! I love you and, I'm trying
extremely hard to stay alive long enough for you to get here.
With Love,
Mom.
I bearly know where to begin with this. . . I considered a poem and a
letter, but this? I have no idea what this will be.
At first I was angry, so I ranted. Then I waited for a response and
received none. Seems like I do that alot, rant and rave only to find
no solutions. . .
Then I started thinking about all the reasons I'm an unfit person. . .
your sister Sadie was outside barking for me. It was 12:10AM and I
went out to her but she didn't come in the house when I opened the
door so I left her. I really was intent on coming back in a second,
but a second turned into almost another hour outside. It was 1:01 when
I started typing this, I had just let her in, sat and petted her for
between 5-10 minutes and gave her a tiny drink of water before bed.
Anyway, that barking, the initial barking that led me to the door is
where this line of thinking started. I'm unfit because I didn't let
her in the instant I heard barking. I'm unfit because I rarely drink,
but when I do. . . I drink to completely numb myself (though I never
get there). And believe me, after all the surgeries I've had, I can
handle some drinks. . . try 6-8 shots, half a bottle of wine and. . .
I don't know how much tequila. The worst thing that happened was that
I gained new admiration for the floor. Not because I fell on it, but
because when I walked or rushed around the apartment, it felt like the
floor was literally coming up to meet me! Lol. What can I say? I was
happy that night (for a few hours anyway). I also have this horrible
self-destructive streak. If I can ingest it, I want to, even if
society tells me I shouldn't want to. Any drug, even illicit ones hold
an appeal for me. It's like I've walked the razor's edge and I like it
so I keep coming back to it. and fast driving? I'm up for that. 120
down a steep hill doesn't sound bad at all to me, even if I can
imagine my fractured self staring up at me as the life drains from me.
Then there's my few cutting incidents, my fantasizing about drinking
household cleaners and occasionally considering all the ways I could
end this misery once and for all. I have borderline personality
disorder, PTSD and major recurrent episodes of depression. What can I
say? I'd make you a fantastic mom!! Lol.
Then it got to a point, after I'd let Sadie in and came back in myself
where she was barking and it all felt to loud. The barking, though
cute and utterly adorable was to loud and left a ringing in my ears
and it seemed to bounce and echo off the walls. Once we were in my
bedroom with the door closed I couldn't decide if that made it better
or worse. She knew something was up and kept rolling all over the
floor, rubbing her face and nose against my nightgown, barking and
whining. . .
Before that, but after I'd let her in I stood outside on the porch
with my head resting on my crossed arms, which rested on the rail of
the steps. I heard the wind whipping through the trees and felt the
breeze lifting my nightgown and bringing it back down. My gown never
went far above my calves, but I imagined it to be an insistent lover
struggling to get it up over my hips and eventually my head. I
listened to the hum of lights in the trailer park, the occasional car
passing and the wind whipping and thought about you.
I find myself hearing Baby sounds in my head and I wonder. . . I don't
know that I could ever admit it verbally, but I hear the sounds your
cousin makes and it shatters me, makes me wonder if I really and truly
fucked myself.
It'll be hard to explain when you get here (the cynical part of me
seeks to write "IF" you get here), just what I did and why I did it.
I love your cousin so much. . . I hold her and I've said it before,
it's like the sun shines out of her ass! The flowers are in bloom and
I'm skipping through the lilacs and roses and dandilions and violets
and everything's perfect!! The sun blazes and the world is full of
sound and color and texture, it's brighter than the bluest sky you can
imagine and more pure and innocent and perfect than any childhood
dream ever was or ever will be again. . . and it's also crushing,
stabbing, jagged!! I'm cut over and over and over again! My insides
are raw and oozing pus, their leaking out everywhere and I can't do a
thing to stop it! I'm ripped limb from limb and my torso is sawed in
half and then in half again, and the halves break and burst into
halves until I'm in a trillion pieces and I can't put myself back
together! I'm the walking wounded and I can't explain the decisions
I've made and I wonder if staying here is keeping me from you. . . but
I can't leave!
She talks to me the way I know you will, she sings to me and coos to
me. . . She babbles and gurgles and I swear she says "Yay!!" in her
Baby voice and "Uh-huh!" I swear she does!! She trusts me and I love
her so much I think I might die if she wasn't here! I try to imagine
your Aunt from before and I can't! I can't because it physically
hurts! Your cousin has my heart and my soul and my spirit and there
isn't ANYTHING I wouldn't do to protect her!! I would crawl through
hell to reach her and swallow a mouthful of hot coals to get to her! I
would dodge bullets and even take them for her. . This isn't an Aunt's
love I don't think. . . I don't know what kind of love this is, or, I
think I do, but I haven't the strength to voice it.
I tried so hard to set boundaries Livia, please believe me I did!! I
held her the day she was born and swore I would make rational, sound
decisions based on my future. . . on our future, but there's nothing
rational about my love for her, for Babies in general. . . nothing!
It's like all rational thought goes out the freakin' window!! I tried
so hard Liv, I've just failed though and failed miserably. . . I can't
think straight anymore I guess. I'm all wrapped up and I keep
following this road and when it's easy it's fabulous!! And when it's
hard. . . it's the hardest thing I've ever done. I thought just
living, existing was hard, but this? This blows my existence out of
the water! This over powers everything!! This is irrational and not
level-headed and eratic and crazy!! It's absolutely ridiculous and
all-consuming! But then it's grounding and perfect and loving and kind
and patient. . . everything I'm not with the adults around me. It's
trust and innocence and the brightest light you can imagine, the
brightest thing you'll ever see in your life!
And yet, as I said, I find myself wondering if I'm one step closer to
you or one step further away.
I have no idea how this can feel so perfect and so imperfect at the same time.
About the only thing I gathered from standing outside and all my other
experiences tonight is that I love you! You have a name and nothing
more, but I already know I love you! I love you and, I'm trying
extremely hard to stay alive long enough for you to get here.
With Love,
Mom.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Ventus Extraordinarius
Once again stupidity rules the roost. . . Lol. Not that surprise is
warranted about that. . .
I'm listening to Music Choice 90's-early 2000's rock music earlier
this evening. "CLOSER" from NIN comes on. . . for those of you living
under a rock, let's explore a few lines.
"I wanna fuck you like an animal!
I wanna feel you from the inside. . .
I wanna fuck you like an animal!!!
My whole existence is flawed. . .
You get me closer to God!"
Yes, TRENT REZNOR is da shit! Anyway, my mother says to me, much
later, as in probably an hour after the song plays and I'm listening
to "SUGAR" from SOAD, "Well, when the Baby gets older I'll be shutting
that off. What's appropriate for you isn't appropriate for her."
Talking about my niece. No, really??? Ya coulda fooled me!! I thought
EVERY person listened to my music, young/old, infirm/able-bodied,
hell, they play it in hospitals in the NICU, that's what I thought!
Seriously? Fuck you!
My sister and I talked and I already know how she wants her Daughter
taken care of, even SOME of how she wants her raised later on. We
discussed it! I would never allow my niece to listen to stuff she's
not supposed to if I could help it. I mean, if we're in the car and
the person next to us is blaring rap music there's nothing I can do. .
. but I'm not going to intentionally expose her to songs with swear
words and so forth. I'm just as at home listening to I'm a Little
Teapot or Sweet Molly Malone as I am listening to "Fuck Me Like You
Hate Me" or "Closer". Jesus Christ!
And, that's not the first time or the first thing she's tried to
advise me on or "put her foot down" about (this I felt she was putting
her foot down about).
With earlier instances, taking care of my Dog for example, she bitched
that I wasn't feeding Sadie enough. She doesn't get enough food or
water. Sadie's an adult Dog! She's a CockerSpaniel and I feed her 3
times a day, a handful of food each time. I also fill up her water in
the morning and afternoon. In the evening I give her a much smaller
quantity because we're going to bed soon and she doesn't wake me up to
go potty, she just goes on the floor. So I limit her water intake and
put her out right before we go to bed.
Well I'm going to be the death of her and I'm doing the wrong thing
and I ought to leave her food and water down all day!
And about my bills, I need a budget. I do grant her that, everybody
would have a budget in a perfect world. This one however, is
FAAAAAAAAAAAAR from it! Apparently she hasn't noticed. Anyway, well I
better not expect her to pay for my stuff. Seriously? I talked to Dad
about it. I've never asked him to pay shit! So where does she get off?
Truth be told, I have a hard time receiving from people, anything
unless it's absolutely necessary because I feel like I'm supposed to
care for myself and fuck me if I can't because I'm a failure! Yes, I'm
starting to deal with that. Or rather, have been for a while. . .
Then she gives me a laundry basket today to loan. Well, she can't fit
my clothes in there once they've been laundered. Now, I didn't ask her
to fold or even do the laundering. I asked if I could go over there to
"do my laundry". That would imply that I'd be the one doing it. Well,
she did it all and folded everything. I like my method, putting
everything in my bag, but she wants to loan me a laundry basket, one I
won't use anyway, in this case, it's not the receiving, it's the whole
thing of me doing things my OWN way! But she thinks her way is better.
So next time I'll haul over one of my suitcases on wheels, because I'd
rather do things, MY WAY! In fact, if I had a washer and drier here,
they'd be labeled and I wouldn't go over there for that!
To me it's everything I do is wrong and I'm her child so I should let
her do everything for me and do it her way. Fuck that!! I'm a big girl
whose been taking care of herself for a loooong time. I've been doing
laundry at Dad's, my way, since I was like 20-years old. I even
mastered the laundry room in Boulder at Naropa U, so get the fuck off
me!!
It tears me up because I appreciate the thought. . . I don't
appreciate the advice or the way she just takes over and does things
"her way", when I have my own way of doing them.
And then there's talk of trouble in paradise and I may need to leave
this home and live with her? Fuuuuuuuuuuuck noooooooooo! I'd rather
live in a shark tank! At least then I don't have to concern myself
with doing anything, my way or anyone else's. Lol.
warranted about that. . .
I'm listening to Music Choice 90's-early 2000's rock music earlier
this evening. "CLOSER" from NIN comes on. . . for those of you living
under a rock, let's explore a few lines.
"I wanna fuck you like an animal!
I wanna feel you from the inside. . .
I wanna fuck you like an animal!!!
My whole existence is flawed. . .
You get me closer to God!"
Yes, TRENT REZNOR is da shit! Anyway, my mother says to me, much
later, as in probably an hour after the song plays and I'm listening
to "SUGAR" from SOAD, "Well, when the Baby gets older I'll be shutting
that off. What's appropriate for you isn't appropriate for her."
Talking about my niece. No, really??? Ya coulda fooled me!! I thought
EVERY person listened to my music, young/old, infirm/able-bodied,
hell, they play it in hospitals in the NICU, that's what I thought!
Seriously? Fuck you!
My sister and I talked and I already know how she wants her Daughter
taken care of, even SOME of how she wants her raised later on. We
discussed it! I would never allow my niece to listen to stuff she's
not supposed to if I could help it. I mean, if we're in the car and
the person next to us is blaring rap music there's nothing I can do. .
. but I'm not going to intentionally expose her to songs with swear
words and so forth. I'm just as at home listening to I'm a Little
Teapot or Sweet Molly Malone as I am listening to "Fuck Me Like You
Hate Me" or "Closer". Jesus Christ!
And, that's not the first time or the first thing she's tried to
advise me on or "put her foot down" about (this I felt she was putting
her foot down about).
With earlier instances, taking care of my Dog for example, she bitched
that I wasn't feeding Sadie enough. She doesn't get enough food or
water. Sadie's an adult Dog! She's a CockerSpaniel and I feed her 3
times a day, a handful of food each time. I also fill up her water in
the morning and afternoon. In the evening I give her a much smaller
quantity because we're going to bed soon and she doesn't wake me up to
go potty, she just goes on the floor. So I limit her water intake and
put her out right before we go to bed.
Well I'm going to be the death of her and I'm doing the wrong thing
and I ought to leave her food and water down all day!
And about my bills, I need a budget. I do grant her that, everybody
would have a budget in a perfect world. This one however, is
FAAAAAAAAAAAAR from it! Apparently she hasn't noticed. Anyway, well I
better not expect her to pay for my stuff. Seriously? I talked to Dad
about it. I've never asked him to pay shit! So where does she get off?
Truth be told, I have a hard time receiving from people, anything
unless it's absolutely necessary because I feel like I'm supposed to
care for myself and fuck me if I can't because I'm a failure! Yes, I'm
starting to deal with that. Or rather, have been for a while. . .
Then she gives me a laundry basket today to loan. Well, she can't fit
my clothes in there once they've been laundered. Now, I didn't ask her
to fold or even do the laundering. I asked if I could go over there to
"do my laundry". That would imply that I'd be the one doing it. Well,
she did it all and folded everything. I like my method, putting
everything in my bag, but she wants to loan me a laundry basket, one I
won't use anyway, in this case, it's not the receiving, it's the whole
thing of me doing things my OWN way! But she thinks her way is better.
So next time I'll haul over one of my suitcases on wheels, because I'd
rather do things, MY WAY! In fact, if I had a washer and drier here,
they'd be labeled and I wouldn't go over there for that!
To me it's everything I do is wrong and I'm her child so I should let
her do everything for me and do it her way. Fuck that!! I'm a big girl
whose been taking care of herself for a loooong time. I've been doing
laundry at Dad's, my way, since I was like 20-years old. I even
mastered the laundry room in Boulder at Naropa U, so get the fuck off
me!!
It tears me up because I appreciate the thought. . . I don't
appreciate the advice or the way she just takes over and does things
"her way", when I have my own way of doing them.
And then there's talk of trouble in paradise and I may need to leave
this home and live with her? Fuuuuuuuuuuuck noooooooooo! I'd rather
live in a shark tank! At least then I don't have to concern myself
with doing anything, my way or anyone else's. Lol.
Sunday, September 1, 2013
The Baby Vent
I'm feeling enraged right now!
I'm feeling like punching you, as hard as I can, for as long as I can,
until there's nothing left of you or my knuckles!!
I'm feeling unquantifiable sadness. . . where is my Baby!!???
The one that you can't take away from me? The one I swear I'll never
share with anybody else (even though I KNOW I will)! The one I dream
about and feel kicking about and fantasize about! The one I hear
crying sometimes when there's noone there. . . The one I've named
Olivia!
I know she's not feeling well. . . but your taking her made me feel
like I'm not good enough for her.
I can't take care of her just as well as you do, and you've been
fuckin' drinking!! How the fuck does that work?
I know I'm good enough. . . My ego says I'm "better than!!" in fact. .
. letting my ego run the show isn't something I intend to indulge, I'm
allowing all of me to speak up in this post though and that's what my
ego says. She says I'm better than you because you drink and I won't
ever drink while caring for an infant! Not that you were caring for
her, since the family just dropped in while we were sitting there
talking. . .
I'm getting off track though. . .
I feel battered and bruised and bloody!
I feel self-righteous and broken!
I can care for her just as well as you (with my sister right there,
she didn't seem to have an issue), but you did. . .
Who the hell are you anyway? Not her mother, that's for sure!!!
But you take her because she's fussing and doesn't feel well. . . what
the fuck's the difference between her being tired and not feeling well
and her being tired and feeling perfectly fine and fighting sleep?
There is no difference in my book!
But you took her anyway. . . bitch!!!
Fuck you!!!
And empty. . . I feel empty.
The kind of emptiness that if I let it would drive me to my knees,
make me crawl on my belly and writhe on the ground and curl up in the
fetal position and cry.
CRY, CRY, CRY!!!!
Maybe that's what I need. . . to put this somewhere, to make myself go
there. . . I'm afraid I won't come back though, I'll get lost, in
there. . . in the Baby Maze. . .
Trapped. in. the. Baby. Maze. . . (sobs)
I'm feeling like punching you, as hard as I can, for as long as I can,
until there's nothing left of you or my knuckles!!
I'm feeling unquantifiable sadness. . . where is my Baby!!???
The one that you can't take away from me? The one I swear I'll never
share with anybody else (even though I KNOW I will)! The one I dream
about and feel kicking about and fantasize about! The one I hear
crying sometimes when there's noone there. . . The one I've named
Olivia!
I know she's not feeling well. . . but your taking her made me feel
like I'm not good enough for her.
I can't take care of her just as well as you do, and you've been
fuckin' drinking!! How the fuck does that work?
I know I'm good enough. . . My ego says I'm "better than!!" in fact. .
. letting my ego run the show isn't something I intend to indulge, I'm
allowing all of me to speak up in this post though and that's what my
ego says. She says I'm better than you because you drink and I won't
ever drink while caring for an infant! Not that you were caring for
her, since the family just dropped in while we were sitting there
talking. . .
I'm getting off track though. . .
I feel battered and bruised and bloody!
I feel self-righteous and broken!
I can care for her just as well as you (with my sister right there,
she didn't seem to have an issue), but you did. . .
Who the hell are you anyway? Not her mother, that's for sure!!!
But you take her because she's fussing and doesn't feel well. . . what
the fuck's the difference between her being tired and not feeling well
and her being tired and feeling perfectly fine and fighting sleep?
There is no difference in my book!
But you took her anyway. . . bitch!!!
Fuck you!!!
And empty. . . I feel empty.
The kind of emptiness that if I let it would drive me to my knees,
make me crawl on my belly and writhe on the ground and curl up in the
fetal position and cry.
CRY, CRY, CRY!!!!
Maybe that's what I need. . . to put this somewhere, to make myself go
there. . . I'm afraid I won't come back though, I'll get lost, in
there. . . in the Baby Maze. . .
Trapped. in. the. Baby. Maze. . . (sobs)
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Wakeful Wandering Exercise
5/2/2013
It was cold out there. My hands, my ears, my nose. It felt dark and dreary.
I'm thinking of this, this cancer. I've seen it before, my Great
Grandma died of it. I remember her not remembering me. I remember how
hollow her skeleton was when i held her. These things I should not
think at school.
Then I hear cars rushing and some one in class breaking the rules by
talking to some one else. I feel the sun. It feels like there's a
whole other world out there.
I am in here and it is out there and I feel no connection to it.
I keep thinking of cold. Cold from the inside out, the kind that isn't
helped by wearing boots and gloves and coats. The kind of cold that is
so deep in me I feel there's no way to get it out.
I need to get it out but am unsure of how to get it out.
People say sorry. They tell me to take care of myself. I'm the
caretaker!! At home in michigan, I care for them! So how do I care for
myself here?
What am I supposed to do?
Has participating in this exercise changed over the course of the semester?
If I step outside myself long enough I'd say yes. I'm not exactly sure
how, but I feel more awakened and aware.
My counselor told me I have hypersenses. I sense everything and
everyone and then overload on it like a drug. That was something else
I contemplated during this walking exercise and I'm certain she's
right. It would definitely explain this over emotionality I've been
displaying off and on for my entire life.
It feels good to have an answer, or at least a ghost of one.
I am changed though. I'm starting to acknowledge things in myself I
wouldn't before. I also notice more things. Cars, water raining down
on us, then that little drip drop thing it does when it falls from a
leaf on a branch. So yes, it has changed and so have I.
It was cold out there. My hands, my ears, my nose. It felt dark and dreary.
I'm thinking of this, this cancer. I've seen it before, my Great
Grandma died of it. I remember her not remembering me. I remember how
hollow her skeleton was when i held her. These things I should not
think at school.
Then I hear cars rushing and some one in class breaking the rules by
talking to some one else. I feel the sun. It feels like there's a
whole other world out there.
I am in here and it is out there and I feel no connection to it.
I keep thinking of cold. Cold from the inside out, the kind that isn't
helped by wearing boots and gloves and coats. The kind of cold that is
so deep in me I feel there's no way to get it out.
I need to get it out but am unsure of how to get it out.
People say sorry. They tell me to take care of myself. I'm the
caretaker!! At home in michigan, I care for them! So how do I care for
myself here?
What am I supposed to do?
Has participating in this exercise changed over the course of the semester?
If I step outside myself long enough I'd say yes. I'm not exactly sure
how, but I feel more awakened and aware.
My counselor told me I have hypersenses. I sense everything and
everyone and then overload on it like a drug. That was something else
I contemplated during this walking exercise and I'm certain she's
right. It would definitely explain this over emotionality I've been
displaying off and on for my entire life.
It feels good to have an answer, or at least a ghost of one.
I am changed though. I'm starting to acknowledge things in myself I
wouldn't before. I also notice more things. Cars, water raining down
on us, then that little drip drop thing it does when it falls from a
leaf on a branch. So yes, it has changed and so have I.
Class Journal: A Mystical Experience
4/18
Voice,
roaring, raging!
Ripping through my world of hell!
He connects me!
Voice II
Quiet, calming. . .
He whispers sweet nothings,
I sing with him, sway along,
then suddenly awaken!
I stand bolt upright and realize,
I have stopped singing!
I am lost in his words, not even the words,
But the tone, the breath, his vocal chords. . .
He caresses me with those vocal chords as this realization sinks into me.
Voice,
roaring, raging!
Ripping through my world of hell!
He connects me!
Voice II
Quiet, calming. . .
He whispers sweet nothings,
I sing with him, sway along,
then suddenly awaken!
I stand bolt upright and realize,
I have stopped singing!
I am lost in his words, not even the words,
But the tone, the breath, his vocal chords. . .
He caresses me with those vocal chords as this realization sinks into me.
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