Thursday, November 29, 2007

“Daddy, do you think I’m pretty?”

I needed to know so badly. I needed to hear someone say it. I was yearning for acceptance and love. I hated me and it was so hard to do the things I needed to do for my little girl. I was 16 and my world was more lost that it had ever been. I needed the affirmation a young girl can only seem to hear from a man.

A year and a half into my first marriage, on a Sunday morning, me and the baby went to church. He had hit me the day before. The only place that really hurt was where he had hit me a couple of times in my face. It didn't look too bad, just some scratching and some light bruising on one cheek.

I had dressed the baby all up in her little pink dress and tights and her black patent leather shoes. She couldn’t even sit up yet but she was wearing shoes, lol. I don’t remember what I wore. I had gained weight during the pregnancy and had not lost it, so I didn’t have too much I could wear.

The weight I had gained, for my height, wasn’t bad at all. I know that now. My former husband would probably even admit that now. But, 30 years ago it was a very bad thing. He was so angry at me.

He was always so mad. I never knew what I might say that would make him hit me. I never knew when he looked at me if something I was wearing or the look on my face or even the way my hair fell might set him off.

It was mostly the weight though. When I would walk through the room, he would make the “Moo” sounds like a cow, or “Oink, Oink” like a pig. I was so ugly and I was so sorry I had let that happen because it made him so unhappy.

That Sunday morning, after the sermon, I went to the nursery and got my baby girl. I went back out into the sanctuary with her where I knew my daddy would be. He always hung around speaking to everyone, still does actually. He is definitely the social butterfly, unlike his youngest daughter.

When he finished up talking to everyone, I walked over to him. He smiled that huge smile of his and kissed the baby, told me hey and he was glad to see me in church. All of a sudden he seemed so familiar. I could tell you right now what he smelled like. I could draw every line I saw in his face that day.

I needed him so badly. I had to ask him. I knew he would lie, but I told myself he wouldn’t and that in his eyes he would be telling the truth.

I looked up at him and said, “Daddy?” He put his hand on my shoulder. That alone melted my heart. There was no touching or hugging in my house growing up. That just was not done in my family.

“Daddy, do you think I’m pretty?”

If I wouldn’t feel so utterly foolish to be 47 and still be so needy, I would call him up and ask him right now, “Daddy, do you think I’m pretty?”

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Committed to Parkview

I heard this song years ago but had forgotten about it. It was written by Johnny Cash. The link is to the Porter Wagoner version of it I found on youtube.

Johnny Cash

There's a man across the hall who sits staring at the floor,
He thinks he's Hank Williams hear him singing through the door.
There's a girl in 203,who stops by to visit me,
And she talks about her songs and the star that she should be.
There are lots of special people staying in or passing through,
And for one thing or another, committed to Parkview.

There's a girl in 307,coming down on thorazine,
And a superstar's ex-drummer trying to kick Benzedrine.
There's a boy just below me who's the son of some well-known,
He was brought in by his mother 'cause his daddy's always gone.
There's a bum from down on Broadway and a few quite well to dues,
Who have withdrawn from the rat race and committed to Parkview.

There's a girl who cries above me, loud enough to wake the dead,
They don't know what she has taken that has scrambled up her head.
There's a writer and a singer who has tried and tried and tried,
They just brought him in this morning an attempted suicide.
There are those that never made it, those that did but now are through,
Some came of their own good chosing, some committed to Parkview.

They wake us about 6:30,just before the morning meal,
While they're taking blood pressure, they ask us how we feel.
And I always say fantastic there ain't nothing wrong with me,
And then they give me my injection and i go right back to sleep.
The days are kind of foggy and the nights are dreamy too,
But they're taking good care of me, committed to Parkview.

Friday, November 23, 2007

Can you recall what it feels like when something very good happens, like, maybe you find a favorite sweater you had misplaced? Maybe you stick your hands in the pocket of your old jeans and find a wad of cash you thought you had lost forever.

Perhaps you see the face of an old friend you haven’t seen in a long time. Remember how that makes you feel? Remember how you wondered why in the world you ever let that friendship die, or why you didn’t encourage it to grow into something more?

Have you ever experienced something so wonderful and for the rest of the day felt so good and had so much energy that you did things you’ve been putting off forever and actually grinned about it the entire time?

That is me. I am so happy. I’ve had the ole “shit eating grin” plastered across my face just about all day. I’ve been on high speed and that is normally not my pace. Since early this morning, my heart has pitter-pattered non-stop.

This is where we may differ… It scares the shit out of me to feel this happy.

I am afraid to feel that good; about anything. I hesitate to enjoy life too much. It has always been much easier to remain level, to stay on one plane rather that allow my heart to feel joy. I fear being content. I had my world snatched out from under me too many times. From my earliest memory, I lack the ability to recall any sense of security.

It has always felt like something is out there…waiting …Waiting on me to feel happiness, or to feel safe. This “thing” is waiting for me to let my guard down. It listens and waits and sniffs the air, waiting on me to let something slip from the inner most part of my mind that would indicate that I am just dripping with joy. This entity seems astonished that I could be so foolish, as to think I deserve anything good.

In my world it was safer to just be…to exist quietly and without notice.

So over the years I worked on my wall of security with the steady tenacity of an artist, perfecting the ability to protect myself from hurt. Flawlessly stacking brick and mortar perfectly.

Although I am sure I have protected myself against some hurt over the years, I am also sure I that I isolated my heart from the wonderful things I could have been experiencing all along. I may have insulated my heart and soul and kept out all the cold and the rain and thunder and storms, but in doing so I have also kept out the sun and the flowers and the rainbows and the butterflies.

I told myself today, that I would take that wall down. It will be one brick at a time & I understand that I cannot undo overnight, what it has taken me years to perfect.

I understand that I will need to be kind to myself when I mess up and fall back into my old habits and I will ask you for help to get back up and start again.

I will take pleasure in this gift that has once again come my way.

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Lost Friend, Lost Brevity


I came upon a good old friend this week,
It was like a breath of fresh air.

There was an opportunity once
for us both to show we care.

In my fear and trepidation I thought that I must run
but my friend never really left my mind like I thought that my friend had done.

Maybe this is like a second chance
but what if I can’t change.

What if my thoughts and my reactions
I cannot rearrange.

I fear rejection more than most things in this world,
inside I am basically still like one very lost little girl.

The smile that this week brought back could be mine forever to hold,
if I could just put aside the fear and make myself more bold.

Christians, Steeples and Judgement


I accidentally (?) heard this song today. Fortunately I was almost in my driveway before it came on the radio. It basically boils down to a young woman being just in the shadow of a church steeple, dying inside, but being ignored & shunned by the people coming and going in the church.

Part of the chorus:

If judgment looms under every steeple
If lofty glances from lofty people
Can't see past her scarlet letter
And we've never even met her

My hope is that I am never, ever that person coming or going that ignores her. I’ve worn that scarlet letter.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Chocolate Cysts

Chocolate cyst, endometrial cyst...I don't care what you call
it, this morning it was GONE!!

I can breathe fully now. I didn't realize how much breath holding I had been doing.


Monday, November 19, 2007

I am not afraid

11/19/2007 11:40 PM

In 11 hours I will be finding out something about this thing on my ovary. I’m wound up tighter than a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I’ve been tense, have had a lack of concentration and had stomach problems since the last ultrasound.

A million times I have stated “I am not afraid”. I’m not sure anymore if this is just anxiety over not knowing, or if somewhere within me I am terribly afraid. I wish I wasn’t going alone, a hand to hold, a whisper in my ear, but I want to go alone. I am tough. I am strong. I can handle anything alone. In other words if someone forced themselves upon me to go with me, I would be secretly relieved, but I don’t want to ask.

The worst part, they very worst part, if it is still there or if it as grown, they still won’t know what it is until they cut into me whenever that might be. If it has grown it definitely has a good shot at being cancer since I have cycled twice since they found it.

I am not afraid…I am not afraid…I am not afraid

Friday, November 16, 2007

CPAP, Tears and Abstinence

No the title doesn’t mean a thing, but it is late and my brain is on low beam after a most hellish week at work.

When I was a kid, I had several report cards that came home with teachers notes stating that, “SIMD does not take constructive criticism well”. Well no shit! Criticism at my house generally came with a hair brush across the face or a belt across the back.

I guess at my ripe old age of 47, I still have a rather negative view of Constructive Criticism, because were it not for the good ole Lamictal, I think I might have ripped my boss’ head off today and throw in out in the pond in front of our office. Instead what did I do? I cried. Prick! First time that has happened at work since the doc put me on Lamictal. Moral of the story - Either learn to handle Constructive Criticism, or hope you look good in an orange jumpsuit because if you DO rip your boss' head off you'll probably wind up in the pokey.

I wear a CPAP to sleep most every night. It took me a long, long time to get accustomed to the thing and be able to sleep with it, but now it doesn’t bother me. Some nights though, I will awaken to this gosh-awful sound and it takes me a minute to figure out where I am and that it is my dumb ass making the noise.

What happens is, every once in a while the mask (it is a full face mask) will slip and become lodged between my lips and at 12 PMI it is quite a sound. My dog used to jump off the bed when he heard it but he has gotten used to it now. My husband wouldn’t wake up if you stuck a stick of dynamite in his ear and lit the fuse. Moral of the story, if you’re told you need to use a CPAP at night, keep trying, you’ll get used to it and it will help you feel better, not to mention live longer.

As far as the abstinence…same old stale story. I guess it has been about a year now (and no it started WELL before the CPAP came in to the picture) since there has been any action in our bedroom. Been together approximately 8-9 months when he told me he “just didn’t have any desire” any longer.

I didn’t believe it was a forever thing. I fought it and I talked (begged) and suggested (demanded) counseling. I bought books and negligees and toys and threatened and did everything but present a firm ultimatum (meaning I did present one a few weeks ago but when nothing changed I didn’t ACTUALLY ask him to leave). It is only in the past year or so that I have come to understand we can either remain together and live in abstinence, or we can separate/divorce.

This is my second marriage. The first one was over 24 years. Well over half my life had included sex on a regular basis and this is very strange for me, and very sad. Moral of the story, sometimes life don't turn out like you expected and it hurts just like a real kick in the ass.

Time to go now, put on my CPAP, and pray I don’t have a sex dream…those are the worst.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Breast Pumps, Hess Trucks and Moving

We worked on cleaning out our building out back this weekend. This house came with the most magnificent two story block building with drive through door and a walk in door. All kinds of space but of this point has only held boxes of junk that people like us tend to haul from one move to the next because you might need it one day or it has sentimal value.

We're cleaning it out so we can store some things out there that we really need to keep but not in the house. I also want to use half of it for my woodworking. The upstairs would be perfect for raising some small parrots.

I found a few treasures, and had enough guts to throw out a few things also. I found my breastpump they gave me in the hospital when my second was 1982. Still in its box with all the parts and the directions. I never used the thing. When baby boy would latch on to the left boob I would hold a cup under the right boob and then switch them around and that gave me all the "emergency" milk I might need to keep in the freezer.

I found a stuffed hippo names Edgar. Edgar was the last little boy toy my son ever asked me to buy him. Edgar was $10 in one of the little card stores in the mall and $10 to us right then was a big deal, but something inside of me said "do it". A few years later it dawned on me that he never once asked for a little boy toy again. I have been so thankful I spent that $10.

Hubby found all his old hess trucks in their boxes and thankfully free from mold or mildew. Ebay here we come. I doubt they'd be interested in my breast pump though hunh?

Is it true that women who unconciously know they are dying begin to feel the need to clean up all their loose ends?

Remainder of post removed..............Remember boys and girls, if you stick your head in the sand the problem will go away!!