Ride It Like You Stole It

Life
It isn't something that is supposed to be docile and tame
Something dull and predictable
Life is something raw, wild and ever changing
It flows like the tides...
Waxing and waning like the moon
It's a Mustang on the prairie
Wind whipping through her mane
Sun glinting off her coat
The power of the ages in every curve of her muscle
The energy of the Earth in the pounding of her hooves
Life is something that we don't tame
Acknowledge the power that we've been blessed with
Take a deep breath
Climb aboard and give it the best ride we've got
You can't tame it
Learn to work in harmony with it
Listen to where you are supposed to be going, instead of trying to force it to bend to your will
Stop fighting it and enjoy the ride

That's just not write!

 

Writing is a lost art.

I don't mean that no one is filling shelf after shelf with books.

Or that there is a lack of people seeking to get their work published.

I mean that so few people WRITE anymore.

I have lately been struggling with, what I thought, was a particularly vexing patch of stagnant inspiration.

I have this desire...just under the surface...bubbling deep...ever building... and aching to break free, like the forces under the Earth's surface, but no matter how I try to shake it loose...nothing. 

It won't come to the top in that gloriously eloquent fountain of tumbling words.  That frantic, nearly painful chaos, that spills up out of your heart, into your mind, glowing brighter and hotter until it boils out the tips of your fingers, onto the keyboard in a rapid frenzy of keystrokes.

And THAT, my friends, is when it hit me! 

I'm not lacking the inspiration.

I'm not lacking the need, and certainly not the desire.

It's the  cold feel of the keyboard that is killing it.  The culprit is the empty clickety-clack of the keys as I try impotently to lay my thoughts  out.

That's not writing.

I need the feel of the paper.  The scratch of the pen as it flies across it, almost as if it's under its own power. I need the weight, the sound, the smell...the actual writing.

And not this block letter, stick figure printing they are teaching kids in school these days. 

NO!  That will never do!

I need true writing!  We were graded on it.  Most people under 25 today can't read it. 

CURSIVE folks.  True writing. 

The flow

The artistry

The poetry of it

The sheer beauty of it

The dance of the letters, working together to tell a story.

The ballet, tango, rhumba and twist of language. The waltz between parchment and ink.

Glorious harmony!

Wrapping a reader in a magical land and transporting you to places you've never dreamed could exist.

Cursive is like a woman. Full of curves and mystical beauty that you only truly appreciate as you get to know  her, and no two examples are exactly the same.  Each spectacular and unique in their own way.

You just can't replace something so beautiful and natural, with something artificial and cold.

Now and Later

There’s no rhyme or reason to it.

It either is, or it isn’t.

But, isn’t that the way of all things?

What other options are there? Something either is…or it isn’t.

You can't force it.

It's the age old adage of the "square peg and the round hole".

It’s just that simple.

Right?

Now, the one exception to the rule, because all things have an exception, is our perception of what’s good or acceptable, in that particular moment.

 That’s quite a gray area, now isn’t it?

What may be acceptable tends to fluctuate.

As we grow older, we, hopefully, grow wiser.

In our 20's we think we are wordly and educated.  We are on fire about so many things, and we set out to take the world by storm.  Truthfully, we are just smart enough to cause a minor train wreck.

By the time we are in our 30's, we can choose our battles a little better, but still tend to trip over our feet from time to time, which is to be expected.  We're just smart enough to really screw things up, but also fairly well equipped to fix it. 

Our 40's are the time we sit back and realize that our parents, and grandparents, really did have alot more things figured out than we gave them credit for.  Suddenly, the light bulb over heads come on with near full intensity.  As the shadows of ill informed youth begin to leave our minds, we realize there truly is no need to sweat the petty stuff we've stressed over all this time.   Chances are if we do demolish something at this age, we don't want to fix it.  We annihilated it on purpose...just saying.

We realize that it's ok to say No...and to MEAN IT. 

We realize that doing things for ourselves isn't "selfish".  It's self preserving and self nurturing. 

Don't get it?

You're too young to understand.  I'll tell you when you're older.

Write, Wrong or Indifferent

Writing is more than just a string of words on paper.

Writing is an intimate act.

It’s a sharing of hopes

Dreams

Fears

Failures

Accomplishments

Milestones

Stripping away all pretense.

Exposing our soul.

Displaying our innermost self.

A glaring spotlight on our every fault

Shortcoming

Struggle

Strength

Ambition

Triumph

An uncensored expose of each and every aspect of our character.

It’s a yard stick by which we can measure our growth.

Emotional

Spiritual

Mental

Writing is more than just putting words to paper.

This Too Shall Pass....

....Like a kidney stone.


January 12th will be a year since Dad died.  (Of course, I'm still super pissed about not finding out until the 13th, but we'll not get on that little soap box right now.)  The thing is, it's my first Christmas without him being here. 

The first Christmas that I don't have to decide if I want to chance having interaction with him.

The first Christmas I don't have to feel guilty about not going to see him, or berating myself if I do and it goes badly.

It's the first Christmas where I truly feel like I don't have to put up with other "family" that I don't want to be around.  (I cannot stand the idea of putting on a fake front and playing nice with people that you really have no desire to be around. NOT the spirit and meaning behind Christmas, so why do we do that?)

Yes sir, for the most part, this has the makings of a new kind of weird Christmas.

Don't get me wrong, I miss Dad.  It's weird knowing that it's over, he's gone, there's no "maybe tomorrow".  He'll never see all my kids graduate.  He'll never have great grandkids.  It's just done. 

Fini

The one thing I have gained from all this is that I've been shown the true colors of others and freed from any guilt I may have felt from not doing my part to keep in closer touch with them.  Hallmark, and everyone else cashing in on the holidays, tells us that holidays are a time for family and mending fences and blah blah blah. It's all sunshine and happiness.

Bullshit.

It's awkward situations filled with people who are glancing furtively at their watches to see if they've stayed long enough to be able to make an acceptable escape.

It's people who are wishing they were having a lobotomy without sedation, instead of being cooped up in the stuffy house with people that grate on them like 80 grit toilet paper.

It's people feeling stressed out beyond belief and dying to run as far and as fast as they can.

Why do we do this to ourselves?

Yes, I can hear you saying "because it's the right thing to do" or "because it means so much to (insert relative here)" .  Or my favorite "I do it to try to keep the peace".

At what point was the huge responsibility of being Peace Keeper set upon your shoulders?  Are you the Wyatt Earp of the holidays? 

Is it acceptable for you to have the stress and anxiety piled on you, while you work, often without true success, to keep the entire mess from falling into chaos?

I think not.

The holidays are indeed meant to be a happy time that we share with people we care about the most.  A time to be thankful for the good things in our lives.

It's not a time to wish Rolaids came in a Pez dispenser because you're popping them in rapid fire succession on the way to Grandma's. 

It's not supposed to be a time that you hope you can get just enough of a happy buzz going before that doorbell rings, so you can float your way through the inevitable conflict that is threatening to break the surface at any moment.

And that relative you dread the most?  You know the one.  The one who puts on airs and a fake front, but swears no one can see through him? The one who thinks that everyone is in awe of him and just so amazed by what a righteous, glorified, perfect person he is?  The one who has inflated his own self worth to ridiculous, unrealistic levels? 

You know the one I mean.  The one that has his exit followed by a sigh of relief by the whole group.

Why would you let this relative ruin a perfectly good holiday?  Just simply don't allow it.  It really is that easy.

My holiday plans this year are simple.  Spend time with those who I want to be around.   I'll be spending the day with The Linebacker and the BF.

I may not get to see my Grandma's on Christmas, but that's ok, I'll catch up with them after Christmas, when we have time to actually sit and enjoy some time together, without the chaos and tension, and without the time restrictions when you factor in driving to several different places.

There's nothing wrong with spending the holidays the way YOU choose to spend them.  I'm very thankful for the friends and family that I share my life with, no matter the distance between us.  And for those that I choose not to include in my life, well, I'm thankful that I don't have to pretend that the situation is something different than what it is.

Merry Christmas to those that mean so much to me and mine.

The rest? 

Happy trails to you....

I Could If I Wanted To

I deal with things through sarcasm for many reasons, not the least of which, is that I have found it to be much cheaper than bail.  It also keeps my sanity, at least somewhat, intact.

What I have to watch is the tendency to say things that I mean.  I recognize that I have the unfailing ability to go for the jugular, and that I have no problems doing so.  When I've reached my tolerance level for stupidity or bullshit, or if I feel suddenly on the defensive, I am prone to pull all the stops and rip you to shreds, smiling all the while.  I will go straight for that one weak spot that I see in you and I will attack.  No regrets.

But, in the interest of not being a complete bitch, I try to temper it....at least a little. 

After growing with a narcissistic father, who had a myriad of crutches, I have a whole bunch of screwed up tendencies.  I waver from insecure to not giving a shit.  I bounce from wearing my heart on my sleeve and wanting to help everyone I meet, to shutting the emotional light switch off completely.

All through school, I was pretty shy and tried to please everyone.  I kept a low profile and tried to just float along quietly, because I thought that was easier.  As I reached my Junior and Senior year, I realized that no matter HOW I behaved, it wasn't going to be right, so I started waiting for the chance to be me.  I even lived in a foster home for a short time during my Junior year because I refused to go home.  I was starting to get just a hint of a backbone.  Dad gave me a big sob story (and I felt bad that Mom was stuck in the middle of all this) and I went home, but I think he started to see that I would only take so much.  Two days after graduation I moved out. I let my guard down and started to discover me, little by little.  Mostly, I was searching for acceptance because I'd never been good enough in my father's eyes, or so I thought.  And I knew, deep down (WAY deep down), that I was so much better than what he seemed to think I was.  My mind would tell me I wasn't, but somehow I knew better.

My shyness and refusal to rock the boat turned into a mix of "I'll play nice as long as you do".  I would try to keep the peace, but found myself only allowing people to push me so far.  I had finally learned to draw a line....and stand by it!  It was scary as hell and freeing at the same time! 

Sometimes that damned line is a little wavy, and sometimes I almost forget to protect it, but I work at it even now.

I also realized that the narcissism, drug & alcohol use was not an acceptable excuse for being a prick.  I tried for 34 years to figure out what it was that he wanted from me. 

Here's the thing.....it's not that I wasn't good enough.  Much of the problem was that HIS demons (from being raised with an abusive narcissist) kept telling him HE wasn't good enough.  His own narcissism, mixed with being a child in a long line of narcissists, made our lives a living hell at times.  The whole reason Dad volunteered to join the Army and headed off to Vietnam was because he wanted to die.  No joke.  The man ran from demons the entire time I knew him.  He wanted to be a gunner because he knew they had a very short life expectancy.  Instead, he worked as an X-ray Tech in a MASH unit, where he dealt with horrors that he only talked to me about once.  I can't begin to imagine what it would've been like.  The sounds, the smells, the carnage.  And after serving your country, for two tours, only to come home and be labeled a Baby Killer?  Again, he couldn't do anything right, just like when he was growing up. 

Sometimes I feel myself almost wanting to release narcissistic tendencies.  Then I realize, that I'm not a true narcissist because I empathize with those around me.  I truly feel other peoples pain and wish I could fix it.

But, there IS a part of me that whispers how much easier it would be to just admit that no one else does it right, or that I should be the center of their world, or some other inane bullshit.  In the next breath, that same voice whispers that I'm not worthy to be the center of anyone's world, or that I'm the one who is wrong.

Both of those voices can kiss my ass!  I'm not perfect, but I am pretty damned amazing.  I'm loyal to a fault.  I'm honest (also to a fault usually).  I'm smart, funny and a whole lot of fun to be with.  What I'm not is a pushover or a doormat.  At least, not as much as I used to be. 

I'm still working on all of it, and am slowly making new discoveries about myself. 

I'm not perfect, but I could do anything if I wanted to.

Rooooo-Duh!

Why is it when we are minding our own business, bothering no one, happily living our own lives, that people suddenly pop up in the background and start drama?

They pour out of the woodwork like cockroaches. 

They gather in droves.  Chirping like crickets to each other, silencing their banter when we approach, only to resume when we continue on our way.

Why are these same people the ones who never seem to come straight to you with whatever their apparent grievance is?  They instead choose to huddle together, chirping about some real or imagined wrong doing on your part.

Have you people nothing better to do?

Do you lack the fortitude to look directly at someone and discuss the issue?

Are you so spineless that it's easier to tell only bits and pieces to those that you feel will back you? 

Do you thrive on a cheering section of ill informed parrots?

Are you so gutless that you can't take charge and get to the root of the issue on your own? 

Is your life so boring that you must create drama and strife for others?

Are you so unhappy with your place in life that you feel you  must drag others down, thereby making yourself feel better about the piss poor choices you've made?

That has to be a sad, empty way to live.  I can't imagine letting such a large amount of negative energy eat at me like that.  I can't begin to imagine how lonely and bitter you are inside.  How the drama has eaten away at anything good that was inside you. 

Sure, you might put a good front on for some people, but all it takes is a small step back to see the real picture.

I used to think you were an amazing, strong person, but I see that you really are all the things that people told me you were.  And, apparently, you are so much more than even they warned me about. 

I spoke nothing but kind things about you.  You held a place in my heart and I thought of you as a friend.  I would've moved mountains, one pebble at a time, if that's what you needed. 

Now that you've finally shown your true colors, I'm glad the day never came that I stuck my neck out for you.  Surely I would've been beheaded for a  worthless cause.

I'm not mad, not even hurt, I'm actually filled with pity.  I can't imagine how sad and pathetic you must be when you think no one is looking.  I pray I never find out.

As I walk away, thankful that you have shown who you really are, all I can say to you is this:

"Quit being a shit stirring little dick. It's just rude."

You Are A Pain In My....

I've been a moody bitch for the last two days, and about 3AM this morning, the migraine started creeping in.  My major trigger is stress, though I do get headaches because of weather changes sometimes too.  This, however, is definitely a stress migraine and it seems to be here to stay.

With the upcoming court date for Dad's estate on Thursday, it's not hard for me to imagine why this torture has taken root in my head.  I just wish it would go the hell away!

I've become very adept at stuffing things away and ignoring them, usually to save what's left of my sanity, but when the stress finally builds too high, it takes a toll.  The auras, nausea and cold sweats just SUCK!

I need this to all be over so I can sweep up the shrapnel and move on with things. This is a door that needs to close....soon.  Permanently.

Once this circus of greed is closed I can go back to functioning as a normal, slightly dysfunctional, person. 

We'll see whether or not all the promises of making things right will come to pass.  I doubt it.  I'll be shocked if people actually stand up and do the right thing, but I suppose stranger things have happened. 

I mean, some people actually thought Napoleon Dynamite was a funny movie, so I guess you just never know what might happen.

I Hear You Knockin' But You Can't Come In

Honestly, I won't even hear you knock after this door closes.

It's been a looooong year already and we're only 2/3 of the way through it.  Dad died January 12th this year and hopefully on September 12th, the estate will finally be settled.  I'm ready to move on and be done with all of it.  What was already a very painful situation should not have been made more painful, but it was.  Typical.

What is it about a death that brings to surface the true paranoia and greed of people?  Why does the focus shift so damned quickly from what you've just lost to what you think you are going to gain?  What the hell people?

There are so many parts to this whole situation that are just wrong.  Starting with not even being called until THE NEXT DAY!  Why you wouldn't call his daughter immediately is beyond me.  I don't care what you perceive the relationship to be, you CALL.  Someone should call!  IMMEDIATELY!

Ok, yes, I'm more than a little pissed off about that. Still.

It's just stupid!  Were you hiding something?  Trying to get your ducks in a row?  What?  What the hell were you thinking!?

There is no legit reason for not calling.  None.

As you can see, it started off just freakin' fabulous and has only gotten worse from there. 

I  miss Dad.  As much as he pissed me off, and as many times as we butted heads, and for all the shit he put us through....I miss my Dad.  I'm pissed at him for leaving behind yet another mess.  For leaving a million questions and more drama.  I'm pissed at him for dying and making me deal with such a pack of vultures.  I'm pissed at him for making me feel hurt, sad and pissed.  I'm pissed that the people that are supposed to be there for you during all this are the ones that I can't wait to be done with.  Dad would be pissed if he saw what was going on. 

If it hadn't been for Mom and The Linebacker over these last several months, I don't know what I would've done.  Yes, the BF has been supportive, but it's different because he's not part of "that" circle.  He doesn't have the ties to the situation that the rest of us share. 

In six more days I will be closing that last door for the final time, if there is any mercy in this world at all.  And when that door finally closes, I'm going to padlock, chain, glue, nail and permanently seal it up!  It's like the Pandora's Box of bullshit and I'm going to make damned sure it stays closed. 

It's not a positive situation so I'm going to walk away.  Scratch that.  I'm going to run like the hounds of hell themselves are chasing me and I'm wearing brown gravy perfume.  I'm out like a scout on a new route, Jack!

People forgot that the focus was supposed to be on Dad and who he was, good and bad, not what he had.  It's supposed to be emotional, spiritual, mental...not material.

What the hell is wrong with people?  No, seriously, what the fuck is wrong with them?

Atta boy!

There have been many times that I've been proud of each of my kids.  Last night, The Linebacker outdid himself and I'm so very proud of the person he's becoming.

He played two football games last night, and even though he was hot, tired and sore, he gave his all.  For every minute, of every game, he played with everything he had.  Not only did he demonstrate good sportsmanship, he demonstrated a helluva lot of heart!

He played for the 7th grade team, which is short a couple players now due to injuries.  He started out playing defense for them, but about halfway into the game an offensive player got hurt so he took that position too.  By the time that game was over, The Linebacker had already racked up a lot of field time, but he headed off to meet his team mates on the 8th grade team. 

The 8th graders were on fire and shut the other team out, 28-0.  They played HARD through all  four quarters.

By the end of the night, Wyatt had racked up 3 really nice tackles and some assists. For no bigger than he is, that kid can hit like a freight train. 

Am I proud of his performance last night?  Of course, I am!  I'm crazy proud of how he played.  But what I'm most proud of is the attitude he showed.  He gave everything he had for both teams.  He didn't look at playing for the younger team as an inconvenience or act as if  it wasn't "his" team so it didn't matter.  He put the good of the teams ahead of himself, and I couldn't be more proud of that. 

He's not the star of the team, he's not the least talented player, but he's a good solid player that tries hard and is dependable.  That's a good place to be, if you ask me.

If he hadn't made one single play, I wouldn't be any less proud of him than I am right now.  He was a true team player, and put a large number of others ahead of himself.  I'm so thankful for that.

It's nice to know that in this world of instant gratification and downright selfishness, there's at least one young person who understands what it is to gain by giving.  That person is my kid.

Yeah, that's my boy!

Exit....Stage Left

There are people, places and things that are not hard to walk away from.  You might think it would be, but surprisingly, when you find yourself faced with the decision, it's a relief to walk away and close the door.

For myself, the grief comes not from walking away, it comes from how EASY it is to walk away.  I briefly mourn what I think I SHOULD'VE felt when that door was closed, not the closing of the door itself. 

It's strange really.

You can't miss what you never had, so the mourning of the "should've been" is brief and not too intense compared to losing things you actually did have.

As I've journeyed through life, and learned to deal with different things, I've found that it's not hard to walk away anymore.  I simply turn, walk away and I rarely feel the urge for a backward glance.  Not anymore.

I used to drive myself crazy trying to figure out how to make every little thing right.  I would stress myself to no end wondering what I could do different to make it all ok.

Now, I realize that I can't do anything to make it better because it isn't a problem of my doing to begin with.

Repeat after me "Not my problem".  Very good!

Did I become bitter and callous? Hateful and vengeful?  No.  I became focused on what truly matters.  Stress and drama are not what matters.  You being in the throws of a constant soap opera of deceit, paranoia, schemes and plans, while pretending to be something you're not, is not on my list of activities to participate in.  No thanks.  Don't need it, don't want it, won't tolerate it.

If a family member turns their back on you, or puts distance in your relationship, why would you chase them?  If they put everyone else ahead of their closest family, why would you spend your time and energy trying to make it work, when they are clearly choosing not to be an active, involved member of the family?  Surely you wouldn't tolerate a fair weather friend, would you?  Why tolerate a family member who acts that way? 

Do I still consider them family?  In a biological way, yes.  But are they "real" family?  No.  Family is more that just common DNA. 

Keep in mind that it's usually the person who is afraid of their flaws, actions or schemes being found out that is the person to put the distance in place to begin with.  The person who has something to hide will point fingers and throw stones as if their life depends on it.  And in their  mind, maybe it does.  As long as they are drawing attention to the real, or imagined, wrongs that everyone else is committing, then they think no one will see their problems. 

It's not wrong to shrug your shoulders, admit that you tried, then walk away.  Go live your life!  Their problems are not yours, you can't fix it and shouldn't be expected to. 

There are only a small handful of people that I've ever truly walked away from.  Do I regret it?  No.  It took me a long time to realize it's ok to stand up for yourself and close the door on an unhealthy situation.  Sure, it would've been nice if things could've been different, but some people will never change, and that's their choice.  The way a person treats others is totally up to them.  How I react to that treatment, and whether or not I accept it, is up to me.

Tell them it's not acceptable and go on your way.  It really is just that easy.

I'm not saying it won't hurt.  But as you learn to put yourself, and your real friends and family first, it becomes easier to stand firm and make the tough decisions.

It's very freeing.  It feels like the weight of the world has been lifted off your shoulders, and the stress has been washed away.

Make like Snagglepuss, tip your hat and exit..stage left.  After all, you're the director of your life and you get to decide who stars in the production and who gets cut.

The Inner Workings

Narcissistic Personality Disorder involves arrogant behavior, a lack of empathy for other people, and a need for admiration, all of which must be consistently evident at work and in relationships. People who are narcissistic are frequently described as cocky, self-centered, manipulative, and demanding. Narcissists may concentrate on unlikely personal outcomes (e.g., fame) and may be convinced that they deserve special treatment.

Symptoms:

• Reacts to criticism with anger, shame or humiliation

• Takes advantage of others to reach his or her own goals

• Exaggerates own importance

• Exaggerates achievements and talents

• Entertains unrealistic fantasies about success, power, beauty, intelligence or romance

• Has unreasonable expectation of favorable treatment

• Requires constant attention and positive reinforcement from others

• Is easily jealous

• Disregards the feelings of others, lacks empathy
• Has obsessive self-interest
• Pursues mainly selfish goals

People with this disorder typically exhibit a strong need for self-sufficiency, are rigid and often litigious. Because of their avoidance of closeness with others, they may appear calculating and cold. Usually men are diagnosed with it more than women.


Paranoid Personality Disorder:
The specific cause of this disorder is unknown. It appears to be more common in families with psychotic disorders such as schizophrenia and delusional disorder, which suggests that genes may be involved. Paranoid personality disorder can result from negative childhood experiences fostered by a threatening domestic atmosphere. It is prompted by extreme and unfounded parental rage and/or condescending parental influence that cultivate profound child insecurities.

They also state that the following symptoms may be present:

• Suspicion
• Concern with hidden motives
• Expects to be exploited by others
• Inability to collaborate
• Social isolation
• Poor self image
• Detachment
• Hostility

I grew up with a man that was both of these things.  Now there's a fun little party mix to deal with on a day to day basis!

What I have to remind myself is that he did too.  HIS father, and his grandfather, were both complete Narcissists.  I come from a long line of screwed up, apparently. 

It's ok though.  Not the way I was treated or the pure SHIT I've gone through, that part isn't ok at all!  What's ok is the fact that it's made me who I am.  It's made me strong like forged steel because if those men couldn't break me, you sure as hell won't!

I can do this.  Even though my insides quake, and that damned voice in my head whispers that I can't, I put on a brave face and go balls to the wall until I conquer whatever it is.

I've learned to let go of what I can't change.  If I don't like something or someone, I simply don't interact with it/them.  I try to limit the amount of negativity I allow in my life.  Yeah, doesn't always work, but I do my best.

The turning point came when Dad said something that crossed a very sacred line for me.  It involved my child, and I snapped.  The second that he said it, I cut off all communication with him for a very long time.  I didn't even respond to the statement he made because I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of hurting me, yet again. 

I realized that I'd spent 35 years trying to make up for whatever it was that I'd done wrong, but I wasn't the one at fault.  Whatever his issues were, were his alone and I had nothing in it.  He was the one who was broken, the one who was unworthy, not me.

I vowed that I would not subject my kids to his moods, rages, humiliation, and general chaos. 

It took four years for us to begin to mend fences. And then he died. 

The fence mending began at his father's funeral, when he came up to me at the graveyard as everyone was leaving.  I don't even recall how he started the conversation, probably with what I viewed as yet another hollow apology to make himself look good, and I snapped.  I unloaded 37 years of pent up hurt, rage, hate and turmoil.  I didn't say anything that I would regret later, but I unburdened myself.  I figured since he'd laid it all on me, it was only fair that I lay it all out there for him to see.  I tore open wounds that had never really healed.  Hurts from childhood, through adolescence, into adulthood.  I threw in his face every crappy thing he'd ever put me and the family through.   

I'll never forget the uncomfortable, shocked look on his face as I poured it all out.  Like Tourette's  and vomit.

I felt better because I released it all.  It had nothing to do with whether or not he was sorry for what he'd done,  I felt better because I finally took a stand for myself.  I'll never forget how he seemed to shrink as I spoke.  That big scary man who I'd tiptoed around my whole life suddenly was just a short, tired man. 

I took the power back.  Never again will I give that power up.  Ever.  It's mine and you can't have it!

Dad and I came to terms before he died and for that I'm thankful.  There were a few times where I felt close to Dad, I do have some good memories of he and I, but the older he got, the worse he got.

I think we were later able to mend some fences because I said to him all the things he wanted to say to his dad.  He was finally able to put himself in my shoes.

My great-grandfather was a narcissist, my grandfather was a narcissist, my dad was a paranoid narcissist.  I think the paranoia goes hand in hand with it if you are an ACON of an ACON.  I really do.

Me and Samsonite, A Long Sordid Affair

*DISCLAIMER: The term "you" used throughout this entry is a general term, meaning people in general.  No you's were harmed in the writing of this entry.*

I don't take or use words lightly.  I write because it's how I stop and try to look at the big picture.  It's how I lay all the little fragments out, and try to make some sense of them.  Put them in some semblance of order, and try to understand what I'm seeing, feeling or thinking.  It's more of a clinical evaluation, digging for the what, how and why of the thing that's on my mind or in my heart.  It's a venue for coping, for letting off steam, for dealing with whatever happens to be on my mind at the time.

It's of no matter to me if anyone else reads it.  I put it here for me.  If you read it and it makes you think, then that's fine, maybe we all need that little push to look at ourselves once in a while.  I don't know.

I do not set pen to paper with the intention to hurt anyone.  I do not attack and leave your character lying there for dead.  I do not infer to your friends and family, or complete strangers, that you are a despicable soul, or a good for nothing.  I do not belittle and degrade you.  I do not rip you, or your character to shreds, and then act as if you deserved it.

If I reference someone, it's not to call them out, or to point fingers, it's to help ME figure out how to interact with this person.  Or how I can help them, understand them, comfort them, educate them...whatever the case may be.  It's ME trying to deal with something that is frustrating ME.

I don't lie about you.  I don't turn to those I know have a grievance against you and look for justification to make myself feel better.  Why would I?  If I look at the big picture and admit WHY those people aren't in your corner, I'd likely see they aren't the people I want in my corner either.  I don't turn to the dregs to get justification of my thoughts or actions.  I'm turning to MYSELF to figure it out....which is why I write. It's the equivalent of me talking aloud to myself.

I sit over here, deep in my own heart and mind, trying to figure out the where, what and why around me.  It's that simple.  Sorting out MY baggage, digging through it trying to decide what to keep, what to throw away, and what, if any of it, is worth handing down.

Why does it have to be about you?  MY feelings and thoughts are just that...MINE.

MY writing is about ME.  Yes, I do reference people around me (without naming names), but only because my interaction with them affects ME.  The people and events in our lives have an effect on us and I use the writing to sort it all out.  IT'S ABOUT ME, not you.  It's a process I use to evaluate myself.  I'm harder on myself than you could ever be.  I'm working to make me a better me....for me. 

I don't believe in hollow words.  I have no time to give or to receive them. 

My writing is the release I use to cope instead of just letting emotion take the helm.  By writing, I'm able to more calmly think things out, and though I may still feel emotional about the topic, it keeps me from saying or doing things in a rash way.  It usually keeps me from telling you to stick it....usually.

Dad was not good at censoring his mouth.  He'd blow up at you, many times for no real reason at all, then offer another hollow apology.  I can't count the number of times I can remember looking at him thinking "I honestly have NO clue what you're talking about.  What did I do now?"  He'd accuse me of things that I honestly hadn't done, but wouldn't take the time to ask me about it.  He'd just accuse you and judge you guilty, leaving you standing there in shock, just thinking "WTF now?" 

I fight the urge to let my temper explode all the time, and work hard to not perpetuate the curse.  I can't count how many times he'd say something like "It's all my fault. I always screw things up. Blame me.", after realizing that just maybe he had over reacted to some imagined wrong doing.  You can't say it was your fault, in a way that you're turning yourself into the victim.  That means nothing.  You might as well just come out and say "I'm an ass and don't think before I speak, get used to it."

Writing keeps me from saying the first thing that comes to mind.  And those of you that really know me, know that it's hard to tell just what I might say if I don't censor myself.  You know that I rely on humor to cope, and that I tell it like it is.  I have been through a lot in my life already, for shit's sake! Humor is how I survived.  If you don't laugh, you might as well be angry all the time or spend all your time crying over what a victim you are.  I prefer to laugh at it and move on.  It's what helps ME get through all the bullshit.

So before you think this is about you, remember IT'S NOT. It's ME trying to deal with things.  Working out how to handle all the nonsensical bullshit that I've been through and dealt with.  It's me trying to not sit back and play the victim like so many people do nowadays. 

I'm not a drunkard that blames everyone else for my situation.  I'm not some person making really bad life decisions, at an age too young to understand their full consequences.  I'm not feeling insecure about how others view me, or pointing their faults out to hide my own.  I'm not one that's worrying that I have deep dark secrets that will be found out.  I'm not using others or pretending to be someone or something that I'm not. I'm not sitting in judgment of others, as if I've never done wrong.  I know who and what I am, and if you know me at all you do too.

I'm the bitch working hard to figure out more about who I am and what I want.  I'm the sarcastic woman who laughs at herself more than anyone.  I'm the mom trying hard to do better than Dad did. I'm the raging asshole who owns up to her mistakes and her faults.  I'm the girl who loves you with everything she has until you break her trust, then it's gone for good. I'm the giving person who tries to help, without being greedy and seeking personal gain.  I'm the girl who puts her actions out there because she has no hidden agenda, no ulterior motive.  It's pretty transparent, what you see is what you get.  I'm not doing things under the table, worrying that I'll be found out later.  I'm the screwed up chic with more baggage than Samsonite, who is trying to figure out the best way to deal with it all.

I make mistakes, and bad choices, and I own them.  Yep, I did it.  I so just did.

I'm the hard heart who will never let you in again after you mortally wound me.  I have no problem turning the switch off and walking away from you.  I've seen me do it.

That's one trait I can't change.