It is what it is

A quote from someone that has stuck with me:

Once upon a time I worked for a woman I not so affectionately nicknamed the Dragon Lady--DL for short.  And a DL she was. I have never worked for anyone quite like her.  To say she was bipolar would be a severe underestimate, in my completely non professional opinion.  One morning at 8 am she was at my desk screaming at me for some serious indiscretion as serious as participating in a staff meeting (I was strictly forbidden to talk when we had meetings ) or using a stapler when she preferred a paper clip. She stomped back to her office seething and I sat at my desk questioning why I kept working for the crazy DL. At 9 am I had a office full of people and she came back to my desk to use the copy machine that was unfortunately housed adjacent to my desk. She turns around to me as the copy machine grinded out her copies with a huge smile on her face and sings, "How are you today?". I literally turned around to see if somebody was standing behind me because I couldn't imagine she was talking to me. She WAS talking to me. I replied weakly, "Fine?" and she grinned at me and merrily went into her office humming. WTF, right?   

And I kept working for her a total of three years and 6 months before I finally got the nerve to transfer out of her department. Some days I estimate I  stayed for 3 years too long. When I am feeling especially philosophical I surmise that it was necessary to learn life lessons that I could glean only by her particularly harsh teaching style designed to break ones spirit leaving you limping and begging for the sweet release of a pink slip.

Her favorite saying was "It is what it is". And although I would love to banish that DL dictated edict from my vernacular it seems to come popping out of my mouth on a disconcerting regular basis, much to my dismay and chagrin. The cable company doesn't show until 4 hours past their promised time?  It is what it is.  The school field trip that has been rescheduled twice gets rescheduled again and as a result the whole family's day gets toppled upside down?  It is what it is.  Pouring rain on the day of a big family BBQ?  It is what it is. The cat pukes in the middle of a freshly washed duvet cover?  It is what it is.

The very most interesting part of this story is that three years after I transferred out of her department she retired and was promptly diagnosed with aggressive Stage 4 ovarian cancer. That news shook me to the core, I cried and cried. I went into my therapist and asked what in the hell was wrong with me? (Coincidentally, my therapist was accustomed to me asking her this question and it didn't seem to faze her in the least.) DL was mean to me, even at times cruel, and I was never so happy as when I didn't work for her anymore. My tears were those of genuine sadness. I felt like such a hypocrite, I didn't have many nice things to say about DL. My therapist suggested that she had a major impact on my life (ya think?) and that I write her a letter and tell her how I felt, then decide if I wanted to mail it to her.  I have a penchant for ornate girly note cards (just the kind of thing DL detests), so I fished out my prettiest one and sat down and wrote her.   And I thanked her. I thanked her for showing me you could be a strong woman and that tears never killed anybody, for all the training I received while working for her including a trip to Georgia (!), and helping me to realize there was a difference between being weak and being sensitive and that I was sensitive.  I told her I would never regret working for her and that the experience forced me to grow in ways I couldn't even express. I immediately felt better.  I mailed her the letter. I seen her a few months after that and she told me that was most beautiful, heartfelt card she had ever received. Then we held onto to each other and cried.  Sitting here writing this makes me weep, they aren't necessarily tears of sadness, it's acknowledging she changed my life forever and always.  And maybe not for the worse.

It is what it is.

Energy Depletion

Energy Depletion

Vampires roam freely among us.

They are your mother, workmate, friend, neighbor,

and the lady who sits next to you at church

be especially wary of  the lady who sits next to you at church.

They are constantly on the hunt for the next unsuspecting victim

their energy reserves dangerously low.

Vampires are charming devils who dazzle you with their smile,

and sob on your shoulder

without a twinge of remorse

while lustfully feasting on your soul

your life force dripping down their chin.

The vampires float away unaware

that you are depleted, weary, and desperately  in need of a nap.

Satiated for a time

their needs are temporarily forgotten

as they prattle on

endlessly

about their ungrateful grandchildren. problematic spouses, and ailing sciatica.

An acute case of special-itis

An acute case of special-itis

I am always a victim

Never a “Survivor”

My insecurities are on display for everyone but me

Be it my incessant need for control

Or the fastidious attention to my appearance

I have an incurable case of big fish little pond

There is no remedy

The world is my oyster

Except it’s not

It is a fatal disease

I was bequeathed a get out of jail free pass

It was handed to me upon my blessed birth

That trumps any card you may try to play,

Amen

Littered with good intentions Creative Writing Take 1

Her name is Jodi.  She is middle ageish.  The gray roots were always prominent in her hairline minutes, it seemed, after she left her hair stylist's chair.  She was developing, what she'd like like to think were, laugh lines around her mouth.

Lately, there was perpetual sob caught in her throat and her eyes filled with tears at a increasingly and alarming rate over the silliest of provocations.  Her therapist tells her that this feeling will pass.  Eventually. After she does her "work" and deals with all her "stuff".

She had a weakness for hoop earrings, the color orange, and ornate antique looking picture frames.

She would like to think of herself as maternal--with her 4 teenage boys, husband, and cat--but she was fraught with the idea (late at night clutching her pillow) that maybe she wasn't.  Maternal that is.  She was only going through the motions rote and robotic.

Her house, her car, her mind were cluttered with random receipts, old empty bottles of Diet Pepsi, good intentions, and regret.  Her mind was always teetering on the what if's-I should have-and why didn't I.  Her coffee table was littered with magazines; articles she wanted to read about being a better housekeeper, wife, mother, and friend.

Jodi was a sum total of maybe's and someday's and untapped potential.

Acceptance

I have been talking about writing again. Someday. Every week I read Mama Kat's blog posts on http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/ and think "Okay, this week is it"!

Well this week IS it.  And it's about acceptance.

I have been associated with a family who just lost their beautiful 11 year old son in a tragic accident.  It happened on New Year's Eve. The loss of this little boy has rocked me to my core. I look at my own 12-year-old son and cannot imagine being able to breathe if he wasn't on this earth with me anymore.  How could you even carry on?  I don't know.   How could anything ever seem to matter again?  I don't know and can't comprehend the loss.

I have a hard time defining my relationship with this family.  I wanted to think that I was good friends with Mindy. *not her real name* I wanted to think that she loved me as much as I loved her. I wanted to think that my family meant as much to her as her's does to me. I have come to accept that this isn't the case and probably never was.

Mindy & I have never a friendship of give and take. She takes and I give. This is has always been the terms of our friendship and it was terms that I have accepted for a variety of reasons. I don't mean to sound like a martyr, it just is the way it is.  I truly enjoy Mindy's company--she is funny as hell and we always had a lot to talk about. I remained friends with her for a variety of reasons that are so hard to explain. I am not entirely proud of the reasons I have allowed her to treat me the way she has for the last 5 years.

 When her son was in the hospital she texted me and told me what happened. I immediately asked what did she need me to do?  Did she want me to come to the hospital?  No. She didn't want me to come to the hospital. No.  She didn't want to see me. No.  I understood. And I know that her son's accident and passing 5 days later have nothing to do me. I do. I know.  

 For the next two weeks I received a flurry of texts assigning me jobs to do. HUGE big jobs I may add. "Call so-and-so and tell them about the accident. Call so-and-so and tell me that he passed away. Take all these millions of pictures and find somebody to do a power point for his services. Take these millions of pictures and find somebody to make his funeral program. Go to our kids school and talk to them about his passing and what support I need for my other son. Call the hospital and make them understand we need more time."  I did every single job Mindy asked me to do. I did my best. I knew even while I was carrying out the tasks that in the end she'd hate me.  I did it knowing it would never be  enough.

And she does. She hates me. Once all the jobs that I could do were done and the funeral was finished I have been told in no uncertain terms to leave her alone. I accepted it. I knew it was coming.  I know she is in mourning. I know that she's in a fog. I know that she's not thinking straight. I know that at the end of the day it has nothing to do with me.

I have accepted that Mindy hates me because I still have my boys. She hates me because I am a easy target.  When I sat in the funeral on Friday I cried and cried. I cried torrents of tears that ran down my cheeks in rivers, running down my chest and pooling in my bra. (For real ya'll, I am not a pretty crier). I cried for the loss of the beautiful little boy. I cried for the loss to the world and the light that went out for all of us when he died.  I mourned for my friendship with Mindy. I mourned for the loss of who Mindy was and who she will never be again now that she has lost her most precious possession.  And I accepted that forever and always I will be a reminder of what she lost and will never get back. I mourned that our friendship is forever and always dead. 

And that, my friends, is acceptance.

Aging

I stare in the mirror and I don't like what I see. The wrinkles around my mouth tell me I am getting older. I didn't ever think I was a vain person, but these wrinkles are telling me otherwise.  I think I have "laugh lines". That's good, right?  I would rather have laugh lines than frown lines I suppose.


I was watching "Best of the 00's" on VH1 last night. I had not even HEARD some of the songs on that list. That must mean I have been listening to the Adult Contemporary stations. Nor had I had heard of half of the actors or comedians who were commenting on the songs. That's not good, right?


I have always had a old soul.  I didn't want to have a old face too. 

Again

I feel as though I have a huge lump in my throat. You know the kind where all the unshed tears sit, damned up awaiting release. However, I am trying hard to just keep it together—be strong, stoic and emotionless. I am afraid if somebody looks at me cross-eyed I will either start sobbing or screaming. Which is better? Angry is certainly more socially acceptable than crying—to a very fragile and complex degree.

People in my life are constantly disappointing me. I can see the common denominator is moi. Here is what is happening in my brain right now this second…. In no particular order:

I cannot believe that my Mom tried to kill herself again. Again. I am glad she is at the hospital. I am full of fear that she will not receive the help she needs. What kind of help does she need? RX Drug detox, pain relief, mental health, crisis intervention?—the list is long and I don’t know what drove her over the edge. This time. I feel so very guilty. I am heavy with guilt. I knew she wasn’t doing well, but I thought she was just being annoying and negative. I didn’t want to acknowledge that she had got to the point of a nervous breakdown. Again. I am terrified if she dies I will become a orphan. I am terrified of being a orphan. I am 41-years-old and still need my mother.

I am so angry at my father that I could literally kick the shit out of him. He has started smoking massive amounts of pot. Again. Just like when I was a kid. Pot stole my childhood, my innocence, my ability to believe there are kind and beautiful people out in the world. I have worked so hard as an adult at forgiving him for his past indiscretions, at trying to meet him where is he today and not where he was back then. And he has betrayed me. Again. He’s back to smoking pot. Again. I am disappointed, frustrated, but mostly I am just angry. I have anger bubbling up from my behind my eyes, under my skin, and through my tear ducts.

My sisters annoy the holy living shit out of me. Again. Rinse and repeat. Tawnia can’t help that she is so mentally ill. However, I have a hard time accepting that she can’t control her meth use or her abuse of alcohol. I grieve for her as I know that she is barely holding on by a thread. Her sane days are few and far between. I tried so hard to fix what was broken in her soul, to stand up and scream and get someone to notice she needed help. Again. And yet here I am. Again. And she’s somewhere between here and there. Again.

Sarah is just nothing but a controlling, psycho, jealous, angry, spiteful, spoiled selfish woman. Even though she is my sister I can stand her. I can’t tolerate the sound of her voice, her facial expressions, her manner of speaking, her neediness, her ability to always get her way no matter the circumstance, her cold heart, her need to always be in charge. Am I not a horrible awful person? I have tried so hard with her. She is like me, I am afraid, absolutely unable to satisfy or appease. I do not have the energy or the desire to detail her latest shenanigans. I am quite decisive in the fact that she annoys the holy living crap out of me, and that she is herself quite unstable. I grieve I will never have a sister like the ones you see plaques about, you know the ones “I didn’t choose you as a sister, but I choose you as my best friend….” I don’t even have a sister that I have a polite relationship with.

My dear friend, whom I adore, has stopped speaking to me. She and I are complete and total polar opposites. She is tough, steady, strong, sturdy, and unflappable. It is very hard to not take her silence personally. I fear I have exhausted her beyond reason. She has texted me that she is going through difficulties that she doesn’t want to discuss nor have a conversation with me with me to even exchange pleasantries. I am trying so hard to give her the space she has demanded. But, I feel lonely, sad, pathetic, and betrayed by her. I miss her friendship and her texts. Ultimately I know that it, probably, has nothing to do with me, but it still hurts like hell. How do I recover from a wound that hit this close to my heart? How?

And now I am just left feeling broken. Alone. Abandoned. Sad. And grieving. Again.

It is what it is

I am here! I am here. How are you? What is new?!

Well, crazydruggiesister is in jail in Orange County. They are only keeping her until June 21st. Not nearly long enough. Such a very long story how she ended up there....she is no longer here and can never come back to our house to live. It is what it is...

I have already mourned the loss and am trying to move on. Her crazy ass cat is still here so I love on Punky, and imagine somehow that crazydruggiesister is getting the love.

My family is still my family. Alas. I think I have mourned them too and the relationship we will never have.

We are buying a tent trailer! I know that's a weird segue from talking about my family, but it's all I got. We are very excited about the tent trailer as it will make going on trips with the kids much more affordable. I have said that my idea of roughing it will be a campground with showers and flush toilets. I will NOT do the outhouse bit. No way, no how, not gonna do it! We are planning a trip to Seattle area in August. I am over the moon, for real! I LOVE Seattle and having a chance to go back for a week makes me happy happy happy!

Chad is still not doing well physically. He had MRSA after his sinus surgery and took forever to get better. His sinus is still not feeling quite right. I am demanding he get a 2nd opinion before he lets that stupid doctor touch him again. You got 2 good shots at his sinus Doc, and I am so not impressed!

Other than that, life goes on. I so WANT to be writing and writing thought provoking, eye popping, mind blowing material. My head does not seem to be in same frame of mind as me. I can barely write a coherent sentence, as is evidenced by the drivel contained herein. I read a blog (love you Mama Kat) that a has a HUGE following and she has writing prompts every week. I always think I am going to write. I am going to use that prompt and hit one out of the park. Thursday comes and goes and here I am. Writing inconsequential words noone will ever read. It is what it is.

I will bid you adieu. For now. Maybe this will be my week.