So the final post wasn't so final...

Yeah, leave it to me to go back on my word.  Happens a lot... not as much as it used to.  I'm getting better.  Using my time now to get back into the writing mode so that I can do my assignments that are due in 12 minutes.  I've already contacted my professors.  They know my work will be a bit late.  One of them has acknowledged my email.  The other can't say I didn't tell her that my son was running a high fever yesterday (probably teething, Mom, don't freak), so I was otherwise disposed and unable to do my reading that would enable me to write a decent response to her discussion board topic.  If she doesn't grade it, oh well.  It's a discussion board.  There will be 15 more of them and I can use them to prove my worth as a reader, writer and contributer to her classroom.  I've been working on NOT being quite so focused on what people think of me.  Case in point: my sister.  I think she got the message.  She, and her unrealistic expectations, rules, procedures and hypocrisy can

Go
Fuck
Themselves!

If she wants to start a big hoopla over Christmas Eve this year... Bring it.  I'm ready.  I'm no longer the self-depricating, self-devaluing, apologetic-for-things-beyond-my-control person she used to push around.  NO LONGER will I jump blindly through her firy hoops because she doesn't know the meaning of the word "moderation".  I know her... all about her... my... no OUR father gave me ammo.  Not that I'm going to use it unless I have to, but I will should the need arise...

I know she's going to go crying to Dad, just like her bitch of a daughter did, about how I haven't called the kids, haven't talked to them, it's all MY fault that they are doing... whatever it is they are doing wrong....
Wah, wah, wah, wah...
She's going to say that I "obviously don't care about them".
BITCH!!!
If I didn't care about them I'd

• pop in and out of their lives like a rabbit in a hat.
• make sure that their legal guardian didn't have necessary information about them
• do my best to circumvent and undermine her as an authority figure in their lives
• call them weekly to talk for 15 minutes to give them hope of seeing me again soon when she and I both know that is not possible because she fucking lives in her goddamn car that her fucking step-daddy is paying for.
• insist on putting the children in so many activities that they don't have time to simply be children and learn what being in a family is really about.  Eating at the dinner table isn't the only damn activity that makes a family, bitch.
• do everything I can to make sure that the kids are so busy that they literally only have one hour out of the WEEK to talk on the phone, and that hour happens to coincide with dinner time.

Wait, that list contains some of the shit that SHE'S been pulling... All the while looking down her nose at me because I think that person to person contact between parent and child is more important than all the damn activities and gadgets in the world.  Note to Serena: Josh and Hannah have a better relationship with the fucking Wii than they do with you... Don't think I don't know this.  I also know your dictatorial style in running your household is no way to run a HOME... You don't live in a HOME, my dear, darling sister... You live in an imaginary castle, naming yourself as High Priestess and Queen of the dominion.  Why and how Eddie puts up with your shit, I'll never know... What I do know is that Eddie is the only positive aspect I see out of you having Josh and Hannah under your spell.   Yes... I just said that... spell.... You are brainwashing them just as you have with your other children.  Wonder why I don't talk to Allison or Danielle anymore?  Well, little Miss Ego-Centric, you probably don't, but I'm going to tell you anyway.  They do not fucking listen to anyone's opinion but yours.  Danielle accused me of "going out and partying" while I was fucking pregnant with my son.  Of course, she didn't know I was pregnant.  You didn't either, at the time.... Gee, I wonder where she got that idea from... Well, let's see.  She lives in your house... She worships your farts... If it looks like a bitch and talks like a bitch, you can bet she's parroting her mother.  Brain-washing at it's finest...
I honestly believe that MY children are suffering from Stockholm Syndrome... beginning to bond with their oppressor.  Of course, they don't see you as an oppressor, not yet anyway.  Let's hope that someday, down the road, when they are old enough to seek me out and bitch me out for not being there (yes, I know, there will be a bitching out), they will have retained some of the things that I fucking taught them... Yes, I did teach them things.  I taught them to listen to me.  Be respectful to others (didn't Josh beat Trisha up for no reason? Oh, he's beating on Hannah, too, not that you'd notice, but I digress.  You'll probably blame that on me, too, when you figure it out).  Hopefully, they will listen to my side of the story, accept my apologies for the wrongs I did to them, then... with a little luck...

Move the fuck on and build a trusting, meaningful relationship with me.  Yes, build.  I know it will take time, patience and a lot of heartache to build a relationship with them after all of the things that they are likely hearing about me from you, your friends, your children, everyone else you expose them to, because you don't know how to keep your mouth fucking closed.

Streams of consciousness...

Perhaps because I'm in the process of changing medications....
Perhaps because I'm drinking much more coffee lately....
Perhaps because I'm back in classes and my mind is once again being stimulated...

Whatever the reason, I've been unusually introspective over the past week.  This is especially true when I'm tired.  I find myself narrating my own actions and thoughts in the third person quite often lately. 

Is this normal?
I don't know.

What I do know is that whenever I catch myself being my own narrator in what would likely be a good horror/drama/comedy/tragedy book I always end with the same thought:

This would be a good blog.

Last night I imagined myself as a character is Stephen King's The Stand.  Of course, I was one of those who died in the plague (being sick at the time and all).  I saw myself lying on the couch, unattended, as I was one of the last people in town alive.  And I thought...

What would I do if I were really dying, and I knew it?
My gut reaction: Write a scathing letter to Serena to let her know exactly what I thought of her and the front she tries to pass off as the perfect upper-middle class suburban soccer mom.

I imagined my parents and daughter coming to visit me (they being well, headed for the Boulder Free-Zone no doubt) and I tell them to take care of my baby and to give this letter to Serena after I died. 

Scene change: Mother goes into the kitchen and reads it while my father tends to me.  She starts to cry.
Scene change: My father switches places with her, so he can read it as well.  His eyes burn with anger and hurt at the thought of one of his children inflicting those feelings onto another.

While my mother is reading, my dad asks me if I'm sure that is the last impression I want to leave on the world.
While my father is reading, my mother says that she doesn't want to deliver such a hateful last testament, but she will only because it is my last testament to my sister (and the world at large).

I answer my father: No, that is the last impression I want to leave on her.
I answer my mother: Please do, because these are things that I was never able to say to her while I was alive. She knows the reasons why.

Looking back on what I've just written, I can gain insight into my own thoughts and motivations.  What was in that letter means little as far as this story is concerned.  Those whom I trust completely are aware of the situation and my feelings about it. 

What I see about this little fantasy/role-play is that I yearn, more than anything, the resources and tenacity to tell my sister exactly what I think of her.  She is a recurring theme in my nightmares, daydreams, writings and musical tastes.

My playlist to you...

Recently, I've taken to burning CD's for the people in my life. Some are by request, while others I burn with a particular intent. Either way, when I do so, I slip in a few songs that represent how I feel about the recipient. One person, in particular, has been on my mind lately, and I've decided that in lieu of actually burning the CD, I will post it here... In order to avoid WWIII.

And so, Serena, here is my playlist for you.

In The End-Linkin Park


Second Chance-Shinedown


Leave Out All the Rest-Linkin Park


Always-Saliva


Rest in Pieces-Saliva


Numb-Linkin Park


Going Under-Evanescence


Everybody's Fool-Evanescence


Frozen-Within Temptation


You Don't Know Me-Ben Folds




*P.S.~~It is totally worth googling to find the lyrics of these songs. The complilation of these define most aspects of my life.

The wisdom of Mr. Nozuka...

We could all learn something from Justin's lyrics....

Phil Nozuka - spoken part 1

Open your eyes
Close your ears
Close your ears
Open your eyes

Listen to the words you see
You are blind to what you hear
Listen to the words you see
Do not fear the truth beneath
Reach for roots beneath the trees

Listen to the words you seek
Don’t listen to a word they say
Do NOT listen to a word you’ve heard
Do not listen to a word you’ve heard

People are people we live for our own
Live how you think not by what you’ve been told

(Justin Nozuka)

I've been a fool
Oh I've been a fool
Walking the line with both my eyes shut
And I'm begging you
Oh I'm begging you

Don't listen to a word you've heard
Don't listen to a word you've heard

This world is full of strangers
This world is full of hypocrites
Scratching for their winnings
At least I am one to admit
Whoa born in a world relying on gold
I've yet to find someone under control

But people are people and we live for our own
Live how you think not by what you've been told and

Don't listen to a word you've heard
Don't listen to a word you've heard
Don't listen to a word you've heard
Don't listen to a word you've heard

The flag waves up above you
For liberty and freedom
And fighting for your nation
Killing of wives, daughters, husbands, sons
And you're told
That you're being attacked
By terrorist invasions
But over and over and over again
It is you who points the gun

Hey, now don't listen to a word you've heard
Don't listen to a word you've heard
Don't listen to a word you've heard
Don't listen to a word you've heard

Phil Nozuka - Spoken part 2

If you close your eyes right now
Try to seek a vision you can listen to
A vision of collisions of what you know is true
You can do what you pursue if you only try to
To open your eyes
And listen to the visions colliding with collisions
Collisions on a mission
Risen from what you’ve listened to
Listen to
No
Don’t listen to a word you’ve heard
Don’t listen to a word you’ve heard
Unless
Unless the word that you’ve heard is a word that you said
Close your eyes to words from out
Unless the word came out your head
Or the word was built with your hands
Close your soul to a voice of a man from a non distant land
Cause that man has a plan to put bullets through your stand
Do you stand under this
Or
Do you stand over this
Do you over stand me
You must not be listening
Its O.K.
I understand
Why
I
We
No he,
Told you
But
Do
If you have the words inside yourself
Then Listen to the words you hear
Listen to the words you say
Listen to the words you say
Listen to the words you say

Evanescence-Everybody's Fool

Terry played this song to me a while back. After listening to it a couple of times, it occurred to me that it really could be a song that one part of me wrote to the other darker, mostly hidden part. I feel like I've lived a lie for a good part of my life, pretending to be happy, in control, together, successful, etc., etc. The video to this song (which I am including for the convenience of my readers) represents how I feel about myself especially well. So, without further ado....





Perfect by nature,
Icons of self-indulgence.
Just what we all need.
More lies about a world
that never was and never will be .
Have you no shame?
Don't you see me?
You know you've got everybody fooled.

Look, here she comes now -
Bow down and stare in wonder.
Oh, how we love you.
No flaws when you're pretending.

But, now I know she
never was and never will be.
You don't know how you betrayed me.
And somehow you've got everybody fooled.

Without the mask
where will you hide?
Can't find yourself.
Lost in your lies.

I know the truth now.
I know who you are.
And I don't love you anymore.

It never was and never will be.
You don't know how you betrayed me.
And somehow you've got everybody fooled.

Never was and never will be.
You're not real, and you can't save me.
And somehow now you're everybody's fool.

Support, and not the push-up kind.

Most of you know that I've been having some issues as of late. I've sought out help. I'm trying to get things back in order. I've been relying heavily on my parents for emotional support during this process. It's just been in the past 4 years that there has been a decent working relationship between us, and I've never been happier about it....

Until a few days ago....

I wrote my mother an email outlining my various diagnoses to her. Her response was a polar opposite of what I expected.

.... Cold
.... Callous
.... Distant
.... Short

I feel like we're back-peddling now. I feel like a teenager again, like we've reverted back to the same emotionally distant relationship we had back then. Maybe she doesn't know what to say. Maybe she's numb to the idea of her (eldest) daughter having such horrible problems. Maybe she feels responsible for some of it. Or maybe, just maybe, she's preparing for history to repeat itself... Waiting for that phone call that says someone needs to intervene in my life YET AGAIN on behalf of my child. So, before I go on, I need to make one thing perfectly clear....

My son is literally the only reason why I am still on this planet enduring my demons! I would never do anything to endanger him. If I felt like I was a danger to him, or I wasn't meeting his needs, I would call Terry home immediately. Junior IS my reason for being right now.

Now that I've got that out of the way, back to my point...

What did I expect from my mom? I expected concern, worry, support, encouragement, all the things mothers are supposed to do for their children, adult or otherwise. She and I have conversed on the topic of emotional control. Emotional control and lack of emotional display are two completely different things. Emotional control keeps you from flying off the handle about the shirts not being folded "correctly". Emotional display is how people SHOW each other that they give a damn. You can express worry and concern without being melodramatic. I think my mother may have gotten these two confused. In an effort to not stress me out further, she displayed a non-reaction. If that's the case, then we're cool. If not, then what gives?

At a time in my life when communication is THE key to my surviving and thriving as an individual, mother, employee, spouse, daughter, sister, friend... it is really a shock to my world when the person in whom I have confided the most within my family unit displays no outward emotional reaction to some pretty jarring news. Maybe I expect too much. Maybe this is my "people pleaser" personality type coming through. Either way, I feel especially let down.

So, here's the props section...

Props to Stacia! I am now certain that everything happens for a reason. I am beginning a journey that is strikingly similar to one she started several years ago. She is my mentor and my best friend. She listens when I bitch about inane things, supports me in my decisions--even the unpopular ones, offers a helping hand, a shoulder, an ear, and just about anything else in her power to provide to me. I don't know where I'd be without her today. I know I'd feel totally and utterly alone. Thank you, girl, from the bottom of my heart. IDK wtf is up with some of the other people in your life, but I intend to never do you like they do.... (Oh, and say hi to grandma for me. Tell her Junior is doing well. I hope we can come and visit her again soon.)

Props to Terry! Sweetie, I love you. You have proven yourself to be a generous, sympathetic, loving life partner. Your stick-to-it-iveness is unlike any I've experienced in my past relationships. I've never been more certain that you are a keeper. Never mind what others have said or what they think. You are here with me now, and I've never been more grateful.

Props to ME! Instead of wallowing, I'm being proactive. I'm using my skills as a language artist and a writer as an outlet for all these negative vibes I've been getting. I'm seeking out treatment without the aid of outside intervention. I'm fighting back in a positive way.

Props to Susie and Louise! You opened my eyes to the fact that I do have a measure of control over this. Yes, it will be a gradual process, but I now have faith that I do not HAVE to be on medication for the rest of my life. Thanks for opening up to me, sharing your stories, and showing me that there is light at the end of the tunnel. I can see the path before me more clearly now, as well as a possible future for myself.

You guys are all great... Thanks for stepping up when I needed it.

Back to work and other fun stuff.

Okay, I was going to write a letter to my coworkers about this, but I decided it would be less confrontational to just blog about it. Plus, the people reading this would think it's funny to see how my OCD truly affects me. So, here goes....

So the restaurant I work in has 46 tables. Each of these tables has one salt shaker, one pepper shaker, and one sugar caddy. This is pretty much common sense, but I'm building up to a point here, so go with me.... Anyway, that is a total of 46 of each of the above mentioned items, right? Well, I'm working the graveyard shift, so I keep all my tables in one little section. The restaurant has 4 main sections, which can be divided more as needed. So, I know and expect the table toppers to be emptied in my section a little throughout my shift. However, what I don't expect (nor should I have to) is that I would have to go through each and every table in the store to make sure that everything is done. The servers on the prior shift should clean their tables and restock anything that needs it.... Right? Apparently, they think I have nothing better to do than to do their job for them. Do they not realize that I don't get paid any more than they? Doesn't seem to matter. I guess they just think that I will have plenty of time to clean up after ALL of them. Or they think I'm their damn mother. Either way, here is the grand total for what I had to do last night (not including the incomplete stocking, etc. for the rest of the store)...

• 22 pepper shakers needed filling
• 20 salts
• 26 sugar caddies

Ummm... I probably used and reused 6 tables during the course of my shift.... So, can someone explain to me why I had to stock nearly half the restaurant's tables? One entire section needed the sugar caddies completely emptied and reorganized.... WTF people? As I explained to my relief this morning, I know that I'm not the only person who does their job correctly up there, but when I have massive amounts of cleaning and stocking like that... It feels like I am the only one.... I'm just bitching about the table toppers because those take the longest to stock when they are neglected like that. I'm not even including the floors (which were atrocious in some areas), the dirty tables, the dirty coffee pots, the silverware left unrolled, the poorly stocked main service area, the ice left unstocked, the tea left unmade, the back soda station that clearly hadn't been cleaned and organized, the drains that hadn't been cleaned out, etc., etc. This on top of MY duties makes for a very frustrating night. Here's the thing. My OCD dictates that everything be organized and uniform. So, the three nights I've worked since I started back have consisted of doing anywhere from 3-5 people's work over again ON TOP of my own work. That's B.S. to the Nth degree.

Anyway, I show the manager... my buddy Peggy... all the work left for me to do... Have a bitch session about it... and decide that my work ethic and moral compass are above passing the buck to the next shift out of revenge/dignity/whathaveyou. I resign myself to the fact that the people who work before me know this about me and take advantage of it. My therapist says I'm a "people pleaser" and now I see why. I don't want to rock the boat. I'll bitch and cry about how unfair something is, all the while putting up with it and cleaning up after people so that THEY don't get in trouble. Do I need to grow a pair? Because I know that the GM won't do anything about it. Neither will the other manager... the pedophile formerly known as Gono (yes, pedophile... he knocked up a 14 year old girl). Peggy is so frustrated by all of the office politics going on up there that she is seeking other employment. Naturally, she has other work to do, so she can't help me. She does, however, let me know how much my work is appreciated in light of all the recent IHOP drama that has ensued. This, in itself, makes me feel like my work is worth it.

***Deep breath***

~~~Cleansing sigh~~~

That being said, I have to admit that I really enjoy working the graveyard shift. There is no drama between the workers. It's a very laid-back, reduced-stress waitressing environment. If I can just get a grip on the new sleeping schedule, I'll be straight.