Aug27

Are all of my childhood memories bad?

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As I sat one day telling a friend of my childhood experiences, it occurred to both of us, that I don’t tell stories of delightful, fun, frivolous times.  Only the dark stories come to mind.  Am I in a dark part of my life that I only recall the worst of times? Or is it that I am trying to come to grip with what my childhood has to do with the way I interact with the world, my children, my friends, my loves?

Spending the better part of the last 3 years learning about Narcissism has brought me here.  I am tired of learning about the assholes, the liars, my parents, siblings, ex husbands, lovers and one of my children.  This knowledge took me down a path to self discovery.  Why in the hell do I put up with these people?  Why keep them in my life? Why am I a target, easy prey for them?  What makes me such a push over to the likes of them?  Is there some hidden underlying smell? When I open my mouth, do I resonate a sound that lets them KNOW that I am an easy target? Is this what I KNOW? Am accustomed to? Does my subconscious go – “Hey, I KNOW this, I’m comfortable here” ?

Even though I’ve read volumes on what they are, how they attract the likes of me, possibilities of how they got that way, there is very little information out there, for ME, to learn about my special breed.  To tell me, this is what you are, that makes you an easy target.  The online groups are full of us empaths, easy targets.  Most of us are fun, loving, caring, gentle, generous, flexible, sociable, and beautiful people to the soul. Of which have been in some of the most disastrous relationships EVER.

Being to the point of “I know what the problem is”, now, how do I fix it? It leads me down a new path, Why do I try to FIX everyone?  Do I need that kind of control?  Do I feel like if I FIX them, the world will be a better place? I can’t even fix myself, much less anyone else!  But I do, I keep trying.  Then I catch myself, and try to pull back.  I can dish it out, but can’t follow my own advice?

It is almost like an addiction!  I gotta get my fix, talk to him! Tell him/her, they are NOT seeing the bigger picture!  I have this crazy intuition, feeling of impending doom.  Do I try, or do I keep my damn mouth shut? I have eliminated the words could, would and should from my vocabulary.  I don’t apologize for EVERY damn thing anymore. Some texts take me 3 tries, trying to reword it so as not to say “I’m Sorry”.  I will take full responsibility for hurting anyone, but will no longer apologize for something I had NO control over.

Trying to continue on in this life, being the caring, loving, giving, honest, empathetic person that I am, and always have been.  And find the life partner that loves me and all my brightness…and darkness, because I deserve to be loved, unconditionally, completely and unabashedly.

Jul24

Shake & Bake

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I originally published this a couple of years ago, don’t know why it became tucked away.

I tell this story to all my friends, isn’t that how we deal with horrible things? By telling the story it makes it less of a nightmare?

My father was a drinking, yelling and abusive construction worker.   Gone more than he was home. My first taste of a narcissistic man. Mom, hard working, stoic, strict, and abused single parent for all intents and purposes. I’m not sure she ever wanted children.

I don’t have many memories of my father being around.  Of the few, the last time is the most memorable.

Remember when SHAKE N BAKE came out? Mom decided to give it a try the day that Dad shows up, after weeks of being gone.  Evidently, this did not suit his fancy. We sat down at the table to eat, he looks at it and asked “what the hell is this shit?” He backhanded Mom, so hard that it knocked her out of her chair.  We all sat there in stunned silence, afraid to move, much less speak. She got up, straightened her dress, walked out the door,  got in HIS truck,  and drove away. She drove 1/4 of a mile away, and parked.

TO this day, I do not know HOW he knew this, but needless to say, he did.  He walked to where she was.  As he approached, she removed the gun from the rack. (Yes, back in the day, when it was normal to have a rack of guns in your truck). She told him not to take another step, and of course, he did! She aimed at his head, and pulled the trigger! As she did so, the vision flashed through her head, that IF she killed him, she would go to jail, and 5 children would be without parents.  She pulled that shot away, he took another step, she lowered the gun, and pulled the trigger again.  This time connecting with his shin.

Then, she got in the truck and came home to choke down dinner.

A neighbor called the sheriff, they never came. Someone picked him up, and took him to the hospital. No charges were ever filed. Their response was “it was domestic”, and they weren’t getting involved.

Needless to say, he didn’t come back, and the divorce was soon there after.

Just recently have I realized this was the beginning of a life long problem of mine.
I do NOT like confrontation.
I have an underlying comfort around crazy. Not a conscious feeling, just some inane ability to feel comfortable around drunks, abusers, liars and generally broke people. I am learning to see and feel this comfort level, not as a good thing, that it is really my intuition telling me that I KNOW what this is, and to step the hell away.

I am learning to love myself for the first time ever.

Jun26

Almost 2 years

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Here I lay in my bed nearly 2 years after my last failed relationship.  I have come along way.

First, I  have learned what causes me to make unhealthy choices when it comes to a partner.  Second, I have loved again.

Before we rejoice, let it be known that this love is not to last.  I walked into a relationship thinking it was going to be a fling. In the back of my head (heart not involved yet) that I could open myself up, just enough to enjoy the company, companionship, commarderie, laughter, sarcasm, jokes, touching, feeling, and the albeit short lived love of a good man.

What was supposed to be a couple of months, has now turned into 7 months. I…Miss Shot Gun dating extraordinaire, with nary a 3rd Date under my belt, fell the fuck in Love!
With my best friend and new love living next door to each other, I gained 15 lbs, and a new lease on life! Good food and good company without a worry in the world!  I was actually learning what it was like to be treated like an equal, with valuable thoughts and input! We laughed at the same jokes, ahh’ed at the same puppy pictures, enjoyed a multitude of similarities, and joked about our differences. Not a single solitary fight has occurred.  Shared stories untold to many. 
Talked about when we were abused, why we were abused, and what we had learned from our abusers.  shared stories of past relationships,  and in depth discussions of why we stayed, and what the consequences of staying were.
Went into depth, the levels of compassion that we shared, and why it made us a target to be abused.  Another human being LIKE me! Compassionate, caring, loving and broken, like me. Another prey!

With every passing day, it grew! Neither of us expected it to grow.  Neither knew how to handle the depth of the feelings.  Discussions had been had about NOT letting it get to this point.
I never knew the reward of a simple touch.  I was rewarded every single time that skin touched skin.  Every single solitary time! I craved the reward, the coo of contentment. Intimacy could be had, without intercourse! What a concept!  Why did I have to wait until now, to experience this? Why on earth have I spent half of my life,  being a pleaser, without rewards, reciprocal feelings, pleasure and treatment? 
Could it be, that I have never felt worthy of being treated like a wonderful, loving,  honest,  caring person that I am?  I am worthy. I am honest.  I am loving. I am caring. I am lovable.
In the beginning,  it was hard to believe that there was NO motive, no backstabbing to be had, no underlying agenda. I felt good! When I was near.  When there were short bouts of absence, my fractured female brain, would create issues. Create thoughts, that were mine, and mine alone. The inner turmoil was enough to make myself crazy, sad, mad, anxious, and self-defeating mostly.  Mainly a product of my past…and insecurity.

There was hope… Hope that this could be something that could last the rest of my life. A hope,  that even THIS may not be THE ONE, that there was hope for me.

Even when the discussion was had about my hopes, I wasn’t shunned for feeling so much. I was understood.  I was heard. This person has empathy! I am NOT being used!

His words to me…”you sit there on your side of the fence, with your filet mignon,  your crystal glasses, fine china and silverware, beckoning me to join you, and here I sit on my side of the fence, with my family, in a disfunctional relationship,  that I cannot and will not leave.  I was raised without a father, and I will not abandon my children”.