The Wheels on the Bus go Badunk-a-dunk….

…Last Saturday, I attended a holistic healing & psychic fair with a coworker. I wrote about it in an earlier post to a certain degree, & told you that there was more to the story.

Well…one of the lecture sessions we attended was concerning Past lives & Karma, & how the two things can collide and coincide.

I do believe in reincarnation, let’s just get that out there. 

One of the things that this woman spoke about was how… When you reincarnate, you carry over lessons you didn’t learn from previous lives, into the next one, & have to repeat them.

Like summer school.

Oh, I only wish the teacher could be so cool. 

Well, I got to thinking about things.

I know that I have things in my life that I need to learn to let go of. There are things that I’ve held onto for so long…and I know, that if I don’t resolve them in this lifetime, I’ll be repeating these lessons in the next.

But, it’s really not going to be easy.

These are very triggering, emotional issues for me. And I don’t know how to just forgive the pain and trauma that was done to me. 

One – I have to figure out how to forgive my brother for what he did to me those years ago, when he hurt me so badly. When he declared his little sister dead, & basically destroyed any relationship we had, or ever could have. I don’t know how to forgive that. I really don’t. I know that I can’t let him back into my life as though nothing happened…so how do I forgive?

Two- and this one is the worst…

I have to figure out how to forgive my molester.

I have to stop letting the trauma of that experience affect me, stop allowing him to have any power in my life, & forgive…..

How the fuck do I do that?

I know I have to do both of these things – for myself, not for anyone else. This is for my own spiritual health & emotional well-being…

But I know that I’m raking some hot-burning coals, here.

And it could all go up in flames within minutes.

Yeah, there are other things I also need to figure out – like how I keep going through the same relationship failures, no matter who I seem to be with – they bail on me. But that’s something I’ll either learn or I won’t, & may have to repeat. I’m not as fraught with anxiety right now over that. 

The other two – however…those are going to put me under the tires of that Karma bus.

And that Karma bus just keeps right on Rollin….

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Sunday- Not so Silent

So I couldn’t stay silent. *shrug*

I’ve been in self-imposed silence all day, haven’t spoken a damn word to a single soul, either in person, or on the phone. Why? No reason, simply because there hasn’t been any contact with anyone.

Why don’t I reach out to someone? If I’m not getting contact from others, why not reach out myself?

Because, today, I’m not that person. 

Today, I’m the girl who knows that my love life, non-existant that it is, is a fucking joke. That guy I mentioned a few posts back? The maybe, rare, winter thunder I thought I heard?

Yeah, probably just a truck on the bypass rumbling by.

Sure, he’s wicked smart, funny, sure, sure…

And he even admitted we had great chemistry. That he really liked me, & that I was was to talk to. I was “perfect for him in so many ways”…

So, that’s why I dropped to the last place on his priority list, & I haven’t heard anything from him since Monday.

Hell, I’m not on his priority list. If he thought about me at all, it was about how to avoid me.

No problem.

Because I don’t go where I’m not wanted.

Sure, one day I’ll dust myself off & say that maybe I’m ready to try again.

But goddammit.

Getting ghosted twice in two months really fucking sucks.

It hurts when a relationship ends, no matter the circumstance…but what really hurts the most? Is when someone you trust, someone you’ve been honest with betrays you by simply never saying another word. When they shut you out and deny you the common human courtesy of closure…you feel…

Less than human.

Priorities

It’s been a long time since I made anyone’s list of priorities.

Not you, Beloved Nephew. I know you and I are a whole other level of love. 

This has to do with others in my life. 

And I get it.

I’m not someone that walks across your mind a lot. I am fairly quiet, and keep to myself. I don’t go out, I’m not an extrovert with a million Facebook friends, I sit and listen, most of the time.

Doesn’t mean I’m not here.

Doesn’t mean I don’t matter.

But (dusting my hands off on my jeans as I rise from the floor) – I refuse to be anyone’s obligation. I refuse to be a hassle or a burden.

If we were supposed to do something, if you were supposed to do something with me, but forgot, and I didn’t chastise you or remind you… Don’t worry.

Disappointment is something I’m so familiar with it’s a daily flavor on the back of my tongue.

I refuse to go where I’m not wanted…so I will simply not enter.

I will be silent.

My friendship is worth something, but I won’t force it on anyone.

My feelings are worth something more, but if others don’t value them…

There’s nothing I can – or will – do about it.

I am honest about who I am.

I do not lie.

And if you cannot, or will not, put me on your list of priorities… Then I will have to walk away.

Because it hurts too much, otherwise.

I’ve sat at the bottom of too many lists to count. And the pain of knowing that everyone and everything else comes before me…

No.

I won’t do it anymore.

I’m worth more than that.

Don’t make me do all the fucking work.

Because I won’t.

I’ll walk.

A Rumble of Winter Thunder

I’ve met someone.

And I’m being very careful, cautious & quiet about this.

For now.

Like a slow rumble of winter thunder…

You hear it in the distance, but you can’t be sure if it’s really what you think, or if it’s something else. Rare in its occurrence, you strain to hear it again, wanting to make sure it’s real before nodding your head in agreement.

So I’m holding off before I speak anymore.

Monster Man

Papa’s a Monster Man.

That’s my dad.

He “rescues” monsters from under beds, detangles them from closets, and saves them from the horrors of dark, drafty basements, then returns them to their natural habitat – The Dump.

Haven’t you ever seen Nickelodeon’s classic cartoon “AAAHH!!! Real Monsters!” ??


When EldestDaughter was little, she adored this show, & lived its tenets religiously. Monsters lived at the dump, and went to school there. They only came to human homes to practice their scares, and if they were still there by daylight – well – they had to be rescued – of course.

When EldestDaughter ended up with one caught under her bed… She knew.

Time to call Papa.

And of course, he came right over. Because what else do Papas do when their granddaughters call? I ask you?

So, he “rescued” the monster, stuffing it deep in his pocket (so the daylight wouldn’t hurt its eyes…duh…), and EldestDaughter then announced that she simply had to go with him to the Dump to make sure the monster was properly released.

Uh… Ok… 

Well, he took her, anyway, & they released the monster, which promptly scurried off into its proper hole to get back to “class”. 

Or so EldestDaughter informed me when she got home. I’m trusting her imagination on that one.

But the tale doesn’t end there…

Papa’s reputation as a Monster Man was solidified when EldestDaughter retold the story to one of her friends.

Cut to a couple of years later….

Papa gets a phone call from said little girl’s mother. 

(By this time all the kids in town called my dad Papa because EldestDaughter called him that. It stuck for many years until he retired from his janitorial position at the local school)

*Mother of Girl*: “Papa? I need you to come to the house”

Papa: “Oh, MoG? What’s the problem?”

*MoG: “Seems there’s a monster in the basement, and Girl says you’re the only one who can rescue it. I can’t get her to go down to the basement -at all. Please?”

Papa: (laughing) “Sure, MoG, I’ll be right over.”

When he got to the house, he had Girl stand at the top of the basement stairs with a laundry basket.

Papa: “Now, Girl, don’t you move. You stay right here at the top of the stairs. I’m going down there, and I’m gonna catch this monster…but if it gets away from me and runs up here – you be quick and catch it with this laundry basket…OK? But whatever you do…don’t come downstairs!”

Girl: “Ok, Papa. I’ll wait for you!” 

So, Dad clomped down the stairs, banged around some, hollering & clanking things together for a few minutes…putting up a fight, you know.

And when he came upstairs…lo and behold, there was a suspicious lump in his coat pocket, which he kept confined with his hand, telling it to “settle down & behave” because he was “taking it home”.

Girl was all smiles, & made sure to watch as Dad drove away in his pickup – and HE made sure to drive in the direction of the dump, and stay away from their house for a little while before returning. (They were close neighbors, had to make the timeline believable!)

Another satisfied customer of the Monster Man.

But the story still isn’t over…

The Dump closed a couple of years ago.

And Girl is now a grownup…who recently got married & lives out of state.

And my dad likes a website called ThinkGeek.

Ever hear of the Eviltron?

Well, its a tiny, magnetic speaker. That makes various, creepy noises.

Dad built a small box, & attached this doohickey to a rare-earth magnet inside the box.

And mailed it to the unsuspecting new, young bride.

After turning it on…of course.

He included a note telling her that, since the Dump had been closed, SHE WAS GOING TO HAVE TO BE ONCE AGAIN RESPONSIBLE FOR HER MONSTER – SO HE WAS MAILING IT BACK TO HER.

Is 20 years a long enough time to dedicate to a joke?

My father received a beautiful thank you note in the mail later, telling him that this was the single most memorable and original wedding present ever received.

And she would be opening it far…far…

Far…from the house.

Thank you very much.

Signed – Girl, and her Boy.

I am now in possession of the last of my Dad’s eviltrons, and having used it on all of my coworkers, successfully…

I think it’s time to return it to Dad.

Seriously – I think he needs to build one more monster box – for EldestDaughter.

The originator who gave the Monster Man his reputation to begin with.

Get her, Papa. She’ll love it.

3, 2, 1… #MeToo

I gave an interview a couple of days ago.

On camera.

Scared shitless and shaking, anxiety riding me like a cowboy strapped to an 8-second bull.

But I did it.

One of the local TV stations had posted to Facebook on Monday that they were looking for people willing to share their stories about sexual harassment and sexual assault, all in light of Alyssa Milano’s viral Twitter #metoo, where women and men could come forward about their experiences.

I messaged them about my story that night, and didn’t think much more about it.

Tuesday morning rolled around, & I received a message back, from a reporter at the studio, wanting to know if I’d be willing to talk, on camera about my experience, to possibly help others.

Before I could psyche myself out of it, I said yes.

It was awkward, and uncomfortable, being in front of the camera, and talking about it brought my anxiety back full force, & I’ve been having major issues with it ever since.

Especially since my mom caught just the tail end of the interview on the news…and texted me, wondering what it was for…

When I told her why I’d done it, all she said was “Got ya,” and immediately changed the subject.

Because to this day, we still don’t discuss it.

Another reason for my anxiety to flare.

I hate how I looked on camera, as though I was almost ready to burst into tears… I wasn’t, it was just my nerves were so taut, I was strung so tight I was surprised I didn’t make snapping noises when I walked.

But I did it.

I finally spoke publicly about my assault. 

And that counts for something.

#metoo