Monthly Archive for March, 2006Page 2 of 6

Strange Garden

Published
by
Austin
on March 25, 2006
in General Chatter
. 2 Comments

I bet gardeners are peaceful people. You ever seen a gardener turned serial killer? Nope, you don’t. You ever see a stalker turn to gardening? Nope, not unless it’s in front of the window of his peeping interest. People with dirt under their nails and in serious need of a manicure are actually people we should aspire to emulate. Then of course there’s me and my strange garden, where plants go to die. I saw some beautiful plants at Target one time but I swear I heard one of them say, “oh damn, isn’t that Austin? Act like you’re already dead!” the little bud beside him exclaimed, “I thought she was just an urban legend?” I realized that these plants were too beautiful just to take them home and kill them. The big bud god’s answered the hysteric prayers of their green subjects and I left them there. “That was close” said the little bud. A lonely tear fell down my face ‘cause I knew it was true, I almost killed yet another plant. With my head low, I shuffled along to the cooking isle where I belonged, leaving behind the lawn and garden department and my pride.

It would be a few years before I’d have my hand at planting again but I’ll never forget the fear in little buds voice as he cried out to big leaf above for protection from this green- thumber. Dare I say I have a green thumb when the green is actually gangrene? I couldn’t keep a plant alive if my life depended on it. The plants I buy die minutes after I bring them in my house. I think they sense the smell of plants that died before them … that smell of death sticking to the walls and the stench clinging to fake leaves of the artificial plants. It’s sad when you think about it really. Real gardeners, on the other hand, are some of the best people on earth. It seems they have an appreciation for the fragile and the beautiful, which usually they are one in the same. They work with the ground to make it healthy for life and that has got to feel good. I have the kiss of death on my thumb but still this new go around at strange garden has produced little sprouts of basil and lavender. Have I gotten a glimpse of what it feels like when a real gardener has successful growth? Did my smile gleam half as brightly as that of an accomplished “earth turner”? Maybe I could never touch that kind of green joy but my own was certainly a pleasure welcome. I was thrilled beyond expectation.

There is such a feeling of accomplishment even though all I did was dump a package of seeds into a bucket of dirt and an empty glass bottle. But man, I had so much riding on those half price seeds. I don’t know why it seemed so important that these things grow this time. Despite my dark past, there are signs of life in these make shift nurseries. I’m so proud of them. The roommate drove by the window the other morning and I know he thought I was out of my mind. The sun wasn’t shining but if the little buds could feed off the joy radiating as I smiled over them then they would have instantly grown 10 feet tall. My roommate must have been blinded by the big cheese smile I had on my face. He doesn’t say much about my strange behaviors. He better not if he knows what’s good for him.

I think what real gardeners do for the earth is limitless. They may have their little corners of beauty but the garden groups and clubs they belong to stretch across the earth. That means there are flowers planted in corners we never even thought of so that these corners can potentially become that perfect resting spot for a mind in need of quick retreat. Maybe one day this dark cloud will lift and I’ll plant a garden I can be proud of. I might even aspire to join a gardening club. For now I’ll sit in my strange garden on the stone walk lined with citronella candles and silk trees placed Feng Shui style, sipping half empty glasses of sun burned tea with the smell of menthol cigarettes burning beside me. Somewhere between the tea and the menthol

I’ll bend to pray the strange garden prayer.

 

O lord of plants that do not die

Savior of buds and leaves that turn their attention to your greatness

Let them live!

In your infinite power, let them live!

Joan of Arc, on the wrong side of sanity

 

Puss N Boots

Published
by
Austin
on March 24, 2006
in Pets
. 1 Comment

This girl is out of her mind. she found that her entire head will fit into an old pair of boots that Mama spiked with catnip. How terrible of me!

The doc called earlier today and told me to come back in for more tests. It’s never good when the doc calls YOU after the first set of tests and then says, hey, we need you back in here ASAP. I didnt realize that ASAP was 10 days from now but okay then. I’m supposed to go to the hospital tomorrow with UK but I doubt that she will even go. I’m not sure what’s going on with her right now. I have my suspicions but they’re just that..I have no proof so ya know, what can I say?

It’s been a decent day, I can’t complain. The roommate not only did the dishes but he also took the trash out. I was stunned and appreciative. He even brought me home a HUGE thing of peanut butter. Someone gave it to him and told him if he knew of anyone that would want it then they could have it. Yeah, I have peanut butter. This means I have to make cookies. Yeah for cookies.

I watched The Village, played with the dog, shots pics of the dog and the cat and did some laundry. nothing much else. I could use a good book. I’ve got to get out to get one. It looks like winter is going to milk it for all its worth because tomorrow is more snow. one good thing is that I got out and replaced that nasty Starbucks coffee. I have Folgers now so when that snow starts coming down again I’ll just brew and watch TV. That’s the plan.

Aussie 12

In The News

Published
by
Austin
on March 24, 2006
in General Chatter
. 0 Comments
In The News
Friday, March 24, 2006
2:44 AM

This is an upper working class neighborhood. We aren’t rich or poor, just somewhere in the middle. A few years back, just a few streets over, an officer, a family man, was killed by a gunman who opened fire on a regular everyday American street. He opened fire with an AK-47. No one really knew what to think or say except, “this type of thing doesn’t happen here.” This week in the city a man shot his wife and attempted to kill himself, he lived as did the child that watched his mother murdered. That child now joins the other 4 children in the city who in the last 2 months witnessed their parents killed while they watched.

My friend says that she doesn’t know what’s happening to the world. She says everyone has gone crazy and no one cares about anyone anymore. I just look at her and I wonder what on earth she talking about. My neighbor down the street says that the world is unjust and that there is no love anywhere. I also wonder what she is talking about. The neighbor directly next door says that the world is a dangerous place and that it is best that we know our neighbors because you never know who or what has moved next door to you. He says that is why he hounded me so much when I first moved in. He said he wanted to know me because people “just up and snatch kids anymore.” Again, I don’t understand his concern for the world and the condition it’s in.

All three of these people have one thing in common: drugs. How can anyone see anything for what it really is when they’re looking through the fog of crack cocaine or any other kind of substance that controls your every thought day in and day out? How do you actually know what is going on in the world when you only see it when you look up from a pipe?

For some reason it’s easier to point a finger at the man that killed his family than it is to realize that what you put in your system day in and day out is slowly killing your own. The man in the news put a gun to his wife and ended her life right then and there, but these 3 people put the lives of their families on the line day in and day out and do not see the correlation. The 5 newly orphaned kids will grieve their parents and will have one hell of a life to rebuild but the kids that live with active drug users have yet to be given a chance to grieve. It sickens me when I see how they live and go about as if everything is fine. They’re homes are nice, their jobs are good and they appear to fit right into the ideal American family picture. The truth is, they’re a tragedy waiting to happen. And as we know, it only takes one house to put your neighborhood on the news.

Forgiveness Again- This is over

Published
by
Austin
on March 22, 2006
in My reply
. 3 Comments


Forgiveness Again!I have to walk away from this subject, for me I have to walk away from this.

The truth is, there is still a part of me that believes the abuse was my fault and that there as something, anything I could have done to make things better. What I’m writing right now is about me okay, I’m talking about why I the very word “forgiveness” upsets me. If something really gets to me I have to ask myself why? And for me, the bottom line is, I wonder if there was something I could have done or not done to make life better for me. And maybe, just maybe I really am the horrible person that woman said I am. And maybe, just maybe if I do forgive them I’ll find out that it really was all me and had I just forgiven them years ago I could have gotten to the real root of the problem and - ME.

What happens if I wake up tomorrow and find out that I’m the problem and that I’ve put my mother through all this shit and ruined her life? What happens if I wake up and find out that I’m the one that needs forgiveness? This self doubt is nothing but haunting. So that is why I become infuriated when I hear that word forgiveness. I want to believe in my heart that the problem wasn’t me but deep down I have to wonder.

I want to yell at the top of my lungs, stop pressuring me about this situation. What do people want me to say! For the love of God what do they want me to say? My God!

I think my mind is at the point of falling apart. I feel so damn heavy right now, so damn heavy. I want this to all just go away, I really do. I want to wake up tomorrow and have everything be okay. I don’t want to keep doing this. I just don’t. And I want people to leave me the fuck alone. The 28th can’t get here fast enough. That’s when I have an appointment with the new therapist. It can’t get here fast enough, not fast enough.

I’m not talking about this anymore and damn anyone that would ever have the audacity to broach the subject again! I feel like I need to vomit.

5:44AM

I new I wasn’t doing well so I called that stupid hotline tonight. I told her that I felt pressured by a few people (none on my groups or e-friends) to forgive my mother. Don’t you know the woman at the hotline said, “well, it is important that you forgive her.” I hung up. I was furious! It was either cut, which I really wanted to do or get on the pc and go through a pack of cigs, some pepsi and a chocolate bar as i did PC art. So I came up with the sunflowers in a rainstorm. It’s now nearly 6am and I’m about to head for bed. I’m telling ya, I’m not talking about this anymore.

There is so much going through my head right now, with the break up, with Mrs.R* being sick and the things he came up with today about marrying some guy from her past that she hasn’t seen in years,…evedently he’s taking applications for wives and she’s applying. What the hell kinda crap is that. How do you just bring that up with someone…oh, by the way, i filled out an application to marry a man I use to know. His wife recently died and he is looking for another one. Like it’s some frikin job opening or something. my god! it is my hope that this is the alzheimers talking and that she really isnt going to apply to marry this man.. and my.. my roommate doesnt know how to clean shit and that is really getting to me. I dont like to be taken advantage of and that is exactly what he is doing. He knows I’ll clean so he doesnt. No one can be that damn dirty naturally. he had to go to school to learn how to live this dirty. Mic is a dick and there is nothing I want to say about that right now either. My neighbor is suicidal and I’m afraid she really is going to do it. Her kids are angry as hell, they’re about to lose their house, the utilities are turned off as of today and that is with 7 inches of fucking snow on the ground. This is too much right now, it’s just too fucking much. I gotta stop for tonight. I did eat dinner and I visited with UK a bit. I saw some of her childhood photos and man, it made me want to put a gun to my damn head. This girl had one hell of a childhood. It makes me think I went through nothing at all. Anyway, I’ve got to get calmed back down so I can get some sort of managable sleep. The coffee today was nasty as hell. It was worse than 3 day old coffee at White Castles. Lord, okay….deep breath, I’m good…what the fuck ever! Why did the coffee have to be nasty? Just tell me why of all things the only coffee I have in the whole damn house had to be that stupid ass Starbucks shit! I’ll have to sled over to V-P tomorrow for some Folgers!!! That was just the last damn straw, nasty coffee!! No matter what I put in it that shit was nasty!! Okay, I’m done!!! I’m goin’ ta bed. I have to throw my hands in the air right now! Just toss ‘em up!

 

I just have to wonder, is this shit real? The suicide hotline lady told me to forgive my mother and Mrs. R* is applying to marry some old man!! Am I going to wake up and someone goes, you had quite a long nap Aussie, are you ready for a nice lunch and some GOOD coffee? this is just wrong, it’s all so very wrong….

Joan of Arc, on the wrong side of sanity

Spring is Out of Reach

Published
by
Austin
on March 21, 2006
in General Chatter
. 1 Comment

Okay so, I looked outside yesterday morning and noticed that I actually had some fresh grass. I thought to myself, oh, it's almost here! It's so close I can smell it! So, I went about the rest of the day just jolly and what not, spring, spring..spring…

 

The evening rolled around and the temp dropped so fast. It took only hours before 7 inches of snow covered my fresh green patchy grass. I have drawn one conclusion, I'm being taunted by Spring. I'm being taunted and I think she is enjoying this mockery very much. 7 inches of snow! 1-2-3-4-5-6-7 inches!!!

 

all this cold gives me another reason to start up the fireplace, make some hot cocoa and sit on my butt for the rest of the day. so if you'll please excuse me, I've got more sitting to do.

 

 

Austin

When Friends Want to Die

Published
by
Austin
on March 20, 2006
in General Chatter and Mental Health
. 1 Comment

When Friends Want to Die
Monday, March 20, 2006
1:30:21 AMIt is such a scary thought that a friend would commit suicide. I know it’s frightening to hear when it’s said. I’d rather hear a friend tell me this than to suffer alone.

I’m afraid for my neighbor. She has no support system at all. I’m afraid for her and for her children. When I first moved in and met her I set up a personal boundary that when her husband of 17 years starts hitting her again she can not come here in the middle of the night for my help. I stand by that still. What I will do is let her call me no matter what hour it is when she’s feeling like she needs to die or hell when she feels like she needs to talk.

I know I scared the crap out of friends when I said I was suicidal. I can’t say I’m out of the woods yet but I know in my heart there is hope for me. I have 2 appointments set up to see a new psychotherapist. I see one on the 28th. He’s a PhD. Heck yes! I mailed off the papers to go to a local center for women. I really want to get in there simply because of it’s location but if this PhD ends up working out I wont be disappointed. When Monday rolls around I’ll make more calls. I figure the best days to make calls is on Monday’s and Wednesday’s. That’s what I’m sticking to. I’ve noticed that I get more call backs when I follow that routine.

I do feel alone a lot anymore. I wondered if I moved from where I was if I would begin to feel isolated again. The thing is, where I came from was sapping the life out of me. I had to move. I don’t regret it at all but I still feel alienated at times.

For awhile now I’ve been worried about my friend “SusieQ”. I’ve not heard from her in months. I’ve not heard from “Gina” either. I fear they have both given up the fight. I hope not. Although “Maggie” is most likely not dead I still think about how she is doing and where she is right now in her recovery. I talked to her on this journal a few times. I wish I knew how she was doing. But the other two, it is my worst fear that they decided to stop.

When a friend commits suicide the sting of it does fade but the grieving process is much different. Man, the anger I felt when Vm* died of natural causes was nothing compared to the anger I felt when Berlin killed herself. Strangely enough I didn’t cry about Vm*, I still haven’t really. But I balled hard and long when I found out about Berlin. Even more strange is that I never met Berlin but Vm* and I were close. I don’t know how to explain it other than to say, there always seem to be that thought “what could I have done?.” That one thought haunts you, it haunts you and makes your bones rot.

When I was with Colombo for 10 years the one thing that kept the friction was that she kept trying to kill herself with me lying in the bed next to her. I never knew if I’d wake up to a corpse. I don’t know how many nights she and I spent in the emergency room with her stomach being pumped or with her in ICU and the nurses demanding that she breathe. I understand why she wanted to die but you know what? You don’t overdose and then lay next to the person you’re supposed to live so you can die. And you don’t cut on yourself in the restroom while they watch TV in the other room thinking everything is fine. And you don’t come out all cut up and bloody with tears streaming down your face and expect your loved one to not be upset. Nobody wants to come home and wonder if their loved one is dead. Nobody should have to be subjected to that. But you know what? What she did was manipulative, and I see it differently than I see the suicidal behavior and thoughts of my other friends and other loved ones. I resent what that woman put me through. I resent the drinking, the acting out, the attempts and the way I responded to those attempts. I wanted to make it better for her. I wanted to be there for another survivor. I don’t know… heck, and I was in love with her (in a co-dependant way) more than I’ve ever been in love with anyone else. I know she’s alive right now. As a matter of fact she’s alive and married with children. Shesh! She wanted kids. I for obvious reasons couldn’t give them to her. LOL.

I worry about my friends, both the ones I see and those that live in this HP. I don’t always know what to say to them to make things better. That bothers me because man I want to make it better. Even though I sometimes struggle with other people’s stuff because my own life is too much for me, I’d rather get that phone call telling me that they need to talk. I’d rather hear their tears over the other end of the phone than to stand by their casket and grit my teeth in anger, in grief, in fear that I’ll end up dead too. I’d rather a friend call me than to suffer at home alone. Hell, I’m up anyways.

So, I’m really worried about UK right now and I’m worried about my friend Chocolate Chip over in Texas and Jersey Girl in Maryland . UK said to me today, “don’t worry, I’ll get over myself.” I thought, the hell you will. The problem is her life, it’s her husband, her lack of support, her not so distant childhood, the fact that she really is alone with no resources for help. Hell yeah I’m worried and I told her so. I told her that no one can do this life alone, nobody. I told her I’d be calling her every day to check in on her and if for some reason she doesn’t answer the phone when I call I’ll march my happy ass right to her front door. She just laughed. I said, you can laugh if you want to but you know I just live across the street. I can be here in seconds.

We’re supposed to get together tomorrow for some stretching exercises and to talk. I look forward to it. Sometimes when I offer strength when mine is low, the joy I get from helping recharges me faster than had I kept it all for myself. What I do know is when to stop offering. I’ve learned that much. If I learned anything from Colombo it’s that there are times when I have to take care of ME before I can even begin to help someone else. I know when to withhold and that is a very important skill to have.

I’ve got to see my pdoc tomorrow so I’d better head in.
Good night,
Austin’s August

late nite thoughts of the average OCD’er

Published
by
Austin
on March 19, 2006
in Mental Health
. 0 Comments

4:20 AM Sunday Morn’

i was pulling my hair back in a pony tail and looking at myself in the mirror. I thought back to Barney’s daughter and grandson visiting today. I then traveled down the road, “what if they’d asked me to let the little boy use my restroom.” Barney and I DO NOT share a restroom. Good Lord! Not gonna happen I thought. Then I thought about how pissed he would be if I didnt let his grandson use my restroom and he had to go all the way upstairs to his but he didnt make it. now he’s all wet and mad at me. Well, from there my thinking got worse. Then I was like, good God what happens if Barney’s restroom is out of order and he needs to use mine. Then I thought, good God what happens if he doesnt see the urgency of getting his fixed? So i’m just about ready to pack now. so now i can’t find the scrunchy and i’m pacing back and forth looking for it, looking at my perfectly clean sink and thinking of how it would look if Barney got ahold of it. Then of course I kept traveling down that road. I thought, hell, if he treats his toilet anything like he does the garbage disposal then this whole scinario could play out. Okay so then I was like, I know Barney is a half-asser so I would need to come up with some plan to get him moving on getting both restrooms up and running.here’s the plan,

no matter who’s restroom goes down first I will hang up MEN’S underware, huge ones, in the shower! I am conveniently unavailable to move them so he can bathe. He’ll have to do it himself. I can probebly get them at the dollar store dirt cheap. It’ll be well worth the cost. Okay then i need to openly display all femanine hygiene items so that every single solitary time he walks in the restroom he has to see Always and Summers Eve! I might go as far as to buy some KY just to drive home the point that sharing a restroom with me isn’t going to work. And every time I use the restroom I have to bring my own tissue and take the tissue out with me. He’ll get caught in there at least once with no paper. He’ll yell out to me but with my hearing problem his calls will go unanswered. Cap will go to him to see what the problem is but I’ll tell Cap, get away from the door the man is trying to use the restroom. If all else fails I’ll have to break out the big guns and refuse to flush the toilet until he gets both restrooms up and running.

this plan is proof that i should have been in bed hours ago.

when I was moving here one of the movers had to use the restroom. He knows I have OCD and that my restroom is off limits. Well, I handed the man a Big Gulp cup and let him take it into the other room to use it. Thank goodness it was a Big Gulp cup because this man was 6 foot 5 and had it been a dinky little cup I would have had some serious issues. I’d have been downing valum trying to handle that this stuff was on my dang floor. … the floor I was leaving and would never see again… He didnt flinch but I know he told everybody and his brother that I did that to him. But you know what? As long as I lived there everyone knew that no one uses Aussie’s restroom. I can’t afford to replace the toilet seat every damn time some inconsiderate person wants to use my restroom. people only care about themselves anymore. it’s frustrating. LOL. So, after the first time I had to replace the seat cause my girlfriend of 5 years used it I just figured that I couldnt afford to be hospitable.

 

Joan of Arc, all over the map

I have an umbrella for the rain

Published
by
Austin
on March 19, 2006
in Dissociative Identity Disorder and Mental Health
. 0 Comments

 

 

Applause to me for seeking support.

I was sitting here crying over my keyboard on the verge of electrocuting myself because water and keyboards don’t mix. I decided to get up and go over to my neighbor UK’s house. Come to find out she is having some not so good thoughts of her own. I just kinda showed up. I didn’t call or anything, I just showed up. I thought, hell, I need some support. I’m not waiting for it to come to me I need to go after it.

I went over and hung out. We talked a bit and then watched a bit of a movie, I watched her cook, we exchanged recipes. I hugged her 5 cats, talked to her kids, chatted with her husband, stole a cook book and a loaf of bread then came home. It was nice. (her husband is a baker. he brought home a huge amount of bread for his family and friends. I was quite grateful.) She said she really needed someone to talk to that night so I’m really happy I got off my tearful bum and went over there. I didn’t even call first. I just walked my little self right on over there and rang the doorbell. She said she didn’t recognize me. I didn’t respond to that. She said even when she looked me dead in the face she didn’t realize it was me until I started talking. Shesh ! I knew I was all tore-up but goodness. I think my eyes were a bit swollen too because of the said thwarted keyboard mishap.

 

Even though it’s cold as all get out that woman will grill out. She and I stood there all wrapped up and protected from the weather as she poked at steaks on the grill. The guy across the street was peeping at us through his garage window. He’s an odd ball, very odd.

 

I came back home and went through my daily goals, all of which I completed except for eating dinner. I had a slice of cinnamon raison bread. It was nasty. I should have baked it myself instead of letting the bread maker take a shot at it. “He” (the bread maker) wonders why I love his brother Kitchen Aid mixer more.

 

I kept my date with Antonio Benderas and now I’m off to bed.

 

Austin

 

with tears

Published
by
Austin
on March 18, 2006
in Soapbox
. 1 Comment

my goodness, there has been so much talking in my head lately. it's non-stop. It's always about the roommate or the now ex-boyfriend. mostly its ranting and raving. there aren't any threats of any kind it's just ranting and raving. then there's the part I hear many multiples do. it's like I'm having a whole dang conversation with them and they're not even here. like i'm practicing what i want to say to them the next time i see them. today i was sitting in the Jacuzzi (I am sooo blessed to have one) and the water was rumbling around me. i dunked my head so that the water was covering my ears and i realized i couldn't hear anything but the rumbling water. it was nice. very nice.right now i feel like i'm slipping into a depression and i want out of it. the boyfriend and I just broke up. I figured that it was time he stopped stringing me along so i told him that. he cried. i was silent. he talked some more and then i hung up. i talked to him like 3 times on the phone this month and i've not seen him in a little over a month. when i told him it was over like i said, he cried. then he said, "i'm sorry i couldn't make you happy." wtf movie is that from? so, today he's called twice! this is the man that i talked to 3 times this month and that is it. but i say it's over and he decides to call. lord! he doesn't seem to understand when I say it's over it's over, there is nothing he can say that would make me go back out with him.

the suicidal feelings dont have to do with the break up itself, it has to do with the way i feel so stupid for being played like that. it triggers mother issues ya know? I wanted to believe that things would be different.. ie like that woman said..but they weren't. now i feel stupid. i dont know if this is making any since at all. the feeling of wanting to end it all doesn't have to do with the breakup it has to do with me feeling humiliated and stupid.

we dont have a therapist right now to go and talk to. it's just us right now. all my friends are e-friends and ya know what? sometimes i just need someone in the same room with me to say, Austin, you're gonna get through this.

i know this is going to pass, it always does. i just fear my ability to simply give in and go. But I promise you this, I'll go IP before it gets close to me really considering this. Right now it's a feeling. If it becomes more than that I'll call someone and I'll go IP. Hell, my dog won't even eat if I'm not in the room so you know he wont eat if I'm dead. He gets to go to the hospital with me when I go so that's good.

Austin with tears

Today's Goals:

Completed

Bath, litter box is clean, furr baby's have eaten

 

Next to be completed:

Clean the office

play ball with Captain

dinner and re-visit Antonio Banderas via the Zorro DVD

 

Today's affermation:

I've progressed in therapy. There was a time when I would not have let myself feel this pain. I would have been too blocked to feel both joy and pain. I've moved forward in therapy and have grown. I'm on my way to healing.

Sleepy Vows - Superwoman’s Baggage Burdens

Published
by
Austin
on March 17, 2006
in Soapbox
. 0 Comments

Friday, March 17, 2006
9:44 PMSleepy Vows
I have vowed to be in bed by midnight. Lord knows I don’t want to but in order to get better I have to. It seems that sleep is an important factor to keep living. Although it was touch and go today things seem to have settled down for me. I took some meds for the headache, had meatballs and spaghetti then watched The Legend of Zorro. It was better than the first one! I love these two movies. And who doesn’t love some Antonio Benderas? She’s that man is fine, fine, fine! I probably missed half of what was said because the closed captions weren’t working right. That means I have to watch it again. Woe is me; I have to watch Antonio yet again. What is a girl to do?

Baggage Burdens: The break up and its triggers

http://www.letssingit.com/
I'm not your superwoman…I'm not the kind of girl (daughter or girlfriend) that you can let down,and think that everything is okay…Boy (Mama) I am only human…This girl (woman) needs more than occasional hugs as a token of love from you to me… I've got my pride (Morton’s Pride), I will not cry,….I’m not your superwoman.

Earlier was very touch and go. I had a fleeting thought; I might need to go in patient. It’ll be 3 years July 7th since I’ve gone IP.What’s been on my mind lately is that Mic is an asshole. I'd never kill myself over a man. That wasn’t the problem. It was the feeling of humiliation, the fact that I knew I'd been strung along and made a fool of. That pisses me off. This is the thing though, I know that this same feeling will pop up again in life. Its how it goes and I can’t stop living because of it ya know? Again, it wasn’t because of the break up but because of how stupid I felt. One of the biggest problems with getting over the mother’s abuse is that deep feeling of self resentment, for not being stronger, for not sticking up for myself more. When I dream about her hurting me I see myself as an adult, not as a child. It is humiliating to see myself being beaten that way or sexually abused that way. The truth is, I was 20 years old before the physical abuse stopped. The day I walked out is the day it stopped. In my dreams I see me as 5 foot 5 and being hurt by her. That feeling of humiliating is gripping and that’s when I want to pick up a knife and start slashing the fuck out of my arm…just to feel something other than humiliated. One part of my head says, hell Austin, you were first 3 when she started doing this to you. You have always known her as all powerful, able to hurt you mentally, physically, sexually. I’ve only known her as 5 foot 11. even though my body changed and got taller I still saw her as some huge force. Hell, she even told me to lie down and take it or fight like a woman and die. I know I was conditioned to fear her. The other part of me say, fuck it! Damn! You stupid fuck, why didn’t you just fucking fight her ass one damn time? This is what gets Morton. He doesn’t feel he did enough to keep us safe. When Morton feels humiliated someone gets hurt. Its just that we don’t ever want to feel that dominated and that powerless again. We don’t have to, I know. Mic being a jackass isn’t the same as our mother hurting us but anything close to the lowest level of humiliation triggers us. That one damn phrase she use to use, “don’t make a fool of yourself.” What the fuck ever! She always said we were a fool. When we felt anything we were called a fool. When we reacted to anything we were a fool. That frikin word, fool, that’s what I feel like thinking about Mic and his stupid ass. So, now I take a deep breath and think to myself, this is his loss.

When I was younger the family said that I have no heart. When my great-grandmother was dying none of the grandkids were allowed to go in and see her because they feared we would be too upset. One aunt said, “Let Duckie go in, she won’t be bothered by it.” My grandfather spoke up, “Don’t be fooled by her demeanor. She has more heart than you think.” I have heart. I always have. I’ve just kept it protected because there would be real fools that would come along and not see its worth.

Somehow I learned how to love. Even though that family, I learned how to love. When that knowledge was deepened it was taught to me by my dog Bull Dozer. It’s a shame that an animal had to teach me to love as a human but you know what? That lesson might not have been learned if a human were the teacher. I can’t say that I trust mankind now, but I trust enough to know that not everyone is a jackass. And when they are, I have to know that sometimes it’s not personal, it’s their flaw that gets in the way of true happiness. I can be settled at heart with that.

The ex-therapist asked what would break me and Mic up. I told her that it would be baggage. (http://sundripjournals.blogspot.com/2005/12/self-fulfilling-prophecy.html) At the time I wasn’t sure if it would be his or mine. One thing is for sure, how I decide to handle it and what I learn from it is up to me. I can be settled at heart with that too.

Austin's August