I’ve been super busy with the end of telework and my in-laws are visiting.Â
Return to work is kicking my ass hard. Also, my soul. It’s just so sad. And it feels so infinite. Like welp, this is life now. Cause it is.Â
So with in-laws visiting, I don’t get to stare at the wall. We went the Botanical Gardens today and they had this book.Â
Oh my fucking god, bees!
I don’t know if yall noticed, but this has been a really rough first month of the presidency for a lot of us. Like REAL rough. It’s been hard. Real hard. One very high high and a fuck ton of really low lows. Mr C and I have the privilege of both being in the middle of this hot mess. I don’t have the ability to look away.
BUT. I cleaned my garage yesterday. Fuck yeah I did. I was gonna clean the back yard. But then we finally bagged up the upstairs Christmas Tree so I needed to put things away in the garage and then it just started. Shit started moving and it was on.
I’m not completely done. I ordered a big pressure washer that will need a home. So I’m going to take my bike which currently hangs horizontally and put it on a vertical hanging rack (ordered from vine). That will give me some space. I’m also gonna use that pressure washer to clean out the moldy broken freezer and move it to the not-accessable-without-a-ladder shelf. I’m also going to decide to either put the ladders where that new space is, or over by husbands car. Then I’m gonna put a tool holder where those are (for the composting tools and the brooms — organizer also from vine).
Why am I keeping an old moldy broken freezer? Because one day, I’m going to make it into a free tiny library on the corner of the property by the city greenway. It’s already water tight! I’m gonna build a box around it to make it cute (it might well be a small TARDIS complete with solar light top). Then I’m going to put a basket on the bottom for sticks and dog toys — a free dog stick library! It’s gonna be adorable. Give me some years to get around to that. It’s a plan.
Like two weeks ago, I hung out with K and K2 and did a vine craft. I ordered Easter Eggs filled with generic lego flowers (click here for that link). Each egg had a flower.
I got the dozen, so four for each of us. I did not think this would be a long activity or a hard one. It was just to get together and chat. Lord we had way too much fun though. First, why were these so much harder than we expected? It was pretty hilarious. The best part was the total silence in concentration that would be broken by little tinkering of small pieces falling to the table and muttering.
I started out on a low point. My first flower was terribly ugly. In fact, it was the ugliest flower by unanimous vote. It looked like someone tried to disguise a anti-aircraft gun. K had just put together what was my choice for the prettiest one. But we had more picks, right?
Well somehow my next two picks were also purple flowers. Ugly ones, I might add. So I was getting frustrated because I kept pulling shitty flowers. So on the last turn, I told them to pick their eggs first and I’d take the last one. Nope, K2 had to see if the trend would keep going. FUCKING PURPLE FLOWER. So, as this is a childs activity and I was frustrated, K stepped up and traded her red flower for my purple. And I got to make a red rose bud that K2 says is a tomato BUT IT’S NOT. And then K put together the second prettiest flower of all, in my opinion, with the set I just traded. Fuck.
So that last photo is all the flowers arranged from my picks for best to worst starting in the bottom left and ending in the top right (so closest (bottom row) to furthest and left to right). I put together flowers ranking #5 (the tomato I traded rank #2 for), #8 (the weird geometric thing), and then ranks #11 and #12. So not my best picking.
Ten out of ten, five star activity though! I do not think a child could put these together but we had great fun. It would be fun as an activity like we did to sit around and joke and put them together. Or like an Easter Advent type thing for a teenager+. They came out to about $1.50 per egg. We all agreed that we would rather find this in an Easter Egg hunt than $1.50. But not as much as we’d want the golden egg which is always at least $5 and maybe $20 if you’re at some rich people egg hunt.
And I don’t know about the others, but I’m from Alabama, I know my egg hunts. Easter was always a grand occasion. You got to get a shiny new Easter dress for church — with a HAT. The only time you can wear a fancy hat to church! Gotta look good for Jesus. Eggs were dyed for the Easter Bunny to hide. And all the egg hunts! I was in egg hunts from as young as I remember. So from the three-and-under class where they just throw some eggs on flat grass and the parents try to convince the stumbling children to put it in their basket — all the way up to the teenagers looking in dead tree trunks for that golden egg.
I found the golden egg once. But I’m pretty sure it was just because my moms friend called me over to the bench where she was sitting with my momma and heavily hinted that I should look *cough cough* behind it. You were a real one, Ms Jackie!
Also, to end on a tragic note — Easter was when I found out that I was too old to believe in the Easter Bunny and Santa. We had gone to Fashion Bug (a plus sized clothing store) to pick out my Easter dress. And they had the SOFTEST stuffed bunny. I begged for it. BEGGED. When we got back to the car I asked mom is maybe the Easter Bunny could bring it to me? And she told me I was too old to believe in that stuff. So I got the bunny on Easter but I never liked it because it was depressing and sad and we didn’t have the money for it.
Do you just want a recipe? I mean this isn’t a recipe POST, but fuck it, click here to skip it all.
Last year, K2 and I did more elaborate gingerbread houses than usual. We stepped up our game. We still did kits, but we were more elaborate with decorations. Then, for Halloween, K2, K, and I went all in on Halloween houses. We made them FROM SCRATCH. I just went to grab you a link and I did not post it. I suck. Probably because deciding which pictures to use (meaning: not posting all 30 angles and combining some in photoshop) and writing it up takes a while. I’ve been working on this post for 3 days. But DAMN. That one was epic so it’s coming. I’ve looked at my media files three times to make sure but — nope, there’s no photos of that uploaded. WTF?
Anyway, so for Christmas, we REALLY wanted to step it up. I went all out on Halloween because that is my favorite. K and K2 just did regular house shapes. But I went ALL IN. We did it all from scratch and they were great. So we decided to do it again for Christmas, obviously. This time K and K2 upped their game and I’m reeling mine in a bit. I decided to simplify from the Halloween elaboration. I wanted to do a church with a steeple. Nice, but not the complexity of the Adams Family House. Plus I’ve done this before. Big house shape plus tiny house shape for steeple. Bam.
So here we go:
Since these are from scratch, we had one day scheduled just to get them baked. For the Halloween houses, we made three batches of dough but didn’t use it all up by far. So this time we started with three batches. I also died it brown to get some color. I had far fewer (so so so fewer) pieces to make on mine, but K and K2 scaled up a lot, so that wasn’t enough. So we made another two batches (we might have made a third too). Pretty sure K2 had to go to the store for more eggs, but we had no choice — no way were we gonna get close. We didn’t have brown dye left, so from there, the gingerbread pieces all had a very cool swirl effect as we combined batches. I liked it.
I think K2 came over at 4pm and I was done at 2am. Yeah. Lot of baking. I mean it took us a damn long time to get it all rolled and cut and spread all over my kitchen — but you can only fit so much on one cookie sheet and there’s only three racks in the oven. So yeah, my oven was going all night with me rotating stuff in and out. The key is a fuck ton of parchment paper and counter space.
We do paper templates and follow that for the pieces (I also keep the labeled templates to match up the pieces later when assembling). This “gingerbread” recipe has no fat in it so it doesn’t spread at all which is nice. It’s also basically concrete. It’s a pain to baby sit because it wants to curl as it cooks and dries, but it is solid as fuck. If you need to cut apart your pieces (if you have two pieces adjoining on the sheet), recut it halfway through baking because this is solid.
We learned some things from the Halloween Houses:
So here is 2am that night before I finally went to bed! My church is the greyish one on the island (I didn’t paint the roof pieces) and K and K2s are on the counter. I also meant to have a window on the front but there was a lot of cutting happening and it just got missed. Do you see all the pieces we made?
I “painted” the Halloween House purple and loved the results so much that I had to do this one as well. I always do an over-the-top red and green candy house for Christmas houses. So I wanted to go a bit more elegant this year. I wanted an icy blue-grey for the church. I nailed it, but when I was painting it, it felt like a huge fail. It was much darker than I wanted. This dough soaks up liquid like a desert so keep that in mind. And when it dried and the white sugar came through it was perfect.
This is basically just an extremely watered down royal icing that I paint on with a brush. The Halloween House had one or two layers and this has 3 or 4. What I adore about this finish is that it takes the ugly parts and makes them shine. The marbled lighter bits are the grooves and dents and cracks and imperfections. Since more icing settles in those places, it looks lighter/closer to the icing color when it dries. So it is a gorgeous way to keep the character of real baked pieces. The key is that it is a wash, not actual icing. You aren’t icing over the pieces, just washing them with a little bit of sugar (well, royal icing with a ton of water). It should be very drippy and painted on with a paint brush. You’re basting the gingerbread. It should soak into the gingerbread. I also loves that when it dries, there is a very subtle sparkle from the sugar crystals. I just adore this method.
If you’ve never done windows on gingerbread houses — you are missing out! They’re so easy! Throw in some battery powered LED lights while assembling and it’s fucking magic! You just cut them out when baking. They’re filled with melted hard candy. We used jolly ranchers. Separate by colors and bang them up a bit. They don’t have to be pulverized, but break them up a bit. Pretty sure any hard candy can work. butterscotches can do a nice cabin glow.
This is a minimum two day process since you have to bake everything. Day two is assembly and decorating. It’s easiest to decorate the sides before assembling. You have a nice flat surface to work on and stick stuff to.
I used black icing to outline my windows and do the stained glass lines. I used a darker grey/blue for decorating. I did a foundation of edible ball bearings (cake pearls?). I also did some swirls to add detail. Then, I assembled with hot glue and covered all my edges, joins, and caramel walls/stairs with the grey/blue icing. By this time, K2 was done with hers, so we have a photo of Louie watching me ice a roof edge.
After she left, I worked many more hours. Silver pearl things got added around some windows to brighten up the black and in a few details to sparkle. It was also looking a bit too generic and non-Christmas. So I made a wreath to glue on later and some garland on the windows. The green bits are sour gummies cut into pieces. The red bits are from a Christmas sprinkles pack we bought last year (save your candy from year to year — no one is eating this shit).
I needed another day to work on mine. I had assembled the church. It was iced. So Day Three, I started with trees. They are ice cream cones wrapped with sour gummy strips. Then I decided to tackle the roof. It is cinnamon toast crunch. It took 3+ hours. Louie watched TV with me though.
I decided that was a LOT of cereal roof visually, so I added some snow drifts of shredded coconut. I love them! Were they perfect? Hell no. But you know what? You can just pull off whole sections of cereal you fucked up with too many snow drifts and redo it and no one will ever know. You got a whole box of cereal.
To finish off Day Three, I used the rest of the white icing and covered a big area on my base and sprinkled it with the shredded coconut for snow.
BTW, our bases are cardboard wrapped in craft paper. We used doubled up boxes (so 4 layers of cardboard total). Put the boxes in different directions to each other so the creases for the flaps don’t’ line up. I wanted to use solid green wrapping paper but I couldn’t find any. Last Christmas, I used a green gift bag that had a glitter border and it was pretty awesome. I bet scrap fabric would work. Anything you have around to cover the cardboard.
Yeah, I needed another day to work on it. Day three was a work night so I couldn’t stay up late. Day four was mostly finishing touches. I glued the wreath on the front of the church with hot glue. I decided the back needed a wreath but I didn’t have any more circle shapes, so I glued a bunch of K2s parallelograms together and glued them to the house. It was fat and I glued it on before decorating so I thought it would be a disaster but I kinda love how huge it is. It took a ton of chopped up gummies to cover.
I topped all of the trees with extra sour gummie cuts to cover the ice cream cone tops. I made little gum drop tiny trees by the church doors topped with some of our star cutouts. I added “bushes” of gum drops. I really committed to that.
I used more of the red sprinkles to decorate the tree in front of the church. And two more star cookies of different sizes for the tree topper. That’s their grand Christmas tree. I couldn’t use the red icing because it just wasn’t red enough even though we used the entire jar of red color. There are some red M&Ms on the tree and wreaths too.
Then, as my final touch… I added a little gingerbread man sprinkle by one of the door trees. I like to think a little girl left her teddy bear there by the tree.
SHE’S DONE! Light her up!
Detail shots:
Front and back:
Side A and Side B:
Holy fuck, I am so damn proud of this one! EVERYONE LOOK AT MY CHURCH! The little star Christmas tree toppers! The trees! THE WINDOWS! Look at my snow drifts!
I like to really throw my all into some projects just so I can be proud of myself and show them off. Remind myself I still “got it.”
You know whats so weird? This “elegant” gingerbread house was far cheaper than a traditional one with all the candy. Sure, it takes longer because the details are all icing. But it required hardly any actual candy. Green gummies, green gummy strips, sprinkles and jolly ranchers (plus the cereal and coconut). Usually you have to have a huge host of different candies for variety. That means it’s actually a lot cheaper to make this fancy style.
This house is a bit of a throw back to the second real gingerbread house I made with my mom back when I live in a shitty apartment in college. We did a church with steeple then too. It also had the cinnamon toast crunch roof. It even had a hershys chocolate door too! So this pleases me greatly. Momma would love it and want to keep it forever.
Another throw back — the cat destruction. It was a well known “secret” that Jack would sneak onto the counter every night and lick the icing off the gingerbread house. It was hilarious seeing bald spots appear. He never did it in front of us. But every morning there would be missing icing spots or M&Ms with the colorful shell licked off. It was part of the tradition for me.
Well, I noticed the coconut around the Halloween house was disturbed a lot and I just prayed to GOD it wasn’t a mouse. I never saw Louie do it, but I did suspect he might be the culprit. Lo and behold it is him. Louie don’t give a fuck so he got right up on the counter and started eating it right in front of me. Little fucker! And I will 100% allow it because it’s tradition.
Modified with original credit to: The Craft Crib
Ingredients
Instructions
Modified with original credit to: Hanielas
OK. I got issues. I keep having family nightmares — or I don’t know — bad dreams. Every night lately and yesterday even in my damn afternoon nap. I’d say Gods telling me to contact my family, but I feel like if that were the case, he’d send me a happy memory and not just a lot of fucking trash. Also, they all got my number and they all have my address. I did try to reach out about doing lunch on moms birthday, but my bro said he’d check their schedules and never got back to me. But they had a dinner with my sisters in moms memory. Which I get it, my sisters are right there and I’m 90 miles away but COME ON.
I could probably work this out with a therapist, but I don’t have a therapist. I do have a psychiatrist and it’s $130 to see him. Why? Because we have a lack of every type of medical professional here, including mental health and none of them accept insurance because they don’t have to — they’re overloaded with patients as is. And he only does like 10 minutes to talk about meds — not problems. Psychologists are for THAT. So do I want to pay a hundred-plus dollars to talk to someone? Not really. I want to work on my tattoo.
But I can’t work on my tattoo until I pay back my savings I took out to build the deck (which I have HEAVILY enjoyed for two summers now, BTW — totally worth the cost). That was the deal. I’ll stop throwing boat loads of money at my tattoo until I payback my savings I took out for the deck. And I have paid back the deck — but then I also ended up need to replumb some pool pipes. And then get a whole ass new pool pump last year. And then a new salt cell this year. And next summer I’m gonna need a pool robot. And do I want to replace the pool lights? They haven’t worked for like 3 summers — which I’m told they don’t last very long (they’re actually small LED lights, not the big old pool lights that I used to fear were secretly doors that they could open for the sharks to come out and swim at night). Supposedly a super easy replacement that doesn’t require draining any water — so I might depending on the cost. BUT COST. Yeah I paid back the deck, but thousands went into the other shit. I could have finished the whole damn sleeve by now!
I mean to be fair, the pool is nine summers old. So it’s not that the pool is a clusterfuck, it’s just the age that these things fail. The pipes were in full blast sun and the PVC broke down enough to burst. Repiped — but when they burst, the pool got low enough to run dry and burn out the pump. Of course they don’t make my pump anymore so I couldn’t replace just the electronics, I had to replace the whole damn thing. And salt cells usually only last 5 years, I’m told so ours held in pretty long. So has Clarence the pool robot. He’s about 3 years past usual life expectancy but I did have his under carriage replaced a few years back so that might be why he made it so long.
Also, it would take like 5 sessions to catch a therapist up on my problems before we could get anywhere. And of course a TON of time is going to be wasted focusing on me being fat being all of my problems. BECAUSE THAT’S ALWAYS THE CASE. I tried therapy back in like 2000 cause I was suicidal and self harming and the motherfucker thought it was all about me being fat and “socially unacceptable” and that was his plan to go forward. Not to fix generational trauma and abuse — I’m just fat.
By the way, the only time i ever lose weight or maintain weight is when I’m happy. Weight is a symptom not the problem at all. Even when I got skinny after Gastric Bypass I was still miserable. And of course that was just an embarrassing failure. And now I’ve gained 7 pounds because perimenopause is kicking my ass so fucking hard and I’m anxious and I’m depressed and I’m being fucking haunted.
That’s right, I said haunted. Yesterday I had to get out of bed at 6 fucking AM with a panic attack. And it’s just all nightmares. I tried to take an afternoon nap to be happy on my long weekend and catch up on sleep and I woke up in another sweaty nightmare.
Like I have an anxiety disorder. “General Anxiety” I think is the technical term? But I don’t think they mean like “oh she’s generally anxious.” I think they mean we can’t put this in a category of “social anxiety” or anything specific — shes just got a lot of anxiety about fucking everything. And now my GYN is like yeah you have menopausal anxiety. THANKS, LIFE.
So my nightmares have generally been family mess. It’s always family fights. Surprisingly usually set in Florida. So Florida was always our summer vacation. Timeshare. It was moms favorite place and I loved the beach too — but like with my family there’s always gonna be some drama so it’s not like that didn’t just take place in new locations. So yeah, when I was very young and stupid, I looked forward to Florida like crazy. But then it stated just becoming a clusterfuck. And I don’t get why mom loved it so much. I mean maybe she was like yall are a hot mess anyway so we might as well be a hot mess at the beach. But I actually felt horrible the last few years of her life because I felt like I was contributing to the drama. By refusing to just not rock the boat and not let shit go, I’m the bitch. I was the bitch complaing about my sisters so just as bad as them on everyone mental health.
My brother always called me and my sisters “the Golden Girls” — he knew it got under my skin at least like no other. Any fight and “oh they’re the golden girls.” Mother fucker, I’m not the crazy ass one here! I’m just trying to have actual healthy boundaries and not let them get away with their shit! Which let’s start there. I adore my brother. But he’s not blameless. He always lumped me in with my sisters which UGH. And my length of college was a huge running joke in my family — mainly instigated by him. He’d always ask when I was going to finally graduate. There’s a Christmas ornament of a graduate on my dads Christmas tree dated 2009. Did I graduate in 2009? No. They just didn’t have any other personality trait to choose for my ornament. Bro was a nurse, Sister1 was a nurse, Sister2 had a paint set, and I had a graduation outfit. Cause I was in college for 10 years. Not because I’m stupid but because I was trying to get through a lot of shit, okay? Did anyone wanna ask about that? No. It’s funnier not to.
That was part of one of the dreams last night. Like I was getting ready for a party — like a nice dress up party like homecoming or something. But we were in Florida so I only had a few things to choose from and I had gained weight so my best options were too tight. And Sister2 for some reason was supposed to take me or go with me or something (a reoccurring of her always stealing the spotlight in my dreams). I think brother was going to take us because he was mad that we weren’t ready. But I was ready! Sister2 was in the bathtub crying for hours and yelled at me when I went in to get my toothbrush. And in her/moms room there were pills everywhere. Like piles of pills laid out — prescription drug-problem shit. So I show brother and he just gets mad. And why do I want to go to this dance anyway? Because it’s my last year of highschool so I want to go to at least one. But wait, I’m 27 (in the dream) and don’t most people graduate high school at 18? Why am I so late? Did mom hold me back some grades and not tell me? What happened?
Yesterday I was napping and we were in Florida and I had a nice room and Sister2 demanded it and I was super sad because it had windows and views and mine now didn’t. And the windows were open with tons of fresh air and beautiful flowers and scents drifting in… And I go shit all.
And the night before last, we were preparing a party for my nephew. They were making cookies for the party and I really wanted to make some too. But I had to clean so I was vacuuming. And Sister1 was acting like I just didn’t want to make cookies and it was my fault I didn’t get to participate. And then brother was yelling about how dirty everything was. And then I finally went to make a cookie but all the sprinkles were gone — but I was like whatever, I’ll use this icing and then bro got mad and started jerking around the vacuum cleaner cause everythings so filthy and none of us will ever clean anything and he gets the cords all in the icing and it ends up all over the carpet and now we can’t have the party cause I ruined it. And now everyone’s mad at me. Also, I thought Sister1 was teaching nephew how to cook burgers in the kitchen but it was my dad. Which might be my subconscious acknowledging that he’s pretty much a feeble old man now.
Most of the time Florida is over and we have to pack up the cars but Sister2 brought like 3 fucking suitcases and hasn’t packed anything so I gotta do it and clean everything up.
So yeah, are these spooky monster dreams? No. I’m not saying they are. But they are clearly my brain ruminating on something it wants out.
Sister2 was always a problem in Florida. She would always bring way too much clothes that brother and sister1 always bitched about because they took up too much space in the car and on the dolly up to the room and in the room. and Sister2 never went to the beach or wanted to do anything. So they were always mad about that. And as we got older, the problems were worse. She was always a binge eater, so she’d eat all the groceries and everyone would be mad because now there’s no food when we had bought food for the week.
She’s been an alcoholic since I can remember. But can my family just maybe NOT have alcohol? Of course not. So she’d just drink it all and get sloppy drunk and piss herself. She always drunk to get black out drunk. Like that was the goal. And we’d all go down to the beach to enjoy the day and she’d steal money from someone and go across the street to get alcohol to do it again. Once she locked herself in a closet with a 24 pack of beer and there was much screaming and ranting and brother threatening to break down the door. Once she got drunk and left to “go kill herself” — so of course mom was freaking out and we had to go find her. There were quite a few times we had to go find her while she was drunk out of her mind. This was before cellphones. I’m old.
She’s always smoked too. And everyone ALWAYS bitches about it. But it was particularly annoying because she had to inconvenience mom the most. Like in Florida, she wouldn’t go through the living room to get to the balcony to smoke — she had to go into moms room and use that balcony door. And in the house we lost to the second bankruptcy, she couldn’t go through the garage to go outside to smoke, she had to go through moms tiny room which had a sliding door to get out. And even as adults, people bitch about “she’s over there in the corner smoking” or something. When we lived in the apartments, shed toss her cigarettes out the window and the maintenance people got mad and gathered them all up and piled them outside our door in moms flowers. Pretty sure I had to clean that up.
And my brother and sister1 always hated her. So I always had to deal with it. She pissed herself and passed out in the living room? Mom wants me to get her to her room. Then I gotta clean the damn area rug and I’m covered in piss. Once she passed out on the lawn and I had to go get her immediately before the neighbors saw. Why am I always the one taking care of this shit? Cause brother and sister moved out and I’m the youngest. But even in our first house we lost to bankruptcy, I was cleaning her messes. Like she was bulimic. But for some reason she threw up in a 5 gallon bucket in her closet instead of the bathroom. Who the fuck knows why. So do you know how bad a 5 gallon bucket of vomit smells? Real bad. And do you know it’s too heavy for mom to get? Yeah, so I gotta do it. Get it downstairs and across the yard to dump it. Like am I the vomit bucket fairy? It’s like people think trash and recycling just disappears if you leave it long enough. THAT’S BECAUSE I’M THE VOMIT AND PISS FAIRY.
This might be why I’m so anal about my house not smelling bad, BTW.
And brother was always just angry and disgusted with us. We had far too many pets because dad dumped his dogs at our place. So we had like 10 Beagles to breed and train. Oh and who had to go hose the dog shit out of the kennels? Yeah, ME. So much dog shit. Wet stinky dog shit being hosed off concrete. By me. And I never did it enough so I felt bad for the dogs. I was the only one who cared to go pet them.
And the cats just used the dining room as a litter box. Just shit everywhere. And mom worked 4 jobs so the only one ever cleaning anything up was me and I wasn’t good at it or did it enough so of course the house is always filthy and it’s always me getting yelled at for it (not by mom — she was just broken and trying to survive). Cause I’m one of the disgusting worthless golden girls.
You know, I cleaned up a lot of shit and vomit and piss was growing up, now that I think of it.
Anyway, Sister2 was also insane and abusive. I couldn’t sleep cause she’d wake me up by hitting me and yelling and shit. Usually because my TV was on. I liked to fall asleep to QVC and I was allowed to. But no matter how low the volume was, it was too loud for her. And after school she’d be mean and yell and throw shit at me. Like hard core throwing shit at my head. Once I flipped the recliner ducking something. She was like a harpy.
That’s why my dog hated her. He wasn’t a bad dog, he was defensive of me. The only being to ever give a shit about my child self. I slept in moms bed a lot cause I had this intense fear mom would die. And she had a california king bed and I was scared of the dark… and sister2. So the dog would sleep at the end of the bed. And sister2 would walk all the damn way across the house past their bathroom to use moms bathroom in the middle of the night (seriously, WHY WAS SHE ALWAYS HARASSING MOM) — but if me and dog were in there he’d just growl and not let her in the room. He was just protecting me. But she couldn’t do anything when mom was home. But after school she could trick the dog by baiting him and wrapping him in blankets to throw in the closet — only to let him out right before mom got off work so she wouldn’t know.
Bitch be crazy. So dog hated her and attacked her. So dog had to go. Mom says she gave dog away but dad said he tied dog up and drug him out in the woods to shoot him. He told me that after school when I got home and dog wasn’t there. Why are these people so fucking insane?
I mean, I know the answer. Sister2 has been diagnosed with antisocial personality behavioral disorder. I’m sure that’s dads problem too. And dad is for sure a narcissist to rule them all. I didn’t know that when I was little so I idealized him. Everyone else hated dad, but I loved him. When I visited his apartment, he’d buy men CANNED COKE. We were too poor to have that shit — so like awesome. He’d only come over to the house to work in the garage on wood projects — but I’d go down there and watch. His friend would sometimes give me scrap blocks to play with and help me put together little creations I made with the scraps. The friend, not dad.
Those weren’t the only dog problems. We had a newfoundland in fucking Alabama that we just tied up in the backyard when I was really little. She was pretty neglected. I did take care of her food and water, but she was so big and drooly and matted and smelly that I didn’t really like doing it. Not that I was ever mean to the dog — no I petted her, and we played in the backyard together. But I was the only one to take care of her and when she died dad went on a rant about how I was the only one to give a shit about that dog and I felt existentially terrible because I didn’t like taking care of her and knew she was neglected.
Then we got the dog that hated my sister that dad may or may not have killed. I liked that one. But I couldn’t save him or protect him either so I swore to never let down another dog. I couldn’t even get him out of the closet.
We DID try family therapy once. It was a group session with us all in the room. And like yall expect me to talk about my abusers — WHILE THEY’RE IN HERE? Yeah fuck you, I’m fine. I’m great even.
But when I was little, I actually did believe that. I didn’t know I had problems or was unhappy. I didn’t know I lived in an abusive codependent household. In FACT, I was so jealous of the mentally depressed girl and troubled girls at school cause they go so much extra attention. I tried to hide in church and being a bubble Christian. Gotta be crazy to be interesting, I thought. Then like 5 years later I busted and went bat shit insane. So there’s that.
I used to think my sister was haunted by a demon. I’m not sure I don’t still think that. I do know she is highly troubled. I remember once she was crazy drunk and I was trying to get away and go to my room but she was taunting me. I was studying my Bible and she asked me to read the Bible to her. I passed, ’cause hey Satan, not today. And it was just this creepy horror movie taunt about why didn’t I love her enough to read the Bible to her. Now that I’m older – I’m not throwing out the demon thing – but I do know she had multiple abortions. Maybe she was trying to drown that out. She was obsessed with this asshole for years and YEARS — like a decade. Fucking Ryan. But he never loved her back.
It’s pitiable, really. Truly. But does that negate all of my suffering at her hand?
As far as Dad, everyone hated him when I was little, but then it flipped. I had a mental breakdown and realized hey — Dad is a son of a bitch. He’s been trying to ruin moms life for 40 years. So much of our family is insanely fucked up and this motherfucker is why. He sprung a secret ass family on me when my step brother was 16 and moving in the next week. Then yelled at me for not being accepting. Not that I was unaccepting, I was emotionless as I had been trained to be from a very young age. I didn’t say shit. But dad projected that I was angry and was furious.
Oh yeah, after the first bankruptcy, I moved in with dad. See, he had moved back into our house (not as like being with mom, just like — hey I live downstairs now). And we lost the house. So we had to get apartments so we got two two bedrooms and sister2 lived with mom and I lived with dad — because this was before I knew dad was an evil son of a bitch. And that’s when I found out secret step brother was moving in. (Looking back, 30 years later — this is why I wasn’t allowed to keep anything in “MY” room at dads — makes sense, it was really his room). It was a cluster fuck cause I was in high school and people were like wait, you live with your dad? Cause mom was everyone’s beloved teacher (rightfully so) and I came to school with her. And even from my youngest age we always centered holidays around dad. They were at his apartment or his house. No presents could be opened until the video recorder was set up for dad to watch later.
I was just dead inside when I lived with dad. Like emotion-wise. Not ailment wise. The stress was killing me I just didn’t know it. I was on smooth muscle relaxers for the constant stomach cramping pain and vomiting. But I was so broken, I didn’t even think I had problems. Anyway, after a year of that, my brother and his wife were like “Mrs C can’t live with dad anymore” and we got a three bedroom so I could move in with mom and sister2. Yay! More abusive, psychological warfare, and piss!
Then we got the second house we lost to bankruptcy (fun FACT! This is where moms flamingos are from). Then I moved to college. And started getting therapy. And started hating dad. But like, now everyone loves dad or at least sees him as worthy of living in his delusion. So last year when he almost died because he refuses to control his diabetes and got an infected hair on his balls and went septic, I didn’t wanna baby sit. And somehow I’M THE BAD GUY?
So they like disowned me for the year, right? My sisters still haven’t opened the christmas gifts I sent them. They didn’t come to Thanksgiving at my brothers. But Sister1 weirdly stayed here when she was in town and needed a free bed. It was awkward.
I finally talked to SIL the other day — after like 9 months of unreturned calls. I mentioned my banishment and she was like naw, they just don’t communicate. She says she never talks to them either but thats not true cause I have facebook and see photos. I wasn’t invited to the family vacation but they’re playing the “everyone is always invited” card. And my sisters have started commenting on my posts sometimes. Like WTF? Last week there was a post by dads girlfriends that mentioned Sister2s cats were leaving at the end of the year. I was curious but didn’t know what was up. Cause I was disowned and no one talks to me anymore.
Background on Sister2s cats. When we lost the second house, mom moved in with my brother and his wife and Sister2 moved into my brothers old house. She was supposed to pay rent but hardly ever did. Eventually SIL got super self conscious that mom was running her house way better than her so they kicked mom out to live with Sister1. Well, the only way to get Sister2 out of their house was to sell it. So they did and mom convinced Sister1 to take in Sister2 for 4 months. So Sister2s cats went to live with Dads girlfriend. But Dads girlfriend doesn’t even live at her house. She kinda lives between that house and dads. And Sister2s cats don’t get along with her pets so they’ve been confined to a single bedroom for… oh 10 years now. Sister2 never visits them.
Yes, Sister2 has tried to move in with me. No. Yes, Sister2 did try to get me to take her cats for “just a month.” Then they wanted me to take them again after Jack died (hence my keeping Louie a secret at first).
Sister1 is just a completely bitter bitch now. So hateful. BY THE WAY — mom was afraid to move in with my husband and I because she said she’d destroy us like she did with my brother and SIL (getting kicked out) and turning Sister1 into a little dad. So sad. It wasn’t mom, it was that fucking leach.
Sister1 hates Sister2 and is so angry that she’s been stuck with her since mom died. But like, kick that bitch out, I’m not taking her. And there’s resentment from Brother and Sister1 that I lead this great life 90 miles away and they still have to take care of Dad and I refuse to help cause fuck that asshole. I’m polite and cordial. But no, fuck them.
And it’s so weird cause Sister1 has this facebook persona of the sweetest most hilarious person ever. Even my inlaws like her. But she’s not that person. But everyone buys it and adores her. I think husband would buy it if he wasn’t there witnessing her interacting with me. It’s really weird. I like her facebook persona. But she’s a wretched bitch.
My whole family has always had this weird two faced ability to be loved by people. Like I worked at Target for 5 years. Got sister2 a job there and people would be like “OH MY GOD, YOU’RE SISTER2’s SISTER?” Like bitch no, I’ve been here 5 years — she’s my sister. And Dad manages to get affair partners and wives and now a girlfriend. And Sister1 is beloved on social media.
IS IT ME? This might be one of my biggest reasons to absolutely refuse to have two faces. It’s fucking disgusting. But like, am I the problem? Because we could just have a fake holiday with the fake personas but like I cant do it. I hate you. I can’t let it go.
Maybe it me.
Is it me?
Yesterday, I was on a family group chat — the first in almost a YEAR. Sister2 has a new job with business cards (holy fuck, she only ever had a job like twice in her 50ish years). Everyone’s congratulating her (yes, I did too). And Dads girlfriend says she’ll tell her cats. Sister2 replies that she hopes to have an apartment by February. So that’s new.
But this dream haunting was already going on before that. Every night — fights with my sisters, sometimes my brother. Sister2 getting wasted and destroying everyone’s lives. Me getting fucked over so Sister2 can have what she wants. Me being blamed for everything.
The holidays are coming. what the fuck is happening for the holidays? Last year brother hosted Thanksgiving but I was the only family that went. He said hes not doing it again but SIL says they are. I thought about saying I’d do it — but like, that means I have to invite them all and have one of those fake persona parties. And pretend like yall haven’t ignored me for a year. I just want my brother’s family to come.
Works been a shit show too. I got into with my bosses (rightfully so). After one meeting, I was discussing it with two colleagues and my coworker-friend said she didn’t listen cause once me and x start going at it, she tunes out. I was like fuck me — I’m AW. He’s a guy who does no work and talks an ungodly amount. So at every meeting he talks for like 30 minutes and fucking everyone hates him and just doesn’t listen because it makes no sense so we just ignore it until it stops. AM I AW NOW?
AM I THE PROBLEM HERE?
This brings back a lot of childhood trauma. Sister2 is batshit (verified with paperwork) but she doesn’t KNOW she’s batshit cause the crazy. So when I was little I used to cry about it to mom and ask if I was like her. And mom would tell me no, of course not. But I was like — she doesn’t know she’s like her so HOW WOULD I KNOW?
And now I’m having an existential crisis as I type this — HOW WOULD I KNOW?
It could be me. I could just be a human piece of garbage. Maybe I am and I just don’t know it. What the difference between I have therapy and healthy boundaries and I’m just a bitch? I’m the only one who has to go to a psychiatrist to function.
I mean I do hate everybody.
Holy fuck I think it’s me.
Would the world be better without me? Cause I’m gonna be honest — it might be without dad and Sister2. Like I’m sorry I’m being honest. Mom would have been better. Sister1 would be better. I’d not have needed 20+ years of therapy.
Maybe I’m just a despicable fat blob of a toxicity like my uncle in law said. Well, he didn’t say the FAT part — I’m adding that on. I honestly have no idea right now. Wheres the ice cream? I need ice cream.
How do I make the nightmares stop? I can’t even fucking take a nap and pretend I’m dead because they’ll be there.
I’m literally going to cry with ice cream now. This is why I’m fat.
I suck.
So tonight is All Hallows Eve, AKA Halloween. The Eve of All Hallows or All Saints Day in the Christian tradition. A time to celebrate and remember those who have passed and visit their graves.
There’s also the theory that it’s just a Christianized version of the Gaelic festival Samhain. To be fair, the church did realize that people didn’t want to give up their holidays so they made a lot of them Christian holidays; so probably true. Samhain (the end of harvest season) is a transitional festival. It marks the end of the light and the transition to the darker part of the year (when the days are shortest). Therefore, it is believed to be when the veil between this realm and the next is the thinnest. Parties are held with offerings to appease the Fairies who would fuck you up. Disguises to trick them. And places set at the table for past family members to visit.
All Hallows, or All Saints Day is tomorrow. Then All Soul’s Day on Saturday, November 2nd, wraps up the three days of Allhallowtide. There used to be 8 days, according to the Catholic tradition, but in 1955 they were like “fuck that, it’s 3.” Catholics make it up as they go along. However, some faithful still believe you earn plenary indulgences for visiting cemeteries and praying for the dead during the octave of Allhallowtide. And what is an Indulgence? No, not a Reeses pumpkin — according to the Catholic church, an Indulgence is “a way to reduce the amount of punishment one has to undergo for (forgiven) sins.” Totally makes sense.
Sorry, I got distracted. Allhallowtide, and particularly All Soul’s day also coincides with… wait for it… DÃa de (los) Muertos! AKA the Day of the Dead in English. And how do we celebrate this holiday? Leaving favorite treats, images, and items of our loved ones out in remembrance of them.
So basically, if the dead are gonna visit, it’s now according to multiple cultures.
So you know how some people get the warm and fuzzy feelings that their dead loved ones are with them? Yeah no, I’ve never gotten that. So WE’RE GOING ALL OUT, BITCHES.
That’s right, we have an ofrenda. No, those are not Mexican marigolds (AKA the Flower of the Dead), but I did grow these merigolds myself from seed!
Mom, I got out one of those cute heart plates I used to leave your coffee on. And the very used cutting board you gave me from that Pioneer Woman set. If you visit and know where the yellow measuring cup/dish from that set is, let us know.
I tried to get you one of those amazing apple streusel muffins you loved from Panera, but the lady said they haven’t sold those in years. The world has gone to absolute shit so I’m not surprised. I did, however, get the blueberry streusel and I’m pretty sure you’d like it too.
I grew these marigolds in my pumpkin patch! You’d have loved my pumpkin patch. And I know you are so proud of me. Have you seen my new body? Like the stomach and the boobs? I look good! You’d be amazed. Also, I’m pretty sure you’d love the art of the tattoo I’m still working on. I did the red poppies for you.
And Jack — you sweet sweet adorable biggun — my precious — my fuzzy — my spirit animal — my soulmate — WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? I’m dying here. I miss you much more than is rational. I still cry that you are gone. My snuggle buddy! Oh how I miss you. And your polka dotted belly. I fear I am forgetting you. It sounds stupid, but having a new cat — sometimes I’m afraid I will forget you and how you were. Sometimes I wonder if you were as snuggly and lap cat as I remember and then I look at photos and yep, you were always in my lap. My precious. And I remember when I came home, I’d pick you up at the door and you’d stretch out full length and stretch out your back legs as long as possible and look over at husband and purr like “yeah, she’s mine.” And what I miss the most, your good night wishes. Bedtime is when I miss you the most. You always followed me to bed and waited until I got settled to smash your paws into my breast bone and purr while I petted you and wished you goodnight. Then, when you knew I was settled and not going anywhere, you’d go downstairs and hop on the counter to see what noms were to be had. Oh we heard you, you never fooled us.
Speaking of, not only do you have your favorite banana toy — I made icing JUST FOR YOU. Husband asked why there was cream cheese and butter on the counter and I said it was for you and I’m pretty sure he thinks I’ve lost it. Half cream cheese icing, half butter cream. Your favorite. I already ate some so I know it’s delicious. Yes, I made a little extra for me to have on toast or something. And fuck it, eat the merigolds and pumpkins if you want. You’ve earned it. And the gingerbread house! It’s absolutely covered in icing. Have at it, buddy.
Seriously though, sometimes the only way I can cope with the absence is to think of you and mom sitting together sharing a biscuit or an apple streusel muffin together while you wait on me. We know she shared her breakfast with you every morning and you loved her for that. And I never minded. I thought it was adorable and sweet. Oh how you loved when mom visited. BREAKFAST! Well, here’s yalls muffin. Enjoy.
And Jack, come give me some purrs, please. Just a little snuggle.
If husband had an ask, he’d probably ask you to tell Louie to stop biting him so much. It’s kinda hilarious, but I know it hurts too cause teeth are sharp. *sigh* Louie can never replace you. Yall are nothing alike. Maybe that’s good. I don’t know.
May the scent of the merigolds and the love from my heart bring you home for just a little bit. I miss you.
Oh! One more thing! Mom, YOUR COFFEE! How can you an Jack have breakfast without coffee!? I’ve got pumpkin spice coffee too! I’ll make you a cup right now before I head off to bed. Dang, I might have to dig out the Keurig. It’s cool, it’s yalls ofrenda.
Sweet dreams and Happy Halloween. I love you.
Mom, take care of Jack for me.
UPDATE: I did add mom’s coffee after I posted this:
So I found myself looking for four-leaf clovers today. I needed to wait outside, and I like to find them. Plus, Saint Patrick’s Day! I did well. Once I found five, I was like well, fuck, I gotta make it seven for the holiday. So I scoured. Number seven was elusive. I had left number one on the steps and was sure it would have blown away before I got the seventh.
I was in my PJs in the front yard on a main road. So I wasn’t comfortable leaving my yard to be the crazy lady on the side of a four-lane main road in her pajamas looking creepily at the ground. I mean, my own yard is enough already. I’m still the insanely weird lady — but like, on a leash. “She’s keeping to her own yard” – ya know? Even though there are MASSIVE patches of huge clovers over there. So like, my hunting area was limited.
I was thinking to myself how I can only do this because I’m really good at patterns. I think others could if they cared to. It’s like those picture puzzles online with a ton of 8’s or something and you have to find the 9. People love those, but they don’t apply it to real life. Don’t look at the clover patch as plants. They’re all equilateral triangles. They’re all perfect 120 angles between the leaves. Just a bunch of triangles. Now find the square. It’s quite simple. I’ve spotted them from the second story of a building before, no lie. Find the 90 degree angles. With practice, they stand out as abominations.
I’m quite good with patterns. I’ve always been focused on pinning the repeats in wall paper, fabrics, carpets. How small is the repeat. It’s quite elegant how some of them work the repeats. Very interesting to break it down to the square they are repeating. You have to break images across the square to hide it well. I’ve never created my own patterns, so there’s still a bit of mystery in how they do it. Anyway, it interests me. And after a few decades of practice, you get very good. Hence my magic power of four-leaf clover spotting.
I was about to give up with my six clovers. I was thinking how I could never find any of the more elusive clovers. The fives, the sixes, the seven leaves — they wouldn’t be as obvious in the way I find them. No squares, no 90 degree angles. And then…
There she was. My seventh. With five leaves.
Amazing. In my 41 years I’ve never found one above four. Ever. And I look. This one met my pattern — it looks like a four leaf from the top — but there’s a little baby runt leaf sticking straight out of the top. I had husband come look immediately. How special! I took a video to capture it. These are actually stills from the video.
You know, it was a bit sentimental. I haven’t done a lot since mom died. I mean, I’ve done a TON – but there are things I didn’t care to do. I used to decorate for EVERY holiday — I haven’t decorated for Easter in 4 years. Back in 2020, I actually bought a very cute leather journal to keep my four leaf clovers in. I put Jack’s foot print in it. I kept my clovers in it. There’s butterfly wings. There’s even one clover that mom found after searching with me. I made her sign it. I didn’t stop right after her death. There are clovers from 2021. But nothing from 2022 or 2023. Well, I had found a few and stuck them in my little tiny notepad to dry, but I hadn’t bothered to mark the dates or put them in the leather bound journal. It wasn’t fun anymore. My happy book wasn’t happy anymore.
This year I went out and found four a week or two ago. That’s when I noticed the lack of two years in my leather book. I put the clovers I had pressed in, but obviously I could not date them. I think what caused the resurgence was Louie’s one year adopt-aversary coming up. It’s time to add his foot print. It made me think of the leather bound journal. It inspired me to go find some clovers. And today I had thought about it but wasn’t going to. But then K needed to pick up something she’d loaned me. So I was out in the yard waiting as to give it back quickly. No need for them to have to come in and get it — they did loan it to me back in October and I hadn’t returned it yet. So I decided — why not — I’ll look while I’m waiting. Then I got to the must-find-seven.
And I did. But there’s more than JUST the five leaf. I needed a new book to press them. I’ve been using a tiny 3-inch composition notebook I got for free at some convention or training or something. The pages are too marked with dates and wrinkly now. They did a horrible job of pressing the four I found earlier this month. So I thought of a journal. I’ve had it for almost 4 years. I’ve kept it as it was sentimental, but never had a use for it. I knew it was a gift from my aunt-in-law. But I’d forgotten the circumstances. Just that it was thoughtful of her to buy it for me because it’s Star Trek and she knows I like Star Trek. Well, it’s hard backed and I needed a journal to press clovers so I grabbed it.
The card she included was tucked inside. Ahhh. It was a gift from when mom died. She had been thinking about me and saw this journal and thought I could use it. That’s why I’d kept it. It was so sweet and thoughtful of her to buy it and mail it. She wanted me to know I was in her thoughts. The time wasn’t right to use it when I got it. But now the time is right. I think of moms clover when I hunt now. She was so proud to find one. And today I was so proud to find my first five-leaf.
There’s a warmth there. A time to move on a little bit more. Kinda like a sign, if you believe in those things as I do. Louie has been helping to heal my heart of my loss of Jack. And now he’s brought back my clovers and a sweet memory of my mom. And the cherry on the cake is the journal given to me to try to ease my grief a bit making a simultaneous appearance.
Maybe it’s God. Maybe it’s mom being impressed with my overwintering of last summers plants, rescuing plants I normally would have let die to nurse them back to health, and now seeding my own plants for this summer.
I’m stepping into my destiny. Not some awesome destiny where I get a sword and a birth right. Just a tedious one where I stop letting plants die every year only to replace them. One where I nurture the sick plants back to health. One that has me out in my yard in my PJs looking for plants. Maybe one were I grow my own Halloween pumpkins.
I’d kinda rather have a sword.
Today was a great day! This morning, I wrapped Christmas presents. Then this evening K2 came over to do gingerbread houses! We baked cookies, and decorated gingerbread houses while watching three cheesy Christmas movies on Netflix.
My family usually does a gingerbread party every year. This year there’s all sorts of drama in my family. I set a rock hard boundary, and well, might have been disowned? I don’t know. It’s for the best. It needed to be done. I want to talk to my SIL and see what everyone’s saying but NO — the point was to get OUT. So I must resist. But I still wanted to do gingerbread. K2 to the rescue!
We decided to get house kits. I got the Gingerbread Mansion from Target for $20. Cookies were required. I made keto cookies for me. They melted into a pan of solid raw cookie dough. I also made chocolate chip for K2 and Husband. Those worked out. We decided to put on a Christmas movie. So We set up in the living room so we could watch the movie while we worked!
Yep, I’m in my PJs. I didn’t get dressed today. I put out a plastic table cloth for easy clean up and K2 queued up the movies.
The first movie was Lindsey Lohan. She was a rich spoiled chick. Then she went skiing with her shallow finance and fell off the mountain. She got amnesia and ended up in a tiny town. She ended up being taken in to stay at the inn owned by a single dad who was about to lose everything. Yep, she fell in love. So did he. Go figure.
Then there was the Christmas Bitch movie. The lead guy was not attractive so it was kinda weird. They had a great relationship until Christmas. She HATES Christmas and he’s obsessed with Christmas. He believes Santa is real. He plans a week of activities for her and her daughter — oh yeah, single parent again. Bitch couldn’t even make it a week. She got into a big hissy fit and dumped him over loving Christmas. Like, WTF? You can’t let him have a damn week of holiday cheer? They’ve been together for months but fuck that! They ended up staying together even though they still disagree on if Santa is real. So ummmm… That one sucked.
Both of the previous movies with the single parents, the kid’s Christmas wish to Santa was for them to get together. Yall stay away from single parents during Christmas! Don’t fall for it!
Third movies a charm! Apparently, she had seen that one before. It was great! A journalist who writes a column about her terrible dating life falls in love with an online match. She hasn’t met him, but after two weeks she’s in love and she flies in to surprise him and meet him. Oh no, he used a fake picture! He’s just an asian guy! Boooooo! But she goes to the bar and see his friend, the picture he used. He promises to help her get with the hot guy if she pretends to be his girlfriend for the holiday because his family is so happy for him. She has nothing in common with the cute guy, but lies about everything anyway. Also, lets ignore that she fell in love with the guy over the phone and he’s still that guy, just asian? Which is bad? She comes around in the end and realizes that she loves him. It sounds stupid but it was actually a GREAT movie. It was hilarious. Let’s ignore how lame she was with the “weird” and quirky opinions that Die Hard is a Christmas movie (really, that whole thing is so old — everyone knows about this). Also, her favorite book was Shel Silverstein’s “Where the Sidewalk Ends.” WHAT? He’s heard of it? No way! One of the most famous children’s poetry book to exist? CRAZY! But no no no, it was still a good movie. The writers just really slacked off there.
K2 is like my favorite person to watch moves with. So we watched movies and glued candy to gingerbread. Yes glued. This aint Martha Stewart. No ones eating these things. Hot glue it together. Why yall making life difficult?
This is only the second gingerbread house she’s ever made but she did damn good. Like there was so much candy on that thing. No skimping. I went all out and tried my hardest. I actually like the back better than the front of mine, but whatever, It’s awesome and I love it.
We had a great time. And gingerbread tip of the year: I had the idea to wrap the cheap cardboard that comes with these premade houses with wrapping paper. I actually used a green gift bag. I’m a genius.
And of course, I took a fuck ton of photos of my house because I worked hard on that shit.
Merry Christmas!
I’m watching a YouTube of two doctors (Family Med and a Psychologist) discussing mental health. It’s very interesting. The title comes from that. This is over and hour, but right now, they’re talking about people sharing their stories. Specifically people sharing their stories online. The psychologist said the title: “talk about your scars, not your wounds.” He expanded on that to mean, talking about things you can discuss without breaking down and having nightmares for a week. If your tik tok goes viral, be prepared for all the feedback on your trauma. So don’t talk about something that’s still raw.
Luckily I’m 40 with a fuck ton of therapy under my belt. I find that talking about my fucked up shit helps me. It gets it out there. Like it’s not a secret. It’s not my fault it happened. I’m not the only one that went through that shit. So it helps ME in being open like “hey, this is a part of who I am. There’s reasons I’m fucked up, please understand.” But also a bigger reason I talk about my mental health is to show other people, yo — “you’re not the only one.” And then there’s also a little bit of total selfishness.
How do I explain… There’s some people I know of — who have a lot of trauma of their own. And they know me very superficially through third parties. If you don’t know anything about me — but you hear my accomplishments, I sound like green pasture, right? I moved away from my family, went to college, graduated, have a great job, married, live in an amazing house, have a funny cat, post pictures of me and my friends by my own pool. One of these people was having a major psychological crisis and I found out that part of their trauma was comparing themselves to ME because we’re the same age. I was BLOWN AWAY.
So like, I want people to know, it ain’t all roses. I grew up with a lot of family trauma. When I finally moved away, I broke down. I failed multiple semesters of college. I was self harming and suicidal and agoraphobic. I finally sought out therapy. Let’s insert an *AGAIN* here. I had sought out therapy secretly when I was old enough before I moved away from my family. I was so good at having no feelings and presenting a fake front, that after two sessions with this man, he decided to give me his treatment plan. It included seeing a dermatologist about my acne and also working on losing weight and dressing better — which I took offense because I picked out my best outfit for this bullshit. It was Lane Bryant pants and shirt! That’s quality, expensive shit. I remember this so well. It was dark brown dress pants that flared but they had a rough edge on the bottom. The shirt was a green plaid button up — but one that was cut to form fit and flatter. But I mean, I was super fat, so it’s not gonna look GREAT on me. But I was wearing good clothes that fit and were stylish. It was my favorite outfit. So I pushed back. And he said this exact quote “Society doesn’t find THIS acceptable” — while using a two arm gesture referring to my entire body. Cause I was fat.
I left and cried in the car. When I got home (no one knew I was seeking therapy or even needed it – I was totally happy). I stayed in my room for THREE DAYS and just cried. I couldn’t wear those clothes ever again. It was highly traumatic. So it took a few years before I was willing to go again. But back in 2003/4ish, I was rock bottom. So I went. And they put me on meds and a standing Monday appointments with a behavioral (talk) therapist. Eventually, I started going to CODA for codependent people who come from fucked up families. So I was hitting the root of my issues finally. And it was hard but it was worth it. I only did it because I was literally going “At worst I kill myself in the morning.” In the vein of Wesley’s quote from the Dread Pirate Roberts in the Princess Bride.
And yeah, I didn’t graduate college until 10 years AFTER highschool. Even though I was in school that entire time. I was a joke. Literally, it was a family joke. There’s a Christmas ornament on my Dad’s Christmas tree of me as a graduate — from looooooong before I graduated. Because they got everyone custom ornaments like a nurse and shit but thats what they chose for me. Not something like a painter or reflecting a hobby. Nope. Also, no one told me I could have all those failed semesters wiped from my record due to mental illness so my GPA is a 2.1. Yeah, ouch.
Yall. I am rambling now. I did not intend for ANY OF THAT to be in this post. I just got going. The POINT of this post was supposed to be a very dark humor post about an incident that happened this week.
Incident is too strong of a word. Let’s just say – something that came up.
I was browsing Reddit cause that’s most of my time. There was a thread on “Ask Reddit” about what you can’t understand how people can afford. And one of the joke/maybe not so joking ones was “A second family.” Because dude, most of us are barely affording our lives — you’re gonna have a whole ass second one? Who has the money and TIME for that!? I come home and watch youtube because I’m too exhausted to commit to an actual show or movie. Yall are juggling multiple partners and kids? What?
But… MY DAD HAD A SECOND FAMILY! And I had totally forgotten until I posted about it in this Reddit thread. Like for real — LOL — Laugh Out Loud. I forgot my dad had a second family.
So I was messaging with my husband like woah, dude, I can’t believe that slipped my mind. I wonder if my psychiatrist even knows? Like would I mention my stepbrother (I wouldn’t) and be asked how it was growing up with a step family? “Oh no no, I didn’t know he existed until I was 16.” We had declared bankruptcy for the second time and lost our house for the second time (the one with the pool where I got my moms flamingos from). We couldn’t afford a three bedroom apartment, so my evil sister moved in with mom and I moved in with dad. (Getting fucked up, right?) Then my other sister had a car wreck and had to move back home so she moved into my room at dads.
Dad called a family meeting. Not in a healthy way. He does that shit in weird ways. Like he went to help at 911 as a firefighter so he could die a hero. So we had a family meeting about how he wasn’t going to come back. It was weird.
So family meeting. Over spaghetti. I hate my dads spaghetti. He buys the chunky sauce that has like whole ass chunks of carrots and onions and tomatoes and shit. That aint right. So he announces my step brother is moving in. (My older siblings were old enough to remember the initial affair, marriage, attempt to take us away from mom – so I don’t think this was huge news to them). I didn’t even know I had a stepbrother. Apparently, he was moving in through.
Listen, by this time, I was checked the fuck out. I wasn’t remotely upset mentally. I was withdrawn eventually from this situation by a charge from my sister in law that “yo — she’s not OK, she can’t live there anymore.” I was so good at hiding and not acknowledging my emotions that I didn’t know I HAD them. I was really fucked up medically. Stress will kill you. I was having episodes of stomach pain that would bow me over. I was seeing doctors and on smooth muscle relaxers. It was all stress. But I wasn’t self aware enough to know that, much less convey that to a doctor.
So this news wasn’t distressing. I don’t think I even had a “here we go again with more bullshit” reaction. I had no reaction. So I got up to get a glass of milk. Perhaps my stomach was acting up? This was read by my father as me reacting. So I got chewed out about how we’ve always been treated as superior. My step brothers always known we had it better than him and a better life. It’s not his fault and we WILL accept him. Like “OK, dude, jesus – I’m just getting some milk.” I distinctly remember the moment and where I was standing by the ugly apartments moon light over a counter between the kitchen and dining room. He moved in and slept on the couch.
So yeah, my dad totally had a second family. He had an affair while i was a baby. He got her pregnant. He named my step brother my actual brothers middle name. Then they decided to be a happy family so he decided to divorce mom. She wanted us to call her mom and for him to get full custody (probably so he wouldn’t have to pay child support). I was too young to remember though.
No idea why it just completely died and no one told me we had a step brother LOL
I’d even stay at my dads apartment sometimes (cause I didn’t know he was a bastard — and he could afford canned coke. And he had a NES). He had a spare room “for me.” But I wasn’t allowed to decorate it at all. Probably because it was also my step brothers room. So that makes sense now. I was allowed to leave one stuffed animal there. I chose my BEST ONE. It was a huge soft lion with long arms that were weighted so he could give you hugs. What a fucking waste.
Man, I bet all of this shattered my moms heart. Especially, when I bragged that dad bought me a 12-pack of cans of surge! Why didn’t she ever tell me anything? I only found out when I was adult and decided dad could go fuck himself on my own volition. She said she didn’t want to ruin my relationship with him. FUCK THAT. Mistakes were made.
But yeah, so my dad had a second family. What a weird thing. Also, what a weird thing to forget. Like I have so much childhood trauma, I forgot about that one. I mean listen, my dad is a clusterfuck. (My sister is worse in affects on my own life). I’ve gone extremely low contact with dad. Unlike my siblings, I don’t pretend to give a fuck. Because… I kinda don’t. What a bastard.
Any time they expect things from him or are surprised at something he did, I bring up Penny the cat. He fucked that cat up so much that she lost her hair and lived on the top stair by the attic. She had been the sweetest cat when I stayed at dads apartment in my fake room. My sister watched her while my dad was out of town and dad could never get her back because she hid from him and refused to be caught. She grew her hair back. Great cat. So yeah. Like if dad mentally fucked up a CAT that bad, why are you expecting him to do decent with humans? The man is incapable. Stop it. He couldn’t even meet the emotional needs of a fucking cat. He can’t meet yours.
So yeah, sorry this was so deep. I was literally amused and validated when I realized I forgot about my dads second family. Like oh yeah, that’s why I hate that guy. I’m right.
He had a motorcycle and a boat too. While we had nothing and lost two houses and mom had 4 jobs. What a fucking bastard.
We have a healthy relationship. We nap. I love him.
So you’re telling me that reading reddit on my phone for 9 hours a day for the past 4 weeks and freaking out about everything is bad for me?
I’m stressed. I’ve also still not got anything to do at my job. Not for lack of trying. So until I get access to the damn training system, I’m stuck. So I just play with my phone all day and monitor my emails hoping someone has a meeting I can attend. It’s causing eye strain. ‘Cause my phone is tiny.
And I’m already freaking out about our summer plans. Well, really my sisters. I’ve recently concluded that not only do I not actually like my sisters, but I hate who I become when I’m around them. Even Mr C says I get way more snippy around them. He understands — but the point is, it happens.
One sister was abusive as fuck growing up. I mean take your pick. She used to weigh me every day and I remember when I hit 100lbs and she ran to “tattle” on me to mom. And she was bulimic — but for some reason she threw up in 5 gallon buckets in her closet. Who had to help empty those buckets with mom? Yep. It was so gross and smelly. Ugh. And she’d wake me up hitting me and yelling. I liked to sleep with QVC on and I was allowed to. I’d turn it down to the lowest setting but she’d randomly come in my room and wake me up by hitting me and screaming at me because my TV was bothering her (no, our rooms weren’t even next to each other). So yeah, I’m a really fucking light sleeper now. Ask Mr C. And I still have nightmares about her. I’M FORTY. You have nightmares about Lovecraftian creatures? I have nightmares about my sister.
Then there was Smokey. My moms birthday present — a black mutt dog. That dog loved my ass. And he hated my sister for beating me He’d try to defend me. The only thing on the planet that actually gave two shits about me at the time (Mom had 4 jobs, give her a break). I’d sleep with mom a lot and Smokey would always sleep with me. And my sister has always had this weird thing about bugging mom (Seriously. In Florida, she cant go through the living room door to get to the balcony to smoke, she has to go into the master bedroom where mom is to go through THAT door. Same with the house on Golf Road. Couldn’t go outside through the kitchen — had to go through the door in moms bedroom. And when we were little — use the bathroom literally right next to her room? Nope — gotta go use the one in moms room on the other side of the house). So she’d come in moms room at night. And fuck if Smokey was gonna let her near me and mom if he had anything to say about. Even in the middle of the night. He was pretty awesome.
She started abusing Smokey too. After school, when mom was at her second job, she’d trap him in a blanket and throw him in a closet until right before mom got home. So I mean, Smokey hated her. It was a problem cause Smokey would draw blood. So one day I got home and no Smokey. I asked what happened to him and Dad joked about how he finally tied him up and drug him out in the woods behind the house and shot him.
Yeah, fun memories. Mom swears she gave him away. I never will really know though, will I? She was never able to present Smokey to me or let me visit him. Even when I begged for my wedding present to just let me see Smokey again. But she never changed her story. Anyway, that’s why people think I hate dogs. I won’t have one. Smokey was my dog. And I couldn’t protect him. And even if they did give him away, he didn’t know I had nothing to do with it. He lost his person. He was betrayed, might as well have been me. I hated having her over with Jack. I warned Mr C and mom that I didn’t want her near Jack. Ugh.
Then there was the time she wanted to kill me. I forget the reason, but I ran to my others sisters room to hide and locked the door. She tried to break the door down with a hammer. She beat a hole straight through the door before she gave up. It was like the fucking SHINING.
Then she just became a raging alcoholic. She’d get blackout drunk and pass out and piss herself where ever. Who had to get her into bed and clean it up? Oh that’s me. Unless she passed out on the lawn where at least there was not vomit or pee but “the neighbors might see.” (Like I said, Mom wasn’t perfect. We were best friends when mom died, but there were a lot of years where we were not close after I finally moved away). I was super into Christianity back then – total bubble Christian in high school. I didn’t even curse! And she’d get really blasted drunk and beg me to read the Bible to her. I’d refuse and she taunt me. I’m pretty sure girl has demons. Like I’m serious, yall. I may not be a bubble Christian anymore, but I’m still a Christian. Might as well have been a devil taunting me.
She also used threats of suicide and self harm as emotional abuse against us. She still self harms. Wears it proudly on her arm for all of us to see. Oddly enough she’s carved a cross into her arm. See the difference is, when I self harmed I hid it. Because I’m not an attention seeker — I was just really fucked up. So when I’d rip open my own skin, no one ever saw it. Cause I have standards. Pretty sure she’s still a raging alcoholic too. Last time I was at my sisters house (she lives with my other sister. Short story is Sister never left the nest — mom moved in the sister so other sister did too) So yeah, I sit down in moms bedroom chair thinking of mom. I look into her basket of books to see what she was reading… oh a giant bottle of alcohol. Don’t think that was moms… We used to do alcohol raids but it never did any good. Other sister says she’s letting the drinking slide because she’s afraid she’ll kill herself (They’re both in black holes since mom died).
She also drove drunk all the time which led to lots of accidents. Once she ran into a parked car and got arrested. She was sentenced to live in a halfway house. It was nice while she was gone. She was diagnosed with Antisocial Personality Behavioral Disorder. She came back though. Nothing ever changed.
It’s funny. This week a deep seated fear I haven’t had in over a decade resurfaced. I used to breakdown crying to mom that what if I was like her and didn’t know it? She doesn’t know she’s like she is! What if I’m like that? Ruining peoples lives and I don’t know it? What if I’m bat shit crazy and evil too? Really crazy people don’t KNOW they’re crazy, yall! I confessed this to my husband and said I turn into a different person around my sisters. I hate who I become. He admitted I do become really snippy when I’m around them — but he understands. Wait. I already said that.
Any way, other sister used to be cool. Growing up she was cool and loving. She was away at college and worked at TCBY and when she’d come home, she’d bring me a whole cup of the toppings like reeses pieces and shit. I think she’d send me cards sometimes too.
But the past few years she’s been insufferable. She’s ripped me off financially. She’s a bitch. And she absolutely ruined my Christmas. Killed it. I know she has an autoimmune disorder that causes her sever constant pain and fatigue. And she feels like she got stuck with other sister (even though she’s done nothing to kick her out). So she’s bitter as fuck. And it ain’t pleasant to be around.
Anyway it’s Florida year. I still like going to the beach. And I love my brother and his family and want to spend time with my nephews and keep moms favorite thing alive. Our yearly trips to Florida. But damn, I don’t think I wanna stay in the timeshare with my sisters this year. So I’m like should me and Mr C get our own place? Go in with my bro wherever they stay? It’s too early for my bro to commit if he’s going. But like I don’t wanna wait too late and not have anywhere to stay booked. So yeah, that’s brought all this shit up.
Whatever. It’s past my bedtime. I still gotta lay out medicine for the week! And get my twitchy eyed ass to bed! Lack of sleep is on the twitchy eye causes too! And see, that’s another difference between me and sister — I have a psychiatrist and take my medication and try to not let my personal crazy destroy everyone else’s lives.
Also I’m married. And we’re like in a healthy relationship. Surely husband would have left me by now if I was like her?
I need a valium. Don’t worry, I take 3 a day.
Oh and I want to look for a cat but it stresses me out SO MUCH. Friends, please find me a very needy cat that just wants cuddles and constant attention. I was thinking maybe contact fosters and see if any of them have a needy as fuck cat? Like I need fuzzy snuggles.