Well Now, Life Truly Is An Adventure!

I can tell you, with a great degree of experience now, that being brutally honest with one’s abhorrent past is not a joy, nor it is easy, nor is it delightful in any way, shape, or form.  The things I discovered about my past whilst penning my letter to the Grunge stirred up in the depths of my soul such a bitter hatred and anger and pain that I could not stop the tears or the profanities or the raining down of blows on the poor defenceless pillows.  To say the least, it was brutal! 

Today when we met with the Right Reverend “Don’t Call Me Shithead”, I held out my letter for him to read, review, reflect, and pontificate upon.  Instead, he took it from my hand, folded it back up, and asked me: “Did you find any resolution to your past?”

I was stunned speechless for a moment and then the dam broke: “WHAT FUCKING RESOLUTION DID YOU THINK I WOULD FIND IN RELIVING MY PAST?  I HATED HIM AND I HATED HER AND I HATED ME AND I HATED EVERYONE!”

He took off his glasses, nonplussed by my outburst, and looked me squarely in the eyes and asked me gently, “How long are you going to let them control your life? It IS your life, isn’t it?”  Well that just sucked all the wind out of my storm!  I hadn’t thought about my past like that.  Memories so painful that I let them control me instead of finding a way to get release from them.  I told him that I didn’t know how to let them go and he smiled and said, “You don’t let them go, you replace them. The past can no longer control you unless YOU give it permission to do so.  It’s YOUR life, so YOU decide who gets to control it.”

I looked at him extremely stunned, as if I had just been dunked in ice water. I thought him completely mad for telling me that I am the on who decides who I let control my life.  The more his words clanged through my mind, I realized that he was right.  If I am to learn to move forward, I have to learn to let the past stay in the past.  I have scars, both physical and emotional (and mental, don’t judge), and it is MY choice whether the scars scare me into hiding in the past or drive me to LIVE in the present!

SO MUCH to absorb!  Good thing we went to dinner, because Logan and I were reeling from this nugget of wisdom.  Logan looked more stoned than contemplative though.  When we got back to the room, I asked him if he was okay.  He said we needed to get some air, so we left the room and just started walking.  We walked along the waterfront and through the Market that had long since closed and we found a pub that was still open so we went in for a nightcap or four. When we left, Logan looked at me and seemed so sad.  I hugged him and told him that I loved him because he was my hero.  When we got back to the room, I showered and crawled into bed, he showered and sat on the sofa, so I sat on the sofa with him and just held him as the realization of our past flowed from his soul like a flood.

Today was revealing and exhausting!  But progress was made I think.

 

 

And So It Begins

We left home in the wee hours of Sunday and after a 16 hour flight, we were met by a bespectacled man wearing a rather shabby cap of some sort and a over-sized shirt which bore the name of some sort of tobacco product (Ghurka).  He introduced himself, and oddly enough, he was the one I was scheduled to meet with today.  He told us that he knew we were probably exhausted by wanted to make sure we had dined sufficiently before going to our inn.  We stopped at a quaint pub and had a few drinks and lots of delicious food.  Then we were whisked off three whole blocks to our inn, which I would never have guessed would be an inn.  Our host told us that it was a converted carriage house and there was a pool of sorts in the midst of the courtyard.  He also took the liberty of setting our breakfast order to be delivered at 8:00 as our first session would take place at 10, which would consist of a stroll.

I showered and was so tired I didn’t even bother with a dressing gown, just crawled under the sheets and only woke to the knocking at the door for breakfast.  Still groggy, I stumbled to the door and flung it open rubbing my eyes.  When the tray hit the pavement, I was wide awake and suddenly remembered I was bare ass naked answering the door for breakfast.  I slammed the door shut and apologized through the door repeatedly.   From the other side of the door I heard the young man apologizing too.  15 minutes later, I was hiding in the lav trying to compose myself, when another knock came and Logan got up and answered this time.  An older woman delivered our meal and told Logan, “Yo bruthuh dun gone an skeert mah sun summin’ fearce.  He ain’ seen so man what ain’ got no twig and berries.”  Logan apologized and promised it would not happen again.  Now I’m not allowed to answer the door for the next two weeks, and am even MORE self conscious about my appearance.

We found our host had sent a pedal cab for us and pedaled us to a park which overlooked the bay.  He had brought a thermos of tea (much to my gratitude) and said all we would do before lunch was walk and talk.  So we did.  Logan first and then me.  Our stories were almost identical.  I never knew that the Grunge had done to Logan all he had done to me. We stopped a few times to look at the scenery, which was breathtaking.  And our host didn’t say much, just listening as we walked.

After a couple of hours, our host asked us if we would like to try some local cuisine or something more neutral.  We opted for local and he said there was a wonderful place where we could get something called “grits” and shrimp.  Still not sure what the hell a “grit” is, but the shrimp were tasty.  I had asked for tea and discovered it was thickly sweet and full of ice.  Not what I was expecting.

After lunch, we walked to a pier where there were these enormous swings.  We all three fit comfortably in one and we listened to our host.  He asked a few questions for clarification on some events, but he made so much sense.  I felt completely at ease with him.  Amazingly, in just one day, I feel more alive.

This afternoon, he’s taking us on a tour of the “historic district” and this evening, we are going to an “off the beaten path” place he calls “The Wreck.”

More tomorrow!

Freedom!

I hear people talking quite a bit about how they are downtrodden and they will never be able to enjoy the privilege of some other group, and in my mind I am screaming “IF YOU HAD LIVED MY LIFE FOR 22 YEARS YOU WOULD LOVE WHERE YOU ARE NOW!” But I keep quiet because no one would listen.

When did we become such spoiled little entitled whiny bitches?  If you want your station in life to improve then improve it!  We are so quick to spout off excuse after excuse after excuse as to why we can’t.  And I will openly admit, I spent years making excuses why I couldn’t leave the Grunge, so I just endured his torture and torment.  When I was FINALLY convinced that I had the power to improve my station in life, I got out and am working toward making my life better.  No, I may never have an expensive car, expensive clothes, expensive place to live, but I will have what I need.

Freedom, to me, means living without making excuses.  If I fuck up, admit it, take the consequences, and move on.  If I want something, I save my money to get it or learn to make it myself (btw, you do NOT want me to invite you to dinner.  My cooking SUCKS!).

I am of Asian/Hispanic/Questionable heritage.  I don’t look at skin color or accent or hair color, or body type.  I don’t really care what the outside looks like.  Are you a good and gentle person?  Are you kind?  Are you caring?  Do we have common interests?  Do we enjoy each others’ company? And trust me, I can pick up on the stench of bullshit!

We spend so much time complaining and whining and moaning and groaning, instead of caring and making a difference that we have lost focus of the freedom of life!

I actually bought a bra on Saturday, much to my surprise, they had one for the flat of chest.  I wore it Sunday and half of Monday.  It felt like I was wearing a bullet proof vest, so during lunch break, I went to the roof as I normally do, and sure enough the googly eyed red haired guy was across the alley working on his computer.  We have developed a rather “long distance” relationship, when I come up for lunch, he looks at me through his window, smiles and waves.  When I stood on the ledge and took off my bra and let it fall into the alley, I think his imagination must have had a meltdown.  His face hit the window hard enough for his glasses to break.  But I felt free!

Free from confinement.  Free to just be!

 

Peaceful Place

In my session with my counselor on Friday, she asked me if I had a place where I felt peaceful and completely at ease.  I admitted that I used to find cemetery’s rather peaceful because there was no one there to bother you or try to chat you up.  But the more I thought, there is one place where I like to go walking because it’s a place where I feel free.  So she asked me if I would be willing to take her there.  I wasn’t sure about that because it’s the place where I feel most as ease mainly because no one else is there when I am there.  But I told her I would consider it.

I called her later and told her that I would share it with her but only with the understanding that this is a ONE TIME deal.  I’m not willing to give up my peaceful spot!  She agreed and Saturday Morning, I met her at her office and we walked to my peaceful place.

I love walking here and thinking.  There’s something about being among these trees that have lived through so much and remain so majestic that gives me hope and reminds me that I may be down sometimes but I’m not out!  I usually take my daypack with books, notebooks, and, if you’ll pardon the indiscretion, a roll of TP just in case.

 

I Think I Thunk

I’ve been doing a LOT of thinking and remembering and contemplating and pondering and I think I thunk.  I was talking with my counselor about all I had written (93 entries) about my life with the Grunge.  And toward the end of our session, she stopped and said, “You have so much anger and rage caged up inside you.  What are you going to do with it?”  I told her I wanted my experiences to help others, and she smiled and said, “That wasn’t the question. What are you going to do with all that is eating you up inside?  Are you going to let it destroy you or are you going to let it go so you can LIVE for once.”

Odd question I’ll admit.  But the meds only numb the pain.  The writing brings the pain.  I haven’t grasped the concept of letting go of the pain and anger and rage.  How can I help others if I have this caged pissed off dragon inside?  So I began to think.

I took each memory I had written.  Re-read them one at a time.  Then I put then in the fire in the fireplace.  And as I did that, I told myself that memory is history, it cannot hurt me anymore unless I let it.  It’s time to unlock the cage and release the dragon!

And So Begins A New Year

Seems like a lifetime ago since I’ve had the opportunity to post anything here.  I got released into counseled care after one of my cuts went too deep.  27 stitches later and a psych eval later, here I am at the beginning of a new year.

I talked at length with my counselor about all I had written about my life under the control and domination of the Grunge and all he did.  She wanted to give me meds to help me not think about the events, but I can’t and don’t want to forget!  I NEED to remember them so perhaps some day I can help someone else.

I remember New Year’s Day when I was 12 and was just beginning to grow into womanhood, the Grunge noticed hair growth where it normally should be on a girl, but he said he was having none of that, so he called his step-sister to come over and “get rid of ALL hair below the neck.”  She was terrified of him and obeyed without question never looking at him.  All I can tell you is that, even though she tried to be gentle, hair removal fucking hurts!  I tried to talk to her, but all she would say was “I’m sorry, he did this to me when we were children too.”  OMG!!!  How many lives has this evil man destroyed?

After Logan helped me escape from him, I tried to contact her but she wouldn’t have anything to do with me.  I worry about her damaged life and want so much to help her.

On a different note, I am back at work and have found lots of books I want to read.  And Sister Thomasina told me I can come back to her butt kicking class when the doctor signs my release and my stitches come out.  Thought about taking them out myself, but that won’t get my release signed.

I’ve met with Sister Thomasina for tea and the occasional beer at her favorite pub.  I decided that I would try some of the pub food, and have found that haggis is truly repulsive as is tripe.  But I have found that they have a salad that has walnuts, cranberries, goat cheese, spinach and lettuce that is absolutely delicious.  They also have a steak sand that is mouthwateringly wonderful!!!  I felt like such a hog!

Logan is getting his “home office” set up and even has these partitions he uses as office walls.  He is so fussy and it’s hilarious to watch him getting everything in its proper place.  I, as a joke, put his lamp on the opposite corner of his desk than where he put it, and he was so flustered.  I always knew he was very picky, but this is OCD at its most intense, I believe.  Even his pens must be exactly the same.

Christmas was quiet.  We celebrated in my hospital room and I gave Logan a Pink Flamingo coffee mug, and he gave me the most wonderful scarf!  It is cashmere and so soft and so warm.  Perfect!  One of the nurses has taken it upon herself to teach me how to crochet.  WOW!  THAT is a LOT harder than it looks, but it’s also a lot of fun learning something new.

Time for my next appointment, so until next time…Thank you for reading.

The Path Ain’t Easy

The journey ahead

Is fraught with challenges,

Trials, memories, nightmares,

And difficulties.

This is a road

Which only I can follow

Slowly and painfully

Walking, running,

and sometimes crawling

But this road will be traveled

Even though the destination

Is as yet unknown

I can no longer stay here

I must move forward

I must grow and learn

I must learn to deal, cope,

And I must learn to let go.

Let go….

There is the rub!

The scars are deep

The cuts still bleed.

The pain still sharp.

To let go though

Is to find freedom

Freedom from the anger

Freedom from the hate

Freedom from the past

Even though the scars remain

The scars prove that I survived!

Floods of Memories!

I must apologize for being absent for the last several days.  I followed Sister Thomasina’s advice, and began writing about my life with the Grunge.  So many memories and so many things I had blocked for so long came flooding back to my mind!  It was more than I could handle all at once, and when Logan told me that I had gone back into my “FUCK OFF AND LEAVE ME ALONE” mode, I realized that maybe I had opened Pandora’s box.  Now I have to try to figure out what to do with all the demons that have been turned loose in my mind.

I am ashamed to say that I resorted to my former coping methods and ended up with more scars.  I know, I know, self destructive behavior is not going to solve the issues.  But in the end, I will have escaped the torments remembered, right?

I brought my laptop to Sister Thomasina’s apartment and sat at her table to write out all that was within me while she crocheted a sweater for a gorilla or something like that (it was HUGE).  Without realizing it, I wrote out everything I could remember and yet my fingers couldn’t keep up, but I couldn’t stop the flow.  Wrote for four hours straight without even stopping to pee or eat.  I did sip water through a straw so I didn’t have to stop.

The words and visions kept coming until I was literally drenched in sweat and shaking so bad my spelling just sucked.  When I finally was too exhausted to go on writing, I locked myself in the bathroom and just cried.  Yes, I did pee first.  I didn’t want to go home because I knew the memories would keep attacking me, but I knew I had to go home (baby steps).

I haven’t slept in 3 days now, even with meds, and haven’t been able to stop shaking.   My boss sent me an email reminding me that the office would be closed this week and next week but I will still get paid.  That was a positive.

Logan has been so understanding and has done his best to help me, even going out of his way to decorate our flat for Christmas.  He understands because he endured the same things I did and even worse, yet he is more focused on my well-being instead of his own.  I don’t know how he doesn’t fall apart like I do or how he keeps his sanity or even why he would want me to be in his life, much less sharing his flat.

I feel so lost right now, and I know that is part of the processing, but I just want to be normal, if there is such a thing.

Baby Steps

Still haven’t heard a peep out of Vera since I told her that little nugget about my past and that hurts.  But I can’t control what she does with the information, I can only learn to keep making baby steps forward.  So far, the some steps have been easy and exciting, and some have been horribly reflective, and some have just been difficult because I’m still trying to understand it all.

As painful as the past may have been, I am actually grateful that it happened, and this will sound idiotically silly, because now I am so appreciative of so many small kindnesses that I believe many take for granted.  Yesterday, I was reading while I was walking to the coffee shop and a HUGE man came out of the door right when I got to the door and I got knocked down with my stuff scattering everywhere.  At first I was terrified, because this guy was HUGE (Shrek huge).  But he was so nice.  He helped me up and helped me get all my stuff back then bought me a gift card to the coffee shop so I could have as much coffee as I wanted for a whole month!  And he just kept apologizing and want to make sure I was okay.  He was so sweet.  I thanked him and assured him I was okay.  Then when I got ready to leave, the shop clerk handed me an envelope that the guy had left for me.  In it was $200 and a note telling me how sorry he was and to please use the money for something I would enjoy.

Sister Thomasina told me of a group that meets in the basement of the church for people like me.  I figured it was just another one of those “Learn to GET OVER IT” groups, and, once again, I was wrong.  These were people who I had a lot in common with.  Their tormentors were beasts who are or were wastes of molecules.  How can people become such monsters?  Why would they choose to be so horrible?

The hardest part I had with this group was when the facilitator said at some point we MUST be able to forgive them for all they had done to us.  Is she KIDDING?  FORGIVE the GRUNGE for my daily fucks and torments?  How could that even be possible?

Anyway, aside from that, my last several days have been filled with working, butt-kicking classes, and discovering what all is around our flat.  There are some pretty cool places around us.  There’s this little grocer on the corner where I stop every few days to keep fruits stocked for lunch.  The owner always calls me his little ray of sunshine and makes me smile and blush, especially when his wife comes out wiping her hands on her apron and gives me a piece of fresh Dutch Apple Crumble to take with me.  They are so adorable!

One of the books I’ve been reading is called The Hobbit, and one of my favorite parts is where Gandalf tells Lady Galadriel, “Saruman thinks it is through great power that evil is kept at bey.  But I have found that it’s in the small acts of kindness and love.”  How better to make the world a better place than to share in those small acts of kindness and love?

Even so, I cannot forgive the Grunge!  Not by a long shot!

 

When The Darkness Comes…

I explained my “time outs” to my therapist, those times when I kept losing hours without realizing it was happening.  So we’re going to try a different med called Effexor in smaller doses to see if that helps.  She told me it could take up to three weeks to before I would be able to tell a difference.  So the journey takes a new step.

I felt like I needed to have another heart-to-heart with Sister Thomasina since I haven’t heard a peep out of Vera since I told her that little speck of my life.  I feel so guilty for scaring her so badly.  I just wanted her to know that she was not alone in her pain and misery and that we could help each other find the light again.

Sister Thomasina met with me after class and even invited me in to her apartment for tea.  I couldn’t help myself, the tears started, then the snot joined in, and before I could stop it, I was sobbing so hard that I couldn’t speak.  Sister Thomasina was amazing.  She got up, got a bath cloth and ran warm water over it. Then she came over and told me to go ahead and let it out, but to please keep the fluids in the cloth because the sofa belonged to the church and not her.  Then she just started humming some soft tune and held me.

Finally, I was able to tell her that I felt like the darkness was creeping back over me and I was having thoughts I really shouldn’t.  I was SO angry with myself for letting the darkness come back.  I told her about my dreams and how I was paralyzed and sweating and didn’t think I could take any more of it.  She took my face in her hands, wiped my face with the snotty cloth, and said “Darkness can hide many things because they want us to think of them as being bigger than they really are.  But watch this.”  Then she walked over, turned out the lights, and came back and sat down after she apparently stepped on her cat’s tail (I almost pooed myself when it screeched). She said, “What can you see?”  I told her that I couldn’t see anything.  It was SO dark in her apartment that I couldn’t even see my finger touching the bridge of my nose.

Then she lit a candle.  And she said, “Darkness can hide everything EXCEPT light.  And within you is the love that is LIGHT.”  I thought about the scars on my neck and arms and thought of how many times I tried to give into the darkness, even begging the darkness to take me.  But there I sat staring at the light of that candle.  Darkness can threaten me, the memories of the Grunge can torment me, the dream can attack me, but the light will not dim if I can help it.

Darkness CAN NEVER hide light!