Rants and Musings

For my 13th birthday, albeit a few days late, I got the BEST present I EVER got, from my mother and step-father.

I got my brother.

I'll leave it at that because I'm starting to cry.

I love you, bro. Happy Birthay.

Although I did get some sleep last night, I'm still really tired. Not sure if it's that I'm just plain sleepy, or if it's MS fatigue. It's tough to know with these things. Not sure that it matters anyway. There's nothing that can be done, other than getting whatever sleep I can get, no matter what the root of it is.

Still thinking a lot about my past, and my present, concerning my "family". We all do whatever we must in order to survive. I can (and do) forgive a lot of people for their past actions which negatively affected me. It's their current actions, or lack thereof, which I have a tough time letting roll off my back.

If my mother wasn't still negatively affecting my life, maybe I wouldn't be so hung up about what she did to me as a child. Same with my "father", although I'm not as hung up about what he did to me in the past. The difference, I'm pretty sure, is that with my "father", I do think that he actually likes or at least respects me as a person. I cannot say the same for my mother.

My mother always wanted to "fix" me. She always wanted to make me into what she wanted me to be. She wanted me to be her little dolly. It's not that I didn't try to be what she wanted me to me. That's the way kids are, they try really fucking hard to please their parents. It's probably one of the most difficult things a human being can ever do... telling a parent to "fuck off". If a person tells their parent(s) to "fuck off", then there's a reason why. It's at the core of our beings... loving our mother. It's the first thing we learn (by nature and nurture)... we need our mother. Shit, for the first 9 months or so, we're connected to her by a part of our own bodies!

If someone turns against their mother, you have to know that there's a damn good reason why. ...and no, people are not "born bad". People are made "bad".

I'm well aware of the fact that my mother wasn't born a complete CUNT, but you know what? the way I see it, you lose the right to be a complete CUNT the second you agree to raise a child. Your problems, desires, and needs DO NOT come FIRST anymore!!! Not until your child no longer needs you, and everyone needs a parent in their life, no matter how old they get. Everyone NEEDS someone in their life who will put them FIRST. Being a parent is a lifetime job, responsibility, commitment... and if you feel you can't do it, too fucking bad! Figure it the fuck out!!! There are plenty of people who will give you advice, including your children!!! You do not get to change your mind!!!

About 6 (or maybe 9) months after my mother left, my father left. This left my sister and I with my mother and her new boyfriend, by default. Over the years following his leaving, my mother bashed him to me for it, and thanks to many other traumas after his leaving in early 1977, I buried all knowledge of her having left first. The memory didn't come back until I was in my twenties. Now in my thirties, I like to make up stories in my head... I like to think that the reason my father went back to Israel is because he was trying to protect us from himself. I like to think that he was doing it because he loved us, rather than because he didn't or didn't want to care for us. The reason why he continued to go back and forth? The reason why he's there now, despite my begging him for the last decade to return because I need him? I can't come up with anything other than that he's just plain selfish, and without one paternal bone in his body.

...and that's why I call him an asswipe.

Although I'm not (yet) at the point of having a complete meltdown, I am a bit upset.

This is the thing...

On Monday night, just before 11pm, my phone rang. I immediately snarled. I'm a big fan of The Daily Show. I'm a big fan of Bill Clinton. Bill Clinton was scheduled to be on The Daily Show, at 11pm. I was already pre-glued to my TV set.

I opened my phone to see who was calling. I looked at the name and number. I more than snarled. It was my mother.

I closed my phone and turned my ringer off.

She left a message, which I refused to listen to. I was going to not go completely ape shit on my birthday, no matter what. So, I avoided my voice mail, and tried not to let the fact that she called bug me too much.

Last night, right before 10pm, my phone rang again. It was her again. grrrrrr

The message she left would have to wait. My birthday was not over. I'd handle it when I was calm, and not as prone to snapping.

This morning, after managing a few hours of sleep, and being sure that I was calm, I called my voice mail and listened to the messages. Although I didn't completely snap, I immediately found myself in a horrible spot. I'm still in that spot.

In order to explain my position, I'd have to spend a few days and shit loads of energy in order to type it out. Even then, many of the people who read it will immediately read it like a mother (defensive and taking her side), or as a child who has or had a good mother (judgmental and taking her side). The comments that may come from that direction, will add fuel to the fire.

So, being that my only source of support, aside from my brother and RavensWings, is online, I have no clue which direction to turn in. I love my brother, but he is TOO involved. With the message she left, it even further involves him, as well. RavensWings, already up to her eyeballs in her own family shit, I will speak with about this, but to be honest, I don't want to drop the ball in her lap.

grrrrrrrrr

A decade ago, or so, after being kicked out of one half of my family because I was diagnosed with MPD, my aunt (the one who kicked me out) sent me a $25 check for my birthday. At the time, I was on Welfare and desperately needed the money.

The check hit the trash.

I refuse to be bought. I refuse to sell my soul. I refuse to tell you that it's ok to be cruel to me for the right price. I don't want your damn guilt money. I'd rather starve.

I do not regret that decision.

Yet, here I am again in a very similar position. It's worse though. My mother, the queen of all manipulators, is playing her game. See, she likes to make it look like she's trying to help me to other people. She likes to make it look like I'm just a heartless bastard... a liar. She will not help me when I need help, or in the way I need her to help me. What she does, is help herself. She does what it takes to make herself look good, me look bad, and she usually is attempting to get something out of me in the process.

I know that is what is going on, yet because she has set things up just right, I'm in a no-win situation... as usual.

What I want to do is to bolt the door closed, but that makes me seem like a monster. This woman is completely toxic to me. I know this, but yet I can never explain why that is to other people. In order to avoid having to explain how and why, I've even told outright lies to people (people I wasn't too close to), in the past. Anything to avoid the hell of the telling, and the risk of having people take her side.

I've had my closer friends in life tell me repeatedly to just walk away. See, I'd keep trying... over and over. I'd try, and the same thing would happen... and I'd get worse (psych-wise). It's tough to not unlock the door though. It's tough to stop wishing that one day, I'll open the door and there will be a loving parent behind it. It's even more difficult when there's bait involved.

Fuck. I hate this shit!!!!!!

What was I saying about that mountain?

The day wasn't too horrible. Did my best to avoid anything and everything that may have even stressed me out even a little. Seemed to help.

RavensWings took me out for a sushi lunch, which was very much appreciated, as was her company.

I'm pretty tired. Hoping to get some rest tonight. Sleep would be ideal.

Thank (all of) you for your birthday wishes. Makes me feel good that I am thought of fondly.

I suppose that "over the hill" can be seen as a good thing... especially when the damn hill was more like a fucking MOUNTAIN.

I don't remember if there was another verse to that song. All the bear could see was the other side of the mountain, after he went over it, but then what did he do? Tell me he wasn't stupid enough to turn around and see the same damn mountain as some sort of new challenge.

Feeling tired and a little too oversensitive.

TV and bed will be just fine.

I hope.

It's tough to know how exactly to define what a trauma is. I think that it can all depend on the previous trauma experienced. For example, I've been mugged a few times, twice at gunpoint. Do I count those events as "traumas"? According to some, I probably should, but when I compare the event to events prior? I had and have been through much more traumatizing things, so although being mugged really sucked shit, if I had to list my traumas, it might not show up too high on the list. It's a lot like "the pain scale" they focus on when I go for my visits with Neurodude. If you don't know what my 5 is, how is my saying that I'm at a 7 going to tell you anything? Isn't it enough for me to just say that I'm in pain? Why do you need a number? Can I spend an hour or two slicing your body up with a razor to show you what 5 is? You can use the experience for future dealings with me, and perhaps that might help you to understand what I mean when I say, "I'm at a 7." a lot better, and you won't blow me off... but aside from doing that, how can you know what I even consider to be painful? How can you tell that when I say "ouch" I'm not just being a whiny wimp? How can you decide whether or not I even NEED to be in this office today?

So, how do I define "trauma"? How can I accurately convey to others what I mean when I use the word? Is a trauma just an event which altered my life in a long lasting negative way? An event which scarred me for life? A negative event which eradicates any benefits from the positive events which occurred about the same time?  An event I still hurt from? I really don't know. They're all just "stories", I suppose. Maybe that's what it's about... a trauma is an event which when related, gets the reaction of, "Oh my God. I'm so sorry that happened to you. I understand you better now." That can't be it though... it is not the reactions of others which determine which events from my past serve to all but paralyze me. ...Is it simply my own weakness which determines which is a traumatic event and which is simply a bad day?

The person I am today was shaped by repeated traumas. Knowing that, and rather liking myself, I don't know if I can say that I entirely wish none of those traumas had happened. Early childhood trauma served to cause me to refine my ability to dissociate. Dissociating has often served to keep me from completely snapping, and has in fact protected those who I may have otherwise hurt or even killed. Too, it has often served to help keep me alive. I'm pretty sure that my being alive is a good thing, but then I suppose that there are a few people on the planet who would argue that. In truth, often I'm one of those people. I'm not completely void of insecurity and self-doubt.

I suppose that's why I often feel the need to talk about my traumas. I'm just trying to protect myself from myself, in a roundabout way... looking for people to back up the part of me who thinks that my being alive is a good thing. Trouble is, often the telling opens me up to the slings and arrows of those who don't feel that way... backs up the part of me who thinks that my being alive is not a good thing at all. It opens me up to words which serve only to make me feel invalidated. The telling becomes completely counterproductive.

Yes, people will often tell me that I'm a good person, and that they're glad that I'm alive... but inside is a very powerful voice saying, "That's because you don't really know me."

"Cutter, I don't understand how anyone could not be completely in love with you!"
"Give it time."

(fast forward 6 months)

"Now do you get it?"
"Yes." 

Being right is not always the best thing.

There are people whose lives are more affected by their traumas than by their happy memories.

I'm pretty sure that's what having PTSD is all about.

A while back, I started keeping notes of my childhood memories. Back in 1988, I'd gone through a "I don't want to remember this. This means nothing." purge and threw out almost all of my diaries and writing. I regretted it, and to this day I still do.

When I realized the value of what I'd trashed, I tried to start jotting down "keys". These keys were to get the memory back, should it slip out of the easy access place again. When I had a "flashback", I'd write a word or two down. I had a page for each year, and I'd write the words on the page with the correct year. Along with the sudden flashes, I'd also list major events I actually did remember, and so my childhood started to come into focus.

I think that I started the practice in my late twenties, but it could have been early thirties. I'm not sure. By the time I did my most recent therapy course, I had enough to tell my story though. That started in 2002, and went through 2004, when I pretty well snapped.

"My childhood" consists of the years before I left home. Basically, birth through 15. From 15 on until I was an "adult", I was a kid, but I was very much not a "child".

I'm not entirely sure where that notebook is, or if I have it in me to go over it again, but there is a part of me who wants to. Maybe I need validation. Maybe I just need to allow myself to cry. ...or maybe, I just need to remind myself that I'm not completely crazy and pathetic.

Maybe I should start my next "blog project". Maybe someone will get something out of it, aside from me. That'd be a plus.

I've been in a really messed up head space. Yes, it's par for my course, but it still sucks. Although I know that a lot of what is going on with me right now is Psychological, there's really nothing that I (or anyone else) can do to fix it. There's no "making me happy" or "pleasing me". I'm stuck feeling like a seven year old whose mommy just decided to leave... on his birthday.

I think that I'll hate her for that, even subconsciously, until the day I croak. The fact that she still hasn't figured out a way to make me feel like she really does love me... I'm bitter about that too.

I know that it's about her though... and that not every woman on the planet is my mother. For that insight, I am truly grateful.

My birthday is on Tuesday. It will not be "happy". It never is. At heart, every year at this time, I will always be an abandoned 7 year old.

My lottery fantasies have been depressing me lately. I think that I've just over-thunk the whole thing. Just the fact that if I only hit small, I'd actually lose out big is enough to scare me. If my bank account balance moves up a little too much, I'll lose a lot of my health coverage, and my housing.

I'm really not a "luxury" person. I don't want what most seem to want. I don't want a car, or a boat, or a big screen TV, or a video game system. I don't want acres of land. I don't want my own business. I don't want a house.

All I want is to live comfortably, and securely. I'm fine with living in an apartment. I'd like to be able to afford some help though. There are certain things I can't do very well on my own anymore, and I'd rather be able to pay someone to help me, rather than relying on RavensWings.

I'd like to be able to afford to eat healthier. The fantasy food budget would be more like $30 a day, rather than my current $30 a week. I wouldn't mind a couple pieces of furniture, and help getting the furniture into my apartment... and set up.

I'd like to be able to travel. That would cost a lot, being that I can't really travel like I used to... for many reasons. I don't really want to go too far though. Honestly, I'd rather just fund a yearly "Cutter-Con", and have everyone I want to see show up to hang out at the same hotel or something. I'm more wanting to see people than I am places. Too, I'd like it for a lot of the people I know to be able to meet one another.

So, hitting the lottery... I suppose that it'd be nice if I hit big, but in truth, I'd probably just give most of it away. I enjoy thinking about that though. I like the thought of being able to help other people out financially.

I've always wanted to just go through a day in the city, dropping twenty, fifty, and hundred dollar bills for people to find. I guess I'm just weird like that.

Sometimes I sit and try to remember back to who I really wanted to be when I grew up.

I'm pretty sure that I did just fine by myself.

Lot of crap running through my head... psych stuff... mostly about parents and children... my parents, myself, and my siblings... my nephews... my blood relatives.

I often say that I "do not have a family". This is both true and not. Everyone has a family, even if that family is deceased or unknown. So in that vein, I do have a family. My only real family is my brother though. My brother is the only relative I have who I feel truly does care about me... the only one who makes sure that I feel cared about... the only one who even bothers to try to act as family should. I guess that we both know how family should act because we've learned from experience how family shouldn't act.

Maybe everyone is like that to some extent... defining "family" by feeling it should not be like whatever hurt them. I don't really know. All I know is what I think "family" should be like, and why I think that way.

I feel bad for my brother. He spent his whole life living in my shadow. It didn't matter that I was "the bad guy", it still made me the "star of the show" in his eyes. Nothing good he ever did managed to take the focus off of "my bad". If I was impressive enough to wreck his parents marriage, why wasn't he impressive enough to keep the marriage together?

I am the oldest child. My advice there? Don't have more than one child. The first born will always feel "not good enough" on one level or another, and the next born(s) will always feel like they have to struggle to ever get your full attention. Children can find playmates at school, or in their communities. They don't need you to have another child in order for them to have friends.

It's not about whether or not you love your child, it's about whether or not your child feels that you do.

Everyone wants to feel like #1 to somebody. It sucks to spend a life searching for that person, and coming up with nothing but a list of failed relationships, and an intimate knowledge of the mental health system.

...just my thoughts.

I feel overwhelmed... and that's not good for helping me to control the rage. It's more about action though, I suppose. Nothing will stop me from feeling it, but what's most important to me is that I don't act on it. Living alone helps. Not leaving the house... not risking contact is something I can do... to protect myself. It is all about protecting myself, on one level. If I hurt someone else, I will be the one getting locked up somewhere, and that is what I'm trying to avoid.

Somehow, I have to manage to get a shower today. I haven't managed one since Friday. Too though, it was cold enough last night that I had to sleep with my socks on. The weather is changing. That means I have to take care of taping up the gaps around the a/c unit, and I have to move some boxes away from the (baseboard) heat before my apartment complex turns it on. I also have to get the trash out, and I'm pretty sure that I'm supposed to eat something at some point. I'm already overwhelmed, and all I did was get out of bed, make coffee, check my vitals, take a piss, and then plant my ass here. I don't know if I'll even manage to make it past reading my morning blogs before I'm going to feel like I have to take a medication or drink my brain into "shut down" mode.

I'm too tired for this shit.

My friend is doing well, and recovering in the ICU for a little while.

Thank (all of) you for your thoughts... pointed in a good direction.