Poetic Therapy

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder in Blue
Fuck entirely the whole of it,Fuck the sucking of my soul of it.Fuck the in of it,Fuck the out of it.Fuck the part that wants to guilt me,Fuck the bit that tries to kill me.Fuck the hard to swallow of it,Fuck the lay in and wallow of it.Fuck the nickel,Fuck the dime.Fuck it now and for all time.Fuck it ever so completely.Fuck it messy or very neatly.Fuck the way it sits and stares,Fuck the standing up of hairs.Fuck the smirking,Fuck the working.Fuck the me it’s always jerking.Fuck the jibes and the snickers,Fuck the get-it-all-done-quickers.Fuck the taunts and the terrors,Fuck the barbs and the arrows.Fuck the incessant chatter.Fuck the “Aw, what’s the matter?”Fuck the grin and bear it,Fuck the speak up and share it.Fuck it publicly and private,Fuck the crazy shit that drives it.Fuck it when I'm tired,Fuck it when I'm wired,Fuck the syndromes that it's sired.Fuck it in and out my ear.Fuck the voices that I hear.Fuck the demons drawing near.Fuck the sympathy I garner,Fuck the church of Silas Marner.Fuck the clench in my intestine.Fuck the bed that I can't rest in.Fuck the class I have a test in.Fuck the three kinds of therapy.Fuck the me I might not ever be.Fuck confession.Fuck depression.Fuck the life I made a mess in.Fuck the crowds close around me.Fuck them pulling down to drown me.Fuck the heart and those who break it.Fuck the fact that I can take it.Fuck the woman I am outside me.Fuck the kid I am inside me.Fuck the places where I hide me.Fuck it in ink upon the stalls.Fuck it in spray paint up on walls.Fuck the stupid know-it-alls.Fuck the wisdom that will fail us.Fuck the lies that always trail us.Fuck the idiots in ivory tower.Fuck the us that gave them power.Fuck they us more by the hour.Fuck the going it alone,Fuck carving it in stone,Fuck the gnawing on my bone.Fuck the burden that I carry.Fuck the way it makes me wary.Fuck it just so I can spite it.Fuck it just the way I write it.
by Cynthia Huddleston
http://prodigalaspersions.blogspot.com/

She has it more beautifully laid out than this but I kinda like the way it copied over. All mishmashed, the way it feels in my head...
Thank you Cyndi, I feel better.

Today, I Am Pissed Off

I'll just start from the end and work my way forward.

I thought I'd blog about it because each thing I've done prior to this has made me feel a little better but not back to my centered self. I rarely have to employ my whole arsenal of tricks to empty the negative but maybe PMS can be blamed and tomorrow really will be a whole new day.

I killed the Dibs. Ice cream is on my top five list of things that make me feel better.

Little princess and I watched "Chuck" and it made me laugh... a little bit.

I ate some cucumbers and dip that I made myself. I love my dill weed dip. I can't describe the flavor but its gooooood!

I made myself a TALL rum and coke. Sometimes a little buzz is just what the doctor ordered to shut the brain down at bedtime. I am terribly prone to lying in bed and rehashing things over and over and over. "I should have said... I should have done..."

Showering wakes some people up and makes others sleepy. I just like that fresh squeeky clean feeling, especially after a vigorous work out at the gym. It definitely wasn't gym day (after working out Sat. and Sun.) but I thought, "What the hell," a little excercise has been known to change my perspective on things.

My aunt returned my call from a couple days ago. I didn't tell her I'd call her back, as was my first instinct. I figured a chat with family might just cheer me up. I had called her while on the road late last week. I just wanted to check in since its been all most two months since grandma died. She went quick and unexpectedly so I figured some of my many aunts and uncles might be having a hard time. She related that one aunt has suffered a nervous break down and has been hospitalized due to infection and the fact that she stopped taking her cancer drugs. My favorite (alive) uncle has been in the hospital for three weeks after falling off his motorcycle. His skull has been removed and placed in his abdomen for safe keeping. His son, my cousin, lives with him but hasn't been to the hospital to visit and now various aunts and uncles are decending to whip his ass.

Little princess has had to fend for many dinners lately so I heated up some leftover KFC and checked her homework as soon as I got home from work. She hates long division and so do I.

I considered calling a friend or two on the way home to vent but I opted instead to roll the windows down and crank the tunes. Sometimes I can distract myself with music on the way home and clear my head.

The day had been ok, busy but ok. The afternoon changed all that. It went down hill fast. I stood my ground but this maybe wasn't the battle to do that. There just wasn't time to process what was happening before the next call or person. I know I'll have to answer to the Big Boss tomorrow (he emailed me at 6:30 pm to call him first thing tomorrow) but that's ok. At 5 pm I walked out before I said something in the heat of the moment that I'd really regret. I do believe my last words were "I'm done" and a very dramatic (and Italian) wiping of my hands.

So Let the Countdown Begin

T-minus 5 days until my birthday.

I have been celebrating for 24 days so its about time to wrap it up. Heck, I've stretched Mother's Day into a week and Valentine's Day into a long weekend so a birthday month isn't unreasonable (at least to me). Mommy sent me a check and I dropped it all on a pair of boots this weekend that I thought "might" go with a dress I plan to wear at a Christmas party.

I tried the outfit on and little princess completely hates it. I thought it looked ok, Big Daddy just liked the thought of me in boots. What to do? I don't want to keep a pair of expensive boots if they don't make the outift. So I call my adopted princess and of course, she dropped everything to come by and give me her professional opinion. She liked it, "very bohemian" but she had to add that Big Princess will probably, well maybe, won't like it. "She doesn't like it much when you wear trendy clothes."

Huh, so everything she disliked was probably ok and all that stuff she tried to get me to wear was probably crap. Go figure.

We added big silver hoop earings and a wristful of silver bangles. I'm re-inventing myself just in time for a mid life crisis. I like to be prepared.

I Can't Go For That

Once a year the gym gives you a free hour with a personal trainer so Saturday I truck in for my appointment.

Trainer:
So let's sit down and get this paperwork out of the way.

Me:
Hold up there. Let's just get something straight from the get go. We're not gonna talk about two things, my weight or my measurements, however, I am willing to talk about how I get my hair this soft and shiny or my sex life.

Trainer:
Sooooo... how do you get your hair that soft and shiny.

I just think its important to set the mood early.

Its Hard to Make Me Blush

It's 5 pm and one of my girlfriends walks over to my desk to gather me for birthday drinks and while I'm packing up my desk one of the VP's walks up and looks at my candy dish which is known for my eclectic selection of candy.

VP:
Cow Tail's? What's that?

Me:
Oh, you know, actual cow tails, with the hair removed of course. I know how you hate hair in your teeth.

VP:
{chuckle} No, actually I don't mind hair in my teeth.

I instantly realized I had left myself wide open for the double entendre. If it had just been the two of us I (probably) could have laughed it off but due to the fact that another woman was present, I was mortified. I turned eight shades of red and started to stutter. I grabbed my purse and laptop and practically ran from the building.

They just stood there laughing at my discomfort.

Things little princess has taken her lunch to school in...

1. A shoe box
2. 30 gallon black garbage bag
3. Hamburger Helper box

I argued ferociously with her the first couple days of school over the shoe box.

"Girl, you are in 8th grade and have huge feet. Do you really think its a good idea to give kids that kind of ammunition to make fun of you?"

We argued for 20 minutes over her taking her lunch to school in a shoe box. Finally I said, "Just tell me why?"

"It makes me happy."

"Nuff said, you win."

Tonight I asked her to go make her lunch and she comes out of the kitchen and says, "Ahhh, my lunch is in the Hamburger Helper box in the fridge. OK?"

"Does it make you happy?"

"Yes"

"Nuff said."

He finally called

The week before school started, I asked little princess to help me do something. In exchange for her help I promised dinner out. She, thankfully, chose some place that actually serves food that doesn't come in a box or paper bag.

We sat across from each other and talked about the upcoming school year. I was having a great time as this was probably the first time all summer we had actually had a conversation that didn't involve tears, door slamming, stomping feet, or swear words. We were so engrossed in our conversation that we didn't notice any of the other diners.

As we were eating the waitress comes up and hands little princess a folded up napkin. Little princess takes the napkins and offers an akward "thanks?" and dabs at her mouth in case there is something offending there that she is unware of. The waitress is still standing there and she finally says "Well, is there anything 'in' it?"

I'm thinking "What the hell? Does she do magic tricks on the side in an attempt to boost her tips?"

Little princess unfolds the napkin and what do you think my 13 year old princess found?

A boy's name and number!!!

We are both flabbergasted. We both ask "which boy is this from?"

The waitress points to a table that has already left. We were so into our conversation that we never noticed who was at that table. I start to wonder "is he a 13 year old boy? is he a 18 year old boy that thinks she's 16 years old, or is he a 40 year old pediphile?"

I immediately snatch my phone from my purse. "We HAVE to call your sister!"

I explain all the details to Big Princess who is two and a half hours away at college. "Oh my god, give me the number." This is exactly what I expected of my oldest. She calls back in less than five minutes to say that he didn't answer but she left a message.

So every conversation with Big Princess since then has started with "So, has he called." Fast forward five weeks...

ring ring

"Hello"

"Guess who called me?"

"No way!"

"Yes, 5 weeks later he finally returns my call."

Well turns out he's 16 years old which is too old for little princess. She mounts a valiant defense that Big Daddy is two years older than me. I counter with "you can't date anyone who drives before you get a learner's permit."