Beautiful Dreamer

I'm sad today, remembering an abreaction I had the other night, recalling the terror and there was no one to turn to, no one to hold me.

I'm sad today, realizing my mother hasn't much longer to live, and soon I will have to deal with all that. Deal with my guilt for not loving her, most especially deal once and for all with the pain of knowing she never loved me, her firstborn daughter.

I'm sad today, for Memorial Day is coming up and once more I'm trying to screw up my courage to make my first visit (in 10 years!) to my dad's grave. I want all my sons to go with me, but don't want them to see me lose it.

I'm sad today, for all the good I want to do others and can't because of physical and financial limitations.

I'm sad today, for writing about my ex boyfriend, Steve, stirred up memories and made me begin to yearn for him all over again. I don't know what happened to him, only that after I left him for good (he'd gotten heavily into drugs), his life really fell apart. I could probably do some digging and find out something, but I'm afraid I'll hear he died, alone and miserable.

I'm sad today, for baby Anna who is nearly a month old and not home from the hospital.

I'm sad today, just thinking about how my childhood abuse was so horrible I had to hide me away by splitting off into separate entities. No one should have to do this to get through what should be the best season of one's life! I know I should be grateful that there is such a thing as DID, and most days I am. But at this moment I'm sad that it came down to a multiplication of myself in order to survive.

I'm sad today,  because my entire body is hurting and there's so much I won't be able to accomplish.

I'm sad today, just plain sad all the way through. 

I was a thirty something woman without boundaries, and so I often found myself in unsafe situations.

One night at my local pub, I met a roguishly handsome man with a dangerous edge. I found the crooked scar above his left brow intriguing. How had it gotten there? I imagined he'd lived a rough life and was all too eager to become acquainted with him.

My ex boyfriend, Steve, was also a regular at the pub. We were a couple off and on for years; during our off times when he saw me with a new boyfriend, or simply talking with another man, he'd begin drinking all the faster. The drunker he got the more loudly he complained about how easy it was for me to hook up with someone new.

Now as I saw him from his favorite barstool trying to catch my eye, I ignored him, thinking he was merely gearing up for another jealous outburst.

Meanwhile, the man with the scar was telling me something in his gravelly voice, words I couldn't quite concentrate on because of Steve's attempts to get my attention.

"Come on man, let's shoot some pool." This was from the man that Scarface had come in with, a smaller anxious looking man who until now had stood back in the shadows, saying nothing. For some reason he seemed oddly nervous--I noted beads of sweat breaking out on his brow.

"Hey," I heard Steve hiss. Between the two of them we weren't getting much conversation in.

"Write down your phone number," Scarface instructed  as he finally allowed himself to be persuaded away from me and off to the poolroom. I nodded, and began digging in my purse for something to write with.

"Hey!"

Steve wouldn't leave me alone. In exasperation, hand still rooting around in my purse, I moseyed over to his end of the bar.

"What."

"Leave that guy alone."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't start, please." 

Now, I'd seen Steve angry, furious even, on plenty of occasions. Mostly at me for one reason or another. But this was different. He seemed almost frantic.

"You can do what you want," he said with impatience, waving an arm at me to let me know he'd long ago gotten used to seeing me with other men. "I don't care about that. Just not with that guy."

"Oh really?" If I'd had the ability to raise one eyebrow, I would have done so. Instead I had to settle for allowing my voice to drip with sarcasm.

"He just got out of prison," Steve said quietly, his eyes following Scarface as the other man bent over the pool table at the farthest end of the room.

"And how do you know that?" I tried to keep my voice nonchalant, but in truth I was beginning to worry. Steve might have had a jealous streak, but he was also one of the most honest people I'd ever met. If he said something was so, it was.

"That's his kid brother," he said, "the one following him around like a puppy dog. He used to hang out here years ago, and I got to know him a bit. His brother there strangled some woman he picked up at a bar with her own pantyhose." He let that sink in before adding, "He just got released a few days ago. The guy's no good; you walk out of here with him and you probably won't be going anywhere ever again."

Steve wasn't one to interfere in anyone's life, all his jealous commentaries and complaints aside. He didn't believe in messing with fate. Let people make their own decisions, for better or worse. Live and let live, that was Steve. What I was hearing now convinced me more than any sweetly romantic words could have that he still cared for me.

"Are you sure?" It was all I could think to say. What I wanted to say was, how sweet of you to look out for me. This would have earned me nothing but a grunt, so I kept it to myself.

"Yep." He took a swig of beer and gave me a scrutinizing look. "And don't go thinking I made it up so you'd come back to me out of some warped sense of gratitude for saving your butt. You could easily check out the facts for yourself if you want to."

"No thanks." I withdrew my hand from my purse and plopped down on the barstool next to his. "At least I didn't give him my phone number."

"You always were too trusting."

"You always were too much of a drunk."

"I just possibly saved your life," he reminded me, scowling at his empty beer can.

"Well don't think I owe you something now." We sat in silence for a few moments while images of a strangled woman dead in a ditch, killed with her own pantyhose, rose before me. "Oh, uh, thanks," I said. "For warning me. I would have gone out with him."

"Yeah, I know, I could see it on your face."

I was a thirty something woman without boundaries, without a clue as to how to take care of myself in a sometimes dangerous world, not even realizing I was someone worth saving.

In my list of What I Like About Summer, you didn't notice me listing the word 'heat' did you? I thought not. That's because the hotter the weather the more my arthritis acts up. We're talking full body pain. And wouldn't you know I'd go and lose my arthritis medication? That's what happens when I live like a hobo, traveling from here to Sissyface's to Maddy's and back here again.

No, I was not in love with the 90 + weather we've suffered through the past couple of days. With no air conditioning it was just plain miserable. I've had the same killer headache for 3 days now. Add to this Tim spending 2 days and nights here instead of one, and Maddy spending Saturday night (and waking me at 5 the next morning!) and you can kind of see how my weekend went.

Tim is now obsessed with getting another motorcycle. I told him he may not be so lucky next time he wrecks on one, and he said, "Good, maybe it will finish me off."

He and Izzy (my 5 year old granddaughter) were fighting over toys.

Maddy ran around in her diaper, shoving plastic toy spoons down her crack (don't ask me why, I think she just discovered she has one), and twirling around fast until she staggered and fell over like a drunk. She gets in trouble for doing that at home (because she sometimes hurts herself), but we couldn't help but crack up (no pun intended) when she did it here.

To add to the confusion, Maddy thought Tim, and Izzy's dad (Chris) were her
Me and Maddy's dad last summer. I'm due for another mini vacation at the beach!daddy, I assume because they all have red beards.

Tim walked to the park, which happens to be the same one he and his brothers hung out at as teenagers (doing heaven knows what, I don't wish to know.) He slid down the slide and got stuck at the bottom. Yeah, he's gained some weight since his accident. When I picked him up Friday night we stopped at the little store so he could get an energy drink. What he came out with was a beer. Now I'm pretty sure he shouldn't be drinking that with his meds, but he's a grown man. There's not much I could about it. He nursed that beer for about 3 hours and it didn't seem to affect him at all, thank goodness.

Baby Anna was slated to be released from the hospital last week, but it never happened. Now they're saying the middle of this week. I tried to keep Maddy with me as long as I could Sunday so her folks could get some much needed rest (they were up most of Saturday night at the hospital.) By the time they picked her up around 4 I couldn't even talk right. I mispronounced words, babbled and slurred my words. Sissyface had brought Maddy and I to her place, as it's not as far of a drive for her parents. When they'd all left she took pity on me and treated me to a restaurant meal (Mexican.)

I'm gonna get through this, you know. One way or another. This morning I drove to the library, knowing that I'll need to console myself with some good old mysteries during this next week. Console myself for what, I don't know. For not having time to care for myself. (DID, what's that? Good thing my system runs so smoothly!) For being so busy that I'm actually beginning to see things.

I'm not doing anything for the next 5 days that doesn't absolutely have to be done. That's it, nothing. I'm going to be a slug, watch lots of bad TV, read novels and continue my search for my medicine.

As far as I'm concerned, that's all that really needs doing this week. 

Today's supposed to hit 95, and if yesterday is any indication, it will.

Every year at this time I end up blogging about why I hate summer. I don't want to do that this time. What I'd rather do is concentrate on the positives about this season. I'm not trying to be facetious when I say there must be something good about summertime. I may have to include some childhood stuff in this list, just to flesh it out a bit.  Let me just gulp down some hot coffee and here I go:

What I Like About Summer

by Beautifuldreamer 

1. The berries which grow wild in this part of the country.
2. During the summer months of my childhood, I could hide out in my backyard fort every chance I got.
3. The Ice Cream Truck. Every neighborhood has one and, old as I am, I'm not above scrounging for change when I hear the tinny music blaring a few streets away. (My father drove an ice cream truck when I was little, so this adds to the pleasure of the whole ritual.)
4. Drinking iced-tea by the gallons.
5. Seeing flowers decorating yards everywhere I go.
6. GARAGE SALES. Oh mama, this (are you paying attention Austin?) is my real addiction.
7. When I was a kid summertime meant more hours playing outside, away from the step dad's probing hands.
8. Strawberry shortcake with whipped cream.
9. Watermelon. (Seems like I'm rather focused on food!)
10. Going to the movies to get away from the heat. I love movies anyhow, but there's something about watching them in air-conditioned comfort during the hot months that pleases me.

 

I know better than to glance into the mirror when I first get up, honest I do. But sometimes I'm so out of it that I forget. As I stumbled this morning like a drunk to the bathroom sink to brush my teeth, I forgot. My eyes went to the mirror and a toothpaste muffled gasp escaped me. My hair's so thick that when I first get up it
Barbie didn't age too well, either! looks like a bad, crumpled wig. The mascara I always forget to remove at bedtime gives the bags under my eyes a run for their money.

This is one more reason you can never, ever marry again, I told myself sternly (as if there are droves of men mobbing my front door who must be beaten off with a stick!) Glancing once more at my reflection, which suddenly reminded me of some aged has-been actress who doesn't know when to give up, I added,  No one wants to see that any time of day, but first thing in the morning? Forget about it!

Having said that, this is what I really meant to blog about. My grand-baby, Anna Marie, who is nearly a month old, is coming home from the hospital tomorrow. What a relief, especially for her mommy who makes many trips back and forth to the hospital each day for breast feedings.

Maddy will be spending tonight with me as the hospital asked her parents to spend the night with Anna, to see how she does. When I was caring for Maddy last week she began calling me "honey." Now, how cute is that? She is always attempting to put pants on by herself; she got a pair halfway up before getting them hopelessly tangled. Suddenly she cried out, "Honey!" Giving me a look of determination mingled with frustration, she bellowed, "HONEY!"

I just watched Izzy for a few hours this morning while her mom was at the dentist's. Does anyone see a pattern here? Anyone sympathize with my desire to write versus my full schedule which prevents me from doing so? By the time Maddy leaves tomorrow, I'll be so worn out I'll be lucky to remember my own name.

No wonder I wake up looking like a fat, bad version of an aged, hung over Bette Davis!