Stop borrowing trouble….

It was probably 1977, 78 and I was 6 maybe 7.  I woke up in the wee hours of the morning although I have no clue as of what time it really was.  When your that young, time is not something you really comprehend.  I walked out of the bedroom I was sharing with my mother, (my father had been murdered a few months before this and I guess being the baby she felt I needed to be near her.. but now looking back and being a mom myself I think maybe she might have needed me just as much).  As I walked out of the bedroom the first thing I saw was my mother, sitting at the table with the light above her on.  The table was covered in bills.  Her head resting on her hand, cigarette burning in her other hand.  Even at 7 I could tell the weight of the world was resting on her shoulders.  She was so engrossed in her world of worries she never saw me or heard me walk up to her side.  “Mom, whats wrong”? I asked her, and in true Ginny fashion she answered me without answering my question.  “Hey brat.  What are you doing up baby?” she said.  Brat was my nickname from birth I do believe.  If she ever hollered out “Shannon” I knew I was in serious trouble.  If she called out for “Brat”.. I was safe. “I couldn’t sleep I said.  What are you doing” I again asked.  “The bills baby” she said.  I sat down beside her and stared at her for a few minutes noting the worry on her face but not realizing at that age that’s what I was seeing.  After what seemed like hours I finally got up the courage to ask her.  “Mom, can we pay the electric bill?”.  At 7 I guess electricity was the biggest thing I could worry about.  She looked at me with those beautiful blue/grey eyes, put her hand on my chubby little face then pulled me over to sit on her lap.  “Baby, the bills are not for you to worry about, they are for me.  All I want you to worry about is playing with your toys and your brother and sisters to be happy.  That’s it.  So stop borrowing trouble”.. she said as she hugged me tightly and kissed my face several times.  “Now get back to bed and sleep well” she said as she nudged me in the direction of our shared room.  She would tell me hundreds of times growing up “Stop borrowing trouble brat”.  I never understood what she meant by it until I was older and to this day I still hear her saying those words in my head.  She was the only parent I really ever had, she was my friend, my inspiration, where I pulled my strength from.  

One day many years later I was at home with my now ex husband and our then 1 1/2 year old son.  We were arguing of course, something we did all the time. At this point in my life I was living in Southeast Texas, 1000 miles away from home, away from my mom and family.  My ex made sure I didn’t have much to do with my family as he monitored every phone call I made, every where I went, everything.  My mom had been diagnosed with colon cancer a year before this particular day and I desperately wanted to go see her, but that was not an option I was allowed.  This day we must have been arguing something fierce because I never heard or even saw the car pull up in our driveway.  I didn’t notice anything until there was a knock at the door.  I opened and and my heart almost burst out of chest.  There stood my mother and my now estranged sister.  I couldn’t believe my eyes, they were really there!  They had come to Texas to see me and meet Jonathan, my son.  The next day me, my mom and my sister took off for a couple of days to San Antonio Texas.  My mom talked to me about how sad I seemed.  She had no idea just how bad it was.  But I didn’t want to spend my whole time with her complaining.  We walked and shopped and ate and laughed.  It was the best 48 hours I ever had in Texas.  When it was time to go home they drove me back halfway where we meet my then husband and son.  We hugged each other goodbye and they drove away.  I did not know that would be the last time I would ever see my mom alive again.  I have a picture from that day.

 

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This is the only picture of my mom with my son.  She never got to see her only granddaughter, at least not here on earth.  My mom died on March 31, 2000.  Twelve years ago today.  The wound has not healed any, only deepened.  I’ve learned just how to live with the pain.  In May of 2002 I found I was pregnant with my daughter.  According to her due date her conception date was March 31, 2002.  She has her me-maw’s eyes.  I know that mom sent her to me to love and cherish.  I find myself telling her all the time “Stop borrowing trouble”.  I don’t say this to my son as he never worries about anything.  I only hope that my daughter learns this lesson my mom tried to teach me better then I did.

 

I miss you mom.  I love you and when you left me I lost almost everything.  Never ever feel like you’ve been forgotten, because you never will be.  The sound of your voice may be a little harder to remember, the smell of your hair is gone, but the love you gave me will be here forever.

 

I wrote this on the 9th anniversary of her death.. the feelings are the same.

I’ve been told time heals all wounds 
It’s a lie 
I’ve been told life goes on and you move on 
You don’t 
I’ve been told to be grateful she’s not in pain anymore 
But I am 
I’ve been told she watches over me now 
So 
I’d rather her be here with me on earth 
I’m selfish 
You’ll always miss her but it will get easier 
It never does 
What happens is you start to forget her voice 
I am 
You forget her soft tender touch when your sick 
I have 
You forget the smell of her hair and her perfume 
It’s gone 
But you don’t ever forget the pain 
I can’t 
You don’t ever feel whole again 
I’m empty 
You always need your mother 
Always 

OOO OOO That smell!!!

I’m thinking maybe today I should talk about common office courtesy and microwave food etiquette because honestly the smell that is penetrating every single square inch of this building is not a pleasant one.  At first when the noxious fumes invades your nose the first thing you think of is “OMG… is that road kill soup for lunch?”.. but then it becomes a game almost.  Name that smell.. Bob, I can name that smell in 3 sniffs!  After a few more minutes though, it’s not a game anymore.  It’s sickening.  And the sad thing is that now anything that is put into that microwave is going to smell like whatever dead, decaying molded concoction was heated up in there, as that smell has permeated the walls of the oven.  Today’s smell is so bad that I don’t think God himself could wipe it away.  I will never use this microwave again, thank you very much Mr. I eat the most disgusting things and don’t care if you don’t like it or not!!  There should be an unwritten rule.. or hell, write it up and publish it.. ABSOLUTELY no disgusting smelling foods are to be heated and eaten in a public place, unless it’s a restaurant that caters strictly to that because if they do then your already going in knowing it’s going to stink!

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OOO OOO That smell!!!

I’m thinking maybe today I should talk about common office courtesy and microwave food etiquette because honestly the smell that is penetrating every single square inch of this building is not a pleasant one.  At first when the noxious fumes invades your nose the first thing you think of is “OMG… is that road kill soup for lunch?”.. but then it becomes a game almost.  Name that smell.. Bob, I can name that smell in 3 sniffs!  After a few more minutes though, it’s not a game anymore.  It’s sickening.  And the sad thing is that now anything that is put into that microwave is going to smell like whatever dead, decaying molded concoction was heated up in there, as that smell has permeated the walls of the oven.  Today’s smell is so bad that I don’t think God himself could wipe it away.  I will never use this microwave again, thank you very much Mr. I eat the most disgusting things and don’t care if you don’t like it or not!!  There should be an unwritten rule.. or hell, write it up and publish it.. ABSOLUTELY no disgusting smelling foods are to be heated and eaten in a public place, unless it’s a restaurant that caters strictly to that because if they do then your already going in knowing it’s going to stink!

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it wasn’t just the timing belt that broke…

So this morning I was happily making my way to work.  I had the radio on, I wasn’t being rushed, I knew it was going to be an easier day at work so why not be happy about it?  I mean so many other things in my life are going wrong right now, but my commute to work wasn’t one of them.  I don’t have to get on I95 at all, and pretty much all traffic is going towards DC as I’m going in the opposite direction.  My drive is beautiful country.  It’s my free time.  I look forward to it.  What I wasn’t looking forward to this morning was the CLUNK noise my car made then losing power and coasting off to the side of the road.  WTF!!!  No, no, no, no, no, no… NOOOOOO.. I can’t afford car problems right now, I can barely pay my rent.

 

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First call- to my hubby.  Second call- Insurance company for our road side service.  I had to explain to “Debra” several times that there were no cross roads where I was.. it was just a straight road, and that I was by the Occoquan River.  She insisted on a cross road.  So I tell her I passed “Hoadley Rd” several miles back.  Okay, she’s sending a wrecker to come get me. By now 10 cops have flew by me never stopping to ask if I needed help.  A**holes.  Finally one stops.  I am finishing up the call with the insurance company, he gives specifics on my location (he added west bound).  He asks me what happened, I explain and tell him my husband is on the way as well as a wrecker.  Ok, he leaves.  An hour later the wrecker service calls and says “He’s on Hoadley Rd but can’t find you”.. THATS BECAUSE I’M NOT ON HOADLEY ROAD YOU IDIOT.. THAT WAS THE CROSS ROAD, HE HAS TO KEEP COMING WEST BOUND….

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Finally he gets there.. tells us to head on to the shop, that it wasn’t safe for us to sit on the side of the road… ummm.. okay we’ve already been here for 1 1/2 hours.. whats 5 more minutes.  But thats okay because by now I have to pee so badly my eyeballs are popping out.  We get to the shop, first thing first.. the bathroom… which has a toilet full of vomit and a broken flusher.. FUCK.. I’ll hold it… get the car dropped off and get my husband home and use our bathroom thank you Jesus!!!  I’m trying to hold it together hoping like hell it’s not a huge fix.. that its something minor because I just can’t handle anything huge.  The car shop calls.. it’s huge.. it’s like $800 huge… I don’t have $800… the only thing in my mind now is ….

Image Good feeling gone…

 

In that moment when he tells me whats all wrong with the car and how much it’s going to cost to fix… It wasn’t just the timing belt that broke in my car.. it was something in me that broke as well.. and just like my car when it broke it tore up other things.  My chest hurts now, my head hurts, my shoulders hurt, my stomach hurts.  I just feel so defeated.  I’m so over everything.  I’m tired of trying just to get thrown back on the ground….

 

Yeah.. I really am this crazy…

Have you ever heard a song that made you stop in your tracks with a memory of a different time and place?  Did it make you sad, or happy?  Maybe not a song, maybe a sight, or a conversation with someone, a sound, a smell?  Now imagine if you will, these things triggering almost uncontrollable anger at times, more often then not.  Anger that makes you shake inside, cry on the outside, want to make the people closest to you hurt just because you are hurting so badly. Anger that makes you want to say “Don’t make me angry, you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry,” and mean it knowing full well your about to morph into some psychotic green animal that’s going to pummel them into oblivion.  It’s not their fault that your angry, but something they said or did triggered a memory of something someone in your past did to hurt you so.  This is called “Anger Displacement Disorder” and I have it.  Oh and it sucks.  It’s an emotional roller coaster that is physically and mentally draining.  Some days it feels like it’s sucking the life right out of me.  

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Some times when an episode hits me it makes my heart hurt so badly that I honestly believe that death would be better then life.  It is very hard to go from perfectly content and happy to mind boggling angry in mere seconds.  To be depressed already at life and then to have something trigger a memory that’s now got you so depressed and angry that you want to shut yourself off from your husband, your wife, your kids, your friends, your family… everyone.  It’s a disorder that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, well wait.. yeah maybe her.. but that’d be it!  It’s debilitating to try to conceal the anguish your going through and put on your “I’m ok” face and go to work, school, wherever and hold your temper and your tears in when all you want to do is fall to the floor in a crumpled mess and cry, while praying that this you finally get absorbed into the floor to disappear forever.  No more pain, no more anger, just peace.  Peace.. that’s a word that I don’t think I’ll ever fully know the meaning.   I mean, I know the Websters Dictionary meaning of the word, but for my own personal knowledge, I’ve never known it.   

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Maybe I should tell you a few things that’s happened to me in my past for you to understand why I suffer the way I do.  The first thing that happened to me would be my fathers untimely death.  He was 32, I was 6.  He was murdered, even though no one was ever held accountable for his death.  Because of his death it led to the next thing, my mom always working, hardly ever home.  My brother and sisters really raised me.  I don’t blame my mom for not being there.  She had no choice, she had 4 kids ages 6-13 to feed and clothe and put a roof over our heads.  She was awesome and I loved her dearly.  I put her on a pedestal so high that no one would ever be able to get anywhere near where she resided in my heart.  Which led up to another tragedy for me.  Her untimely death at 56, I was 29.  Cancer claimed her.  This woman who I thought was the strongest woman in the world was defeated by a damn disease.  She was my protector, my strength, my love, the essence of what made me me.  After my first husband beat me and raped me (that last part she never knew about) she was there for me.  She helped me move my stuff out of our apartment and even tried to run him over with her car! God I loved her.

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 That was another tragedy that I never dealt with.  My first husband was pure evil.  I refer to him as Satan.  My second husband wasn’t any better.  He was always kind of mean but he was a verbal and mental abuser, until his accident in 2002. He was never the same after that.  His most favorite thing to do to me EVERY SINGLE TIME HE WALKED BY ME would be pinch my nipples then tell me “You should be THANKFUL that I even still find you attractive”!   For the last 3 yrs of our marriage I lived in fear of being murdered in my sleep, my kids being tortured and abused.  He’s one who really messed me up.  After I left him and found my strength to stand on my own I started seeing how little things would really just blow me up!  If people gave me a one word answer I would be angry.  If they touched any part of my body without my permission I would have to resist the urge to beat the hell out of them.

It wasn’t until 3 yrs after I left my second husband and one misdiagnosis of being Bi-polar did I hear the term “Anger Displacement Disorder”.  And when my therapist explained to me with everything I’ve lived through and never dealt with is now resurfacing with anger, it made sense.  She’s doing everything she can to help me deal with it, to find my triggers and to take a minute and breath and actually think about whats got me so upset.  Is it really my current husband (who usually gets the brunt of my anger) or that innocent person who doesn’t realize they just touched my shoulder without my permission or is it a memory of something that happened in the past?   It’s a learning process for me.  I  now paint, write this blog and short stories/books/poetry, exercise or whatever I have to do to bring my anger level down.  I suffer from chest pains and anxiety.  I’ll probably die young myself from a heart attack, I know this.  That is why I’m working on learning to control my anger.  I hope that one day I’ll get the hang of it and be able to get over all that has happened.  Until then, I get to write about my rants, my paranormal experiences and anything else I want for you to read.. 🙂

I figured I’d tell you all about this so you’d understand me a little better.  And maybe someone who has the same problems will read this and know they are not alone, because feeling like you are the only one in the world who has this issue really does make you feel like your alone.  Even in a room full of family and friends.

 

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I’m sure this is EXACTLY how my husband feels about me!  I actually giggled when I saw this and I’m going to post it on my FB page.  It is a conversation we have had.. lol