This isn’t going to be a long post… nor a witty one, or pretty or clever or any of my usual antics online.

I’m sad. SAD. Sad for a friend in recovery who wrote me an email today telling me she had relapsed.

There was once a time where I would’ve written a long dissertation telling her why she should come back and to put the bottle down. That she had every thing to live for and please please please don’t die slowly. I’d have told her that there IS a solution. That it CAN get better. Written reams on steps and what to do and how to do it and why. As if my emotion or passion can chase away the sick of an actively using alcoholic.

I didn’t. I couldn’t. You see she deserves better than that from me.

I love her in only the way you can love a fellow battered soul. We’ve shared SO much with each other through the last few years that she feels like family… even though I’ve not ever met her. (Not that that matters… the heart can be transferred over wifi too) She knows. She knows the answers, the solution, the issue. She doesn’t need me to tell her those things. Not even a little.

What she doesn’t know is that she is lovable. That she is worthy of getting better; deserving of the happiness and joy that’s waiting for her after she throws away that bottle. That she’s NOT alone. That, even if she feels like no one else does, I love her. To tell her that her humor and warmth and transparency and kindness and sarcastic biting wit is everything; and the way she can say only one word and make my entire day. She doesn’t know how she touches other’s lives in ways that defy explanation; and that her smile lights up an entire room.

She doesn’t know she’s worth it. But I do.

So I simply typed… i love you no matter what. i don’t want you to hurt. the sick CAN go away and then put a stupid heart emoticon as if that could even begin to relay how much I care.

It wasn’t enough. But maybe this is. Maybe she’ll never read this. But the simple fact that she reached out to me over the interwebz says that maybe she will.

You are never alone. The sun does come back out again. There is a solution. And I’ll be… right… here.

so. yeah. i don’t have a regular blog post tonight. but i do have some poetry. i know … *groan*.

but this? this is important to me. and long. and to any of you who have suffered abuse by the hand of someone who says “i love you”

you’ll get this.

addiction often lends itself to allowing abuse into our lives … physical, verbal, or otherwise.

because if we are hurting ourselves it would stand to reason that we allow the same from others.

this is heartfelt and sincere. and shook me to the core.

thanks for reading… me.

he told me how worthless i am

and that i am useless yet at the same time he loves me

I dont know how to feel except miserable

i know the great guy he is and i will never give up one him…

even when he tries to push me away …thats love.

( as seen on a facebook status. )

I.

as a woman who has lived

giving always to another

bothered by naught

taught to take it well

swelling lips broken

token affection

injected just when necessary

glaring contradictory

story of a victim’s life

strife in the “yeah but”

strutting when he was kind

blinded by half truths

moot points of misery

fantasy of “someday

baby you’ll see

truly what you’ve got”

sotted by lies

crying when truth

vermouth enriched

bitching was normal

hormonal blamed for it all

stalling into the cock … pit

slit of truth denied

spied on happy in others

smothering personal worth

dirge of an awareness song

long gone was my own opinion

onion tears from HIS words

disturbed me never

clever as I was … I was blind

denied kindness for so long

strong woman gone

alone was better than

standing entrenched in hatred

putrid salve masked as love

II.

gloves off now girl

pearl of wisdom for your necklace

glass is all the way empty

see true love never degrades

blades of pain are borne from emotion

devotion makes it so

no man who loves you will say

baby you’re worthless but…

slut. whore. bitch. I love you anyway?

gray is NOT the new fashion

attention pay please to what I am saying

braying asses are just a distraction

faction of the problem displayed

any way you look at it

sitting or standing or bent over in pain

shame is never love.

dove of unselfish kindness both ways

today you better LEARN your name

games are for babies

maybe you’ve not heard

words CAN hurt like whips

lips bloodied with spittle

whittling away at your heart

start thinking two way street here

tears should derive from emotion

stolen never from your grace

face it now or find more misery

blistering truth hurts for a moment

token pain of growing up

buttercup if you’re so worried about him

slim chance you’ll find true romance

dance is made for TWO partners

starting and stopping in their embrace

facing the world the same way

not you looking always at him … and him looking away

III.

trust me I’ve known the difference

given a chance at true love’s bliss

missed that chance too

blue filled scars from my past pain

drained the life out of the only real I’ve known

owning it makes it hurt no less

happenstance of a love gone

strong man pushed away from scars

barring my happy ending

sending him away because victim … used to be my name.

pain is there but also gladness

sadness for love’s loss but

trust me when I say in truth

forsooth I’ll not choose to be where you are again.

and the next time true love knocks on my door

sore from running I might just stick scars or not

stopping in my tracks because I now … know the difference.

complete-ness starts with me.

* you can find more of my actualized poetry at Sassifiable Poetry.  If you’re into that sorta thing.

Now I’ve posted on sex relations. More than once. Disclaimer: AA/NA/CA/SLA (especially) and any other program ending in A does not represent fodder for pick up joint status. Now, with THAT being said, where the hell else am I going to meet like minded folks.  I don’t propose “trolling” for hotties by any means, but fellowshipping and social time is completely different.  I mean have you SEEN some of the derrieres during a healthy bowling match post meeting? Whew. I’m kidding. Sorta. Hey I’m a thirty something with eyes.  And I’m grown. Shush. But I am kidding. And sometimes a boy DOES meet a girl on AA campus. Sometimes miracles happen. Why not? Don’t we all deserve some joy? hmmph.

Relationships in recovery.  I’m no expert trust me on this one. But I have had some interesting experiences in this vein. One ended in a less than lovely marriage.  Current relationship is bringing much joy and peace and love. People are people no matter in recovery or not.  (duh)  The rules are no different. Who is healthful and who is not? What are your motives? Have you worked through your own shit enough to even know what a relationship is? How do you apply the principles of recovery to primary love relations? Okay I’m done being all questiony. Time for some answers.

My friend Astrophysh @ http://Astrofysh.Tripod.com (yes this is a link) made me laugh for an hour or three. Okay I chuckled most of the night.  Read on. You’ll see.  I know I know you’re already thinking …

Just read it all the way through before you blow a gasket. tyvm. *ahem*

THE 12 STEPS TO A RELATIONSHIP

STEP ZERO
Sobering up and realizing we were lonely, horny and desperate. We sought to find that special someone, to fill that gaping hole inside us that you could fly a Boeing 747 through.

STEP ONE
Admitted we were obsessing on someone other than ourselves (miracle) and that our lives were soon quickly going to turn to shit.

STEP TWO
Came to believe that we needed to have sex with this special someone as soon as possible… And as often.

STEP THREE
Made a decision to turn our bodies and minds over to the care of this special someone, in the hopes that they will fix us.

STEP FOUR
Made a searching and fearless physical examination of each other.

STEP FIVE
Manipulating and rationalizing with the committees in our heads, the justification of this relationship.

STEP SIX
Pointing out their character defects whenever possible.

STEP SIX And A HALF
Fighting and breaking up….

STEP SIX And THREE-QUARTERS
Getting back together…

STEP SEVEN
More Sex. (Called “I’m Sorry” Sex.)

STEP EIGHT
Made a list of all the things they were doing wrong and became willing to let them know about it.

STEP NINE
Admitted to them, we were always right. Making sure when we did so it would make them feel permanently inadequate.

STEP TEN
Continued to take each others inventory whenever possible, justifying how we were the victim in this relationship.

MOMENT OF CLARITY! … Taking Action!

STEP ELEVEN
-Asking for help
-Calling your sponsor
-Taking the steps
-Reading and writing
-Complete Housecleaning
-Being Honest
-Making amends
-Trusting in God
-Utilizing prayer
-Helping others
-Being of service

ANOTHER MOMENT OF CLARITY, Then…
-Began admitting when we were wrong and seeing our part
-Showing love through action (Outside of the bedroom)
-Showing up for the relationship (What a concept)

STEP TWELVE
Having had spiritual reckoning. We realized we needed to forgive and love ourselves… before we could love another….

*****

STEP THIRTEEN
Refer back to Step One…… ( Didn’t you learn the first time?!?)

So after careful examination and a hurting belly from laughing, it would seem that if YOUR house is clean, you just might be able to invite another over to ‘visit’.  A seemingly normal person however could be triggered into a whole world of “WTF” when you add love interest into the equation.  But really? You’ll not grow without incentive. Growing pains hurt but are SO SO worth it.  Amazing can be gleaned in the working through of problems … together.

Picture a triangle. Got it? Good. Now you are on one of the bottom sides. Your partner is on the other. Higher Power/Power greater/spirit of the universe/ Allah/Buddha/baby Jesus/whomsoever I don’t even care … is on TOP.  Equal interchange of energy up and down and around and around the isosceles.  One stops giving/receiving the whole unit breaks down. One gives and gives and gives … with no return? Ashes ashes we all fall down.  Relationships require a measure of give and take and health and YES even INVENTORIES. (omg she’s talkin’ about this AGAIN)

Yep, stock in trade of where you are where you’re going together and where you want to be. Stop groaning, you should be old hat at this by now.  Where was I selfish dishonest self-seeking or afraid? Where did I want my partner to think and act MY way?  What’s my ‘stuff’ versus our ‘stuff’ and what’s my responsibility to make things better. Now.  You can do this. I can do this. Hell for the first time ever I AM doing this. And if this sassy girl can get with healthy you sure as hell can too. Motives baby. Watch em’. And don’t be afraid to get a little messy – real lovin’ is never squeaky clean. Cept’ with my rubber ducky and that is another story ENTIRELY.

Be … well.

Postscript:   And yes I’m really sappy right now. I’m not sure if it’s going to pass. I surely hope not

Relationships. Oh lawd we could have a twenty part series about relationships and recovery. (and just might)  The idea that we are going to shine a light on falls into the – What Are We Attracting? category. Otherwise known as Water Seeks It’s Own Level or Damn You Did It Again? As my divorce attorney so lovingly pointed out … “You picked him.”  Yeah. I spose I did.

Firstly let’s look at the “who” we are attracting concept.  Regardless of recovery status there are sick folks. Duh. Yes. You know this. I know this. Everyone seems to know this.  But put that fella (or girl) in a nice package with just the RIGHT kind of sick?  And oh … my … god … flames spark an interesting romance choice.

Hindsight is always perfect vision-esque and in looking back on MY past (out of kindness we’ll call them) experiences, every single one of my relationships tapped into some drama that I had been used to in my past.  Confusing you say? (loosely translated from WTF does THAT mean Sass?)  Example.  Personal of course, otherwise it means a whole lot of nothing.

• We’ll use my marriage since it’s the most glaring example. There are others, if you’d like to know message me and I’ll tell you all about it. Bring tea and tissues.   I knew. I knew knew knew knew … that I was making a mistake.  And did it anyway. Ever done that one? Simply known that this was the wrong person for you, but stayed anyhow?  My family stuff, mostly Mom stuff got triggered (kachow) and it was on.  What’s my “mom” stuff you ask?
• Well (I’ll be brief) … Mom and Dad too really – never approved of anything. Ever. I mean not ever.  I had to make up for a handicapped (don’t use the word retard around me please) brother who was always ill.  I was never skinny enough, smart enough, body shame, the interests I had weren’t okay (theater, art, etc).  Case in point, I’m a writer now and even THAT isn’t enough for Mom. Still.  It’s “I think you should write a book about your daughters. I don’t like all that other stuff you write.”   Now as a grown person I totally GET why she is … why she is.  And it’s okay.
• The issue is, the way we’re raised impacts our relationships.  Whether you admit or even know it … or not.  I chose a man who (oh i don’t wanna freakin say this) was just like my mom. Eww. I know right.  The “not good enough” theme was a constant.  Because THAT’S what I was used to.  Some people don’t know these things about ourselves. But I did.  I knew it after two months of dating and he laughed at me while I cried.  I knew it after he started dissing my hair and makeup and clothing choices. I knew. Hell yes I did.  No victim. Not even a little. I chose this.  Albeit, it was what I knew. So in essence I knew that I knew that I knew. (holyshit)
• (have I mentioned lately how much I love these bullets?)
• (lots)
• (okay back to the blog-ish)

I had always managed to find relationships IN RECOVERY … that replayed that tape.  We are indeed a culmination of our experiences.  If you’ve never looked at your past in your stepwork, try it now.  It’s a kick really.  You’ll see the lightbulb flash.  Now funny thing.  Every relationship was even looked on as fail from controlling parental units. Even the good ones.

Once a controller has their claws in you (be it family or partner) they don’t let go easily. It’s all in the eye rolls people. Uncomfortable.  Flaw pointing has been spoon fed to me since birth.  Always a “what’s wrong with Amy discussion”. Truly could go on for pages bout this.  It’s in a twenty page word doc called “The Martyr who Loved Me.” But not gonna.  It’s not the point.

The POINT is … we are what we have been taught. That until we work a program of recovery to get rid of and understand all of our patterns of behavior, nothing will change.   We will still make bad choices and attract sick like a moth to a flame.   All my exes weren’t from Texas, just the ex husband (aka Prince Charming-less and that last line upon re-reading it … was disturbingly random. I shall keep it.)

Those around us that love and care for our well being, in our recovery family or family of origin (if they’re relatively healthy), can SEE things we can’t.  They see our patterns of behavior, know our past, and get the connection between the two.  Usually they don’t hesitate to question, especially if new in recovery. “Oh he has a week sober? He didn’t MEAN to punch the door? She accidentally fell in bed with another man?”  Raised eyebrows abound.

If you are attracted to someone sick based on their potential … the game is already lost kids.  We cannot make anyone change. Like it or not, you have issues that you desperately need to address.  Until you can get the “crap” outta the way … you’ll continue on with your dangerous dancing patterns.  And trust me they get exponentially worse.  So the next time you utter the words … “Ya but if you just really knew him…” REMEMBER … Maybe we do. Maybe we WERE him or have BEEN with a person of the same ilk or some variation thereof.  Recovery folks are sometimes our eyes where we are blind.

Just recognize the idea that maybe you can’t see.

When the hell did THAT happen?  Seemingly by surprise, smacked in the forehead with an epiphany of epic proportions.  This would sound silly to someone not in the recovery community I’d imagine; although the human population as a whole is pretty effed up.  I mean, us addicted type folks don’t corner the market on sick, that you can take to the bank.   But it seems that we have a peculiar twist that makes self esteem that much more elusive.   Think about it really, your average joe would just drown himself in the boring “don’t take a risk show” if he didn’t like himself much.  Whereas a dope fiend drunk who doesn’t dig himself may very well end up in the final three. You know. We always say it at meetings and whatnot … jails, institutions, or death.

Exhibiting chronic skepticism and mistrust of kindness with internal phrases such as, “What angle are they working?” or “What do they want from me?” or “These people aren’t kind they’re full of shit.” .  All stemming from self belief aka – what I believe to be true about me.  If I don’t like me then you surely can’t, and then we act accordingly.  Self fulfilling prophecy or some mumbo jumbo would make sense here, as we really are a product of what we send out into the universe.

I had a co-counselor from one of the treatment facilities at which I was employed, tell me something that baffled me for months.  She said something so outlandish that I choked on my falafel (it was lunchtime – shush) : “When it came to other people’s opinions of me I always thought – why wouldn’t they like me?” Now she wasn’t arrogant in any way, and people really DID like her. A lot.  Confident and kind, compassionate and self assured; she really had a slew of healthful connections in her life.  But the most important connection she had … was with herself.

What do I believe to be true about me? Silly as it sounds, it makes for a great inventory taking exercise i.e. -  stepwork yadda yadda (you know the stuff that keeps us from that final three grief. yes it’s in the books. i’m not quoting cause you’re grown folks that can read. anyway. moving along.)  People will treat me the way I view myself because I will set it up that way every single ever lovin’ time.  Through self sabotage or whatever subconscious means my magically maniacal mind can conjure up.  Be “nice” to me? Oh we can’t have that.  It feels … uncomfortable. Hackles up I back away.  Sometimes with syrupy sweetness or ballsy bitchiness; whichever is most effective at the moment.

I see this often actually.  In every recovery community in which I’ve been involved.  “It’s hard for me to let people in.”  Quite possibly that should read, “It’s hard for me to like me and you’re soooooooo not seeing that. So back off bub.”  Mysteriously this somehow goes away; little baby step increments of allowing others in corresponds with feeling just a teensy bit better about being in my own skin. No more smoke fogging up the mirror.  Slowly seeing the real me and as a result, allowing you to see too.

So, all that being “said”. Whew.  Maybe borrow a line from my friends internal book. “Why WOULDN’T people like me?” Do the suggested stepwork and address the things you can’t use anymore … like selfishness, self centeredness, fear.  Basic stepwork stuff.  You just may wake up out of your stupor and realize one day that you’re okay too.  Just the way you are.  “Warts” and all.  Sick folks getting well, not bad folks getting good.  PLUS … we have tools to address the things that simply do not fit anymore.  Not so much that these things make us horrible people; but more, behaviors that need to be taken off the shelf cause they’re blocking us.  That we’re all works in progress. And that you’re likable and human and worthy and perfectly … imperfect.  Once that happens? Oh babycakes the places you can go …

People pleasing (a treatment phrase but so effin’ what … I used to be a counselor so I earned the right to use it) is really just a passive aggressive behavior. When people do something just to win approval, which they never really get btw, they end up getting … wait for it – wait for it – YES ! Resentments. Example: Being a YES person. A “Giver”. Yes … I’ll do this for this girl, and that for that person, and again something else for that guy. Grumbling on the inside, “Don’t these people care about me and what I need to do?”  Ummmmm. No. People aren’t mind readers. And there is NO grand collaboration to take up all your time. Contrary to our belief systems, there is no meeting of the minds of all the people in your life to use you. No secret handshake. No password.

Not being able to say “NO”; makes the “YES” pretty insignificant.  Think about it. If saying no isn’t important, then you’re doing it because you think you HAVE to perform. Not an active, well thought out choice, but same ole’ same ole’.  No discernment or feeling special for anyone here, all are welcome all the time.  Call it “lifestyle slut-ism”.  Is it really the world’s best candy if everyone gets it for free?

What is it exactly that is so bad about the word “NO”? Fear of others opinions? Trust me baby, people are gonna dislike ya no matter what you do or don’t do. It’s a perception issue. You may remind them of a long lost cousin that stole their yoyo … who fuckin’ knows.  Bottom line being that if you’re true to who you really are, “nay” saying and all; you’ll know the people that like you for you. Not just the ones that want to use you up and spit you out. Cause’ they’re out there.  “The Takers”.

You know them. The ones that have noooo problem asking for things no matter how incredulous. “Can I borrow your shirt, your car, your boyfriend, and perhaps your wallet?” Now they’re not THAT obvious  about it (usually) but you can read between the lines if you’re familiar with the breed.  Beware when a “Taker” meets a “Giver”.  Fireworks and debit card pin number stealing sure to ensue.

Sometimes the most loving thing we can do is say no. If yes means keeping someone from being accountable for their actions.  No you can’t borrow money … again.  No I’m not gonna talk about YOU all the time. No you can’t talk to me that way; it’s not good for you OR me. No I’m not gonna talk to you if I don’t want to, especially if I feel uncomfortable, or if you want something I just can’t give you.

Setting healthy boundaries is a recovery behavior.  There are folks in the program that don’t buy this line of thought. I’m okay with them not liking it or me. Specially the line, paraphrased of course, “Wherever, whenever, however someone needs you … you should be there as the hand of  (fill in the blank) Anonymous”.  Sure I think that can be true if it’s recovery related … but where do you draw the line?  Folks in recovery need to learn that using others or being used is one step closer to the relapse show. I’ve done the research … personally. It never ends well.

Sometimes … saying no to you means saying yes to me.  Done with kindness and compassion, NOT DOING can be healthy too.  Now as for exactly how to do this without coming across as a full out bitch? That’s a story for another day…

New in recovery … or even not so new. Sex can be a difficult topic to discuss. Of course we can refer to our handy dandy recovery books … but all they basically say is ask God and don’t hurt anybody. God likes sex doesn’t he/she/it? I would assume so since we were created to do it.  Some say instinct and some say need. Other schools of recovery thought are coitus anarchists and say “Strap me up baby I’m gettin’ my groove on”.  Others go for the penile prohibition choice, “No sex except for a loving committed relationship … after a year … after the steps … after you’re old and shriveled. And for goodness sakes don’t enjoy it”.

My opinion varies on the subject.  Being a divorced mother of three little cutie pies, my ability to meet eligible men is sketchy at best.  Meet men at meetings? Then you hear “Don’t shit where you eat. AA is not a pickup joint.”  Just for the purpose of being contrary I wonder where exactly us 30-ish, in our sexual prime (omg) folk are sposed’ to find a sexual partner or at least a date for movie night?  Blah.

Everyone being at a different level of recovery/spirituality/healthiness (whatever that means), would suggest that we must be careful in our interactions. What’s okay to one of us certainly won’t be to another.  I think the key may be to NOT be selfish??? The ability to have compassion and see other people for where they are … without judgment.  Little Suzy sunshine may SAY that she can do the horizontal mambo and just be “friends”. Ahem. Three weeks later when your phone blows up every ten seconds would say otherwise.  And that hot-ass new guy that promises that he wants a serious relationship and “We can stay sober together!” … I don’t think I need to finish that thought. At least I hope I don’t … gawd.

Wary of offers for “coffee” from the opposite sex after meetings. Those lead to U-Hauls in driveways more often than not.  At the very least, could lead to waking up next to someone you really may not know well or even like that much if ya do know em.  If someone is pushin to unzip the jeans, even if ya wanna REAL bad, make em’ wait and see if they’re in it to win it … or for the five minute show. Unless the five minute show is all ya want. Be careful though; the fallout can be seriously whack and you may break out in stalkers.

Like anything else in life and especially recovery, we don’t need any more shit than is already on our plate. Sex can be amazing, or a diversion, or a quick fix, or the start of something good.  Know yourself, know your motives, for shitsakes be honest. Meanwhile, “self love” remains my best friend.  Don’t even have to wear makeup or sexy outfits … although I usually do.  Sexy is an attitude. Try not to pervert it. Or do pervert it … just don’t bitch about the consequences.

A little snide here, a bit of  self absorbed there, a smidge of jealousy, a whiff of demanding.  First getting to know someone whether ethernet induced or “real” life (lol what is real anyway?), you always have hints.  An inkling, if you will, of things to come. Prescient subconscious nudges of “WTF” and “this ain’t good mama”, are just begging to be listened to.

But noooooooooo. You wanna be “nice” (middle finger inserted here) and see them for who they REALLY are.  Them demanding all your time is okay right? Means they like ya (Jim Carey voice here).  Jealous? Oh nooooooo, that’s not jealousy it’s just being protective (ahem).  Like OMG they really care about me you tell your friends in a valley girl voice. I mean like he wants to SEND me stuff.  Like that costs MONEY!!! Totally tubular.  (wtf?)

Time marches. Hints turn into HELLO I KNOW … you just didn’t say that to me? You’re tryin’ to tell me not to talk to WHOM? (yes grammar is important) Or… I’m not showing you THAT (on webcam). Okay maybe once cause it’s hot and I like seeing myself on camera, but BOO for asking. Really? You just didn’t say that about me in front of EVERYONE!!! Ass.

Yep. Betcha been there. Or done it even, who knows.  People generally put their best foot forward in the beginning. We, as sentient human beings purportedly know this.  Ignore on, blinders up, pull the wool over our own eyes.  Yep.  Also, and more importantly, we get stuck in Fantasy Island (aww Tattoo … midget… cute.).  The what if’s, could be’s, and if only’s come out to play and we build people up to be something they’re just … NOT.

So. Next time your gut is doing a primal scream of  “somethin’ ain’t right up in here”.  Listen would ya? THAT… is the voice of reason. Be cautiously optimistic. Now before the great J rolls his eyes at me about the raw … I’m not saying to flip off the real and avoid playing in the pain-box.  All experience is golden and vulnerability is orgasmic.  I AM saying that when you see the flashing red lights, pay fukkin attention. There are plenty of playmates out there kiddo that’ll not trigger the inner uh-oh. (hey!!  i like that …  “inner uh-oh”, good book chapter no?)

In essence; be wise, be mindful and pick your do-si-do partner carefully.  When your “sick sense neurons” don’t send you as many “WTF! I know you just didn’t … ” messages, get down and dirty and doggie style (it’s a metaphor people chill out).  In order to get bettah at bein on the real, someone has GOT to stimulate that shit.  If it means masturbation for a minute, so be it.  Nobody likes an unfair fight. Spar baby, pro style. Amateur hour is ovah.

Not so easy. Not so quickly did the dynamite go BOOM. Like a flash before your eyes in slow motion; it happened.  Never knowing when the next unkind word would spout and knock you on your ass, before you even knew there was a cap in it.  No one says, “Gee golly Mom and Dad when I grow up I wanna get my ass kicked and feel stuck in a horrible relationship. Ain’t ya proud?”  Incomprehensible on a conscious level, totally get down with the subconscious question, “Maybe things will get better? He’s really nice deep down inside.”  Double bleck.

It starts slowly, as most things do. A jab here, a mean comment there; always followed with an I’m sorry and an excuse.  Note to YOU … anytime, anyone, anywhere believes that it’s okay to down you and use something else as a reason for such shitheadedness – RUN LIKE HELL.  My less than lovely love affair started with a punch in the door and “I don’t have a Dad and that’s why I’m mean.” WTF??? Lots of folks don’t have Dad’s … does that mean they have the right to be hateful too? Excuses.  Easy to believe actually. Because by that time, you’re invested somehow and WANT so badly to believe that they indeed are just “misunderstood” and “broken”.  Hell I’m broken too but you don’t see me randomly beating people.

Rain Slicker smooth like buttah, assuaging doubt with a double dose of nicety. The kind they tell you about in Fabio inspired novels and Lifetime specials.  THIS … you say to yourself … is who he really is! All this other shit is getting in the way right? (another note to you … if these words EVER run through your mind about someone … RUN LIKE HELL) The fact of the matter is problems are worked through if and ONLY if people accept personal responsibility.  This ain’t Fantasy Island kids, no one can flip flop that quick. Sorry.  It is true that people can change and NOT do things that are hateful again … BUT … they are accountable for their behavior and it ain’t no honeymoon sugah.

Walking on eggshells because of his “issues” (get a fucking tissue and get out man) I found myself wondering what had happened to me. The sassy ass, wisecrackin’, whippersnapper of a twenty something was reduced to a quiet, solitary, isolated, whipped cur. When did THAT happen? Better to be quiet than to deal with his rants. Newest issue depression. Did you know that depression made you belittle people or beat their spirit to a bloody pulp? As a former therapist I never saw depression contraindicated with slicing up someone’s clothes with a butcher knife. Eh, who knew?

Babies begat by force squeeze their way into this hell that is the home.  Rather quickly after marriage, I might add.  Maybe having a bundle of joy could make it better. Oh for the love of the baby jesus, if you EVER think that … RUN LIKE HELL.  Trapped, isolated, friends still try to call. “They don’t care about you. Meetings are for sissies” he says as he swigs the cheap beer and puts the last blunt of the night out in the basement ashtray.  Logic says … umm run? Fear says, “Where the hell is there to run to?” Embarrassment and shame are what’s cookin’ for dinner these days.

In order to stay, you gotta buy it on some level. Really. Hopeless people don’t strive for greatness, they’d give their left (body part of choice)  to be able to breathe normally; sans the elephant sitting on them.  Easy to see on the outside, in the middle of it we are a blind mouse who smells the cheese but starves just the same.  Roller coaster lovin’ is nothing like the real thing baby.  Ups so high that you’re terrified.  Think you’re scared now? Wait for it … wait for it … the descent is like being butchered alive.

It takes extreme measures to leave. Financial ruin is sure to follow if you don’t got it like the rich folks do (my current checking account balance is available for references).  The short term pain has GOT to outweigh the long term, ie … you don’t give two shits what it takes you gotta get up outta that joint. It takes what it takes. It took me internal bleeding and a sucker punch or two … it may take others less or more of the same. The fear, oh good gawd a mighty, of never knowing when the other shoe was gonna drop? The “trying to make it better for the babygirls” of it all? The “I do til I die?” bullshit? The “I relapsed after 15 years sober cause I was going to kill myself so I opted for a bottle instead?”… take a breath. It just ain’t all that easy to stand up for yourself when you’re looking at everyone from the floor.

Let’s just keep it simple (eye roll)…  hell to the NO she doesn’t fucking like it, most women/men in the sitch don’t know what to do, it usually happens so deviously that we’re not aware of it, and screw you for not getting that things aren’t that easy.  “Just get out.” they say.  Umm … no shit. Where, how, why, when, how much, and who’s gonna give two shits bout me when the battered women’s shelter is done with my ass?

Instead of a snide comment, maybe give the girl (or guy) a hug and a whisper of “I’ll be here when you’re ready. I’ll stick.” Better yet … “RUN LIKE HELL”.

Feelings get hurt all the time. These can be healed by a kiss on the tears and a simple “sorry booboo”. Snuffly noses dried with sister’s sleeves and back to negotiating the Kingdom of Katywampus; named by Mommy of course.  Never leave the baby behind.  Baby J is slower but makes up for this by being the epitome of cute yelling “hey guys wait up don’t weave me pwease?”. She is lovingly included and rewarded for just being … the baby J.  She also allows the  little six year old  “mommy” Ella Bella, to practice being an instructor of things. Today’s lesson was about the earth being “sucked into the sun in five billion years” per the kids at the playground. In my day we giggled at boys, now they discuss quantum physics and the theory of relativity amongst other childish things.

Then there is the entity called BooBooLicious. Ultimate peacemaker, gymnast, and odd man out. In the forming of the eldest/youngest coalition, Boo is out in the cold.  Amazingly she is okay with this idea, playing her own game and dancing via the Black Eyed Peas boom boom style. She looks at me and grins, “Mommy look how pretty I dance by myself!” She is confidence in a 50 pound body, emitting self assurance in every way.  Finally the other two can’t stand being ignored and rope her back into the Katywampus Fiefdom.

No matter how many mini fights, tears, irritants, and social graces scorned; they forget all transgressions immediately. The ebb and flow of childhood makes me swell with awe and admiration at their loving spirits. They know who they are and what they are not without being told a single secret. I am fortunate to be in the club. Queen Mommy is loved beyond measure even though she does much wrong. I go and watch them sleep sometimes. When the chaos is quelled, their little chests rise and fall in that sweet slumber of no regrets. It is then that I breathe in the smell of love and know that maybe someday I too, can be like the beauty I behold in the purple and sage colored Kingdom of Katywampus.

And to think I could have missed all this … by simply picking up a drink.