Toxic Past.
This blog is a overstuffed with homage to my toxic past.
So, I grew up in a neighborhood of older girls and to avoid being alone I played court jester. It had it's merits.
So, my mother tried to protect me from disappointment by making mediocrity acceptable. When she told me I would never be this, or never be that, she was trying to make it ok to be me.
So, my sister's talents always blinded mine, she travels a different road.
So, the men in my life have been compicacted, and my relationships co-dependent. Welcome to the world of humanity.
Fatso,
you ugly and yo shoes is too,
....
Hell, my life has been a cake walk in the scheme of things.
My enemy is my head voice. Bastard Bitch screaming about how this that and the other will hold you back, keep you down and take you out.
Fuck off bastard bitch brain. I gots a world to set afire.
Post Sniveling:
Yesterday's attempt to grab Joy by the balls and play like a rockstar fell flat.
it was cold, wet and miserable out.
The boys did not want to leave their fathers house where the war gaming and cable tv connection is unlimited. we argued about the way they wanted to spend thier christmas money, more to the point the impulsive nature and ify way they wanted to spend it. I was hurt by the fact that the plans plans when to save the day for me were thwarted once again. They had invited a friend to spend the day with them doing things not with me. I lectured the dangers of buying shit from craigslist and meeting the seller without an adult involved, I lectured on the risk of buying a used laptop from a classmate... I was the voice of doom and gloom-not the spirit of joy. I was being a mother, giving advice, setting limits, trying to establish a code of honesty. They were sneaky and plotting to do things in disregard of all I've advised.
There was a moment that sent me tailspining. Arts had me pull the car infront of his father's garage so he could look begrudgingly look for his sled. Keep in mind that I have not recieved any support payments for a year. No money for medical bills, no gifts for the boys... Sitting among the mountains of toys was a shiny new crotch rocket motorcycle. A ducati for christ sakes. The man can not pay a thirty dollar co-pay at the dentist, or twenty five for hair-cuts, but he can own two motorcycles, a minimum of 5 bikes, 3 of which are top end racing bikes of the last three years. We are talking tens of thousands of dollars in play equiptment.
When Arts saw me double take told me some elhaborate story that I'm certain his father told him about how aquired this one miraculously without income.
This is how the boys are learning-- Mother nags. She sets limits, has expectations.
Dad plays, he's cool, he has friends....
This is the other issue that flares of this I went to hear a freind play music, one of the only people from my past whom I hold dear, this is the only venue where I can go and find friendly faces, aquaintences who I hope one day to call friends. The ex. showes up with his group of friends--all of whom I was not allowed to get to know when we were married. He told me they were assholes, swingers, arrogant jerks and snobs. He spent holidays weekends, went to parties in his honor, all without me when we were married, and he contiues to do so and to show up in the only places I feel I can get out of the house alone, because I have no friends from my past with which to hang out, go to parties, or with whom to spend lonely holidays.
This man is who my children adore. Me, not so much.
I have a past, a lonely past.
I deserve better.
I'm letting this go, letting this go, letting this go and giving it up to the vastness of space and time.
Letting this go.
