Chaotic …good?

I had a free consultation appointment with a lawyer on Wednesday. I was too scared and anxious so I buried myself in watching The Hobbit movies.

Then I read a lot about LOTR’s middle- earth on the LOTR wiki. #priorities

Why am I scared?

I am scared the lawyer will be very expensive

I am scared of retaliation since he has more resources than I do

I am scared because it’s my first and only marriage. I married for love. I married for that naive notion of ‘happily ever after’. I got happily ever haphazard.

There’s some sort of comfort in being a non-viable life partner to anyone right now. Or even a girlfriend. I’m just sitting in my own dirt. I like it. I hate it. I feel pathetic.

August 22nd, 2019

Here’s what I remember about the day I learned my father died

I wake up early to go run the river walk. I am training for my first 5k. It’s sunny and warm out. The river looks beautiful. I feel hopeful and excited. The sun is shining. The sky is blue. My baby sister is still asleep. After my run, I go home to make us scrambled eggs and toast. I’m taking her to her first yoga class.

During class the yoga teacher instructs us to get into pigeon pose. This feels good. I am enjoying myself. My sister is adorable in her awkwardness. She seems to be enjoying it too. I hope at least.

I close my eyes and breath deeply. I feel a snap. Not in my body but energetically. I feel a tear come out of left eye. The teacher has explained in the past that the pigeon pose can bring out emotions we lock in our hips. I assume maybe that’s what happened. I don’t feel sad so I’m perplexed as to why the tear.

After class we go home and enjoy lunch. I create a to do list for my sister if she feels like she wants to be productive but I also inform her it’s totally ok for her to relax and play video games. She just went through a lot in moving in with me and my spouse.

I shower and get ready for work. I hug her goodbye.

Work goes smoothly until I get mid-massage a post-it slipped under my door. I check the clock. I still have plenty of time to finish the massage. I wonder what it could be. Typically a post-it under the door means I’ve run out of time.

I work the clients tissues until I’m on the side closest to the door and the post-it.

I swiftly pick it up. “Your Aunt Valerie just called. She said it’s an emergency.” I feel panicked a bit. This is strange.

I explained to my client I just got word of a family emergency I need to end the session. He is understanding.

I call Valerie immediately. She informs me my father is dead. He got sick and went into shock in his girlfriend’s bed last night. I’ve got to get to my sibling. I really am panicked. I am terrified of my other sister’s well-being. My work receptionist immediately blocked me for the rest of the day. I am shaking trying to call my other sibling. They answer sobbing.

“Brianna and I will be there tomorrow as soon as possible ok? I love you. I will be there. I’m here for you. We will figure this out. “

“Okay..but only come as long as I am in charge of dad’s funeral stuff. ” she assertively says through her tears.

“Ok you’re in charge. not a problem. I love you so much. Please hang in there call me if you need me. I’m about to drive home. I text you our plane ticket information as soon I have it. I love you. ” I reply through my tears. My heart is breaking for me and for mostly my younger siblings. They were very close to Dad.

…

I cannot believe it’s been 3 years already since the day my life really started to implode. I feel as if whatever bond I salvaged with my dad’s side of the family prior to my sibling’s suicide is gone forever. I feel as if whatever bond I had with my grandma is gone forever. I feel as if I have no one except my close long distance friends.

My house is a mess again. It reminds me of how messy my sibling’s apartment was to clean out. It reminds me of how messy my fathers closet of belongings was. I wish music was enough. I wish my meds enough again to get me going.

I feel like I’m in some sort of purgatory. Or I’m treading water trying to stay a float again. I worked through it yesterday. Tonight is my Friday

Dog sitting for edgelord this week. I’m stupid.

Confessions of a Shitty Older Sister

The first day I met you at the hospital I was instructed to give either Mickey Mouse or Mini-Mouse to you. You, who now made me an “Older Sister”. I didn’t understand why I had to give one of them away when I thought both of them were for me. I resisted at first. Dad insisted it was the right thing to do. That I would have to get used to sharing with you. I looked down at Mickey and Mini Mouse. I decided to hand over the Mickey Mouse. Mickey was a boy and therefore gross. I liked Mini. I kept her. I confess that while it made our parents proud I gave it away without a fight. I secretly felt smug that I gave you the one I considered inferior. This is just the start as to why I feel as if I was a shitty older sister.

I confess that I am sorry for telling you the bruised parts of bananas were the best to eat. You were excited to take those bites of banana from me. It would be several years before you were smart enough to notice I never ate the bruised parts. You stopped taking bites of banana from me or trusting me to pick one out for you as a snack.

I confess that I am sorry for that Christmas I received a jewelry-making kit. I made two best friend necklaces. Dad insisted I give you one. That we should be best friends. I protested. I didn’t care if it hurt your feelings. I wanted to give it to this pretty girl Denise. You weren’t at school yet and often annoyed me with your bids for attention. I didn’t think you were worthy of it. I wish I had. I’m sorry.

I confess I used to think it was hilarious to hide your favorite toys at the end of mom’s hallway closet. Then when you’d got to the back I’d slam the door shut. You’d come running banging your tiny fists from inside screaming for me to please let you out. It was scary and dark in there. I would laugh and resist. I would stop blocking the door only if Mom yelled at me or I heard you start to cry. I’m so sorry for that.

I confess I used to think it was fair to steal your favorite 101 dalmations toy figurines for being such a pest to me. Or refusing to help me clean our room. I’d run and lock myself in the bathroom. I’d trick you into thinking I’d flushed them down. I’m so sorry for that.

I’m sorry that I blamed you for stealing the seashell from our Uncle’s empty aquarium. I’m sorry I didn’t confess until after you passed. You cried because you were truly innocent. I cried because I knew tears were how to get away with it.

I’m sorry for tripping you during blind hide and seek. You fell chin first onto the wood floors. You cried and cried. I begged you not to tell. That I was so sorry. I’m still sorry. I wonder if that caused brain damage.

I’m sorry for the time I lost my patience with you. I think I was upset because I felt like I got hit by mom more than you over our dirty room as well as you thought it was funny to scream/cry that I’d done something mean to you so I’d would get smacked too. This particular day I screamed at you to help me clean up. You wouldn’t. So I threw a book at you. I meant for it to hit you in the chest when it hit you in your right eye. You started crying immediately. I apologized profusely. I still am sorry for that now. I wish I could forget it.

I’m sorry for the time I tricked you into riding the toybox lid down the apartment stairs. I’m sorry I laughed when you crashed immediately into the wall.

I’m sorry I made fun of your short haircut when our great aunt tricked you into getting it. I’m sorry I made fun of you for being a “pipsqueak”. I’m sorry I told you, you didn’t know how to smile, or you smiled like a maniac.

I’m sorry I stopped trusting you entirely the day you told a teacher Dad cut you with a knife. I never understood why you said that. I thought you and dad were buddies. I thought if there was a parent to get into trouble it should be Mom since she hit us. Dad only ever defended us or stopped her.

I’m sorry for all the times I bought into Dad’s quips about you being dramatic. I’m sorry I thought you were dramatic and attention-seeking. I’m sorry I was so guarded. I’m sorry for snapping at you about how you held onto the disney vhs collection the first time you showed me your apartment.

I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’m sorry I didn’t make more of an effort. I’m sorry I played favorites with you and our baby sister. I didn’t know any better. I wish someone had taught me better. I just felt like you got all the attention. You were so loud when you talked. You were so animated. I hated that both of our parents enjoyed being affectionate with you because I wiggled around too much.

You were my first friend and I let you down. You were there only person who knew what it was like to grow up in that apartment when it was infested with roaches and lice. You were the only person who knew how weird it felt to be at a school with kids who got lunch money and allowances. I’m just so sorry.

I’m sorry during our dad’s funeral stuff I lost my patience once again. That I failed to see the bigger picture. That I wanted to give you taste of your own medicine for all the times you blocked me on social media. I turned around and did it to you. By the time I remembered to switch it back it had been too late.

I feel sick.

I’m just so sorry Kit. I can’t believe it’s already been about 3 years since Dad passed and you there-after. I feel like time has stopped for me mentally. It passes yet nothing is the same. I am frozen. I didn’t deserve you. I miss you.

Doing things

I scaled back my weightlifting membership to 8 classes since I have failed to show up for at least 10 the past couple of months.

I renewed my membership at ABP. My rock climbing shoes still have yet to be used because I’m anxious about being around all those people. I think I will try to go in the morning when most are working.

There’s a yoga studio near here called Dharma Yoga I want to try. They’re fairly pricey though. 5 classes for $90 or 10 classes for $165. They have a yoga trainer course I’m curious about for next year. The application says you would want to have attended a years worth of Hatha prior. Something to mull on. I guess I might as well try it sooner than later. Maybe next month considering I’m dead-ass broke after taking a few weeks off.

It was really nice to be back at work. It was even better to be back on my bike again! Something about riding around really stirs up hope in me.

Healing Homecoming

Here is this body of mine that has experienced 11,315 days here on earth so far. // A body that has survived sex assault as a 4-year-old child. A child’s body that survived physical abuse//. A body that overcame falling off my rollerblades to skate.//  A child’s body jumped on the bed;  splitting its bottom lip enough to require stitches. //  A child’s body that overcame being bit by a dog I was playing with. // A child’s body tried to poison itself by drinking pinesol.// That threw it all up immediately.// That told no one but two best friends who laughed at her  “ stupidity.”// A child’s body who loved to read and dream.// Who’s mother was perplexed to tell me to stop reading and clean my room.//  A preteen body that its father and sister shamed//  A preteen body that chronically picked at itself until it was bleeding from its fingers and toes.//  A preteen body that lived with lice for 3 years.//  A teenager’s body that cut its hair all off. //  A teenager’s body that survived its over self-starvation until I had someone close enough to encourage me to eat regularly. // An adult body that survived starvation again to get the approval of someone who didn’t love me.//  An adult body that survived rape three times. // An adult body that left the person implying I’m unworthy of snacks and routine.//  An adult body that stretches out in the morning for yoga. // That still digests well after years of abusing laxatives and eating episodes until it hurts to breathe//  An adult body that now eats regularly.//  Sometimes dessert is breakfast. //An adult body who ran a 5k twice // An adult body that can bike for an hour. An adult body that deadlifted 150lbs.// An adult body that can swim, run, walk, and dance still //  An adult body that has survived  7 car accidents.3 concussions. 1 crack head incident, 2 sprains of the ankle, and loss of fingertip. //  1 sprain of an elbow. Numerous burns, splinters, hangnails, cuts, scrapes, scratches, bug bites, ringworm, hives, and canker sores //  With teeth still present to smile, without cavities but with fillings after being so depressed I quit brushing my teeth twice a day to every few days for a few years.//  A body with a face that wasn’t great about not sleeping in makeup or applying sunscreen. //   Here is a body that lived after consuming a bottle of painkillers.//even though my gums bleed my teeth are still fairly white. // Here is a body I’ve exhausted with busyness// Here is a body I starved of affection.// Here is a body I have been unkind to for more years than I have dared to nourish and love it. // Here is a body I used to see as weak// Here is a body I know now is resilient and strong// Here is my body that is the only home I’ve ever known that is with me wherever I go// My best friend, my best lover, the best dance partner and cook.// Whose voice I am attuned in listening to//  Here is my body with its hands of safety, love, and care.// Here is my body with my hands that I  get to hold// Hands that won’t ever let go//. Here is my body and it’s all mine to partner with and roam…db…

B is for Boundaries

1. I will value my opinions and feelings as much or more than others.
2. I can say NO or YES and be okay when others also say NO to me.
3. I will share responsibility in my relationships/friendships and it’s OKAY to expect reciprocity in them.
4. I will own my problems and acknowledge when they do not belong to me by trusting my own self and instincts.
5. I will not tolerate abuse or disrespect. I will not abuse or disrespect others.
6. I will communicate my own wants, needs, and feelings to the best of my ability in a non-aggressive way. If I am feeling overwhelmed or emotional, I will ask for alone time and to try again later.
7. I will stay committed to exploring and nurturing what I think my full potential might look like.
8. I understand I am responsible for my own happiness and fulfillment. I will allow others to be responsible for theirs.
9. I will honor my limits and not allow others to define them for me.
10. I will accept, respect, and allow others to know their own limits.
11. I will ask for help when I need it
12. I won’t compromise my values or integrity to avoid rejection or gain approval.

Last day of Staycation

Goals I completed over this staycation

• I went to painting class
• I went swimming a few times with new empowered females looking for intentional friendship
• I cleared all the leaves and debris from patio
• I emailed some psychologists
• I rested a lot
• I went out once
• I am halfway through the book, “Was it even abuse?” and 1/3 of the way through “Melmot”
• I binged a lot of The OC
• I ordered in quite a bit but made healthier choices about what I ordered
• I finally got 90 days’ worth of medications that effect my mood like my SSRI and thyroid
• I set some boundaries and course-corrected when I fell short
• I stood up for myself
• I stuck to some boundaries
• I did not allow anyone to sweep me off my feet this summer
• I went to weightlifting 4 times
• I FINALLY GOT MY EBIKE TO CONNECT TO MY PHONE so I will start riding as of tomorrow!! thank you jeebus.
• I cut off people from my past that still affect me negatively

I had hoped to do more but this is fair considering how low I’ve been. What is that saying, “One step forward, two steps back?” Hopefully, I can move forward into fall.

My Relationship Rights

1. I have a right to be believed when it comes to my intentions
2. I have a right to say ‘No’ when it’s not a yes for me.
3. I have a right to feel valued and treated with respect.
4. I have a right to be the only one to decide what happens with my body.
5. I have a right to dress for myself and not always for my partner’s preferences.
6. I have a right to value my opinion and will respectfully disagree when someone differs.
7. I have a right to nourish my body in any that honors who I am.
8. I have a right to NOT be yelled at, called names, or experience neglect and abuse from anyone
9. I have a right to gain or lose weight to my own accord of what feels is my best self and not just for my partner’s approval or the approval of others.
10. I have a right to be heard out when I am being mindful and respectful( not yelling)to my partner
11. I have the right to value my appearance first before my partners.
12. I have a right to say NO to physical intimacy if I’m not asked or checked in with first. I will no longer allow myself to feel obligated. I am allowed to change my mind.
13. I have a right to not be objectified, neglected, abused by anyone or used.

5 parts of Anger

This entry is based on notes I took during my 2019 weekly trauma recovery therapy sessions. I didn’t write a date down. I am just assuming it’s sometime in 2019 after the loss of my sibling, father, and banishment from my father’s side of the family.

My therapist instructs me to close my eyes. To take some deep breaths. Inhaling slowing for a count of 5, holding the breath in for a slow count of 4, and exhaling slowly to a count of 7. We breathe and count together for a set of 5 breaths.

When I open my eyes, she then instructs me to write down the following prompt:

‘Go within, consider an issue that you’re currently struggling with; what parts do you notice? ‘

I write the word ANGER in large capital letters. She then instructs me to draw five empty circles around the word. I fill them in one by one. They are the parts that make up my struggle with anger.

ANGER is part LOVE, part FEAR, part ASPERATION, part GRIEF, part Self-Loathing

‘How do you think these parts are trying to help you?’

I say I think it’s about defense: to stand up for myself. It’s also about injustice. It’s also about revenge: I want to hurt them to get even.

Fear has been a heavy influence on me for the last 28 years. I have no idea what would help it go away. I think validation and reassurance.

My therapist says that Anger is a ‘protector’.

She tells me it’s okay to feel angry. It makes sense my instincts want to attack due to the chemicals Cortisol + Adrenaline flooding my system at the moment.

She instructs me to remember this grounding technique under the acronym, “Peace”

P= Pause and Inhale slowly for a count of 3

E= Exhale slowly. Then inhale and exhale in two more times.

A= Acknowledge my feelings arising. If there’s Anger and an instinct to punish then take a mental note of that. Validate my anger. That it’s okay to feel angry right now.

C= Choose to disengage and walk away

E= Exercise – go for a walk around the block

PART TWO: 2.1 PUBERTY, PURGATORY, and PRODIGY the band.

I am 11 and a half years old. At the end of my 6th-grade year during the summer, my parents break up for good. They don’t have any money to pay rent so the landlord evicts us. Child protective services push that our grandfather takes my sisters into temporary custody otherwise the state will. My grandfather allows my stepdad to move in on the grounds that he’s sober and attends AA meetings.

My stepdad enrolls me in 8th grade at the middle school close to my grandfather’s house.

I decided to fixate on this boy in my computer science class. I noticed he was always drawing or sketching in a small sketch book. I was excited to meet someone who also liked anime as well as drawing it. He was very talented at drawing. I figured if I befriended him maybe I could learn to draw as well as him. He was kind to me. I hadn’t experienced that yet from boys so naturally, I grew to have a crush on him. I wanted to be liked back.

Goths kids at my former, and predominantly puerto rican, black, dominican middle school – didn’t really exist. You would be bullied and dubbed an “Offie” . Goth kids in the mostly white middle in the nicer side of town were just avoided by normal and preppy kids.

My childhood best friend started to gravitate heavily towards industrial music, metal, pop- punk. Her mom started buying her clothes from Hot Topic. I remember feeling very scared and alarmed the first time I went there with her.

I didn’t want to be left behind so I slowly started to find ways to dress punk. I was no longer interested in hoop earrings, phat farms, timberlains, and mud jeans. I went from being called “DSL” ( Dick-sucking-lips even though I had never sucked a dick at that point in my life ) to just “Watch out she might cast a spell and curse you!” I went from being a short flat-chested, gap-toothed, bushy-haired-chubby girl to braces, slim, a cup and then finally tall. My relatives as well as my stepfather loved to praise how good I looked now that I lost my baby weight. Nobody knew I was skipping breakfast and lunch to appear like I had an allowance with my new friends.

One of the few white boys from my old school, Ronald had caught the eye of my best friend. I thought he was weird until he started wearing eyeliner. Then he was very cute to me. All of us would hang out in the basement at his house. He would show us music he liked. He had strobe light going. Prodigy on the stereo “Smack my bitch up!” Him and I started flirting or chasing each other around the basement. My friend seemed to be sick so she was laying on the couch.

Out of view from our other friends- I decided to kiss him. It was an innocent quick peck. The thrill of it was overshadowed by guilt. I had no idea my friend had a crush on him until later. I felt terrible.

Then there was a new guyfriend, Brandon. He was funny. We were all camping in a tent in the yard of my best friend’s family’s rhode island cottage. We got very close. Then we kissed. I had never had a french before so when his tongue just went languid in my mouth I was replused. I didn’t want to kiss like that ever.