Scattered

Scattered. My brain is scattered. My world is scattered. I’m trying to sit and get it all out. I can’t seem to find a place to start. There are so many places, so many things that keep rolling through my brain. The things that keep me awake at night. The things that scare the shit out of me.

I don’t know why I haven’t put anything on paper recently. Maybe because it makes it all too real for me. If I write it, it’sreal. If I don’t, I can pretend. Pretend everything is “normal.” What the hell is normal anyway. Normal, a preconceived idea of what life is supposed to be like, what you want life to be like. If only it were that simple. 

I apologize in advance it there are errors in the following. It is hard enough to write, its even harder to try to go back and proof and re-read.

My girl child. It happened again. February 6-7, 2022. He beat her again. She went to see him on February 6th, messaged me to tell me she was staying over that evening. I was at work (a new job that I have been at for only about a month). My cell phone rings and it’s my girl. I couldn’t answer immediately because I was talking to someone. She called back, I answered. She was crying and close to hysterical. She said they had a fight. I asked if he touched her. She said not as bad as last time. I asked where she was and she said she was in his car, driving to where her car was parked. I asked where he was, and she said she had no idea. They fought and she left. I pleaded with her to be safe, get to her car and lock the keys to his car in the car. I called my husband, told him what was happening and asked him to go to the parking lot where her car was parked and watch for her. He did. She never showed up. I tried contacting her with no luck. She called again, screaming, yelling, hysterical begging me to help her, begging me to save her, she was throwing up and dry heaving while she was talking to me. I got from her she went back to his house, they fought again, she ran outside and was at a convenience store and scared that he would find her. I have her on the cell phone and call 911 from my work phone. I give all the information I have to the dispatcher; he sends police. Her phone goes dead. She calls back from the convenience store phone. Still crying and begging me to help. The dispatcher tells me the officers are on scene. I hear them talking to her. She is beyond rational thought. I can hear the officers now yelling at drippy dick who found where she was. They were telling him to get away from her and stop talking and to listen to them. Drippy yelled at her for calling the cops. She blamed me. The phone went dead. I hear nothing for hours. I finally get a call from her saying she needed to figure some things out and she would be in touch with me, but she didn’t know when she would be home. Deep breaths. Trying to stay in “control,” trying not to freak the fuck out, trying not to let my new employer know what’shappening.  

She calls again on my cell. Upset, but not hysterical. She tells me that drippy dick was driving her back to her car, and he got stopped by police for expired inspection. The car smelled strongly of weed (shocking), and drippy was put through Field Sobriety Tests and then taken for a blood test. She now had to drive his car to the police station and wait for him to be releasedbefore she could come home. I offered to get her an Uber, she refused. 

I go home at the end of the workday. I message my girl a few times and finally hear back that drippy dick is driving her to her car. This would be about a 30-minute drive from where drippy lives to where her car is parked. She messages and says she would like to talk when she gets home. We wait and wait. We go to our bedroom because it’s getting later, and she isn’t home.  Again, my cell phone rings and it’s her. Again, screaming and crying for me to help her. She fears him. She got to her car, they continued to talk, and she drove away. He was now following her, and she did not know what to do. I told her to keep driving home, told her to drive to a police department. Again, she really isn’t hearing me. She stops her car at a gas station and tells me where she is. The phone again goes dead. I call 911, again. I tell the dispatcher the details of what has happened throughout the day and ask him to send officers to help her. My husband also leaves to go to the area where she is. Officers call me back. They can’t find her. I tell them the events of the day and what happened. I call my husband and relay to him that the officers can’t find her. He is in the area and sees the officers, so he stops to talk to them. I get a call from a strange number and answer. It’s her calling from one of drippy’s phones.  Her phone is turned off so we can’t track her. She will not tell me where she is but tells me she is safe and okay, and they are talking. But he is sitting in his car, and she is locked in her car and they are talking via phone.  We have an idea where she parks her car and my husband, and six officers are in that area searching and find nothing. She calls me numerous times from drippy’s phone, and the calls just keep dropping. I have no idea what is happening. Eventually, the officers must respond to other calls and my husband comes home. She eventually gets home sometime after midnight on February 8th. 

I don’t see her until the evening of February 8th because I had to work. 

Sorry, back up a minute. As the things were happening the previous day, I was advising my sons, so they knew what was happening. 

My girl messaged me at some point during the day on the 8th and said she would like to talk when I get home from work. I told her yes, we would definitely be talking. I asked my sons to be there as well. That way everyone hears what I have to say in case she isn’t thinking clearly, and she decides to go to one of them for help. She initially wasn’t happy that everyone was. I told her she needs to be honest and no lies about what happened. 

Drippy dick decided it would be a great idea to get them Xany-bars for Sunday evening (the 6th). She said she had never tried them before. They ate them. Apparently, they ate a lot.  She has little memory from Sunday evening at around 11PM to Monday evening around 6PM or 7PM. She knows they fought almost none stop. She showed us a few bruises on her legs. She was still very……. on edge. She said she could still feel whatever was in the bars was still in her. We asked that she tell us what she does remember. She knew they fought both inside his house and outside his house. She told him she was done and wanted to leave and was getting some of her things out of the back of his car. He was in the driver seat and when she reached in the back seat he started to drive away and drug her with the car, hence the road rash all over her ankle/leg. She remembered him punching her in the back of her head when she was trying to walk away from him. She said she knows at one point she was fighting for her life and had his skin under her nails when she came home. We all talked for about an hour. I could tell she was reaching her limit. She just repeated over and over that she wanted to sleep forever, she was tired of this, tired of making mistakes. She wants to be dead. We encouraged her the best we could. Knowing if we push too hard, she would flee. 

She has been at home since this happened. I know she has been in contact with drippy, but she has not seen him. Will this be her rock bottom? Will she want help this time? Will anything change? I am trying to get her to talk to a Domestic Violence hotline. I am trying to talk to her about maybe trying a wilderness program where she has no contact with anyone. Will any of it help? I don’t know. 

Watching her is hard. Hearing her words is harder. Not knowing how to help is beyond words. Seeing her beat up body is debilitating to me. She took a video of her body. The bruises are unbelievable. Her neck, throat, shoulders, arms, legs, feet, and head all have bruises. But I am sure that her brain is the most damaged. That damage doesn’t fade like a bruise. That damage is deep and permanent.

My walls

Each day my walls grow stronger, taller, impenetrable; my walls are my power

Reinforced by the hurt, the sadness, the loneliness, the fear

My walls keep me safe; they keep my heart safe

Safe from feeling too much, safe from giving too much, safe from caring too much

My walls make me a cold-hearted bitch

Walls help me pretend, help me keep going, help me disappear

Behind my walls I can show you want I want you to see; not what is really me

I dare you to get inside my walls

My first big girl job

How can I be almost 52 and I feel like I finally have my first REAL big girl job? And I’m scared shitless.  Scared to fail, scared to let others down, scared to let myself down.  Scared to succeed, scared to do well, scared to like it.  Scared to immerse myself and lose myself in another job.  Is it a job or a career?  What was my last 32 years in the working world?  A job or a career?  What do I want this one to be?  What will this one be?  Do I make that choice?  

I am trying to keep my mind open to anything that comes along in my new big girl job. I don’t want this job to define me. I want to define the job I am doing. Does that make sense?

Sadness

Overwhelming fucking sadness is what I feel every day

For what once was, for what is lost, for what will never be again

Change happens, growth happens. 

Walls are built and reinforced without realizing

Love ebbs and flows, love transforms, love shifts

Who is wrong, who is right

When does life begin and regret subside

When is it too late

Sadness takes over once again

For what once was, for what is lost, for what will never be again

Catching up

It’s been forever since I have had the urge to sit down and write.  I get ideas all the time and want to sit and spill my guts, but then I just kinda fade.  I want to write, but why bother?  Maybe it helps me verbalize and all that.  Maybe it makes me take an honest look at my world.  I think that’s the thing I miss most.  I can be completely open and honest when I write.  My true feelings come out, the real and true me comes out.  The one that I have to keep packed down. Heaven forbid I speak my mind and have an opinion, right?

Let’s catch up.  Since I last poured my heart out, a lot has changed.  I left a job where I worked for 32 years.  Yes, 32 fucking years.  It was the right thing to do.  I did have a new job prior to leaving and no, I didn’t retire.  I wish that were the case.  But at the ripe old age of 51, that’s just not an option.  I hate my new job.  Well, not really the job itself.  The work is fine.  I just wish I would have known I would be more of a personal assistant than an executive assistant.  So, I am on the search again.  I just wish I knew what I was searching for.

I have a new grandbaby.  A baby boy born on August 30th. He is healthy and wonderful.  That makes three grandkids.  They really are so incredibly special to me.  They are each their own person and I will be forever grateful that I get to be part of their worlds.  

I have also decided to let my hair go au natural.  I am going to (try) and embrace the gray.  Not sure how long I will last.  Probably until my mother tells me it makes me look older, not that she would ever do that……

I have, apparently, also decided to let my weight go to whatever number it wants.  I hate, like hate myself for what I am again becoming.  There is no one to blame but me.  I know what to do, what not to do, I just don’t want to.  I honestly don’t care.  Food is comfort, food is my valium.  Why do I do this to myself?  I’m like the token fat friend everyone needs.  There is always a place for a fat girl.  Makes everyone feel better about themselves.  That’s not true, that’s what I tell myself.  UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I managed to almost fuck up my marriage.  Not sure why I was given another chance, but I was.  I still feel the change that occurred between us.  I think he does, too.  He just doesn’t like to admit it.  I know I will never be able to turn back the clock or fix all the hurt.  

What else happened……major water leak in my house in July, house is still a construction site, my car got rear-ended and totaled, had to put one of our dogs to sleep, my girl is still a mess – I think I have just become numb to it at this point.  

So, basically things are going really well right now.

Lost

My universe is imploding

My world is collapsing

I watch in slow motion, unable to stop it

What will I lose

When will it stop

Will I have the strength

Will I be enough

When there’s no one left to see my tears

Will I learn to carry on

Dear dickhead,

I have to start this by telling you that I will never forgive you for what you did to me and what you put me through.  You are a selfish ass.  You needed and wanted to make yourself feel……worthy?  And you did it by destroying me, bit by bit. 

I don’t know how many times you told me that you remembered what I was wearing the first day I started work.  Seriously?  I was fucking 19 years old and you were what in your 30’s?  Does that seem normal to you in anyway? 

You used my friendship and my family’s friendship against me.  You made me feel like you were a friend.  You hated when I compared you to an uncle.  Why?  Because you wanted a sexual relationship with me and that, dickhead, was never going to happen. 

You used the fact that I was an open and talkative person against me.  I talked about music, books, life, at the lunch table with everyone else.  If I mentioned a song I liked, you assumed it was about you.  I LOVED Melissa Ethridge – LOVED her music.  Now I can’t listen to it.  You used it against me. 

What gave you the right to profess your feelings to me?  What gave you the right to give me gifts?  What gave you the right to do and say things in front of others to make them wonder if all the rumors were true?  You loved making people think there was something between us.  You would stalk my office if someone was in talking to me or laughing with me.  You would take days off when I took days off, I found that out much later.  You drove around my walking route.  Seriously?  How fucked up is that? 

I kept my fat suit on for a very long time because of you.  I didn’t want your attention.  I didn’t ask for your attention. 

Your actions made me feel small and pathetic.  I didn’t do what I wanted to with my career.  I had lots of ideas.  I am smart, people looked up to me.  I lead committees and meetings.  You destroyed that for me. 

Do you remember when you showed up at my house to “apologize” for all the shit you did to me?  I was on maternity leave with my girl.  My step-dad talked to you, again, about leaving me alone.  The first time you showed up I hid on the floor.  Did you know that?  But you couldn’t stop.  You called my step-dad and complained that I wouldn’t talk to you.  My step-dad called me and asked me to at least hear you out.  You showed up the next day at my house.  You never apologized, you used excuses to make what you did seem OK.  I believe it was that your dad died young due to heart issues and you had heart issues, your dad had dreams and things he wanted to do but died before he could do them.  You told me you didn’t want any regrets and you wanted me and you didn’t want to die or regret not trying.  How many times did I tell you no?  How many times did I ignore you?   So, because you were a selfish asshole – you destroyed me. And what is worse is that I let you.

I have never truly found myself.  I have never truly been happy with myself.  I sabotage all my personal relationships because I feel unworthy.  You made me feel………..dirty.  You made me feel that I was doing something to make you act this way.  I thought I was the one that was fucked up and wrong – I still do!  You made me doubt anything I ever said out loud.  You made me stop sharing a huge part of me.  You made my work life hell.  You made my home life hell. 

Fuck you, dickhead. You don’t deserve my time or energy anymore.  I have invested way too much into what you did to me.  I’m done wasting my time and energy on you.

Thanks, dickhead

I would like to give a huge thank you shout out to the dickhead that sexually harassed me for 20+ years.

Thank you for destroying me.

Thank you for making me lose all self-respect.

Thank you for destroying my self-esteem.

Thank you for all the personal strife.

Thank you for making my career stall.

Thank you for making me feel guilty for not returning your feelings.

Thank you for making people and co-workers perceive there was something, when there was nothing.

Thank you for making me question every choice I ever made.

Thank you for making me act and behave a certain way.

Thank you for ruining my reputation.

Thank you for all the cards, letters, e-mails and presents. They are now my proof.

I no longer give you permission to destroy me, make me feel small and weak, make me want to hide in the shadows

Fuck you, dickhead. I am taking my power back.