Thursday, August 2, 2012

Not a Hollywood Ending...More of an 'Augusten Burroughs' ending

I've bounced back from the low point of my last post, and thank heavens, huh? Yeah, no shit.  The combination of Adderal and family drama is not a good one and should be avoided, is my advice. 

All this time I've been back in therapy.  DEALING with this shit head-on. Not sitting at home looking at 'Cute Overload' and eating ice cream out of the container in the dark.  Not moping and whining my way through life.  I moped and whined HERE, as should have gone without saying I suppose; but once I got up from the keyboard I put on my EIM  (exoskeletal interface, military) and rode rampage through the minefields while the blitzkreig raged and the bodies stank,  while rockets exploded overhead and big icky space guys that had squid heads shot gross blobs of mucus that was actually acid and it would stick to you and you'd start melting and all like 'AAAAAAA!' and you're all bubbling up and your bones are sticking out, so you had to stay in your EIM or else you'd get this acid stuff on you and the squid heads would lay eggs in your brain.   It was like that. 
And now I'm done. 
And I'm feeling pretty damn pleased with myself.

As one of my friends pointed out, family doesn't always mean anything.  Hard lesson to learn.  Learned it.  Learning it  was like suddenly being freed from jail, too.  My life is the best it's been in four years.  Of course, that seems appalling, because I'm writing about having cut my son and daughter out of my life.  I don't know how I'm going to answer questions about why I don't see my kids anymore, or how my grandchildren are.  People still blame Mommy when things go wrong, and a mommy as straight-up weird as I am makes a better target than most.  I intend to say 'fuck'em' when the time comes, if ever.  In fact, I may just not even mention having kids or grandkids to people because I am just so sick of the bullshit associated with the subject.

This is a lot like when my daughter finally moved out, only better. (The sheer awesomeness of how good this is is still kind of playing with my head, in fact. It feels like it should be wrong to be this glad you'll never see your children again.)  I have my life back, and now there are no obstacles whatsoever to my finally getting to a place where I can build something good that's finally, only, about me.  I've spent 52 solid years just reacting and coping and doing for others.  Now I've finally got my shit in a bag and I'm taking it on the road.  SHIT NO I'M NOT LEAVING THE BIKER holy crap no. I'm taking him with me!  Just not in the same bad the shit's in.  That's not clean. 

The man drives me bugshit half the time but I couldn 't have asked for a better friend.  Let alone the whole 'married' thing.  The guy has been right there with me.  We've gone through this together.  Now we're on the other side of it together, and it kicks ass totally.  I've been very, very fortunate.  Butch as fuck and a great goddamn cook; man rides a Harley and wears my patchouli because he gets sad without me.  AWWWWWW.

So that's it.  This will be the last post to this blog for now.  The situation is over - for now- I'm sure there'll be more chapters but dogwilling they won't happen for a longass time.  Thank you for reading, and thank you for your comments, advice, and good wishes.  They helped more than you'll ever, ever know.  You all get a big gold star!

Muchas smooches


  1. I will put my gold star on the refrigerator door.

  2. I'll pin it besides the EKI, next to the golden Verwundetenabzeichen.


Let me know what you think, my darlings! Always bearing in mind, of course, that this is not a fair and impartial forum where everyone has an equal voice and has a right to a fair hearing. It's not. It's a fucking blog. Annoy the hippie? Watch the hippie hit the 'delete' button.