Guest Post — The Girl Who Cried Rape

theprozacqueen:

This definitely hit home.

Originally posted on HarsH ReaLiTy:

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I had never really had a steady boyfriend through high school, just a combination of real losers that I dated for a week and broke up with because it wasn’t worth it. I was a homebody, not in the “popular croud.” My mom was a teacher; I wasn’t cool enough to be invited to parties. My weekends consisted of drinking apple juice and watching The Golden Girls on my couch until I got yelled at to go to bed.

I got to college, and I discovered the concept of “friends with benefits.” A guy liked me? A guy wanted to kiss me and make out with me and touch me? What a novel idea! Oh gosh, I wasn’t the most unattractive being on the face of the earth! I was desirable!

Of course, it was only ever beneficial for him, and never for me. In the two and a half…

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Spitballs From Heaven

I apologize in advance if this post depresses you. It’s about the death of someone very dear to me and, while it is meant as a tribute, it’s…well, about death. You’ve been warned.

Every May you can’t help but see it-‘Happy Mothers’ Day’. Flowers. Cards. Mugs. Ads for the latest kitchen gadget. They’re everywhere. I suppose that’s all well and good for those who are trying to find presents for their moms, but it doesn’t do much for me. I know she’d hate this, but I can’t stop thinking about how I don’t have a mother. Not in this plane of existence. Not anymore. I don’t normally sit around feeling sorry for myself (well…), but sometimes it just comes.

I remember the day she died. It was December 12, 1998, approx 11:45 pm. Yes, I remember the time. I always will. She had breast cancer…she lived for about a year or so after she first got the diagnosis. For a while, she did relatively well. But then, she didn’t. I saw how the chemo changed this once active and vital woman I loved into someone who didn’t even want to move or eat. I can’t even begin to imagine the pain she was in.

I guess one thing is good, though; she gained a completely new outlook on life. She stopped coloring her prematurely-gray hair. She would laugh and smile more. She stopped feeling depressed about things like her weight…yes, she lost a lot of it, but that’s not the point. The point is that she seemed to see each new day as a gift-a much more positive “lease on life”. I remember she would say that she didn’t want to color her hair anymore and if other people didn’t like it then, tough, because this was her. She did her best to instill confidence in my sister and me, even though she didn’t have much herself. I remember some of my friends were surprised to see me back at school for the semester after she died, but I didn’t know what else to do. It was my last semester of college, so I guess it would have been stupid for me to stay out when I was so close to finishing. But the thing is, she wouldn’t have wanted me to. She would have shot spitballs at me from heaven if I hadn’t gone back. To this day, that’s what I call hail-spitballs from heaven.

Come to think of it, that’s a good thing to do. Remember. I remember the Snickers bars. I remember that it was she who gave me my first Dr. Pepper, and I’m still addicted. :) Dr. Pepper from a can, the drink of the gods. I remember telling her when I got my period. I remember that she had depression issues, and thus was a very good help to my sister and me when we had our problems. I remember how she didn’t want people to put themselves out for her, but would do anything for anyone else. I remember our ‘agreement’ that Pierce Brosnan was gorgeous…I’ve seen some unflattering pictures since, but there’s something about a man with an accent…:)

I remember the stuffed cows she gave me. We both loved cows. I remember how she once saw a stuffed cow in Walmart and bought it for me. What made it special was that she only had the money with her to go to lunch, but instead she used that to buy me the cow. She didn’t eat lunch that day. I’m tearing up a bit…I know It seems small, but it reminds me of what I *don’t* remember. I don’t remember a single selfish act on her part in all of the 21 years I’d had with her. Not one. She devoted her life to our family in a way we may not have noticed growing up, but that made a huge difference in our lives. We truly are better for having known her. If I’m lucky, maybe one day I’ll be *half* the mother and person she was. One can only hope.

Before I forget, here’s the cow:

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18 years later, I still have it.
I miss you, Mama. I hope I’ve done you proud.

Oh, and, one more memory-I remember how upset I was when I was told that she died rather than being healed on this planet because she didn’t believe God could heal her. That opens up so many other doors for discussion I’m not going to go through here, but I have one word for that-bullshit. She asked us to pray for her on a number of occasions, and prayed herself. Still, despite her treatment, she died. But if you think about it, she was healed. She suffered a number of things on this planet, and now she is somewhere where she will never want for anything ever again. Her depression is gone, her pain is gone, and she is with God. If that isn’t healing, what is?

Goodnight, everyone. Goodnight, Mama.


I “Mustache” You Some Questions

I stole this idea from https://myspanglishfamilia.wordpress.com/2015/02/14/i-mustache-you-some-questions/. I just thought it might be fun.

 

Four things people call me besides my real name:

-Sha
-Sha Sha
-Moo (don’t ask)
-That girl over there-because I was so shy and retiring in high school that a lot of people (mostly teachers) never learned my name.

 

Four jobs I’ve had:
-Waitress
-Manager-in-training for a furniture store
-Sales/Promotions. I would sooner suck down an entire tube of styling gel than take another commission sales job. I am not kidding; I hated it *that* much.
-counselor at a weight-loss clinic.

 

Movies I would watch (or have watched) more than once?

-Forrest Gump
-Heathers. I was obsessed with that movie when I was a teen. I think it might have been because I had a crush on Christian Slater.
-Friday (unfortunately)
-A Knight’s Tale because…well, Heath Ledger. I’m sorry, but that man was just beautiful.
 

Books I’d recommend:

-The Shack by William P. Young. Very moving book if you’re spiritual at all. -A Day Late and a Dollar Short by Terry McMillan
-The Unauthorized Guide for Choosing a Church by Carmen Renee Berry…I love my church but the history and diversity of beliefs within Christianity fascinates me. Religion in general fascinates me, really.
-The Red Tent by Anita Diamant

 

Places I’ve lived:

-Oak Island, NC (outside Wilmington)
-Raleigh, NC
-Newnan, GA
I was born in Guam, but we left when I was a baby. Does that count? If not-
-Allen, TX

 

Four Places I’ve Been:

-Edinburgh, Scotland (and it was awesome!)
-Disney World
-St. Augustine, FL (our honeymoon)
-London

Places I’d rather be right now:

-I really don’t know. Someplace fun and warm.

 

Four things I don’t eat:
-cooked fish…but I like sushi. Go figure.
-Grits.
-Fried okra.
-Avocados. I don’t know why.

 

Four of my favorite foods:

-Chocolate anything.
-Cherry anything.
-Black olives.
-Pasta, esp. with pesto or garlic cream sauce.

 

Four TV shows I watch:

-Grey’s Anatomy
-Bones
-Dr. Phil (yes, I admit it…)
-Project Runway

 

Four things I’m looking forward to in 2015:

-My 10th wedding anniversary was in January.

I can’t really think of anything else specific. I look forward to life in general.

 

Four things I’m always saying:

-Tabby fight!
-Toby, stop biting me.
-Dusty, stop biting Toby.
-Don’t spit it out!

 

Four People to Tag:

1. https://myspanglishfamilia.wordpress.com (I got this from her)

2. https://justplainolvic.wordpress.com/

3. http://nonsenseshenanigans.com/

4. http://thereporterandthegirl.com/

You don’t have to participate if you don’t want to. It’s up to you.


Christmas list?

(Throwback Thursday-originally published in December 2010.)

My husband asked me what I wanted for Christmas. The first things I thought of were a Bible with the Apocrypha in it and/or one of my favorite party games. Of course, we’d actually have to *have* parties in order to play said game, but that’s something else entirely. I can think of a few things I’d like, but I don’t think they would be something he could give me. For instance:

-he can’t give me my brain back. One thing I hate to no end is that I feel like I am ‘slipping’…everyone else ‘gets’ things that I don’t, and I keep missing and forgetting things. I don’t want to immediately say it’s because of my bipolar and/or ADHD, but that’s probably the most likely scenario. My doctors have told me that it affects the way I think; I test lower on IQ tests than I did before because my brain works differently (well, assuming it works at all :P ). Seriously. I’ve been told over and over again that I ‘don’t think’ or whatnot, but that’s not true at all. I *do* think, I just tend to think so fast that nothing really ‘sticks’. My last few employers-you know, the two jobs I was fired from in two weeks-can attest to that. It’s just so frustrating, because I feel like everyone else is smarter than me and understands everything much better. Maybe this is true, but maybe I’m just *different*, not any less or any more. I don’t know.

-he can’t help me lose weight. Maybe he can in terms of eating more vegetables and less fatty stuff, but he can’t exercise for me or stop me from liking things like soda and cookies. I feel like I’ve nagged him enough about that in terms of getting him to buy veggies and fruit for produce, although truth be told I really don’t push anywhere near as much as I could. Still, I know that money has been really tight for us and that he feels like the stuff we can afford is often the stuff that’s really the worst for us. He doesn’t say it like that, but that’s what it comes out to. We *do* get canned veggies but It’s up to me to actually *eat* them, or to choose them over other stuff when I have a choice.

-he can’t help me get motivated to do, well, anything. I have so many projects I’ve started that I haven’t finished and don’t really know if I will. A children’s book, a novel of sorts, a few other writing projects…at least I’ve had some stories published, although they haven’t sold yet and *ahem* aren’t the type of stories you let your dad read. I have a couple of tabs open in my browser right now for things I keep meaning to read, but somehow never get around to it because I’m so easily distracted. Maybe at some point I’ll stop playing Facebook games long enough to read the stuff I’m supposed to read on Beliefnet for my job, and Slater, get off the counter,then do some writing I get paid for and Dr Phil’s head looks particularly shiny today….oops, got distracted again.

-he can’t get me to stand up for myself the way I need to.

-he can’t ward off my depression or make other people do stuff with us. They have their own lives and I totally appreciate that, but sometimes I just get bored with the same old thing. Boredom often leads to depression with me and, since I don’t work outside of the home, I get bored quite a bit. It’s gotten better now that we’ve paid the car off and I’ve been doing more stuff at church. Just to get out among other people-especially more women since most of my friends here are men-really helps. Even so, sometimes I still feel really “meh”. Which leads me to my next point:

-He can’t make me feel like less of a piece of crap because I get disability even though a lot of the time I feel as though I can work. I know from experience that my mental issues cause major problems and my physical issues aren’t much better, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling as though I’m one of those “sponges” or “cheats” some people rant about. I would never, ever say that to someone else, but I’ll say that to myself. Hmm.

He can’t change the past, which is ultimately what it would take to ward this off.

That’s just it. He can’t change the past. I know he would if he could, though. The only thing that can be done is to get to be more comfortable and content with the way things are and to try and improve things from there, but that’s something I have to do for myself. I have to ask God to help me with that every day, if I remember. That’s really sad, ‘if I remember’, but the point is that he can’t do it for me because it’s not *for* him to do. It’s for me, with God’s help. And I need all the help I can get.

*sigh*

Maybe I should just stick with new jeans and some bras to replace the ones I can’t wear anymore. That would require a lot less explanation.


Start a Fire Within Me, God

theprozacqueen:

…something I would do well to remember.

Originally posted on Amanda Christine:

I was thinking about this phrase, and about its implications. “Start a fire within me, God.”

I hear it all the time, and I desire that fire to be lit deep within my soul, just as many other Christians do. But in saying that, I believe I’m missing something huge.

In my life, I’ve gone through times when the fire was like a gigantic bonfire, and other times where it was little more than a flicker. But one thing that was consistent throughout those different times was my inconstancy. You see, when that fire burned bright, it was during the times that I made the most effort in my relationship with the Lord. The times when it shrunk to a flicker were the times that I didn’t give the Lord more than a little thought before I went to bed at night, blaming the busyness of life on my lack of…

View original 288 more words


Share Your World Week 4 (?)

I’m a little behind on things when it comes to challenges. I have blog award badges I keep meaning to post but something always goes wrong (gee, thanks, WordPress), several posts I need to complete and all kinds of other random stuff I keep meaning to sort out.

Last week I found a “Share Your World” post on Nonsense and Shenanigans and thought it might be fun to jump in. Here are my answers to Week 4. I might go back and add the previous weeks to catch up, or I might just go on from here. I haven’t decided yet. Anyway, here it goes:

1. Where did you live at age five?  Is it the same place or town you live now?

I was in Allen, TX, a small town outside of Dallas. The next town over, Plano, is where the Dr. Pepper bottling plant is located. I remember getting to tour the plant on a field trip, where we got to have a sample…I also remember our teachers being pretty bothered by the fact that they now had to deal with a bunch of kindergarteners who had been given Dr. Pepper and sent back to them. I still love the stuff.

2. You are invited to a party that will be attended by many fascinating people you never met.  Would you attend this party if you were to go by yourself?

Maybe. Do I know the person who invited me, or anyone else? The question never said I wouldn’t know *anyone*, just that I wouldn’t know the “many fascinating people”.

Either way, I think it would depend on what kind of party it is and how I felt that day. If it was something I needed to attend for work or was hoping to do some “networking” for my writing of various kinds, I’d suck it up and go. If it was just to hang out and play board games or something, I’d probably make an appearance and leave if I felt uncomfortable. I know that wasn’t much of an answer, but I can’t count on my shyness and/or anxiety being the same day to day.

3. Did you grow up in a small or big town? Did you like it?

It was a small beach town in North Carolina. It’s a nice enough place, but I’m glad I went away to a much larger college and stayed there after. I wanted so much to break out of my shy shell, but it was damned near impossible to do that a lot of the time. If you’re around people who think of you as the shy kid in the corner the way I was growing up, you’re a lot more likely to act that way. I miss the beach sometimes, though.

4. As a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?

I used to say a “world traveler”-basically, the people who film documentaries and/or take pictures for National Geographic. I still want to go to every regularly inhabited continent (read: not Antarctica!) at least once before I die.

I was also a You Can’t Do That On Television freak and would write  sketches and “locker jokes” for my My Little Ponies.

Bonus question:  What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?

Ummm…I guess I’m thankful that I got through last week. I wasn’t in the best of ways. I’m glad this week started off good, though.

Okay, there you have it. See you next week, hopefully. If I remember.


Do we ever really grow up?

my-little-pony-468916_640

I had about 40-50 of these growing up. They didn’t look quite this “anime”, but whatever.

 

I guess I’m thinking about this because a lot of my friends with anxiety or mood disorders of some kind still have a lot of the same fears and frustrations from childhood that everybody else seems to have gotten past. It might just be me, but I think it’s a lot more difficult to let go of things when you have a mind that holds onto absolutely everything and won’t shut up for five seconds.

For instance, my husband has a lot of anxiety about money. There’s a good reason for this since I’ve had so many problems working, which is why I feel like a sorry sack of bipolar scum most of the time. We also went through all of our savings within nine months because I had an accident that rendered me unable to work much for seven months and racked up obscene amounts of bills and stress. But that’s not the point; the point is that any time I mention wanting or needing something, he gets nervous. I know he has anxiety issues, which I guess is one thing that makes him so understanding of the problems I’ve had. He tells me he loves me all the time, that I’m really good for him. I believe it. He’s a lot more than I deserve. Even so, it makes me feel the same way I did when my parents would balk when I needed or wanted anything that cost a lot of money. They didn’t say anything, but they really didn’t have to. The “look” they got on their faces when I mentioned needing $25 for a field trip or $70 to have a new color guard uniform made was enough to make me feel like I did something wrong.

As it turns out, they were having money issues because the treatments my sister got earlier on (doctors, rehab etc) were expensive to the point where they thought they’d have to go bankrupt. At least, this is what my dad told my brother about five years ago. I did not know any of this-I thought that they sent her away because she was bad and they didn’t want her anymore. I feared that, if I wasn’t perfect, I’d be sent away too. If I upset them too much the way she did…and money seemed to be the main thing they got upset about. I used to think that I would probably have turned out less sensitive or whatever had I known some of these things, but whatever. They did the best they could. I know nobody is going to send me away now, just like nobody would have then. Even so, the looks and demeanor my husband sometimes takes when I mention money makes me feel like that ten-year-old kid worried that she did something wrong or the 17-year-old who ran to her room crying when she told her dad how much the “senior stuff” (cap, gown, yearbooks, etc) would cost.

But I’m not a kid anymore. My husband has gotten a lot better about getting nervous and ranting for the same reason-my dad used to do that and it scared the living crap out of me. He didn’t mean to; it just did. To this day, it scares me when a man screams at me in anger. But I’m not a kid anymore. So why should it? Why do I still worry or think I’ve done something wrong anytime someone seems the slightest bit less than happy with me? Or when they seem miffed, period? I know that most people aren’t aware of how their words or non-verbal cues (tone of voice, body language etc) come across. So why do I still pay so much attention to it?

I know I’m not alone in this. It’s just that I think there’s something about the minds of myself and other friends with similar issues (I have a friend with OCD in mind) that holds onto things others would ignore and, in doing so, misses the primary stuff. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing; in fact, it can actually be quite helpful when you’re studying things like philosophy or religion where there are multiple layers you have to sift through. I didn’t realize this before, but one symptom of OCD is unwanted and distressing thoughts. I thought it was just about germs or whatever since that’s what all the movies show, but I learned that my obsession with body odor* and the scary thoughts I’d had about hurting my cats or wondering what would happen if I pushed my Spanish professor off a balcony (no, I didn’t do it) can point back to that too. I don’t want to say I have PTSD because I haven’t had anything traumatic happen that bothers me, but I wonder if people who *do* have even more problems because of the way our minds won’t let anything go.

I think I might have gotten off track here, but my question still stands. Do we ever really forget the things we learned about ourselves when we were growing up? Even if the “lessons” were false, do we ever forget about the bad things we learned enough to focus on the good things? Do we ever get past the memories and the feelings that they bring to light? Or are we destined to mentally become our ten-year-old selves when something goes wrong?

I was going to a great therapist last year, but I had to stop because we couldn’t afford it. I’ve joined a ladies’ depression support group that I think is helping, if only because I get to get out of the house and talk with people outside of our social circle. In fact, that’s what we talked about last week-how simply seeing friends in a different setting that usual can be very helpful.

I don’t know. Maybe I’ll be able to motivate myself enough to write more paid articles rather than playing Pet Rescue Saga and randomly babbling here. If anyone else is in the same “hold onto everything”, tell me in the comments. Maybe then we can figure out how to keep it from sinking.

 

 

* Don’t laugh. If you had enough people from high school saying you stink both behind your back and to your face, you’d have a complex too.


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