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The diary of a potential cat hoarder starts like this. You always need two cats, so one keeps the other company. Then when you find another one at the gas station parking lot with the farmers threatening to poison it, you grab it and stick it in your car. When the Humane Society calls and tells you no one adopted it, you do. Your husband is furious, but you calm him down. Then you pick up another on a country road having seen him many times before. This time, you promise your husband very naughty favors. It works, for now.
What is ahead for the new year in 2012? Let's see. You never got that 30lbs off you wanted to last year. Well never kept it off. You never ran that marathon by the time you were 40. Every family member came out of the woodwork last year asking for something, money, material things, bail. One friend dodged cancer, one didn't. Kid's OCD is mostly under control right now. Stepkid headed for jail. How much time, we don't know yet. This year is the year I start to think about me again. Mom's can do that right? Well, try anyway.
Images travel through my thoughts Confusion overwhelms my inner being Torn between memories and what is real Wishing somehow the two could become one Regretting some of my former decisions With an empty feeling in my heart And a single tear trickles down my face Wondering how things could have been Trying to rationalize my different views Wondering if I will ever find the right guy And hoping that I hadn't already given him away Poem #1 written sometime during my high school years longhand in a little pink tear-stained notebook filled with many poems of heartbreak from youth.
We drive 20 miles and in the freezing Wisconsin winter. We go to find them, the ones who have no place to go. Today it's brats, chips and desserts. I was fearful go to at first, thinking they could be violent or asking me for money. They never did. We found the first group by the pillars. They must have said thank you a million times. Then, we saw the man in the wheelchair, who last time smelled like urine because he didn't make it to the bathroom in time. Still embarassed to join us, his friend brought him food.
It's a great "opportunity" the boss says out loud. What he really means is no one else wants this job, you need to do it or you are really the only person we can spare to do this, the others are more important than you. Funny how this is offered up as an "opportunity". When the former left, no one wanted it. Wouldn't touch it with a ten foot pole. I would rather stick pins under my fingernails. But now, with little other choice except to break free and start over, this "opportunity" is accepted with a sigh of defeat.
How could you possibly love me? I am definitely not the hot body I was in my youth. I am sagging in places I really had no idea you could sag. I always look tired because I always am tired. I am worn out, broken down, broken in, used up. They say experience makes you stronger. I say it makes you jaded. What is wrong with wanting to believe that life is good and people really do love each other for the rest of their lives, not just today, not just tomorrow. Love, despite the faults, despite the realistic views.
Anger. No time to be the one you were before you were the mom. That person is dead. A new one is formed. One that you don't like. This one is always angry,and always yelling at dad. Dad, never does anything right, so he gives up and doesn't do anything. More anger that your life turned out this way with you being callous and rude. Dad thinks you have been taken over like those pod people in the 70's. You think if he would just help more I would be in such a better mood, you have no idea.
Growing up I thought it was "normal" for people's aunts' not to ever leave the house. I thought everyone's grandpa spent time in an institution for trying to burn down their house. Didn't everyone's mom freak out when she was in public sometimes and feel like she was going to die so we would have to call the ambulance? Didn't everyone's college roomate try to kill your cat with a butcher's knife and talk to "people" in her room when there was no one there in different voices? I ask myself what normal is because I really have no idea.
Emotiomal vampires beware, you are no longer tolerated in this household! Watch out or they will suck the life right out of you! Most of the time they are people you know well. Some call them Debbie Downers like on Saturday Night Live. Some people call them toxic. They leach off you every time you start to feel normal again. Things are good now. My job is going well. The kid is doing great in running club. Then, wham. You forget since things have been going well. Then you are reminded to the point of getting physically ill every day.
Run. Run faster. Run longer. Run ladders. Run speedwork. Run hills. Run after work. Run late at night. Run at the gym. Run on the trail at dusk during the summertime when the weatherman says don't even think about running outside today since it will be 90 degrees in the shade. The peace. The sweat dripping down my face,neck, and elbows. The sound of my MP3 player blaring BLO by Kesha. My breathing seeming to go along with the beat of the music. The rabbits alway race me and always win. Only five miles today, but kicked butt. Run.
When I grow up, I want to be a scientist. Maybe a doctor. I want to help people have better lives. I want to make a difference. I want people to like me. I want people to remember my name and want to be around me. I want my phone to never stop ringing. I want my schedule to never have any openings. I never actually want to be home. I want to travel, definitely overseas. I want to live in a big city and work in a tall skyscraper. Fast forward 25 year, I just want to be alone.
Do they exist? If not, why have so many people claim to have seen them? They have TV shows on cable about them, people who talk to them, who "hunt" them and antagonize them to "show themselves". My mom has seen them. My aunt knows the whole family of them that live in her house and talks to them frequently. The house or more-like shack they both grew up in had them. You can see them in one of the pictures mom took a few years ago when they went back to see if the house was still there.
I know this isn't actually happening, but it feels so real I am completely horrified. They take the black cloth off of my face. I can kind of breathe now. I look up and see such a familiar face I feel so betrayed. How could he do this to me? He is with some of his friends. They are laughing at me, watching me struggle to get free. He smiles at me, then puts his coat over my face. I see darkness. I wake up, sobbing, my bed covered with wetness. Sweat. My bodies way of dealing with the stress.
Toxic people. The best thing you can do is get away from them, the sooner, the better. But what if they are in your own family? What if you can't get away unless you break that bond? What is someone else breaks that bond for you? Once it is broken, is it gone forever? Because it lives at night in my dreams. I dream of her, being in her house, her talking to me like she did when I knew her. I know she doesn't have much time left. Do I try to get back in contact before she goes?
Often times she comes home, he is there, already half in the bag. She knows she needs to gauge how drunk he is to know how the rest of her night is going to go. Has he just got started and can still be reasoned with or has he been out with his friends or drinking in the garage for hours before she came home and anything she says is grounds for a major blow-out fight? Today, in the middle. She hates walking on eggshells in her own house. She feels sorry for him that he is so weak.
The car started to fishtail. Her friend tried to correct, but overcorrected. The car starts to slide off the side of the road, towards the deep culvert. It starts to roll, first on the road, then in the air. Each time the car rolls over the passenger-side window, she watches the glass crack a little more. The girls, none of them wearing seat belts, are thrown around inside the car. It stops on it's side. She pushes the glass out of the window and jumps out of the car and doesn't stop running until she gets to the road.
Kids! I know God looks down on me on times like now and laughs and laughs. So, yes, for like five minutes I thought, hey all my friends are doing OK having kids. If they can do it, I definitely can. Besides, my husband really wants one. Alright, how hard can it be? So hard you do everything you can not to wring their little necks when they shoot you with a Nerf gun right after you told them do it and they will be grounded. The gun now is broken and in the garbage. Hope it was worth it.
Tired. Yes I should go to Sunday school. Tired. Yes I should do the dishes. Tired. Yes, the cats need to be fed. Tired. Yes, the dog needs to be walked. Tired. Yes the kid needs help with homework and a ride to basketball practice. Tired. Do I get on the treadmill during it? I need that caffeine right now. If I have the caffiene now, I will be up until midnight. So what is new? I wish I had a normal metabolism. Damn genetics. Who would have thought when you were little I would grow up with thyroid problems.
Water of the Gods is what I used to call it. Mountain Dew got me through college. It got me through years of having to work two jobs to pay the rent, from 7am-11pm. I craved the flavor. It would slightly burn while going down my throat, and I would relish that feeling, waiting daily for it. Fast forward 10 years and $10,000 in dental bills. Mountain Dew is no longer my savior but a demon. It ruined my enamel, eating it away like the acid it was. Now when I occassionally drink it, I choke it down.
Furry felines. I hated cats. My sister would bring the strays home. Mom would always call the Humane Society right away to be taken to death row as it was back then. When my favorite dog died, they replaced her with a stupid cat. A black and white, completely unfriendly. I hated her and she me. When I got out of college and was in my big apartment all alone, mom suggested I get a cat. I went to the Humane Society and picked out Max and fell in love. From then on, cat person in the biggeste way possible.
I sat there trying not to sob looking at him lying in the bathtub, trying to get cool or trying to get some water from the bathtub, I couldn't tell. I had called the clinic that day and they said they could get him in, but I wanted to wait until Monday. Selfish. I had waited too long. I held him that night and the next. His head would shake back and forth and he drooled. He couldn't eat or drink. It was all my fault. He got into something, was poisoned. Something at my house. He was only 5.
April 15th, 2003, I woke up early and got to mom and dad's around 6:30. Dad was still there. He met us at the car and walked us inside. I went to Harbor. I got on the treadmill and went to town. I showered and got to work around 8am. I had three phone calls, one with a message. It was from a pastor at a hospital. There had been an accident at my dad's work. I had just seen him two hours ago. I see him at 6:30am, he dies at 7:05am at 54 years old.
Money. Why is it so elusive in my life? I grew up getting everything I really wanted, although I really didn't ask for too much. I didn't care if I was in or trendy. I liked what I liked. Little did I know behind the scenes that was the one thing my parents fought about. There was never enough money. So here I am now all grown up, and I face the same challenge. We are middle class, just like them, but still living paycheck to paycheck. Something always comes up that needs to be fixed. Never have enough money.
No matter what I may say sometimes. No matter how I react or things I do. No matter how much we argue. Remember I always love you. Sometimes I may act like I've changed my mind. Sometimes I may say things I don't mean. Sometimes I will pretend things are different. But I love you no matter how it seems. My mind may tell me that you aren't him, the one that's right. But my heart assures me of my decision everytime you are in my sight. I still shy away a little because I think I might get hurt.
You know those times when you have a story to share, a joke to tell, a line to give and no one is there. No one really cares what you do or where you go, how you chose to live. What are your goals, what are your dreams, what do you plan to give? Advice on how to live? What have you contributed to life? Nobody gives a damn. Your life is a sham. No matter what you do, whatever happens don't cry. Don't give in to wants, even if you want to die. Look down and wipe your eyes.
I don't have love and it doesn't bother me. I don't need love, the world by myself I see. I don't need anyone to tell me I love you. I don't need kisses or hugs or people telling me what to do. If I did have love , if the chance would be alright, it wouldn't be a big deal. I wouldn't stay up nights. If I did like love, which I don't think so, what would I do, I don't know. I don't want it, don't need it. I am a rock, the feel no pain and never get blamed.
The things I see aren't for real. They're just visions, images. My imagination runs deep into the blackness of the night, clawing and tearing at my thoughts. Demons run deep into my heart, creating terror and panic. The shadows of the night pounce on my sanity causing confusion in which I float... way to the top of the world, floating free and easy. But the echoes in my mind tell me to come down, to get back to reality. But one of these times the emptiness will encase me and my inner self will be in control leaving me helpless.
When you are down and feeling blue and troubles are all around, don't frown. Those eyes are watching over you. When life seems to be against you and everything is passing you by, don't cry. Those eyes are watching over you. Eyes that see you all the time. Taking you to the good times, seeing you through the bad. Teaching you you to love life and all through trouble and strife. Those glaring, staring eyes telling you by the looks they give what to do, how to do it, how your life should be lived. Just be open and listen.
Guys are toy that girls play with. We tear them apart, then go on to the next one and do the same thing all again. It always turns out the same way in the end. The guy is left on the floor torn into bitty pieces, scattered all about. The pieces may mend, but it takes time. Alot of time. And the girls will go on tearing and toying with the guys. Putting away all their toys in a box for the night and deciding which ones they will play with tomorrow. Deciding whose life I will screw up tomorrow.
In one of my favorite books of all time by runner and doctor George Sheehan, he talks of a philosopher named William James. James says this "It's more comfortable not to try hard. But life is, or should be, a struggle: Comfort should make us uncomfortable; contentment should make us discontented." I've always hated that quote in the book. What is wrong with being comfortable, just sitting back, if even for awhile, and enjoying life? These people who never are comfortable really don't know the meaning of joy, relaxing and living in the present, at least every once in awhile.
Every now and then God screws with me. He thinks things are getting too relaxed, too comfortable, so he throws me a curveball to see what I will do. How will I react, or overreact? Will I make it matter, or just go with the flow and see if I really need to adjust? I see him up there, laughing. Just when I think I may have gotten it together, if only for awhile, he does this. And I curse him. I believe, although I really can't remember why anymore. But he's up there, looking, laughing, deflecting the swear words.
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