Category Archives: healing

More than this …

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More than this …

a litany of memory gaps,

a fuzzy and foggy world, and

selves that work against each other.

I am more than this – I think, I believe …

I want it to be so, more than the sum of the parts of my selves.

But want can only go so far, what do you do when all you have is want?

One hardly has a map or plan.

It’s a prayer, some faith, and a Hail Mary throw or two.

It’s all we have, and so we’ll take it and run and run and run.

A plain jane turkey dinner that I adored

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I’ve been feeling shaky on a consistent basis, I’m sorry to say. It’s been a full-time job trying to combat all of this shakiness and dissociation. Good thing it’s the weekend, I suppose.

As part of my quest to not dissociate I’ve been out of the apartment quite a bit. I dissociate substantially less when I am not at home. I was driving around this cute rural area I don’t know very well when I came across this little cafe at the end of the village. It was one of those places where the locals gather, and everyone talks to each other across the tables.

I found they had a turkey dinner as a special so I ordered it as it sounded like good comfort food. Here’s the thing with a turkey dinner: It’s great if it’s a gourmet meal, and it’s even better if it’s a plain jane turkey dinner. And, yes, I know that statement needs an explanation.

Before my mother married my stepfather we never had a Thanksgiving dinner at home. I’m assuming it was a combination of not being able to afford it, and my mother was likely working on Thanksgiving. Because of this, I always looked forward to the Thanksgiving turkey dinner they served in the school cafeteria the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. I loved it all: the gummy mashed potatoes, the thin sliced turkey loaf, the boxed stuffing with an overabundance of parsley, a prefab bread roll, canned peas, and jellied cranberry sauce.

I would sit there and eat that turkey dinner and imagine that the potatoes were the right consistency, the turkey actually had skin and bones, the stuffing was homemade, perhaps with cornbread (yeah!), the vegetables were fresh, the bread was a homemade parker house roll (yes, as a poor kid in West Texas I was familiar with the concept of a parker house roll as an avid reader of cookbooks) , and you could see the berries in the cranberry sauce. I was likely one of few students who happily ate the entire dinner. In my mind I had eaten a Thanksgiving dinner fit for Martha Stewart!

It was a plain jane turkey dinner, and during the time I ate it I was present, calm and grounded.

Today when I eat such a dinner it makes me happy because it reminds me of the optimism I had as a child. Such a turkey dinner also gives me hope that I’ll be optimistic again someday.

I don’t pretend

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vintage bridal shower invite

I don’t pretend. It’s a gift and  curse rolled into one. I received one bridal invitation, and I am anticipating a second one soon for another person. The two gals, Anita and Anastasia are the brides-to-be. I work with both of them. Anastasia and I are not close at all. We’ve never been kindred spirits. We pretty much keep to ourselves and our own crowd.

However, Anita and I used to be very good friends. In fact, she was one of the first people I opened up to about my sexual assault four years ago right after it happened. Unfortunately, she was less than a friend about the whole experience. Her first words to me were, “I’m sorry, but I can’t handle this.” These words were devastating to me, and it took me a couple of years to understand that there was a very personal reason for her that caused her to respond this way that had nothing to do with me. I can now understand and respect a person feeling this way. What made it worse was the fact that she carried on after that as if nothing happened with me. She would not ask me how I was doing, and as soon as she realized I was no longer the “fun girl” I used to be she moved on and out of our friendship. We’ve tried to mend this fence, but we’re left just feeling awkward around each other. We have no ill will towards each other, but we also no longer have the friendship kind of love that used to connect us.

My point is that I won’t be attending either bridal shower. My logic is that I am not friends with either one. Some of my friends think I should go, especially since I work with both of them. Screw that! I don’t play politics. I don’t do obligatory crap, and I don’t pretend.

I pretended for so long in my life, and it’s no longer in my bones to pretend. I pretended to care about my parents long after the love had died, and it ate at me. I pretended to be fine while I drank and had sex addictively, so much so that those addictions played a part in my sexual assault.

There is no more pretending. I am not an actress. I am me, and the beauty and upside of that is when I tell I love you, and that you mean a lot to me in my life you know it is true and real. When I hug you and greet you warmly, and ask you how you are doing you know that it is real and sincere. You never have to wonder if I mean what I say.

I don’t pretend.

(Photo credit: lulubrooks)