Response to: Why I stopped writing

Response to: Why I stopped writing 

The therapist looked at Brooke and asked, “Did you love her?”

“Yes, I mean no. I hated her, but of course I loved her. She was my mom. She was sick. She was always sick.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean she was mentally ill.  She always told me how much she never wanted me. She pimped out my sister at a truck stop. She hit us. She beat us. She hated us. However, no matter how sick she was I loved her, because I knew she was sick.”

“hmm…” The therapist wrote in the file. The he looked up and said, “ You know why you feel the way you do?”

Brooke shook her head no.

“Because you are not ready to give up that storyline. That story was written. It is over. For your whole life you were the unwanted, neglected and beaten child. Now the main character is dead and you don’t want to let go. You only know that storyline. That’s the story you are comfortable with, but the main character is dead so the only way to continue to live that storyline is for you recall those bad times. The more you recall the bad times the more you suffer as you always had before your mother died. The good news for you is that she is gone. The story is over. Time to move on. Stop focusing on that story. Start focusing on another storyline. Write a new one.”

Brooke wiped her tears and looked up. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is. The book is closed. The story is over. Now, you can be anything you want to be. What do you want to be?”

“I don’t know. I never thought of it that way.”

“Do you want to be a villain, hero, victim or leader?”

“I want to be.”

“Then find yourself.”

“Why? What do you mean?”

“The person you were for the past 40 years, the one who sat here crying is not the person you are. It was the person you once were. Now is time to re-identify with yourself. Once you find the new you, you will never feel like you did as you did when you came in here.”

“Ok, but where do I start.”

“That’s not for me to answer. I’m just your therapist and your time is over for today.”

“Ok, but then how do I find out where to start. Who do I talk to?”

“A friend, go talk to a friend.”

“But I don’t have any. That is why I come here.”

“Then go find one.”

What is love?

Love has many meanings. It can the pride a mother has for a child. It the strong physical and emotional bond between baby and mother. It is the beauty in a flower, sunset, mountain tops or dress. Love can also be the euphoria of tingle when a puppy nestles up under your neck.

Love is the desire to want to know more about someone. To stay up and talk all night. To read the books they love, listen to the music they enjoy. Watch the movies they like. It is looking forward to celebrating their birthday with them. It can be wanting that person to succeed so much that you are willing to sacrifice all for them.

Love can be the tenderness of the familiar. The sight of home. The comfort in your favorite chair after a long day. It can be the excitement after receiving a long desired gift.

Love can be touch. It is the bond of a child nursing on a mother. Love can be a hug from a teacher, pastor, friend, father, mother, sibling, or spouse. Love is the tenderness of ones lips touching your own. Love is physical. It is soft. Love is gentle never aggressive.

Love is respect, care, kindness, sadness, curiosity, happiness, tears of loneliness, tears of happiness, touch and desire to want to know all about the one you love.

When you no longer care to understand the other person. You no longer want to touch, kiss, or hug love is missing. Love that hurts is love that is gone. Love can only be taken away by betrayal.

There are many types of betrayal. The most popular sexual cheating, emotional cheating, drugs, alcohol abuse, lying, physical abuse, gambling, shopaholics, sabotage, and deceit. Betrayal can come from your lover, mother, father, uncle, aunt, grandmother, grandfather, teacher, doctor, friend, pastor, enemy, or more.

What if your lover is smart, has a great job, goes to church, comes home every night, and takes care of you, but constantly betrays you? Maybe your love for that person is so strong that you stay with that person no matter how often they betray you, even if they do it every single day.

Betrayal is the only thing that can poison your love for another. When one betrays you so much that your own self-worth is destroyed it is time to find a new love, a love for yourself.

Love for yourself is the greatest love of all. Be kind and gentle to yourself. Learn about yourself. Care for yourself. Celebrate yourself. Most of all, no matter how many people betray you, never betray yourself. You are one of a kind. Your love should be one of kind too.

The dog that bit the shit out of me

It took time to get to where we were.

Molly, our 17 year old senior dog, was depressed. She laid in bed all day, she would wet in bed. She refused to eat and would bite us if we wanted to give her attention. Life was bad for Molly. The breaking point for Molly was one night I step in the kitchen where she stood with pee all around her. I bent over to tell her no with my finger pointing and shaking it at her muzzle.

Molly could take no more. Whatever reason it was, Molly saw that finger as an opportunity. She watched it like it was prime rib flapping before her chops. That was the moment in a instance that senior dog jumped up and latched on to my finger like a tick on fat warm skin. I yelp, “Help!” I wiggled. I shook my arm up and down and that dog went up and down with my finger holding on for dear life. “Fuck’n shit! Help me!” I cried. The first one down the stairs was my Spanish speaking mother-in-law in her see through pajamas without a bra.

“Javi! Fucking help me!” My mother-in-law stood there with her hands over her mouth. I was still standing in dog piss as my dog hung from my finger. My husband finally came running down stairs to see me crying. My face red. The dog and I both wet from the piss splashing every time I lowered my arm to shake her off.

Javi ran to Molly and picked up her body to where it was level with my finger and she released the grip she had. My finger was torn just a little. The problem was part of her tooth broke off into the skin.

“I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“What the fuck did you do to that dog?”

“Molly? Now you care more about Molly than me?”

“You had to do something.”

“Yeah, I did. I told her no. She peed on the floor and I’m tired of it. I said bad dog and shook my finger at her.”

“Well, don’t. Let her do what she wants. She’s a dog. She’s old. Leave her alone.”

“No. I’m sick and tired of everyone in this house doing what they want. For once I want her to pee outside.”

The blood from my finger was all over my arm. Tears down my face. “You don’t give a shit about me. Look at this blood. There is something in my fucking finger and you’re yelling at me.”

To be continued……

Wrinkles

Beth finished applying her second coat of mascara. Then she smiled back into the mirror to check her teeth. Her cell phone began to buzz and vibrate along the counter. It was her alarm. The alarm she set to leave the house to pick up Wendy. They had RSVP for the fall trunk show at their favorite boutique. The owner had scheduled a live performance from a new men’s a cappella group. The singing sensations were famous for not only their romantic songs but for the eye-candy of a show with muscle-toned arms, six-pack abs and bulges in all the right places. Beth sprayed one last puff of cheap perfume.

Beth arrived at Wendy’s house. Wendy was home alone. Her husband, Bob, was one of those beef eating animal hunters. Wendy refused him to hang any of his trophies, but that did not stop him from chasing the hunt with his bow and arrow. He just donated his catch to friends and coworkers. Tonight, was the eve of deer season. While Wendy was to be spending money on fashion and enjoying the show, her husband was to be camping with old fraternity brothers.

Beth knocked on the glass door and walked in announcing herself. “Wendy, are you ready? You should see my new mascara. It’s supposed to be thick lash. I had to put two coats on. You would think at thirty-five dollars a tube, it would take less than two coats to give me same effect as the five dollar drug store brand.” Beth stopped in the living room. Wendy was sitting on the ottoman crying. Her makeup was smearing as she wiped off the tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

“That bitch…” Wendy pointed towards her window.

“Your neighbor?”

Wendy nodded in agreement. “That stupid bitch is ruining my life.”

“What happened?”

“The grave, remember the grave for Wrinkles?”

“No, I never knew you had a pet.”

“Well, I did. I loved my Wrinkles. Then that woman comes along to ruin it for us.”

“Shut the front door! You think your neighbor killed your dog.”

“No, not my dog. Wrinkles was my hamster.”

“I didn’t know you had a hamster. I’ve been your friend for last five years and you’ve never told me about a hamster.”

“He was a childhood pet. He died when I was eight. I was like really upset when he died, so my mom let me have him get stuffed. Then I put one of those little voice recorders in it with a recording of him playing in his cage. I could push on his chest to hear the recording. I loved having stuffed Wrinkles. It was like he was still alive without having to feed him or clean his poop.”

“That’s sick Wendy.”

“That’s what Bob said, so when we moved here last year he made me bury it. I went out and buried it. Then I ordered a tombstone for him. It was so beautiful. I held this small private ceremony.”

“Apparently, I wasn’t invited.”

“What does all this have to do with your neighbor?”

“That bitch decided to dig it up.”

“Yuck! Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m serious. The tombstone is gone. There was a hole in the yard.”

“How dare that woman to dig up your hamster tombstone. Where was it buried?” Beth asked as she looked out the window.

Wendy got up and started to point. “Over there”

“Where?”

“Over there, next to the new patio.”

“Wendy, you don’t have a patio.”

“I know. It’s my neighbors.”

“Wendy, are you telling me that you buried your hamster,Wrinkles, in your neighbor’s yard?”

“Of course, why would I want to bury it in my new yard? Bob pays a lot of money to landscapers to keep our yard amazing. I don’t want to mess our yard up, so I notice that the neighbor never went in her back yard. That’s when I decided to plant my dear sweet Wrinkles there.”

“With a tombstone? How big was it?”

“It was small, like the size of a medium pizza box. Don’t forget I also planted daisies beside it. Before me, that woman had no flowers in her yard. Now, she decides to build a patio right where my Wrinkles was resting.”

“Wendy, that yard belongs to her.  She can dig up any grave you place there. Look at how happy she is sitting there reading a book.”

“I thought you were my friend, not hers.”

“I am. I’m just saying that maybe your neighbor is not such a bitch because she dug up a grave you placed on her property.”

“I guess.”

“Are you ready?  We’re going to be late for the musical performance if we don’t hurry.”

“Sure, but one more thing; when we get back, can you help me dig in her trash to look for Wrinkles?”

Dear Friend,

Dear Friend,

I have been thinking about how I want to start this letter. I guess I will begin by saying thank you for always being there for me. Thanks for taking walks with me, dealing with my bickering, watching me type away on this computer day all the time and always forgiving me.

The problem is that I am a little concerned about you. I want to start 2012 in the right direction by addressing all my conflicts.

  1. I think you sleep too much. I think you might sleep more than you are awake. What could you be dreaming?
  2. How do you maintain your figure? Seriously, you eat cookies for breakfast and have a ginormous dinner. I have never seen you eat a veggie in your life.
  3. I do not like how you beg to people. It makes you look very desperate.
  4. You should learn to cover your mouth when you sneeze. Not everyone wants your germs.
  5. Why do you always like to take breaks when we go for walks? Sometimes, we hardly make it down the block before you want to stop and look around. This habit is very annoying…
  6. I find it odd that you always get to get to have someone else to do your hair. Come on you are no superstar.
  7. You really should stop smelling everything; some things should not to be that close to your nose.
  8. Learn to control your hair. It sheds everywhere. Would it trouble you to use hair gel, mouse or hairspray?
  9. It is embarrassing when you have to hang your head out of the car window, even during winter.
  10. It really irks me when I see you rubbing your bottom on my carpet. Can you just learn to use tissue?
  11. Stop licking everything! I do mean everything. It is not very lady like.
  12. Your bed is for you, not just your toys. It would be all right if you ever wanted to sleep there.

Overall, you are my best friend. I made this list to bring our relationship closer, but if you choose not to change, I will love you just as you are…my dog.

New shirt for less than $10 and three hours of sewing

In attempt to make this year my best year, I decided to start the year with a new shirt.  I pulled out the two yards of fabric I had purchased last fall, sewing machine and sewing bag. My personal challenge was to see how fast I could put together a simple shirt and perhaps inspire others to sewing.  I started by laying out my pre-cut pattern and pinning it to my fabric.

  Cut the fabric around the pattern.

Iron bonding to the inside of the fabric the two front collars of the blouse.

Cut off the excess of bonding around the collar.

Next, sew the front of the blouse to the bonded side of the fabric. I decided to not use pins for this step; instead, I used fabric glue. When sewing with polyester, silk or sheer fabrics I find that the fabric does not stay in place with pins. Fabric glue used in small amounts can hold the fabric just long enough for you to put stitches in it.

After you complete sewing the front of the blouse to the collar, you need to stitch the other collar to it with ragged edges together. Then you fold back the top collar.

Iron it down the top collar before sewing it completely around the neckline. Ironing prevents folding of the fabric.

Once you complete the front of the blouse, it is time to sew the back of the shirt to the front at the shoulder seams. Then sew the back neckline.  It is easiest to do a simple French seam by folding over the fabric twice this will prevent fabric from fraying.

Sometimes while you are sewing your bobbin will mess up and cause the threads to jam up.  This is actually an easy fix.  Just cut off the threads. Then you will need to redo your bobbin.  If it happens again then you need to start with a new bobbin.  Your old one could have been cracked.

Now, you have a front and back, it is time to start making the sleeves. Do a French seam on the cuff of the two sleeves.  Afterwards, measure the middle of each sleeve and mark it. Pin the center of sleeves to shoulders at the front and back seam. Then start sewing from that seam around to sides of the blouse that is hanging. When both sleeves are attached at the shoulder, try on the blouse. Pin the sides to how you want the shirt to fit. You need to sew the sides of the blouse from the bottom up to where the sleeve fabric starts.  Gather the sleeve hem and stitch into the side of your blouse.  It will make a V at the seam of where you begin to sew the sleeve into the side of the blouse.  Next, continue to stitch around the sleeve all the way up to the shoulder and back around. When you finish the sleeves will be center and reinforced with double stitches. At last stitch the bottom of the shirt with another French seam.

This blouse cost me less than $10 and took me only three hours.

Welcome 2012! Goodbye 2011!

Dear 2012

I want to say welcome. I am not scared of you. I am scared of what you have in store for me. I am not an optimist, but I am tired of living in fear; fear of being alone, fear of death, fear of failure, fear of success and more. Living in fear is a horrible thing that can paralyze one from moving ahead. I refuse to be that person.

I want to say goodbye to 2011, thank you for what you have taught me. I learned that grief of death of someone close can come back to bite hard in your soul. To lose a parent can be hard, but it gets harder when the grief comes back. I learned a lot about my deceased mother. My sister convinced me that she did love me when my entire life she told me otherwise. I grew up as strong smart woman, because my teachers, friends, pastor and the entire small town I grew up in believed in me.

To the readers, I thank you for giving me the support, friendship and motivation to strive for my dream. I have been scribbling on paper for my entire life and for once, I have opened my craft to this blog. The empowerment I felt after my first posting was awesome.  For the first time I beat fear in the face.  I am not a whole person. I do still fear posting often. I just thank you for giving me the strength to come back and try a new story line. My wishes for 2012 are for me to continue to look fear in the face and fight, good health, a continued strong loving relationship with my own family, kindness for others and prosperity for all.

Fay makes a puffy coat

Fay was sitting in the middle of the living room.  She was surrounded by pillows, trash bags, tape and scissors.  Max walked into the room.  He questionably looked at her.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Nothing”

“What’s up with all this stuff?”

Fay looked at the bags, pillows, polyester fiberfill, tape and scissors. “I’m making something.”

“Can I help?”

“I guess, but you can’t tell anyone about this. Ok?”

“Yeah sure,  whatcha making?”

“My dad’s Christmas present.”

“With this stuff?”

“Yep”

“This is bad.”

“No, it’s good.  It’s going to be a puffy coat.”  Fay started cutting open the pillows. “Pull the fluffy stuff out and hand it to me, so I can tape it inside.”

“Inside what?”

“The trash bags, duh…”

“Puffy coats are not made from trash bags and pillows.  This isn’t going to work.  This is bad.”

“I thought you were helping?  Just do what I say.”  Fay was busy cutting the trash bags and taping them together with tape. “Max, start handing me the puffy stuff.  I’m in a hurry here.”

Max started pulling out the filling and handing it to Fay. “Aren’t we going to get in trouble for this?”

“No! It’s a Christmas gift.”

“I mean for ruining all these pillows.”

“Of course I won’t.  They’re from your house.”

“Fay! Watcha go and do that for?”

“My mother would get mad.  Max, stop talking. Keep passing the white stuff.”  Fay finished tucking the last bit of polyester fiberfill into the coat’s sleeve.  “Come on Max.”

“Where?”

“Outside, I need to make sure it works.  Put it on.”

“It’s itchy.  Ouch!  I think I’ve gotten tape in my hair.”

“Stop complaining! Stand right here.”  Fay said while she pointed to the porch.  Then she threw a pitcher of ice water at Max.  Max ducked and turned his back, but the water still got on his hair and face.

“Fay! Watcha go and do that for?!”

Fay realized Max was upset.  “I’m sorry.  Here let me help you take this off.” Fay sat the wet trash bag coat on the porch and led Max inside.  Then she handed him a towel. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t think I was going to get you in the face. Did anything else get wet?”

“I don’t think so.”

“See, I told you the coat was good.  It kept you from getting wet. My dad is going to love it.” 

“Sure, if you dad likes the scratchy feeling of tape and plastic bags across his skin pulling on his body hairs.”

“Don’t be so negative all the time.” 

The two friends sat in the kitchen while Max dried off.  Then there was a loud noise. Fay went back on the front porch.  She looked around, but the coat was missing.  She screamed.

Max came to the porch. “Watcha screaming for?”

“The trash man took the coat I made for my dad.  All that work was for nothing.”

“That’s ok.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because, it’s the thought that counts”

“How can you say that, Max?”

“You told me to stop being negative.  Imagine if your dad had been wearing it when the trash people came.  They might have taken him with the coat.”

Daddy is nominated as a runner up Santa

Vern got home from a long day at work. Her father was standing in the living room. He was busy doing squats and bending exercises as he played his video game.

“You’re exercising?”

“Sure am”

“That’s nice to see you working out and heeding the advice of your doctors.”

“I have too”

“That’s the spirit, daddy.” Vern went upstairs to change into sweatpants and t-shirt. After changing, she went into the bathroom to wash the makeup off her face. She noticed darks spots on the floor, the bath rug and towel. She gathered up the items to wash them. She went back downstairs to the laundry room. “Daddy, what happened in the bathroom? Did you cut yourself shaving?”

“No” He said panting while trying to do abdominal crunches.

Vern decided that it was not worth fussing over. She began to cook pasta with chicken. The entire time she cooked her father did not stop exercising. He was breathing heavily. Vern caught a glimpse of him running in place.  “Daddy, should you really be working out like this?”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“Ok, dinner is going to be ready in just a few minutes.” Vern fixed the plates of dinner. She put her father’s plate on his TV table in the living room. Then she made a place for herself at the end of the dining table.

“What is this?”

“It’s pasta with baked chicken.”

“I can’t have all these carbs.”

“Daddy you eat carbs all day. Tonight you’re going to complain about eating pasta?”

Vern’s father sat down in his reclining chair. He wiped his face off with the napkin. Then he took off his hat.

“Daddy, what happened to your hair?”

“I colored it.”

“I can see that.”

“Does it look good?”

“No, no you look Goth. Why did you dye your salt and pepper curls black?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Daddy, are exercising and coloring your hair for a girl?”

“Noooo, my looks are hot already for that. It’s something else.”

“What is it? Are you missing mom?”

“No Vern. I mean yes, I do still miss your mom, but this is all about Christmas.  I was nominated as runner-up for Santa Clause at the VFW.”

Vern chuckled. “Daddy, that’s a good thing. Think of all the children you will make happy.”

“No, think of me! I don’t want to be Santa Clause. I’m a war veteran. I can’t do it.”

“So, you thought exercising and dyeing your hair black would take you off the nomination.”

“Yeah, Pete is always Santa. It’s his thing, but if something was to happen to him, I would have to do it.”

“What should we do?”

“I still have a week to lose more weight, shave my head, get violently ill, or leave town.”

“I think you are going too far.”

“But I don’t want to be Santa!”

“Why? The children at the hospital love it when the VFW comes.”

“Yes, I like doing that. It’s just that I’ve always been a helper.  I want to be a helper, not Santa.”

“Daddy you are a warrior. You’re going to have to put that red uniform on, lace up them black boots and spread cheer. Santa is a warrior. Every day of the year, Santa is preparing for his battlefield to bring gifts to the children. Being Santa is an honor.”

“I guess you’re right. I’ve never thought of it that way.” Vern and her father finished eating dinner.  Vern put up the plates then she brought her father a scoop of frozen yogurt.

“Vern, I can’t eat this.”

“It’s good and good for you.”

“No, if I’m going to be a runner up for Santa, I need to eat like Santa. Bring me some cookies with milk!”

Oh Alcoholics and Drug Addicts, Christmas Time is not for Using

Oh Alcoholics and Drug Addicts, Christmas time is not for using

Christmas time is for celebrating the birth of Christ with family and friends

Oh Alcoholics and Drug Addicts, Christmas time is not for using

The green on the Christmas tree, should not make you want to smoke weed

Oh Alcoholics and Drug Addicts, Christmas time is not for using

The blinking lights on the Christmas tree, should not remind you of using LSD

The tinsel hanging off the tree, should not remind you of the cooper you need

Oh Alcoholics and Drug Addicts, Christmas time is not for using

The Eggnog should be served without rum, no reason to drink like a bum

The fruitcake has pieces of fruit, not the pills you used to shoot

Oh Alcoholics and Drug Addicts, Christmas time is not for using

The hand-blown ornaments sparkle on the tree, do not use to smoke your ugly needs

The white flour is for making cookies, not to mix with snorting

Oh Alcoholics and Drug Addicts, Christmas time is not for using

The scissors you find are for cutting paper

The money in stockings is for good boys and girls

The lump of coal that you received, is for your dirty deeds

So be good human being, celebrate the holidays clean

Oh Alcoholics and Drug Addicts, Christmas time is not for using