|And there's things I'd like to do....
||[Aug. 7th, 2004|01:47 am]
|||||Jason Mraz - Curbside Prophet||]|
...And I'm doing them. To some degree, anyhow.
On the drive back from Houston after Aunt Marie died, I started composing one of those "mental letters" that I am oh-so-very fond of. Of course, 90% of the time I don't send them. Hell, I don't even write them. Even when I forget what I was going to say, they are left to bounce around in that wide open space of a head of mine. I can't keep that up. It's overflowing.
So, tonight, at work, I typed out the letter to Dorothy. My birthmother. I just let loose. I didn't scream obscenities. I was just true. Something I seem to be obsessed with lately.
I've spent so many years begging for understanding from those that I love. It would eat me up that they didn't "get it". It would try my patience trying to explain myself. I think I finally figured out why it was so rough. I just am. I am. That's all there is to it. I'm angry, I'm sad, I'm happy, I'm giddy, I'm antsy, I'm anxious, etc, etc. I just am, people. My failing in getting all of you to "get it" was that I wasn't true. I wasn't lying. But I held back. Now, I still firmly intend on biting back the screaming bitch when she wants to say "OH FUCK OFF!", because that's anger. That's not Holly. Holly comes later to say "I'm sorry. I was angry. I'm over it." or perhaps, "I'm sorry. I'm angry and this is why...but I will get over it."
I'm going to share something that only a few of you know. Perhaps it will serve to help you better understand the inner workings of my not-so-sane head.
When I was 17, I lived with one of my best friends. We had two other roomates. Dustin, who was quite crazy. We'd come home to find him with a ripped shirt and saying that ninjas came by the house while we were out. He killed them and then a black van pulled up to the door and "cleaned up". Yeah, totally nuts. The scary part? He didn't do drugs.
I had always been one that was searching. Searching for something that seemed just out of reach. Something spiritual, something magical. Unfortunately, when turning over rocks, you tend to find snakes. Taylor was a snake. He was the other roomate. I'll cut out the details of how this came to pass, but it ended with me being brutally raped for 3 months. He told me he was going to tear down everything I was and build me back to HIS liking. That's where he miscalculated me. You can bend me. Only I can break me. I was constantly planning my "escape". But during those three months, after a "lesson", I would get Jason (the previously mentioned best friend) and go to the store for cigarettes. I would cry the whole way there. By the time we got back, I was laughing.
I don't live my life in fear of something like that happening again. In fact, I could see Taylor on the street and be perfectly cordial. Even inquire about how he is. I hold no grudge.
Do not let this little tale confuse you into believing I'm a sucker. This does not mean I just lay down and take shit. (No pun intended)....It simply means I refuse to let the scum of the earth control my every move for the rest of my life. I will not let it bring me down into nothingness. Into fear.
I do get hurt. I do get angry. As of late, I've also learned to say "Yep, you hurt me and I'm not okay with that" and choose to not interact with the source of the hurt. It does not mean I will avoid it. I know that sounds contradictory as hell. Truly not an easy thing to explain, but I don't think it's that hard to follow.
In my letter to Dorothy, I even invited her to view my journal. If she so chooses to get to know her daughter, she may. I just personally choose not to call her on the phone and give myself a big dose of "Duh, Holly, you knew it was going to go this way". I choose not to walk right into a situation where I know I will be hurt. I just won't hide from those that may hurt me. It would truly limit MY possibilities in life.
Now, on a lighter note...Morgan and I went to get her hair cut today. I'm not thrilled with what they did with it, but she wasn't terribly thrilled that I talked her out of getting it cut as short as mine. Maybe if I'd let her make that choice, they wouldn't have fucked it up so bad. *shrug* We may go back later on and let her get it done her way. We wandered the mall and she drug me into the Disney Store. Yeah, I was kicking and screaming. *giggle* The snow globes! They had some really nice ones. We donated 4 dollars to CASA for 2 raffle tickets for a playhouse. A HUGE playhouse. I explained to Morgan what CASA was and she was happy to have helped someone.
Came home to find a request from a co-worker to go in for him for 4 hours and obliged. I'm really enjoying the job. It's so laid back and comfy and I seem to mesh well with everyone. Not to mention, overtime is a good thing.
Okay, I'm gonna give your eyes (and my own) a rest for the night and get some sleep. My glasses were left at Gio's a few weeks ago and my left eye is twitching from all the computer interaction.