Venti please!

Is it venting time again? Can I get a hallelujah!?

My sister and I had a great conversation this week about “active listening”. People really just want to be heard and they want to be acknowledged. Seems pretty basic and yet so difficult to attain. My sister is a very wise person and there are times she plants seeds in me that get me thinking. So many people are yearning, but they don’t know what for. Maybe it’s just to be listened to. Just to really be heard. I have been thinking about this the last day or two and it makes so much sense. I want to be heard. All of the times I have cried out and written poetry and begged to be noticed, all I wanted (all I want) was to be acknowledged.

A couple of weeks ago I took my mother to the post office. She ran in while I waited in the car. I had my window down a bit. A homeless man walked through the parking lot asking people for spare change. He came toward my car and I already had a smile on my face. I greeted him and pulled out my last dollar bill. (that was not said to get an “awwww” that was just being honest) He thanked me and said “god bless”. I could’ve done without the latter. He started to walk away and I stopped him. I asked him questions, noticed a hospital bracelet on his arm, showed him I was concerned and listened to him talk. I was interested in what he had to say. I wanted to know his story. I heard him. He knew it, he felt it. My mother came out and got into the car. She immediately started to shoo him away and made up loud excuses as to why we had to leave. I thanked the man for the conversation and wished him luck, told him to try to stay warm. I told my mother that he was there because I asked him to be. It was my conversation starting that urged him to hang out by the car. She assumed he was bothering me. I told her his story and she teared up. I listened, she shooed. Of course, this is how she leads her life anyway. It’s all about her and if it’s not then it’s not worth listening to. When that man went on with his day did he remember how much money I gave him? Probably not. And that’s okay. My hope is that our conversation meant more to him. Perhaps not. But it did to me.

What a rough couple of weeks it‘s been. My mood has been up and down like a friggin’ yo-yo. I hate the holidays so the celebration in the air is making me angry and sad. The weather has been warm, cold, warm, cold and that wreaks havoc on my mood. My mother moved closer to me. Money is more than tight. Blah blah blah.

Of course with it being holiday season the parties at the center are also nearing. I, as usual, jumped on the bandwagon to get this stuff going. I threw myself into the mix before Halloween was even over. I wanted to make sure that the clients had a good Christmas. Some days I wish I had a heart of stone. Caring this much is painful. I expose myself to all sorts of elements. This year I am dealing with a party coordinator that is a bitchy sourpuss. What part of the word “party” does she not grasp? She talks over me, cuts me off, doesn’t listen to me, is pushing to buy crap gifts for the guests, and is a stingy scrooge who apparently does not care for me or my ideas. I am a kid at heart, ok? Is this an issue with everyone? I wear cartoon characters on my clothes. I love Disney. I enjoy playing with toys, I collect teddy bears, board games are a kick, without music life would not exist, I love Frisbees and balloons (except when they pop!). I’m addicted to sugar, I love hugs, rainbows thrill me and I want to chase them to find the end, I wish on stars and believe in faeries. I’m certifiably insane and I like to skip across parking lots. I love coloring and do it almost every day. I keep silly putty in my purse. Ahhh but wait! I am also on the Board of Directors, the mother of a special needs kid, an advocate for all people with mental illness. I attended college, I have met governors and commissioners, I have served on committees, I go to conferences, dinners, functions and have attended formal balls. I wear high heels when I get dressed up, find them to be ridiculous and truly only purposeful when worn in bed. I can smile and quietly laugh at a colleague’s “joke”. I have sat through religious ceremonies with my hands folded in my lap. I have been to meals at peoples’ house and kept my napkin in my lap, brought a bottle of wine and shown my gratitude. I have served meals to the hungry and led charity events. I have worked on political campaigns and written articles for city papers. I am multi-faceted and can be many things to many people. I can wear masks with the best of them. I can hide who I am with ease. I can build a wall around myself faster than you can say your own name. What people have been trying to teach me is that I do not have to hide who I really am. I don’t need to worry about what others think because my uniqueness is what makes me me. If I hold in who I am then I am not giving others a part of myself that could better their lives. My extreme fear of judgment and rejection are still way too overwhelming. I am my harshest critic and despise myself enough for everyone. I am too vulnerable for this shit. My depression is still too high to handle the pain. “Just be yourself” and then world judges you.

I went into a holiday party meeting. I was early. I was wearing a Mickey Mouse hoodie. I was not there as an official anything, just a volunteer. The room we were using for the meeting was filled with yellow balloons. Apparently there had been an office party in there the day before. I picked up a balloon and proceeded to bounce it around the room on my fingertips. I was just passing time until others arrived and (god forbid) having an ounce of fun. When the sour puss and a coworker entered the room they looked at me like I had just landed from another planet. I smiled and greeted them.

Bitch - “I see you like to wear cartoon characters on your clothes. The last time I saw you you had on a shirt with one on it.”

Me - “Yep, I guess I am just a kid at heart”

Bitch - “My daughter used to love that stuff too. (pause) When she was a teenager.”

Me - “I just think it’s fun.”

Bitch - “I could never wear things like that.”

Me - “Why?”

Bitch - “I guess I’m just too reserved.” (snooty look and then turned away)

Well, that was fun. I feel grand now! I love this “be yourself” bullshit!

I dropped the balloon and folded my hands in my lap.

That saying “we don’t stop playing because we grow old, we grow old because we stop playing” is so fucking true. I always think about the Twilight Zone episode “Kick the Can”. If you haven’t seen it, you need to. It will make you think twice about growing up and not playing anymore. It’s one of my favorite episodes. Maybe you and find it on YouTube.

I have spent so much energy at the center. I deplete myself to fill others up. It is my choice and I have options but I continue to throw myself at people’s feet. I offer my services, other peoples’ services and act like a major co-dependent care taking rescuer. It’s draining and stressful. I don’t stop to take other people’s feelings into consideration when I volunteer them. I just open my mouth and it all pours out. I desperately want to make others happy and in that process I end up making people upset. I exhaust myself and spend all of my time and energy on other people. I am in so much need and then I put myself out there into the world to help others. I have to understand that I need to help myself more. I have wants and needs that are going unmet for the sake of meeting others’. None of this helps my depression. I think it does, but it doesn’t. If I just take care of all of these other people and make them all happy then I will feel full. For a second. And then it all floods over me again. The emptiness, the hunger, the sadness, the need, the tiredness, the ache, the loneliness.

I am so irritated with the lack of money in our home. When it’s time to get gas in the car I am scraping pennies to put a few dollars in the tank. Jason asks me every week if we have enough money for gas so he can get to work in the days to come. I always find a way but it doesn’t need to be this hard. My sister’s Hanukkah gifts to us were the first time we’ve had full tanks of gas in a month. (Thank you, Sis!) I played around with the bills so that we could afford to buy everyone in our family gifts this year. We also make candy gifts for Joshua’s teachers and therapists. We have a family tradition of going to Red Lobster for Christmas eve dinner. We started doing this a few years ago. We set aside money to pay for this meal and I ended up spending it on the candy making supplies and juice for Joshua. I hate this. I am intent on using money from the next paycheck to take the four of us to dinner on Christmas eve. My New Year’s resolution this year is to make a budget and stick to it. That means not donating things to the center anymore. I spend a bit here and a bit there to give to others and, sadly, I need to stop that. It adds up quickly. I already go to a few different grocery stores to get the best deals, buy generic and use my coupons. I shop clearance for food and items and am a well known shopper at Goodwill. We try to make our prescriptions stretch or go without them from time to time because we can’t afford to refill them. The only person who does not is Joshua. Thankfully his Medicaid pays for all of his. My husband works too fucking hard. Most of the bills are mine. My teeth, my hospitalization, my meds, my therapy. Gas is a huge one because Jason works over an hour away and I have so many appointments to run Joshua to and from. Let’s not forget all of the places I run my mother to. She does not give me gas money nor does she ask us over for meals. At least when we did so much for Jason’s mom she had us over for meals quite a bit. When we get our tax refund I will, hopefully, be able to put some decent payments toward some of these things.

I got a picture via email from my sister in law. It was of my brother and two nephews heading out to cut down a Christmas tree. I cried. Dammit. He is such a stubborn pig headed person. I miss his stupid ass. I don’t want to. I wonder if it’s better to have the memories and not have the person or to not have the memories at all. I don’t know. That has always been a difficult question for me. To have loved and lost or not to have loved at all. I feel this way about my whole family. I don’t know which would be better. Some days it’s the memories and other days it’s wiping my mind clear. My age old question…why do things have to be the way they are? “There’s a reason for everything” is such a dumb answer anymore. It’s a tired answer. Give me something real.

I believe I’ve vented enough for the day. I need to get some chores done. It’s time to make our candy gifts. I get to lick the leftovers!!!