How to Be….

There is this idea in the bible about casting the mote out of your own eye before you try to pick it out of someone elses.  It’s a good mantra to live by.  Why is it in my family, well, specifically my mother and sister C, believe they know what is best for me and have full license to tell me how to be.  I don’t need to be their creation, I don’t want to be their creation because from the safety behind my mote it appears they have totally f***ed up their life.  Okay, strong words, but one has to rely on the kindness of her family, and he’s damn lucky we are innately kind, and the other keeps chasing her happiness at the tip of a penis and is willing to sacrifice everything to that happiness, is no way to live.  You shouldn’t be….You need to be…..You have to be….I don’t want to be.  I’m in the process of redfining myself, that’s not a secrete, but the idea of rebaking myself isn’t to invite other short-order cooks to put their tooth-picks in to decide if I’m done yet or not. 

I will be who I am when I a have decided I am who I am meant to bs me.  How do I communicate that to people whose motes seem to extend into their  ears because when I try to explain what I am trying to be, they don’t hear it.  So, I will continue to whittle away my mote and try not to let their motes push me into a rage of insecurity against them and mostly, against myself.

Tumbling Backwards

I’ve got a job, I’ve got money.  You’d think that would be enough to make me happy, or sane, or whatever it is I’m supposed to be striving for here.  But no.  I’m sitting in my bed, twisted up with anger because Mom said something to hurt me, and I know she’s doing it on purpose.  No one can be that vile without knowing it.  And of course I fall prey to it every freaking time. 

I’ve been unable to continue with therapy, so I don’t have the sounding board that I normally have to help me put things into perspective.  I’ve not had the time to read and to center myself because as soon as I get in from work I have to play slave to the mother.  In her defense she is just coming off a gastric bleed and a stint in rehab, but that’s no reason not to say ‘Please’ in stead of ‘get me’.

I”ve bought a Franklin day planner again, I’m trying to get back to scheduling my life and my writing so I do it again.  Part of that is writing here and in my other blogs.  I need the creative release even if it’s just for a few minutes before bed to vent.  

How far have I fallen?  Well, the fact that I can kill a bag of white chocolate M&M’s in less than thirty minutes should be an indication.