My Mother…

28 11 2012

gave me my first vibrator for Christmas in ’87. I was 29, had left my husband, and my 3 children and I were living with her. It embarrassed the hell out of me and I lost it long before I found it useful.  I was living with her again when I was 45. By then my kids were grown, her husband had died and we were gaining an awareness that at some point in the future we would also pass and that someone would be going through all our belongings.

We were talking about the fact that I would be embarrassed to think that my children might find my vibrator in my personal possessions and that I should at least get one that could pass for being used for something else. We both recognized that they were smart enough to see past that, but I still felt that it was better than leaving one behind that was so obvious.

There is some chemistry between my mother and I that tweaks our sense of humor. One of us suggested that one was embarrassing but more than 10 were not. Instead of getting rid of the one I had all I needed was get a lot more of them and stick them everywhere!

That sent us off on a roll where we were thinking of places to stash them. I could put one in the cookie jar, the silverware drawer, the refrigerator, roll one up in the window shade, or slip one between the speaker and the computer screen. Then we realized that Moms movie collection had boxes about the same size as my vibrator box.

She suggested covering the boxes with our own covers and naming them after movies that fit the object inside, like “What about B.O.B.?” (B.O.B. meaning Battery Operated Boyfriend), “What Women Want”, “As Good As It Gets”, “Batteries Not Included”, “Electric Dreams”, and “While You were Sleeping”. For a week, every time we saw each other we were rolling on the floor laughing over the latest titles we thought of to put on the boxes.

We both spent another day laughing while co-writing a book called Playing the Bass for beginners. It was a book that taught you how to play a Bass fish complete with illustrations that showed how to screw in the guitar strap pegs into the head and tail of the fish so that you could hold it while you played with the advice to “just do it! The fish is dead already and you can’t play the damn thing without a strap!” It also warned the musician not to get a fish with a mouth smaller than 4” or they would be limited to playing “Tip Toe through the Tulips” and other Tiny Tim tunes.

She always said that it was a good thing that there was an ocean on both sides of this continent so I had something to bounce off of.  I live 3000 miles away again and with her Birthday coming up find myself thinking of her and missing her perhaps a bit more than usual.  If your reading this believe me when I say I realize how rare and wonderful you are Mom.   Hope I find myself on your doorstep again someday sharing more laughs and adventures.

with love,

sincerely, SB

 

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Imitation of life…

26 11 2012

The movie was on this week and is one of Val’s favorites.  We watched it together.  It’s about a Black girl who looks white and hates the way people treat her because of her race enough to leave her Mother and everyone she loves behind and try to live life as a white girl.

I am guilty of this as well.

I realized how public this forum was and went about cropping anything from it that might point to the fact that I am mentally ill.  I want to be “NORMAL”.  This is one of those rare times in my life that I actually think I could pass and people wouldn’t suspect that I am anything but who I represent myself to be.

There is an extreme bias against the mentally ill.  I have seen their fear when they looked at me and felt sick inside.  They had no way of knowing what it took for me to even be in public and how much more afraid of them I was, then they ever could be of me.

I have felt so good lately. That peace has had me wanting to let go of everything that hasn’t contributed to it.  I want more than anything to exist every day within the same stress as everyone else without fear of losing control of who I am and how I present to others.

I am guilty of deleting anything that makes me look less than normal.  Having DID seems too conspicuous and I am uncomfortable openly living with it.

So uncomfortable that I deleted a whole blog that was meant to help others understand DID better and see it for what I truly feel it is, a developmentally based normal reaction to repeated trauma.  Like the lead character in the in Imitation of life, I eventually became ashamed of the fact that I tried to hide who I am.

This is the time of year for giving Thanks and I have so much to be Thankful for.  My apologies are being left here with my gratitude for these months of peace.   Till we meet again…sincerely SB.





Phantom memories…

13 11 2012

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Thank You family for teaching me what it’s like to realize that bad shit happen’s but Life is still really Good! 





Birthdays and other observations…

11 11 2012

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Somewhere in between Halloween and Thanksgiving is my Birthday so when the season arrives to tell us were wrapping up another year, I wrap up another one of mine.

When this year started we thought my sister-in-law was in her last days and the fact that she has been blessed with another year has defiantly effected my perception of my own as I am the recipient of her good humor and strength, but with so much grief and stress going on in the lives of those I love, I find it hard to consider this a “GOOD YEAR”.

It’s funny but as often as I return here with the feeling that I’m coming home, part of me always feels my home is there with them.  If home is where your heart is, then my home is 6,000 miles wide and has to include Hawaii and both coasts because there is at least a half a dozen places that I feel needed and very much want to be.

I just ran an errand and when I was coming back passed a young girl on a horse, and several kids on their bicycles and realized that I was smiling and felt safe coming home here.  There were a lot of years that I couldn’t say that.  I used to laugh and say we were so po that we couldn’t afford the “re”…meaning of course the kind of poor that wasn’t just broke but illiterate as well.  I have come a long way, even just this year, from being that person.

My life now is so much different then I ever imagined it could be.   For most of my early life and into adulthood we lived in places where I couldn’t escape fear and that has a lot to do with the kind of person you become.  I have spent a lot of years distancing myself from that life.

I feel good about that struggle.  It is one that was hard-fought not just for myself but for my children as well.  Everyone of them is an adult and living in a far better place then we spent their early years.  They don’t live in that fear anymore, but every one of them is living with challenges and pain and their lives are stressful.

With a world that big, there will be sadness going on every day somewhere in it, so just how do you decide if your life is good?  You have to make that circle smaller.

If my assessment of this year stays small enough to reflect only my own growth, it’s been a very good year.  I feel strong and capable and happy with who I am.  In this way every year just gets better and better, and with Gods blessing, I find myself looking forward to a few more.








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