Same Old Poop

I know the answers to the unspoken questions that pull tears from my eyes.  I know not to ever ask ever again “When will it stop?” I came as I promised Monday  evening to pick up some food and the old food processor and juicer. She was upset, I guess I was too precisely on time. I said, “I’m here” and the response was “Oh, okay. Whatever.” Dad’s response to me was don’t start anything. Me? I came on time. I came as promised. She’s mad when I come, when I don’t visit.

I can’t entertain the crazy.

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Flashback with Trigger Warning

As some of you know, I suffer from PTSD. I grew up in a home environment that was religiously, emotionally, physically and verbally abusive. I’m going to repost below a post from Xanga. It’s not clean, or pretty; unedited for grammatical errors. Consider this your trigger warning.

For several weeks in a row now, in my quiet time (hence I don’t spend much time in silence or reflection) all I hear/think is the repetitive statements my mother made on Saturday, September 12, 2009:

There is never a spiritually dull moment in my parent’s house.

Saturday I went out with my friends to Source and Summit, a young adult event in Alhambra CA.  They offer praise and worship, food and social mingling, a speaker, Adoration, Rosary, and Divine Mercy.  I love going, and always learn something with Christ Jesus.  I opened up to Him, admitted what He already knows about me: that I can’t fathom unconditional love; that He and Mary will never scrunch up their noses at me in spiritual disgust.  There is nothing I can ever do that would remove their love for me.  And then I renewed my personal promise-vow to God and Christ.
My parents went out to a Lobester Festival in a nearby port city and apparently had a blast.
Sunday, as I had gotten home late as did my parents, they debated whether they were going to attend Mass with me.  Dad and I went to Mass, mom went to garage sales.  She came home after we did from Mass, around 1pm.  She wasn’t in the best mood, but it wasn’t also the worst.  She cried a lot and ranted a bit.  Then somehow it escalated.  I don’t remember why or what she was going on about, but it just erupted all of a sudden.  She raved  about me being Catholic, about liking Mass, about the books I have, about dressing conservatively; about my sister and her boyfriend, insulting him saying that he’s retarded (he’s not) and that my sister’s a whore (at least they’re monogamous); that my parents need to divorce, and dad’s dad doesn’t care about him because grampa has a ‘girlfriend’.   How she wants us both dead, how we don’t do anything right.  I don’t do religion right, and my sister isn’t doing the right major in college.  That I need to be told not to attend church as much and that my sister needs to be told that she will be a certain profession and marry a certain someone (i.e., an arranged marriage).
Oh, it didn’t stop there.
She came into my room and demanded to know why I wear a chapel veil all the time; I don’t do it when she’s present.  Why I feel compelled to “carry on a relationship with a nun” and she said it in such a tone to insinuate a lesbinate quality to it.  I denied that as well.  She asked if I was still having an affair with a priest over the internet, which I just flat out denied because its ridiculous.  She got in my face and I thought she was going to pick up my thankfully-empty coffee mug and lug it at me, so I yelled at her to get out.  Then she screamed at me that I had no right to tell her to “get out of my own house.”  Just get the frig out of my room was my intention.  Eventually it moved into their bedroom where dad had to restrain her, and dad and I debated above her yelling (all the windows are open as its 75+ degrees) whether to call paramedics or just Gramma.  Meanwhile, she’s spitting on me and dad and calling me a bitch with absolute hatred and fanaticism on her face.  I’m looking down on her, and it’s feeling odd because I’m scared, hesitating, and suddenly thinking of whether this is how Christ would handle the situation.  Anyway, she’s screaming how she wants me gone, out of the house.  That she doesn’t want to look at me.  That she won’t take anything I give her, even if its her meds.  Eventually, she bargains that she’ll calm down and take her meds if I get out of the room (dad called me in there) and don’t call 911.
She took 2 valium, and that calmed her down, but she was still irate.  Then Gramma came over and we attempted to have a family discussion, but it’s hard when one person in the room is nearly psychotic and demands trust from you, but denies the worth of your word.  Many things were discussed, but she wanted me to denouce “relations” with nuns and priests; its a falsehood, so all I did was deny her lies about me.  She wanted me to denouce the chapel veil; I sorta did, but I’m still wearing it to daily Mass, and I make sure no one there knows me.  I might have to start switching churches again.  And she wanted me to denouce thinking about religious life.  I said that I was no longer thinking about it; an outright lie on my behalf.  But I’m not considering it, I’m accepted and working towards it.  She said that it was okay for me to be a religious person, but listed all these constraints.  And as the conversation moved on she insinuated that she was the one who was wrongfully on Ativan, Xanax, Clonapem, and Wellbutrin, and pointedly looked at me and asked “Who do you think is psychologically disturbed?  who should be on medications?”  Then she tried to attack my sister who wasn’t even there to defend herself!
It goes on a bit, but Monday morning she was embarassed at the memory of her actions and supposedly wanted to apologise; but only if I apologised for asking her to get out of my room.  I declined.  She is concerned about how she appeared, not the things she said, not the insults, not the distrust, etc.  I’m not apologizing, I did no wrong.
I cannot get the “You bitch. You bitch. You bitch.” out of my head.
originally posted on Xanga.com Friday Sept 18, 2009 at 12:38am

Gets My Goat

I’ve been researching how to add additional elements to a quilt I’m making for a bride-to-be friend. I’ve seen a lot of quilters, blogs & photographs in the past 36 hours. I sew by hand, I don’t own a sewing machine. What gets my goat is the level of disrespect for hand sewers and handsewn artifacts.

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It doesn’t mean more to another person if you finished before lunch on Sunday; just another weekend project.

You shouldn’t be able to charge more for your product online than I or any other hand sewer does.

A frugal dinner

Salmon curry with wild rice; cocktail of personal choice.

1 can of salmon
1/3 cup of plain yogurt
1/4 cup mix of chopped green onions & cilantro.
2 tbs oil (veggie, sunflower, etc) mixed with the following
  1/2 tsp tumeric
  1/4 ginger
  Pepper to taste
  Curry to taste
3 cloves garlic minced/pressed
1/2 onion chopped

Curry: spices, yogurt, oil
Salmon: drained, rinsed & drip dry

In 1 pan cook onion til translucent, add garlic. Then add salmon.

Another pan: oil, spices, blend yogurt. Taste, add more if wanted. Pour green onions & shallots on top. (Optional: lime juice). Set aside.

Make rice per instructions.
Put finished rice in bowl bottom. Mix salmon with curry, pour on top.

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Not frugal dinner

Sorry, but I’m sick of ramen until Friday when I have to consume it again (abstinence from meat easier than Vatican II prescriptions).

I got bratwurst, various ales & stouts, and “roasted garlic” cheddar. Perfect for tomorrow after TLM (Tridentine Latin Mass) for feast of Assumption of Momma Mary. Plus, have an out-of-town friend to treat; home-cooked is a treat for any bachelor. Don’t get any ideas!

Nice stouts & ales from Cost Plus/World Market. Cheese is cheaper there, and from red velvet pancake mix too! I feel like a kid in there. I’m delightfully girly today with an organic strawberry ale. Not for long though as I’m going clubbing on Friday & looking forward to the whiskey, just no Jack please (JD is vile bile, and he ain’t no “gentleman” either).