Musings While Medicated: Forgive But Never Forget!

Ah sativa to come and conquer my anxiety! It’s been a difficult few days but I’m not going to go into the day-to-day chaos of my life. I have been working on a difficult blog post all week and then Brock Turner was released from prison.

Rapist Brock Turner, formerly a student at Stanford, was caught in the act of raping a passed-out drunk woman behind a dumpster. A judge only sentenced him to 6 months in prison, of which he served half. 3 months? 3 months for a man caught by 2 people in the midst of raping someone? This makes absolutely no sense! I served longer in an abusive relationship than Brock did in prison!

I realized lately how much pain and anger I’m holding against people who have hurt me. I can forgive them, but I will never forget what they did to me.

Grandpa Bill, I forgive you for the emotional and verbal from childhood until you died. To my parents, I forgive you for not saying anything to the old man about what he did to you and us. Specifically to my dad, forgiveness for the verbal and emotional abuse, domestic violence that still effects me, and the spankings that caused me to piss myself. To my peers who bullied me for stuttering, having glasses, or not having the right clothes, you are forgiven. For David, my senior year of high school boyfriend who cheated on me with a guy, forgiven years ago.  Scott who was my first boyfriend in college and couldn’t handle me having male friends, didn’t truly trust me-I forgive you for not having an honest relationship with me.

Andrew Montgomery, I have so much trouble forgiving you and what you did. It was 12 years ago and it’s still with me all the time. But you are slowly dying of cancer and are in pain. Thanks to karma, I  can forgive you. BUT I WILL NEVER FORGET THE HELL I WENT THROUGH FOR 4 MONTHS WITH YOU!! AND I WILL NEVER STOP TALKING ABOUT IT!

Robin, my ex-husband. I forgave you awhile ago. For thinking that you could heal me, change me. For lying to me, not communicating, for cheating on me for a year, I forgave you 3 years ago. But forget? Not gonna happen.

Oh the service dog community, there are so many to list and name. I’ll only name some. Martha, Marijane, Kate, Dory, Alyssa, Holly, Margo, Dani, Ty, Sadie, Julee, I think that’s more than some. As far as I know, only a few have continued the trash talk for the last 3 years. Because they sadly spend(t) so much of their lives talking trash about an ordinary person who just wanted to be left alone, I can forgive all of them. I sure as FUCK won’t forget. The 5 days I spent inpatient because I wanted to be dead rather than deal with them? I won’t forget. Them telling me to kill Max and myself, not forgetting. The continued harassment and gossip from pathetic people who have nothing better to do? It’s forgiven but never forgotten.

My this is getting to be quite the list!’

Aaron, the guy I briefly dated after my marriage ended. I can forgive him for dumping due to the sexual orientation that he was aware of but still pushed me to go beyond my comfort zone. I’ve been beyond, I’m over it. I forgive you for dumping me because I didn’t put out but continuing to flirt with me. But I’m not going to forget.

Lastly, we have my sister who broke a big promise to me. When I told her that I was leaving Robin, she told me to come live with her. I could stay there for as long as I needed. Or until I clashed with her husband. Her misogynistic, anti-Semitic, sexist, homophobic, vulgar, and xenophobic husband who barely works and can’t get it up. But I absolutely hate him so getting away was a good thing but he wrecked the relationship between us. Bitch (a term of endearment), I forgive you for breaking your promise (marrying the asshole is on you) but I will not forget.

I think that the cannabis is starting to wear off. I think that means we’re done here. This is a pretty extensive list and I find that kinda sad. So many people to forgive and so much that I will NEVER forget.

24 Things Women Over 30 Should Wear

Whatever the fuck we want!

Warning:Curves Ahead

This morning, as I was perusing my Facebook timeline, I happened upon an article that a lovely friend shared. It was entitled “24 Things Women Should Stop Wearing After Age 30”, and it triggered Maximum Eye-Rolling from everyone who took the time out to read it.

Written by Kallie Provencher for RantChic.com, this “article” (I use the term loosely) highlighted things such as “leopard print”, “graphic tees”, and “short dresses” (because “By this age, women should know it’s always better to leave something to the imagination”). Kallie, it seems, has a number of opinions on what women over 30 should and shouldn’t be doing, having also penned “30 Things Women Over 30 Shouldn’t Own” and “20 Pictures Women Over 30 Need To Stop Posting Online”. (What is this magical post-30 land where women are suddenly not allowed to do or own so many things?!)

Motivated by Kallie’s “article”, I decided to…

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A gift of chai-life

Note: This was done with a voice -to-text program so anything I said came out. I think I fixed most of the typos.

How many times can I cry at my synagogue? It seems that I am up to at least a dozen times now. This last Saturday was my most recent episode of crying. We were reading a portion in Deuteronomy about helping the poor. How there will always be poor people and how if you are able to, you should help the poor even if you don’t know what they will spend the money on whether it will be food, housing or drugs.  I’m not sure how it came up but I asked if our synagogue had a tzedakah (charity) fund. A long time and frequent member of our study group confirmed that we do. I asked with tears in my eyes that if people can go to someone in the synagogue to ask for the funds to god damn I was wrong my f****** brain f****** blood do I think you get the point.  About 2 weeks ago my water got turned off. The automatic payment from my bank didn’t go through and I didn’t know it. So the city turned off my water. It would cost $250 to turn it back on. That’s money I did not have. Electricity I could live without for a few days but not water especially when I’m prone to have volcano ass. And I certainly didn’t want to go to my parents and tell them that I f***** up bad adulting and I needed help I was not going to go grovel at them. I felt like s*** about it but I went to my ex. He lent me the money so I could get my water turned back on and it was turned back on.

Last week I was outside of my building picking up trash with Max, well Max was picking up the trash and I was taking it from him and putting it into the garbage can. My cane with leaning against the side of the building I was recording him picking up the trash to have (come on brain work) a record of his training it’s always good to do that and because it was super cute to have a video of my dog picking up the trash. But after he picked up the trash I walked away. And sure enough, I’d left my cane against the building and it was stolen. And on my cane was a pouch with some of Max’s stuff in, gone. I filed a police report but I’m never going to see it again. Today is Tuesday. On Sunday night I sent an email to the synagogue asking if I could get help from the Tzedakah fund. I explained what happened. I sent them a picture of the receipt from the water bill and of the cost of the cane, the pouch, and the things that were inside it and to show them what would cost to replace the items. I wasn’t sure what they would say or do if anything at all. Would they tell me that I just needed to find another way, this money was for real emergencies, that they weren’t going to help me, I really didn’t know. But Monday night I got an email from someone at the synagogue loving kindness committee. She explained  what they do and how much they give to help people she asked me if I needed that full amount and exactly what happened I explained again and told her yes I do need that full amount. I actually mean more to repay my ex husband but he does not mind if I take some extra time to repay him and right about now, I’ll take any help that I can get. I got an email back from her today saying that they are going to give me that amount I can get it from them on Saturday. Tears rolled down my face, I was so relieved. I had no idea that I can get help from them in this manner. I really hate asking for help but I’ve come to a point in my life where I really have to, there’s no choice. I need help even though I don’t realize it at times. It’s very humbling for me and I hate it. But as much as I hate it I have to do it. There’s no way around it.

A Beginning

As some of you know, I ended my marriage 4 years ago as of the end of April. But the divorce isn’t complete. The county courthouse was an hour away and no one would drive me there to get help with the paperwork. My health started to skew downwards and that took precedence. We’re legally separated but not divorced. I now live maybe a third mile from the courthouse and plan on going there to get help with my paperwork ASAP! But I also need a get.

A get is a Jewish divorce. While most Reform Jews don’t get one unless they are going to a more religious path, some get one so they can separate themselves from the past and move forwards. I do want that.  But then we will have to convene a Beit Din.

A Beit Din (or court of law) is called for several reasons. Some examples are for conversion a dispute over a piece of land or a divorce. During a conversion the convert will take a Hebrew name to show that they are now part of this community. My rabbi told me that some people will take a Hebrew middle name after a divorce. However I already have a Hebrew middle name. She said I can have more than one so why not? I thought about it and I know the name I want to take. I want to take the name of Dina.

In the book of Exodus, Dina was the only daughter of Jacob, sister to Joseph, and daughter of Leah. As the story goes, she was raped by the prince of Shechem. Many stories have been written about Dina to see if there could be another point of view. Was she really raped? Was Dina in love? Did she want this relationship? Or was it truly rape? As friends and readers of my blog know, I am a survivor. I take the name Dina in honor of the biblical Dina and all past, present, and future survivors.

Musings While Medicated: An ending.

April 30, 2012. I found out that he had betrayed me again. He was talking with a local woman and having phone sex. He couldn’t just chat with or video chat with someone across the globe? They had to be local? Someone who might run into him? Everyone knows each other here, word spreads fast. What if it ended up that she was a friend of mine? Or he had sex with a friend of mine again, for the third time?

I screamed and cried and said it was over, I’m fucking done. I locked me and Max (my dog) in the bedroom and called my therapist. Answering service got her and I sobbed to her for about 20 minutes. Then I called my sister and I asked her if I could live with her. 45 minutes later, I started packing.

I’m really baked right now.

Musings While Medicated: Lessons From Harry Potter

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This screenshot from Tumblr was posted on a FB fanpage. Whether it’s canon or fanfic I don’t know. There are many Dramione fanfics. But from it is the crux of this post.

You could use many words to describe me.
3 of them are Hufflepuff, Jew, and stoner. I have no problem with any of these descriptors. I’m a proud badger, I’m proud of my heritage, and MMJ ended my benzo addiction.

One of the comments on this screenshot caught my interest, I think it may have been someone claiming this was their OTP (don’t quite remember, it’s been a shitty day and I’m baked). But a comment on that comment was “No way! Hashtag Pureblood Hashtag HeilHitler” Someone actually liked it!

Mortified, I asked that person not to go there. Did he learn nothing from HP? The whole rise of Voldemort was compared to Hitler. Grindelwald was compared to WWI. Pureblood wizards…pure Aryan blood…hello? No more Hitler, no more Voldy, accepting everyone. No Hogsmeade Wall, accepting people for what they believe, where they come from, who they love, the type of magic they do, or if they do magic at all. He responded in a total douchebag manner. I decided to block him and report the post. In the process of clicking on the offensive comment, I clicked on the HH hashtag. Facebook loaded tons of public posts using that horrible hashtag. A few referenced Trump followers so I ignored them.

For those who aren’t aware 4/20 (stoner Christmas) was also Hitler’s birthday. Plus the birthday of my abusive grandfather but that’s another story. There were so many horribly offensive posts about killing minorities, glorifying Hitler, and smoking a doobie in his name.  I reported about a dozen posts before I couldn’t take it any more and broke down in tears. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE?!