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.

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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.

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.

Believe in Yourself

This afternoon I took my service dog on a training walk and filmed it. I planned on putting the pieces together and posting it on his Facebook page but a new app and many spoons later, it’s still not done. I also started 6 hours ago and I’m eating dinner at 1am. I’ll post here in the morning, I promise!

Max and I were done with the training part and just enjoying our walk towards home. I was wearing this hoodie. I have a few items with this symbol on it. They are from this company.


3ELove

3Elove-Embrace your disabilities, Empower yourself, Educate people about your disabilities, love yourself, and love those who are disabled. It’s a great message. I also have a sweatshirt that says HOPE and one that says I ❤  Service Dogs.

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As I passed the library, two men in desperate need of a shower were sharing a joint. As we approached, they hid the joint. I laughed as they don’t need to hide pot from me. One of them asked me if my hoodie said Believe or Belize. I told him. He said to me,”You’re nothing in front of God but Jesus loves you.” I turned to him and said,”I am something and God believes in me and I believe in Her.” The man opened his mouth to say something and nothing came out.

Those who know me, know I do believe in a Higher Power. Whether you call It God, Allah, Buddha, He Who Must Not Be Named, Mother Goddess, Brahman, Gaia, YHVH, Father Sky, Coyote, Dagda, Amun-ra or Quetzalcoatl, I do believe. But although it’s it’s in the minutiae quite often, I also believe in myself.

I think it’s very harmful to tell strangers “the end is near” “you’re all sinners” “there’s no god” “you’re nothing in front of God”. What if that person was severely depressed and your words were the last straw? Sure, you can’t control the actions of others. You can only control what you do and say. Or at least try. You just never know.

Selah

Why we need to challenge what our trainers tell us.

Rainbow Spoonie’s addendum: I want to show this footage to my dad in hope that he’ll stop thinking CM is amazing and stop making that  “Sssst” sound at their dog. At least I got them to not use a choke chain with her.

 

There has been enough coverage of the incident featured on Cesar 911 recently where Simon the French Bulldog cross, who had previously killed pigs, was allowed to be in an enclosed area off lead wi…

Source: Why we need to challenge what our trainers tell us.

Destroying A Horcrux-In Memory of Sir Alan Rickman

With the passing of Alan Rickman, I wanted to explain what Harry Potter means to me.

Triggers my loves!

During the summer of 2007, I was in a deep state of denial. But I couldn’t handle this pain inside me anymore, I couldn’t keep it inside me. I let it explode like a volcano that’s held back for too long, I just exploded. I just let it out! HE HAD RAPED ME! IT HURT! HE SPENT 4 MONTHS TELLING ME THAT I WAS TOO BEAUTIFUL AND HE COULDN’T HELP HIMSELF! FOR 4 FUCKING MONTHS I BELIEVED THAT HE LOVED ME AND WAS GOING TO MARRY ME! WHAT A YOUNG FOOL I WAS!

I had spent over a month in bed, only getting out to pee, when I got an email from Borders reminding me that Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows was being released in hardcover on July 21st. I had a copy reserved and I did want it. I dragged myself out of bed and went to the midnight release of the book.

The store was crowded and I hated it. I didn’t want to be around people; I just wanted to get my book and go home. They finally called my name and I had a hardback copy of Deathly Hallows in my hands! I got myself home and started to read. I stayed up all night and read the book. Morning came and I was a teary-eyed mess. Not only had so many wonderful characters died, but this wonderful series was over. I passed the book over to my fiancée and fell asleep.

I had a thrashing sleep full of nightmares. I was fighting Voldemort to get rid of this painful horcrux inside me. I had to kill him as well. Once I could get rid of the horcrux and kill Voldemort, I would be free, I would be me again. I woke up in a sweat, my sweet dog was pawing at my arm. I knew then that I could no longer let myself sit in bed. I had to get up and fight Voldemort!

Bit by bit, I’m chipping away at the horcrux. Voldemort is getting weaker. I won’t let him feed off the unicorn. It’s not easy to destroy a horcrux but I’m working on it. One day, I will be me again, a newer, brighter, and stronger me. I will work on this everyday for the rest of my life, no matter what. Forever and ALWAYS.

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My service dog wearing his Griffyndor scarf (his, not mine. I’m a Hufflepuff) and holding my wand in tribute to Alan Rickman.