Literally and figuratively, my head overfloweth. I just made up that spelling and strangely enough it’s okay with the Internet. Grammar and spelling have fallen to the wayside. I’m annoyed with bad grammar and typos (because who “writes” anymore) and doubly so when I do it myself. We have to have some kind of standards right? If not everything goes to crap. I need some kind of order in my life. Some days I stay indoors because it’s the only order I have control over. And it’s not much. I’m an introvert and I don’t care.
I have a lifetime of great experiences and of total and complete heartbreak. I want to get them out of my head so I can think. Somehow I think if I write them down I will free up space in my brain but maybe that’s adult ADD. I really don’t know but it doesn’t take much to distract me. See? I picture my brain oozing out of my ears and it hurts. But no, that pain is from headaches. Almost daily for as long as I can remember. Umpteen diagnoses later and I’m still experimenting with how to keep the pain under control and that makes my head hurt. Lordy Lordy who is going to read this drivel? I have a constant dialogue going on inside my head. How do I organize it and deliver it with some semblance of order? Hang on cuz here I go. Might even throw some bad spelling and grammar in for S&G’s.
I had a good childhood. Parents stayed married and I never saw them fight. I was a good student and didn’t get into trouble. Oh there were the things teenagers do, experimenting with alcohol and sex. The latter found me pregnant at 17. I was absolutely terrified of what my parents would do and think and it was this fear that made me make the worst decision of my life and get an abortion.
To this day I think about that child and regret my decision. That act resulted in my twisted thinking that the father and I were now forever bound and at 18 I moved in with my “high school sweetheart,” who as it turned out, wasn’t so sweet. A month after graduating high school I went as maid of honor to my best friend’s wedding with a black eye. We married when I was 20 and I knew as I walked down the aisle that it would not last. My idea of not living in sin outweighed the possibility and probability of being divorced.
We welcomed a baby daughter when I was 21 and I redeemed myself for having an abortion. Or so I thought. By the time I got pregnant again when she was 14 months old and I knew the end of my marriage was torturously close. The second, and LAST incident of domestic violence occurred when I was six months pregnant and he hit me on the side of my head and into a wall. I hung on until after our son was born and I could get a job as a police dispatcher. Pride is weighty thing to carry.
By then the husband was working three hours away and coming home every couple of weeks. I was already a single parent.I continued to work full time and care for two babies but I was still shocked when I got served with divorce papers! He was home for the weekend and we had just come home from grocery shopping when the knock came at the door and I was handed the papers. I walked in to the kitchen asking “what’s this about?” I even tried to reconcile. Why is it so hard to let go of something destructive when you know it’s inevitable and for the best? I recall my mother asking me what was stopping me from moving out. Money I told her. She gave me $500 and I got work friends to help me move out on a weekend he wasn’t home. A friend of mine, with a young son, and I rented a house together.You want to know what pissed him off most? Not me moving out with our children, but that I took the MICROWAVE OVEN! Incidentally, his dad bought it for me. He ended up getting it back. Ha! It’s funny the little things you remember when you start dredging up the past.
This has been a crazy brain dump! This is 40 years of hidden, buried, suppressed cancer that I feel is being excised from my soul. I’ve felt the desire to let it all out but never had the courage. I took a break from writing this to indulge in my Pintest addiction and this popped up:
Maybe I have a purpose.