My group therapy sessions were now going along especially well. I was in with a group of women I call my sisters-in-spirit. An overwhelming majority of us were raised by abusive, controlling parents with Hyde & Jekyll personalities. We all related and no one was judging.
Our therapist Marcia, told us many people were simply unable to comprehend a group like ours. In other words, most of society! Here, I was finally among people with whom I felt completely comfortable. We all sat around a long U-shaped table. The therapist's chair was in the open space.
Marcia placed a large box of Kleenex on the table to be passed around when needed. We were there to support each other emotionally. Marcia criticized me because I never cried.
"I want to see you cry, Dianne!" were words she often repeated.
By this point in my life, I felt all cried out! Anger had taken over, I oozed venom; all directed toward my parents & step-mother. Plus I felt a great deal of self-loathing for not finding a way to escape them. They just all died off.
Marcia drew a crude sketch of me on the blackboard, shackles around my ankles tied to gravestones. She said I needed to grow wings. -- They would have been useless! I really needed a pair of bionic legs!
Once, as homework, I was given a writing assignment to imagine my ideal birthday with my mother. -- My birthday was NEVER acknowledged when I was a small child. (I wrote of this in a previous blog.) I could not even begin to imagine my mom in this role. Instead, I imagined one of the ladies in therapy as my mother. I wrote from this perspective.
The class delighted in my story! Marcia began giving me other writing assignments to vent. To my surprise, the group greatly enjoyed them all. But then, I was a graduate of several creative writing courses. I admitted that I was a failed writer. However, the reaction of the group gave me new hope to return doing what I loved.
I seldom received positive reinforcement for anything before. My mom and step-mother considered it babying. Marcia said it wasn't babying, it's a basic need. -- One of the ladies pointed out how both women had shamelessly babied my dad!
Here, I was finally forced to face my father's psychological abuse as well. Something of which I had long been in denial. Previous therapists tried to touch on this, but I fought it! I made it clear I wasn't going to criticize my dad. In my mind, he had been the good parent.
But he grew more and more ugly to me in words and actions as time passed, escalating in his senior years. I figured it was just part of the aging process. Marcia explained that most people manage to grow old without becoming mean and abusive.
My eyes were opened as to how I was undermined in subtle and not so subtle ways. If you truly care about someone, you do not methodically destroy all their sense of confidence and self-worth in order to control them. Everything I learned in therapy was highly illuminating.
I decided to return to my writing. Something my father always called, "a fantasy!" I now had the green light from the universe. And I would use my dad's money to make my fantasy a reality! It didn't matter if I never became a best-selling author. It was what I enjoyed, as well as therapy.
Friday, November 30, 2012
HAPPY TOFURKEY DAY
DELAYED DUE TO COMPUTER ISSUES!
This Thanksgiving, I was invited to join friends for dinner at a restaurant over on the beach. However, I had already bought and planned my holiday meal. And I can't count on my old garage freezer to last much longer.
Last year, the day before, an elderly man in one of those motorized scooters tried to pick me up at Walmart. I was scanning the frozen food section for side dishes when he drove by. He stopped to tell me that I was very pretty. I thanked him and we started to talk. He invited me to have Thanksgiving dinner with him in his home, just the 2 of us. I politely refused. That day I happened to be wearing one of my French berets with the nipple on top. -- Those seem to really excite men of a certain generation!
Any holiday alone is a great one. I've had too many previous ones ruined by other peoples' antics and drama. Now they are custom-tailored just for me. So I'm getting out my elegant lace tablecloth and fancy dishes. I'm moving to the big formal table under the chandelier. Also I will light my pumpkin-spice & vanilla scented candles.
I decided I am finally going to cook a Tofurkey. I'm what you call a semi-vegetarian. I won't eat anything with fur, or anything considered mammal for moral and ethical reasons. I'd feel like a cannibal! I do however eat fish & fowl. Truthfully, I hate most vegetables. A platter of salad is tantamount to lawn clippings as far as I'm concerned. But I've been eager and excited for the Tofurkey experience, a more humane choice. It comes stuffed with brown rice & whole wheat bread cubes, vegetarian gravy is included.
Preparing this thing sounds almost as big a pain as cooking an actual turkey. It needs defrosting the night before and takes 1 entire hour & 30 minutes to cook. (When I'm hungry I want my meal in 6 min. or less!) It bakes in a casserole dish along with other vegetables. I'm adding small potatoes & mushrooms. I've also got a squash souffle I can cook in the microwave. For dessert, I'm having a cranberry scone. There will be enough food for about 3 meals. I can freeze the rest for later.
Last year, after my feast, I watched the 1975 film BARRY LYNDON. It was over 3 hrs. long! In 1976 I was touring Ireland. Our guide pointed out spots where scenes from the movie had been shot. I planned to see it after I returned home. I never imagined it would take me 35 years! So finally seeing this film felt kind of special.
Occasionally, I do watch something besides flesh-eating zombies & psycho killer clowns.
This Thanksgiving, I plan to watch the 3 hr. long 1960 movie LA DOLCE VITA (The Sweet Life) I've always loved the title. It's taking me 52 yrs. to get around to viewing this one. I was 9 when the movie was released. Only 1 week before Thanksgiving 1959 my family moved to our new home on the river. My life there was hardly sweet.
Now that I am alone, I revel in the holidays! Each and every one, I savor as precious.
This Thanksgiving, I was invited to join friends for dinner at a restaurant over on the beach. However, I had already bought and planned my holiday meal. And I can't count on my old garage freezer to last much longer.
Last year, the day before, an elderly man in one of those motorized scooters tried to pick me up at Walmart. I was scanning the frozen food section for side dishes when he drove by. He stopped to tell me that I was very pretty. I thanked him and we started to talk. He invited me to have Thanksgiving dinner with him in his home, just the 2 of us. I politely refused. That day I happened to be wearing one of my French berets with the nipple on top. -- Those seem to really excite men of a certain generation!
Any holiday alone is a great one. I've had too many previous ones ruined by other peoples' antics and drama. Now they are custom-tailored just for me. So I'm getting out my elegant lace tablecloth and fancy dishes. I'm moving to the big formal table under the chandelier. Also I will light my pumpkin-spice & vanilla scented candles.
I decided I am finally going to cook a Tofurkey. I'm what you call a semi-vegetarian. I won't eat anything with fur, or anything considered mammal for moral and ethical reasons. I'd feel like a cannibal! I do however eat fish & fowl. Truthfully, I hate most vegetables. A platter of salad is tantamount to lawn clippings as far as I'm concerned. But I've been eager and excited for the Tofurkey experience, a more humane choice. It comes stuffed with brown rice & whole wheat bread cubes, vegetarian gravy is included.
Preparing this thing sounds almost as big a pain as cooking an actual turkey. It needs defrosting the night before and takes 1 entire hour & 30 minutes to cook. (When I'm hungry I want my meal in 6 min. or less!) It bakes in a casserole dish along with other vegetables. I'm adding small potatoes & mushrooms. I've also got a squash souffle I can cook in the microwave. For dessert, I'm having a cranberry scone. There will be enough food for about 3 meals. I can freeze the rest for later.
Last year, after my feast, I watched the 1975 film BARRY LYNDON. It was over 3 hrs. long! In 1976 I was touring Ireland. Our guide pointed out spots where scenes from the movie had been shot. I planned to see it after I returned home. I never imagined it would take me 35 years! So finally seeing this film felt kind of special.
Occasionally, I do watch something besides flesh-eating zombies & psycho killer clowns.
This Thanksgiving, I plan to watch the 3 hr. long 1960 movie LA DOLCE VITA (The Sweet Life) I've always loved the title. It's taking me 52 yrs. to get around to viewing this one. I was 9 when the movie was released. Only 1 week before Thanksgiving 1959 my family moved to our new home on the river. My life there was hardly sweet.
Now that I am alone, I revel in the holidays! Each and every one, I savor as precious.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
STRESS, ANXIETY, DEPRESSION 101
I had just endured 2 serious hurricanes and their aftermath, lost a staggering amount of money in investments, plus I was literally being haunted by a ghost. I was freaking out and didn't know where to turn for help.
Then I read in the newspaper that the Mental Health Association was starting a free therapy group for stress, anxiety, & depression. Since I suffered from all 3, I phoned to register.
I was the first to arrive. The therapist was a divorced, middle-aged mother I'll call, "Marcia". I explained that I was uncomfortable speaking in public. Then I watched as 20 people came; 2 men, 18 women. The room was small and crowded. Marcia made me speak FIRST! -- I've always wondered if that was strategic & Marcia hoped I'd never return! -- I'll never forget the way she stared when she first saw me. Anyway I was brief, as were many.
Then, oh my God, we came to the man in the middle! He began spilling his entire life story starting with intimate details of his childhood right through his recent messy divorce. (I wondered if he thought this was private therapy!) Soon we only had 10 minutes left and half the group had yet to speak.
I kept looking up at the clock and over at the therapist trying to drop hints. I kept expecting her to say, " Wrap this up buster, we're running out of time!"
"Oh how wonderful you're able to open up and share like that!" she enthused. -- After the guy had wasted over 45 minutes of the hour, leaving many unable to speak.
The following session, we were split into 2 groups meeting on different days. Each group had one man. And wouldn't you know mine would end up with the drama king! It soon became clear that he was the therapist's favorite. Often, she would remark how he added a special energy to the class, even going so far as to refer to him as "The Crown Jewel" of the group. Obviously, she was smitten.
The drama guy was far from handsome. In fact, he bore a striking resemblance to Dilbert's boss in the funny papers. However, he did own a high end business, which can make a homely man a whole lot more attractive. Marcia was a good therapist once you got her attention away from this guy.
Also in the group was a recent widow, "Grace," who was extremely attractive. Soon she and the drama king began to date.
We were given a text to study with homework assignments. Marcia said the group would shrink as the weeks passed. This was true, Grace disappeared, but the man remained.
As we discussed our written lessons individually, others were allowed to interject and share. To my constant irritation, the crown jewel kept commandeering everyone else's time with his sharing. He always turned everything around and made it all about himself, to the applause of our therapist.
I was the only woman there who stopped him in his tracks and returned the conversation to me. In fact, I even stepped in and usurped some of his time. Needless to say, he didn't like me and I was constantly shot dirty looks by this guy.
After 12 weeks this particular class came to its end. I registered for the next. To my surprise and delight, the same group returned, minus the reigning crown jewel.
Several years later, I was a guest of my friend Irene at one of her Military Ladies Luncheons. Across the room I recognized another guest, Grace from therapy. I asked her why she stopped attending.
"It was the therapist," she stated. "Marcia phoned and told me not to come anymore, she didn't want to council a courting couple. Plus she felt HE was too fragile to be in a relationship right now."
"Marcia probably had designs on him herself. I've always had my suspicions about this," I admitted.
"I got that vibe, too," Grace replied. She went on to say the relationship had been over for some time.
I told her she deserved better. Had I been the guy's wife I would have left him, too!
Without the drama king, the class had an entirely different, more positive, and healing atmosphere. Plus Marcia now came across as a more professional therapist.
Then I read in the newspaper that the Mental Health Association was starting a free therapy group for stress, anxiety, & depression. Since I suffered from all 3, I phoned to register.
I was the first to arrive. The therapist was a divorced, middle-aged mother I'll call, "Marcia". I explained that I was uncomfortable speaking in public. Then I watched as 20 people came; 2 men, 18 women. The room was small and crowded. Marcia made me speak FIRST! -- I've always wondered if that was strategic & Marcia hoped I'd never return! -- I'll never forget the way she stared when she first saw me. Anyway I was brief, as were many.
Then, oh my God, we came to the man in the middle! He began spilling his entire life story starting with intimate details of his childhood right through his recent messy divorce. (I wondered if he thought this was private therapy!) Soon we only had 10 minutes left and half the group had yet to speak.
I kept looking up at the clock and over at the therapist trying to drop hints. I kept expecting her to say, " Wrap this up buster, we're running out of time!"
"Oh how wonderful you're able to open up and share like that!" she enthused. -- After the guy had wasted over 45 minutes of the hour, leaving many unable to speak.
The following session, we were split into 2 groups meeting on different days. Each group had one man. And wouldn't you know mine would end up with the drama king! It soon became clear that he was the therapist's favorite. Often, she would remark how he added a special energy to the class, even going so far as to refer to him as "The Crown Jewel" of the group. Obviously, she was smitten.
The drama guy was far from handsome. In fact, he bore a striking resemblance to Dilbert's boss in the funny papers. However, he did own a high end business, which can make a homely man a whole lot more attractive. Marcia was a good therapist once you got her attention away from this guy.
Also in the group was a recent widow, "Grace," who was extremely attractive. Soon she and the drama king began to date.
We were given a text to study with homework assignments. Marcia said the group would shrink as the weeks passed. This was true, Grace disappeared, but the man remained.
As we discussed our written lessons individually, others were allowed to interject and share. To my constant irritation, the crown jewel kept commandeering everyone else's time with his sharing. He always turned everything around and made it all about himself, to the applause of our therapist.
I was the only woman there who stopped him in his tracks and returned the conversation to me. In fact, I even stepped in and usurped some of his time. Needless to say, he didn't like me and I was constantly shot dirty looks by this guy.
After 12 weeks this particular class came to its end. I registered for the next. To my surprise and delight, the same group returned, minus the reigning crown jewel.
Several years later, I was a guest of my friend Irene at one of her Military Ladies Luncheons. Across the room I recognized another guest, Grace from therapy. I asked her why she stopped attending.
"It was the therapist," she stated. "Marcia phoned and told me not to come anymore, she didn't want to council a courting couple. Plus she felt HE was too fragile to be in a relationship right now."
"Marcia probably had designs on him herself. I've always had my suspicions about this," I admitted.
"I got that vibe, too," Grace replied. She went on to say the relationship had been over for some time.
I told her she deserved better. Had I been the guy's wife I would have left him, too!
Without the drama king, the class had an entirely different, more positive, and healing atmosphere. Plus Marcia now came across as a more professional therapist.
Saturday, November 3, 2012
VOTE FOR THE SMALLEST PIECE OF EXCREMENT
Back when I was much younger, I knew those who couldn't wait to turn 21 so they could walk into a bar and buy a legal drink. I've never understood the appeal of alcohol! Geez, nerd that I am, I was far more excited about casting my first vote!
I wanted to register as an Independent, but my father cautioned that it would lock me out of the primaries and they were too important to dismiss. He said it would be wise to choose a party, it didn't mean I had to vote their way.
My father was not the type to get passionate about any party or candidate. He swore there were no good guys in politics. Just the very nature of it attracts the wrong sort of people. They were all beholden to special interests rather than the public. I am inclined to agree! He used to tell me that you should always vote AGAINST people and never for them.
For some reason, I had always liked Nixon. Perhaps because his birthday fell the day after mine. Plus he had that avuncular quality. Yes, I know it's shallow. But remember I was just 21. Anyway, that's how I became a R.I.N.O. (Republican In Name Only) and I am one to this day.
Now I take voting far more seriously. I do it by absentee ballot, along with lots of research. I want to see things change. Thank goodness we don't live in 1776 anymore!
In the past, it was not unusual for me to vote Libertarian or Green. I was a big supporter of Ross Perot and Ralph Nader. On rare occasions I've even voted for a Republican president. My vote went to Ronald Reagan in 1980, only to lose my C.E.T.A. job shorty after. Thanks to Reagan, it was denied funding. I was left unemployed for a long period. I always seemed to get screwed one way or another when a Republican gets into office.
Yet, I really wanted John McCain to get the nomination back in 2000. I was ready to vomit when George Bush got it instead. I will never understand how that jerk was able to get into office once, much less a second term. The idiot destroyed our economy! And don't forget all the lives and limbs cost with his trumped-up war in Iraq, a personal vendetta to avenge his daddy! Of course Cheney had more nefarious reasons. Both of them should be spat upon in the streets!
2008 I felt John McCain was by now too old for the job. With his hot temper, I worried he'd have a heart attack and die in office, or get us into another war. Plus he admitted he had no head for economics which happened to be our no. 1 problem. Good grief!
At first glance, I thought Barrack Obama was too far left.
I mentioned to my Russian seamstress that I didn't care for either candidate. She replied, "My mother always told me that when you're given a choice between 2 pieces of (expletive deleted) you always choose the smaller one." -- My father & her mother thought much alike!
I had been leaning toward Obama. Then McCain chose that woefully unqualified woman as his running-mate. I was convinced he'd gone senile! Goofy from Disneyland would have been a better choice. That pushed me into the Obama camp.
The more research I did on Obama, the more I was impressed. Plus I think America should hang its head in shame because we don't have affordable health care for all our citizens. I whole-heartily support Obama care. This is a wonderful thing! We are evolving as a society.
Now we have the Tea Party (urp!) whose motto should be, BACKWARD! They seem to be the controlling force in the Republican party, along with the big corporations and Grover Norquist. The fact that any politician would sign a loyalty pledge to this individual against the best interests of the citizens of this country should be a big red flag that they are no good!
I live in a predominately Republican area where the Tea Party is highly popular. The opinion section of the local newspaper is constantly filled with raving, frothing, hate-mongering letters damning Obama.
Only a few months after his election, numerous letters appeared reviling him for not getting our economy back on track. Do these nitwits think the man is a sorcerer with God-like powers? -- Oh I forgot, they actually do! Since many believe he's the Antichrist. Geez, what can you expect from religious cuckoos and others who actually think FOX has fair and balanced news.
It is ironic that I am registered with the party for which I have the least amount of respect. Fortunately, as a R.I.N.O. I can sabotage the Republicans from within. My votes are always strategic.
I love the fact our president has Donald Trump running scared and quaking under his silly-looking hair. There must be a reason he's so desperate. This man should be investigated!
Barrack Obama is the true epitome of the American success story. He's the poor boy who worked hard and grew up to be the president. Unlike Mitt Romney who is just another grown-up little rich boy. He is clueless as to how the average person lives.
I've already mailed in my absentee ballot. Just like that other evil socialist Betty White, I voted for Obama!
I wanted to register as an Independent, but my father cautioned that it would lock me out of the primaries and they were too important to dismiss. He said it would be wise to choose a party, it didn't mean I had to vote their way.
My father was not the type to get passionate about any party or candidate. He swore there were no good guys in politics. Just the very nature of it attracts the wrong sort of people. They were all beholden to special interests rather than the public. I am inclined to agree! He used to tell me that you should always vote AGAINST people and never for them.
For some reason, I had always liked Nixon. Perhaps because his birthday fell the day after mine. Plus he had that avuncular quality. Yes, I know it's shallow. But remember I was just 21. Anyway, that's how I became a R.I.N.O. (Republican In Name Only) and I am one to this day.
Now I take voting far more seriously. I do it by absentee ballot, along with lots of research. I want to see things change. Thank goodness we don't live in 1776 anymore!
In the past, it was not unusual for me to vote Libertarian or Green. I was a big supporter of Ross Perot and Ralph Nader. On rare occasions I've even voted for a Republican president. My vote went to Ronald Reagan in 1980, only to lose my C.E.T.A. job shorty after. Thanks to Reagan, it was denied funding. I was left unemployed for a long period. I always seemed to get screwed one way or another when a Republican gets into office.
Yet, I really wanted John McCain to get the nomination back in 2000. I was ready to vomit when George Bush got it instead. I will never understand how that jerk was able to get into office once, much less a second term. The idiot destroyed our economy! And don't forget all the lives and limbs cost with his trumped-up war in Iraq, a personal vendetta to avenge his daddy! Of course Cheney had more nefarious reasons. Both of them should be spat upon in the streets!
2008 I felt John McCain was by now too old for the job. With his hot temper, I worried he'd have a heart attack and die in office, or get us into another war. Plus he admitted he had no head for economics which happened to be our no. 1 problem. Good grief!
At first glance, I thought Barrack Obama was too far left.
I mentioned to my Russian seamstress that I didn't care for either candidate. She replied, "My mother always told me that when you're given a choice between 2 pieces of (expletive deleted) you always choose the smaller one." -- My father & her mother thought much alike!
I had been leaning toward Obama. Then McCain chose that woefully unqualified woman as his running-mate. I was convinced he'd gone senile! Goofy from Disneyland would have been a better choice. That pushed me into the Obama camp.
The more research I did on Obama, the more I was impressed. Plus I think America should hang its head in shame because we don't have affordable health care for all our citizens. I whole-heartily support Obama care. This is a wonderful thing! We are evolving as a society.
Now we have the Tea Party (urp!) whose motto should be, BACKWARD! They seem to be the controlling force in the Republican party, along with the big corporations and Grover Norquist. The fact that any politician would sign a loyalty pledge to this individual against the best interests of the citizens of this country should be a big red flag that they are no good!
I live in a predominately Republican area where the Tea Party is highly popular. The opinion section of the local newspaper is constantly filled with raving, frothing, hate-mongering letters damning Obama.
Only a few months after his election, numerous letters appeared reviling him for not getting our economy back on track. Do these nitwits think the man is a sorcerer with God-like powers? -- Oh I forgot, they actually do! Since many believe he's the Antichrist. Geez, what can you expect from religious cuckoos and others who actually think FOX has fair and balanced news.
It is ironic that I am registered with the party for which I have the least amount of respect. Fortunately, as a R.I.N.O. I can sabotage the Republicans from within. My votes are always strategic.
I love the fact our president has Donald Trump running scared and quaking under his silly-looking hair. There must be a reason he's so desperate. This man should be investigated!
Barrack Obama is the true epitome of the American success story. He's the poor boy who worked hard and grew up to be the president. Unlike Mitt Romney who is just another grown-up little rich boy. He is clueless as to how the average person lives.
I've already mailed in my absentee ballot. Just like that other evil socialist Betty White, I voted for Obama!
Monday, October 22, 2012
A TRUE OOGA BOOGA OCCURENCE
New Year's night 2005, my home was still broken and battered from the 2 September hurricanes of 2004. The majority of contractors & handymen had still not returned my calls. It had been a trying and depressing holiday season.
The night before had been New Year's Eve which I never celebrate. But the noise and fireworks in the neighborhood had kept me awake. So this night I was really sleepy and decided to retire early.
As usual, I walked into the kitchen for one last drink of water. A familiar scent hit my nostrils! My father had a distinctive body aroma that became more pungent with age and illness. That night it was nearly over-powering! My father had been dead several years.
I began sniffing around the kitchen trying to figure out from where it was emanating. I couldn't understand why I had not noticed it before. Tired, I decided to investigate further in the morning.
Shortly after falling asleep, I experienced the most disturbing dream ever! My father was calling my name. All of a sudden, I found myself surrounded by incandescent light with my dad. A feeling of elation swept over me! I felt my spirit dancing inside this brilliant glowing luminescence. -- Until he spoke!
"The previous owner wants the house back," he told me sternly. "Everything will go back to the way it was in Stuart." His demeanor was austere.
I was confused. I told him there was no way that could happen since I have no mortgage.
"That doesn't matter." He shook his head. The dreaded words were repeated. His countenance was grim.
The next morning, I awoke with a feeling of distress. My dream had been so vivid! The strong scent in the kitchen was gone. But I would get whiffs of it in other rooms at different times.
Shortly after my father's passing, the living room fan often started spinning by itself, (when turned off) no breeze or draft from anywhere. It NEVER did that while he was alive!
About a month later, my friend Irene & I went to a psychic fair. Since I believe in reincarnation, I requested a psychic who could give me info on my past lives. As we seated, the psychic pointed directly at me. "Your father has been visiting you and you've smelled him," she said. (My jaw dropped!) "He has a message for you in a dream," she continued. "Be on the watch."
Now I was expecting another dream, one with a more positive tone. I was in denial about the first. Well, none was forthcoming! Apparently the negative warning was it!
I mentioned all of this to my friend, Margaret.
"You've got a demon," she stated, "because your father would never say anything like that to you."
I told her if it was a demon, it had better stuff itself into the ass of a fly and buzz out of here, because I would never live with a demon! I'd move heaven & earth to get that thing out of my house! Also, my memory was jogged, it was exactly the kind of thing my father would say to me!
Shortly after, I lost a whopping 60 Grand in G.M. Bonds. Now I was convinced my father's words were coming true, and I would soon lose my home! I was emotionally devastated! My anxiety attacks returned to the point that I had to join a therapy group.
I found it curious this happened after I reached a point where I was beginning to move forward with my life, and happily so. Why was my dad trying to drag me back to a time I struggled so hard to escape. A time I was so miserable I thought constantly of suicide! He should have been cheering me on! His message, was not one of love, but control. Was he the previous owner who wanted the house back?
I became furious at my father! Whenever I sensed him around, I asked him why he was haunting me. Was it to escape those 2 bitches he married, now dead as he. And why the hell didn't he warn me not to sell the G.M. Bonds?! Ugh! He could have spared me so much grief!
I felt as though I was being punished for moving on and being happy! I expected him to say he loved me and was proud of me. Instead, I was coldly informed he wanted his house back!
Another year passed, another psychic fair came to town. I arrived just as they were setting up. I got a different psychic this time. I told her everything that had happened and how disappointed and angry I had been with my father.
"It's HIS issue, not yours," she explained. "It's crucial that you close the past in order for positive events to enter your life. -- Almost the exact words from my therapist in group sessions.
The psychic asked if I was a writer. Embarrassed, I explained that I had given up. I had been so unsuccessful, I felt I wasn't talented enough. My father always called my writing career, "a fantasy". Both my mother and step-mother constantly told me I wasn't smart enough.
"Start again," she replied. "It's what the universe intended for you."
The night before had been New Year's Eve which I never celebrate. But the noise and fireworks in the neighborhood had kept me awake. So this night I was really sleepy and decided to retire early.
As usual, I walked into the kitchen for one last drink of water. A familiar scent hit my nostrils! My father had a distinctive body aroma that became more pungent with age and illness. That night it was nearly over-powering! My father had been dead several years.
I began sniffing around the kitchen trying to figure out from where it was emanating. I couldn't understand why I had not noticed it before. Tired, I decided to investigate further in the morning.
Shortly after falling asleep, I experienced the most disturbing dream ever! My father was calling my name. All of a sudden, I found myself surrounded by incandescent light with my dad. A feeling of elation swept over me! I felt my spirit dancing inside this brilliant glowing luminescence. -- Until he spoke!
"The previous owner wants the house back," he told me sternly. "Everything will go back to the way it was in Stuart." His demeanor was austere.
I was confused. I told him there was no way that could happen since I have no mortgage.
"That doesn't matter." He shook his head. The dreaded words were repeated. His countenance was grim.
The next morning, I awoke with a feeling of distress. My dream had been so vivid! The strong scent in the kitchen was gone. But I would get whiffs of it in other rooms at different times.
Shortly after my father's passing, the living room fan often started spinning by itself, (when turned off) no breeze or draft from anywhere. It NEVER did that while he was alive!
About a month later, my friend Irene & I went to a psychic fair. Since I believe in reincarnation, I requested a psychic who could give me info on my past lives. As we seated, the psychic pointed directly at me. "Your father has been visiting you and you've smelled him," she said. (My jaw dropped!) "He has a message for you in a dream," she continued. "Be on the watch."
Now I was expecting another dream, one with a more positive tone. I was in denial about the first. Well, none was forthcoming! Apparently the negative warning was it!
I mentioned all of this to my friend, Margaret.
"You've got a demon," she stated, "because your father would never say anything like that to you."
I told her if it was a demon, it had better stuff itself into the ass of a fly and buzz out of here, because I would never live with a demon! I'd move heaven & earth to get that thing out of my house! Also, my memory was jogged, it was exactly the kind of thing my father would say to me!
Shortly after, I lost a whopping 60 Grand in G.M. Bonds. Now I was convinced my father's words were coming true, and I would soon lose my home! I was emotionally devastated! My anxiety attacks returned to the point that I had to join a therapy group.
I found it curious this happened after I reached a point where I was beginning to move forward with my life, and happily so. Why was my dad trying to drag me back to a time I struggled so hard to escape. A time I was so miserable I thought constantly of suicide! He should have been cheering me on! His message, was not one of love, but control. Was he the previous owner who wanted the house back?
I became furious at my father! Whenever I sensed him around, I asked him why he was haunting me. Was it to escape those 2 bitches he married, now dead as he. And why the hell didn't he warn me not to sell the G.M. Bonds?! Ugh! He could have spared me so much grief!
I felt as though I was being punished for moving on and being happy! I expected him to say he loved me and was proud of me. Instead, I was coldly informed he wanted his house back!
Another year passed, another psychic fair came to town. I arrived just as they were setting up. I got a different psychic this time. I told her everything that had happened and how disappointed and angry I had been with my father.
"It's HIS issue, not yours," she explained. "It's crucial that you close the past in order for positive events to enter your life. -- Almost the exact words from my therapist in group sessions.
The psychic asked if I was a writer. Embarrassed, I explained that I had given up. I had been so unsuccessful, I felt I wasn't talented enough. My father always called my writing career, "a fantasy". Both my mother and step-mother constantly told me I wasn't smart enough.
"Start again," she replied. "It's what the universe intended for you."
Sunday, October 14, 2012
A REVERSE VIEW OF THE WORLD
I was myopic, or near-sighted since the age of 16. Anything beyond arm's length looked blurry. An optometrist said this was only a temporary condition. He was right. It only lasted 39 years.
Nobody, especially a teenager wants to wear glasses. This was my geeky-looking stage, too. My natural blonde hair had darkened to the color of dead leaves. And worse, my nose suddenly reached its full growth before the rest of my face caught up. In those days the only styles available were the ones with cat-eye frames. By process of elimination, I picked out a light-blue pair. I wore them home.
The first words out of my mother mouth were, "They don't look good on you."
I angrily told her I couldn't read the blackboard! I suppose she'd rather I continue to fail everything!
On my first Report Card in High School I got 5 D's! -- But I did get a C plus in English! (A future writer was born!) Truth be told, I was never a good student. My father used to joke that Dianne thinks the alphabet begins with a C.
I wore my glasses only when seated at my desk, or the teacher was speaking. I didn't need them for reading, writing , or other close work. Once, a few bespectacled students walked over and welcomed me to the 4-eyes club.
Wearing them on dates or other social occasions was never a problem for me, because I never had any. This was true until well into middle age.
Although in my 20's I was traveling to Europe and other exotic places almost every year. Thankfully the styles had changed by then! I had cooler-looking frames as well as prescription sunglasses. I considered contact lenses, but discarded the idea as soon as I learned I would require glasses for reading.
In my 40's, lasik surgery became popular, but the price was too prohibitive for me. Besides, the procedure was scary. Should a nurse pinch the doctors behind during surgery, I'd end up sporting a permanent eye patch!
As I neared 50, I got my driver's licence. Around that time, came miraculous soft contact lenses that let you see both near & far. Of course I bought a pair!
Frustratingly, it took me nearly an hour to put them in my eyes. They stuck to my fingers far better than my eyeballs. If I happened to get make-up or a stye under them, my eyes burned and watered like crazy!
More than once, as I drove in heavy traffic, a lens would roll up under my eyelid. In a panic, I would have to blink it down while navigating the car. Suffering from anxiety attacks, I was already a risk on the road! I decided to stick with glasses that had flattering frames.
Meantime, my close vision was starting to deteriorate. Reading and close work suddenly became fuzzy. I was forced to buy reading glasses, or cheaters as we old folks call them.
In 2004 came the 2 back-to-back hurricanes and weeks spent navigating in darkness. I don't know if there was a connection, but almost immediately afterward, I became FAR-SIGHTED!!! I could actually distinguish leaves on treetops in my neighbors yard! --This had been impossible for nearly 4 decades! It was like a MIRACLE!!! And best of all, I no longer required glasses for driving or watching TV.
The optometrist told me this wasn't at all unusual, she called it "Second Sight". (I always thought that meant you saw dead people!) She also said this condition was "temporary". But I'm hoping it will last until I'm a spook myself. Because being myopic was the next thing to being blind!
Nobody, especially a teenager wants to wear glasses. This was my geeky-looking stage, too. My natural blonde hair had darkened to the color of dead leaves. And worse, my nose suddenly reached its full growth before the rest of my face caught up. In those days the only styles available were the ones with cat-eye frames. By process of elimination, I picked out a light-blue pair. I wore them home.
The first words out of my mother mouth were, "They don't look good on you."
I angrily told her I couldn't read the blackboard! I suppose she'd rather I continue to fail everything!
On my first Report Card in High School I got 5 D's! -- But I did get a C plus in English! (A future writer was born!) Truth be told, I was never a good student. My father used to joke that Dianne thinks the alphabet begins with a C.
I wore my glasses only when seated at my desk, or the teacher was speaking. I didn't need them for reading, writing , or other close work. Once, a few bespectacled students walked over and welcomed me to the 4-eyes club.
Wearing them on dates or other social occasions was never a problem for me, because I never had any. This was true until well into middle age.
Although in my 20's I was traveling to Europe and other exotic places almost every year. Thankfully the styles had changed by then! I had cooler-looking frames as well as prescription sunglasses. I considered contact lenses, but discarded the idea as soon as I learned I would require glasses for reading.
In my 40's, lasik surgery became popular, but the price was too prohibitive for me. Besides, the procedure was scary. Should a nurse pinch the doctors behind during surgery, I'd end up sporting a permanent eye patch!
As I neared 50, I got my driver's licence. Around that time, came miraculous soft contact lenses that let you see both near & far. Of course I bought a pair!
Frustratingly, it took me nearly an hour to put them in my eyes. They stuck to my fingers far better than my eyeballs. If I happened to get make-up or a stye under them, my eyes burned and watered like crazy!
More than once, as I drove in heavy traffic, a lens would roll up under my eyelid. In a panic, I would have to blink it down while navigating the car. Suffering from anxiety attacks, I was already a risk on the road! I decided to stick with glasses that had flattering frames.
Meantime, my close vision was starting to deteriorate. Reading and close work suddenly became fuzzy. I was forced to buy reading glasses, or cheaters as we old folks call them.
In 2004 came the 2 back-to-back hurricanes and weeks spent navigating in darkness. I don't know if there was a connection, but almost immediately afterward, I became FAR-SIGHTED!!! I could actually distinguish leaves on treetops in my neighbors yard! --This had been impossible for nearly 4 decades! It was like a MIRACLE!!! And best of all, I no longer required glasses for driving or watching TV.
The optometrist told me this wasn't at all unusual, she called it "Second Sight". (I always thought that meant you saw dead people!) She also said this condition was "temporary". But I'm hoping it will last until I'm a spook myself. Because being myopic was the next thing to being blind!
Monday, October 8, 2012
THE NOT SO HANDY MEN
Hiring a handyman under the best of circumstances is often a pain. Usually, I go down a list of numbers in the phone book or newspaper leaving messages on answering machines. Only half return my call, two thirds of those agree to come out and give me an estimate. Half of them don't keep the appointment. And should I hire one, there is a fifty-fifty chance they will not show up. And worse they never bother to call, letting me wait and wonder, wasting my time. Other single women claim the same problem.
One even stated on his answering machine that if he didn't find the job interesting, he wouldn't bother returning my call. I left no message, I just hung up!
I've been told that Florida handymen can cherry-pick their jobs due to the many senior citizens here and all the new people moving down. They can always find work, few are interested in repeat customers. Many are indifferent, some are downright rude!
After the 2 hurricanes struck, it was the same set of problems, plus everyone had jacked their prices way up as well. It was a trying time that dragged on for months. I had learned the hard way to get plenty of estimates before hiring anyone. Also to get everything in writing, even the things they claim to do for free!
During my bat infestation, I had a devil of a time finding someone with a ladder high enough to reach the top of my 30 ft cathedral ceiling. The right side where it formed a V needed to be sealed. I told the man to seal both sides as long as he was up there. "No!" he snapped back, "it doesn't need it!"
Would he have spoken to me that way if I had been a man? -- I doubt it! At one point, he also criticised my housekeeping.
Now I had been living upstairs in my bedroom for a month! I couldn't stay downstairs long enough to clean, because the smell of bat urine was intolerable. Not to mention inhaling the fumes put me at risk for histoplasmosis. -- This fellow was only one of many, I never hired again!
Each new handyman nearly always criticizes the work of his predecessor. They in turn are criticized by the next, which makes me wonder if any of them actually know what they are doing. Some of these so-called professionals had questionable skills. They did obviously shoddy work, but demanded a lot of money.
On occasion, I do find that rare gem of a handyman. Someone who is highly skilled, ethical, reasonably priced, reliable, and polite. Trouble is, they tend to move away.
Frequently, I have been told I need to find a husband, that would solve my problem. NO, that would only create worse problems! Not to mention, it's a drastic solution! Besides a lot of men just aren't handy around the house, some are helpless!
My father could fix anything. He was as skillful with his hands as he was smart with figures. My brother and I did not inherit that gene. Back when my middle-aged cousin was visiting; he, our mothers and I went out to dinner while Dad was away. Upon our return, we discovered a fuse had blown. My cousin instructed me to turn on all the lights in the house while he unscrewed each fuse so we could locate the bad one.
When I related this incident to my father, he laughed uproariously! My cousin had grown up on farm, he should know how to spot a bad fuse, Dad declared. I reminded him that this was the same man who accidentally poisoned all his cows, forcing the family farm to be sold.
My father escorted me to the fuse box and explained how to spot a blown fuse. It was so simple, it was embarrassing. This was at our old Stuart house. My current home has levers instead of fuses, easier yet!
Recently, my smoke detector expired after 10 years. I hired my computer guy Jake to get and install a new one. He did a perfect job and he's plenty smart. But Jake's just not the type I'd hire to climb up on my roof and nail down a shingle or pour concrete on my driveway.
I was fortunate enough to find an outstanding handyman for these kinds of outdoor jobs. I've even recommended him to friends. (Usually I always warning them NEVER to hire so-&-so because he's incompetent or he'll rip you off! ) Anyway, I'm losing this exceptional man because he's retiring to another state. He will be missed!
Soon I'll be back to weeding through all the chaff searching for another gem like D.R. Swartwood.
One even stated on his answering machine that if he didn't find the job interesting, he wouldn't bother returning my call. I left no message, I just hung up!
I've been told that Florida handymen can cherry-pick their jobs due to the many senior citizens here and all the new people moving down. They can always find work, few are interested in repeat customers. Many are indifferent, some are downright rude!
After the 2 hurricanes struck, it was the same set of problems, plus everyone had jacked their prices way up as well. It was a trying time that dragged on for months. I had learned the hard way to get plenty of estimates before hiring anyone. Also to get everything in writing, even the things they claim to do for free!
During my bat infestation, I had a devil of a time finding someone with a ladder high enough to reach the top of my 30 ft cathedral ceiling. The right side where it formed a V needed to be sealed. I told the man to seal both sides as long as he was up there. "No!" he snapped back, "it doesn't need it!"
Would he have spoken to me that way if I had been a man? -- I doubt it! At one point, he also criticised my housekeeping.
Now I had been living upstairs in my bedroom for a month! I couldn't stay downstairs long enough to clean, because the smell of bat urine was intolerable. Not to mention inhaling the fumes put me at risk for histoplasmosis. -- This fellow was only one of many, I never hired again!
Each new handyman nearly always criticizes the work of his predecessor. They in turn are criticized by the next, which makes me wonder if any of them actually know what they are doing. Some of these so-called professionals had questionable skills. They did obviously shoddy work, but demanded a lot of money.
On occasion, I do find that rare gem of a handyman. Someone who is highly skilled, ethical, reasonably priced, reliable, and polite. Trouble is, they tend to move away.
Frequently, I have been told I need to find a husband, that would solve my problem. NO, that would only create worse problems! Not to mention, it's a drastic solution! Besides a lot of men just aren't handy around the house, some are helpless!
My father could fix anything. He was as skillful with his hands as he was smart with figures. My brother and I did not inherit that gene. Back when my middle-aged cousin was visiting; he, our mothers and I went out to dinner while Dad was away. Upon our return, we discovered a fuse had blown. My cousin instructed me to turn on all the lights in the house while he unscrewed each fuse so we could locate the bad one.
When I related this incident to my father, he laughed uproariously! My cousin had grown up on farm, he should know how to spot a bad fuse, Dad declared. I reminded him that this was the same man who accidentally poisoned all his cows, forcing the family farm to be sold.
My father escorted me to the fuse box and explained how to spot a blown fuse. It was so simple, it was embarrassing. This was at our old Stuart house. My current home has levers instead of fuses, easier yet!
Recently, my smoke detector expired after 10 years. I hired my computer guy Jake to get and install a new one. He did a perfect job and he's plenty smart. But Jake's just not the type I'd hire to climb up on my roof and nail down a shingle or pour concrete on my driveway.
I was fortunate enough to find an outstanding handyman for these kinds of outdoor jobs. I've even recommended him to friends. (Usually I always warning them NEVER to hire so-&-so because he's incompetent or he'll rip you off! ) Anyway, I'm losing this exceptional man because he's retiring to another state. He will be missed!
Soon I'll be back to weeding through all the chaff searching for another gem like D.R. Swartwood.
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