Thanksgiving Blues

I spent Thanksgiving alone which doesn’t make me sad. I am not into food these days and have many eating restrictions. These restrictions make it difficult going to others homes.  I am concerned on how they cook their food and what they put in it. I have made the effort and accepted many invitations over the ten years I have moved to the south.

The blues comes from Thanksgiving of the past.  There are only a few occasions that my family felt like a family.  This only existed by the presences of one woman.  My grandmother is the only person who could piece together a family of strangers.  Living with my grandmother made our house the focal point of the festivities.

She spent all night and day cooking the meal for her family.  Deserts were made specifically for people.  I received my own personal sweet potatoes pie. My uncle had his own banana pudding.  Everyone made an appearance.  Family members that hadn’t been seen for pretty much the whole year would show up and pay their respect. It is the one time I don’t remember any arguments or discourse that pledged the family on a regular basis.

Her death put an end to any family unity. It has been 17 years that my grandmother was put in the grave.  Thanksgiving has never been the same to me. I miss my Nana in ways no one could understand.  She had a different relationship with everyone in our family.  In my case she always made me feel special and treated me more like a daughter than a grandchild.  I owe all the success in my life to her need to give me stability.

Not yet having my own family of husband and children. I also live in the south and my family lives on the east coast.  I am always asked if I want to come home for the holidays.  I hate traveling during this time.  I make it my personal mission to not deal with the cold weather of Boston.  If my Nana was still there I would make it my personal mission to be there for her.  The feel of Thanksgiving has never been replicated since her death.  I have the blues of the Thanksgivings of the past.  The one day a year my family felt like a family.

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Terminally Single

This is the longest period of my life I have been single. I stopped counting after two years. I have been boy crazy since my thirteenth birthday. Countless guys have flown through my life. I have to admit a lot by my doing. I have a series or reasons for my fickleness. My mom could never maintain a relationship. Yes she was married to my father for about five years. Yes she has had boyfriends. Her relationships were always a series of being together and not together. The break ups and getting back together. My father has been married three times. Even though his last wife he maintained a 30 plus relationship with. I never liked her and she never liked me. So it is fair to say I was not a part of that extended family. No true family with a man and a woman maintaining an example of a relationship for me to mirror.

I always told myself I was not going to be like my mother. I had various issues with my childhood that made me form that decision. I have now come to respect certain things about my mom. The bad parts of my childhood still ring in my mind. I have no idea how much it really plays in the presence. The trait I didn’t realize I have from my mom is to call it quits the moment I feel uncomfortable. Yes I am the woman who will get rid of you before you get rid of me. A defense mechanism that was created with an absent family, I have no idea how to fix this issue.

What I have learned is everyone has issues. It is a matter of a choice of what you are willing to deal with. I have to say I was never willing to deal with anything. I know that is my issue. I always felt valid why I got rid of someone. It has turned into the joke of my friends and even ex boyfriends that I maintain a friendship with. I have to admit I have never been dateless. When my weight almost topped three hundred pounds I always had dates. I know my choice in men changed dramatically with my weight loss. When I was obese I would let myself be chosen by who wanted to deal with a BBW. When I lost the weight I made more of the choices. My weight loss brought me a confidence I never had before.

I have been part of the internet dating community since 1995. I have been labeled a serial dater even some like to call me a pimp. I have friends who wanted to hear all about every date I had. I was the running joke about my dating fiasco. I have to say I have been on over a hundred dates. Yes I have had relationships in between. When I came up with my excuse of why the relationship was over, I would begin my quest for my next date. I really gotten callus to the ending or relationships. My aunt said I was the most resultant person she known.

Now looking back I feel like I needed a good therapist. I was very free especially with my body. Thank god I am disease free but always maintained a safe sex rule and no one was allowed to touch me without a condom. Yes that even included men I had a relationship with. The health teacher who enforced you are sleeping with everyone they ever slept with always rang in my head. I had casual sex without a second thought of the destruction it was doing to my life. I was watching the movie girl interrupted. There was a line in the movie that struck me “ Promiscuousness was a form of depression”. I have always had depression issues. Was this one of the ways I used to deal with it? I know food was definitely one.

I always considered my sexual freedom as a new Millennium movement. I was not the only one free with her sexuality by far. As a teenager no one would admit their sexual conquest. As an adult I realize how many women was exactly the same way. Were we all free from society norms or were we all depressed? I guess I have no answer for those other women. Nor do I have the answer for myself. I know every sexual encounter that usually happened with not much knowledge of the other person took something from me.

With these sexual encounters men would have very different opinions of me. Some would feel that I was a tramp and I wouldn’t hear from them again. Some enjoyed my carefree nature as it comes to sex and stay for a booty call relationship that had a short shelf life. When I was sick of the sexual activity with no emotion I ended them. Several relationships did come out of my cavalier attitude to dating a sex.

I have to say during my life there were men who loved me. The question is why did I not accept that love and move forward with them? I am sure I have had a good reason at the time. I sure cannot re write history at this point. It has lingered in my mind that I let go of possible quality men. I do say possible because I have no idea what the relationships would have materialized to.

Now my present singleton situation and how it came to be. I was dating this guy who told me everything I wanted to hear. It was like the prince with the white horse showed up. He wanted everything I wanted. I should have new better and not been so gullible. I usually have my guard up, or know exactly what I am getting into. This was the biggest slap in the face that has ever happened. Not that this have not happened before, but I felt like it was a blitz attach I was not prepared. We had sex then he disappeared. I never would have guessed this was the type of bullshit that this dude would do. I finally got his coward ass on the phone. He went on to tell me all the things he told me was not what he was looking for. Then pulled the lets be friends line. He even said he would help me with my writing. O.K. I knew what was going on. This was the lets be friends to help him feel that he wasn’t the jerk he was. It was to help him sleep at night. I told him I was not interested in his friendship. I let him talk and said I had something to say. Then this jerk had a nerve to say “Let’s leave it on a good note”. Now come on. You told me a bunch of lies to get some sex which showed me you are a asshole and now you want to leave it on a good note. I had only one thing to say. I was not getting off the phone until I said it. He finally stopped being a bitch and let me speaks. I told him “if you change your mind do not call me back Good BYE!!!” I hung up and that was it.

Now being used for sex isn’t that big deal to me. I guess it should be more than it is. The problem with this whole situation I pride myself on not being naive. I fell for the oaky doke hook line and sinker. I felt like a real fool.

I began to reevaluate myself and my dating history and what I really want. Some would think I am bitter. By no way am I bitter. My friends would say I am hard and don’t give people a chance. They also don’t know the back story of my dating history. All judgment comes from past experience. So over these years I have no interest in anything casual. In Atlanta where these men are all about the casual can make dating difficult. When I was all about the casual I had someone all the time. Now if you are not coming correct I don’t have time or interest. I would rather be sitting home with my dog chilling in peace. I do believe there is a man for me. These years of being single has taught me more about myself and my needs and wanting them met. It has been a lonely journey and uneventful. I do have faith that it will not be my entire life. I am just tired of my heart being ripped out. I know this blog has more questions than answers. Welcome to my World!!!

 

Dopamine Deficiency

Fundamentally I am a healthy person. I do not go to the doctor’s much.  Yearly for the Pap smear is my regular trip to the doctor’s office. I don’t eat flour or sugar and have maintained a 100+ Weight loss since my mid 20’s. I have to admit I have struggled with my weight. I have had my ups and downs over the years. I would love to drop that final 20 pounds all from my stomach. I do smoke which I know is bad but hard to let go.

So I sound like the average person right?  No one can look at me and know I have a Dopamine Deficiency.  I have been on medication since I was 19 years old. I haven’t seen a neurologist in years. I have my medical records for any new primary doctor changes.  I will bring my records and they will full my prescription with no issues.

This affliction I have been blessed first revealed itself in the fifth grade.  My handwriting started to go downhill.  My teacher from the fourth grade was never consulted and they thought I had special needs.  They tested me and I tested so far beyond my grade level they could not keep me in special education classes.  They chalked it up to bad handwriting.  My struggles continued and worsened with age.  My parents not hands on at all nothing was done about it. I brought home good grades and my handwriting the initial signal that something was wrong was ignored.  When I reached high school my hand had a severe tremor.  My grandmother bought me a word processor (well before the Personal Computer age) due to all the complaint letters that came from my teachers.  There was still no inquiry to what was the real problem.  I decided to do something about this on my own, noticing that the tremors were getting worse.

I went to see a neurologist. I was told I had tremors.  I had a MRI done they found no abnormalities. I was given a series of medicine that did nothing for me.  With each medication was a series of side effects.  I couldn’t handle being a Ginny pig any longer. Still very little family evolvement and I went to my doctor’s appointments alone. I made all the decisions and the doctor never seemed to question that even thought I was not at legal age.  I asked him will this condition kill me. He said “No”.  I told him I was done and no longer wanted to do this.

I proceeded to college where my condition has gotten a lot worse. Now it affected the way I walked. A child asked me if one of my legs were longer than the other. I couldn’t do anything that took precision. I couldn’t put an earring in my ear. I couldn’t carry a cup without dropping the contents.  I knew things were getting out of control but I ignored it and accepted I could do nothing about it.  I had guys ask me if I had epilepsy. I had no knowledge of my condition and had no idea how to answer the question.  I didn’t have seizures so I ruled that out.

I went to a regular doctor’s appointment at the school health clinic. I had my own insurance through my college. When I got into the doctor’s office ready to get my annual Pap smear the doctor told me the nurse had concerns about me.  I guess she was watching me when I came into the office.  She wanted him to watch the way I walked.  Then he did a few cognitive tests. Then he told me he thought I had Parkinson’s disease. I had no idea what that was. This was years before Mohamed Ali and Michael J Fox made this disease national known. I went to my dorm room with this news and started to do some research. I was convinced I was going to die. I called my mom in uncontrollable tears of my appending death.  I was given a referral to a Parkinson disease specialist.  It was ironic he shared a practice with the same doctor who said I had tremors years earlier.

I went to my appointment and sat in the waiting room with a bunch of elderly people who were shaking uncontrollable.   I broke down in tears.  Sobbing, snotty crying tears in the waiting room.  When the doctor finally saw me he embraced me and consoled me like a father. My parents absent as usual, I stand there alone. After I have calmed down he did the same test the prior doctor had done.  He informed me I did not have Parkinson’s disease.  I finally stopped feeling my heart beat.  He did put me on a Parkinson’s disease medication.  After a week of the medicine all my symptoms went away. It was a miracle as far as I was concerned. I finally felt free from this issue. After a few visits I was told I have a Dopamine Deficiency.

How has this affected my life?  Well after the medication 25/100 Carbidopa/Levodopa that I take every day.  I was free of my affliction.  Everything was good until I asked a question that did not have any importance in my life at 19. I asked if I had a child would this drug give my child birth defects. I was given conflicting answers from different doctors. One doctor said it should not be a problem. Another doctor opinion is I would have to get off the medication because it is a class C drug.  It was known to give rats birth defects.  There is not much research on the subject because the people who take this medication are well beyond baby making years.

Wow news I was not expecting. I have no idea what not taking this medication will do to me. I know if I miss one day my symptoms begin to come back.

I have not met anyone else with affliction. I guess I could use the World Wide Web to connect. I don’t know if I am ready for answers to my questions.

What is the future of my disease?  Has anyone had children with this disease?  I cannot make the connections until I am ready for the answers.  So that is where I leave it!!!

My Experience with Molestation and Rape

It took me ten years to tell my family I was molested then raped.  Why did it take so long?  Well I really didn’t think they would care.  They were very neglectful and I always felt I was more of a burden then a gift.  Also my abuser was not a stranger.  My first cousin was my first sexual experience.  It started with touching.  We would be on the living room couch watching T.V. My cousin and I with a blanket over us, nothing there was nothing unusual about that.  He touched my body in a UN family manner.  Others were in the room and I didn’t know what to do.  He would take the opportunity for full penetration in the basement of the family summer home.  I screamed in pain with my virginity being taken against my will. My only knowledge was what I saw on after school specials. Those special never mentioned what to do in a complicated family situation.  How to speak up at 13 when your 25 year old cousin is doing things to you?  How do I open my mouth to a family that felt children are seen not heard?  How do I tell my grandmother who is raising me that her other grandchild was hurting me?

It took ten years. Yes I was about 23 when I screamed at my mother I was raped.  It happened right under her nose. I told her this information to hurt her.  It happened during one of our many arguments of how she raised me.  My grandmother raised me.  Even with this I still love my mother.  During my formative years she was more into drugs and her friends. The selective memory my mom amazes me. I had to put the nail in the coffin and I screamed in a moment of anger “I was raped and you let it happen”.  It did exactly what I wanted it to do. She broke down and cried.  I felt bad but wanted her to feel pain at the same time.

I told my father and he said “What do you want me to do now”. I guess that would have driven me over the edge at one point in my life. The disappointment I have in my parents no longer makes me emotional.  You have to take a test to drive but not to have children.  I was born into a family that I finally can say did the best they could, which in my opinion was not much.

Despite my parents I did well.  I graduated from college I have a decent career and a home.  I refused to go to college graduation out of spite.  I felt my parents did nothing to ensure my success.  I was not going to allow them to praise me on all the work I did alone.  I left that college and got my diploma in the mail.

I cannot rewind the clock and change the circumstances of my life.  I have no idea how many of my decisions were changed by being raped. I know the rest of my teenage years I was beyond promiscuous.  I was looking for love in any way possible.  I would use my body for kind words of being wanted.  Depression engulfed my life. I was told by a therapist I wasn’t depressed enough to go on drugs.  I told him thank you but what the hell am I supposed to do.  I come to the conclusion therapy was not going to do shit for me. So I continue in life.  Not able to retain a relationship.  I have no idea if that has to do with my sexual assault or my family made me who I am.  A woman who believes no one will truly be there for me.  Working on my issues can be trying because the feeling that no one understands my life.  The most relief I have gotten is talking to other victims.  Their innocence was ripped away with no recourse.   At time I feel my family still doesn’t get it or care.  Some seem insensitive to my circumstances and feel I should mend ways with him.  Or they bring his name up like I care what is going on in his life.  He took something from me.  It can never be excused or can be given back.  I will never know the true affect this has played on my life.

Coming Clean

I have other blogs and a face book account.  I still feel I haven’t been able to expressing my inner me. The frightened thought of who will be affected by my anonymity being lost.  The thoughts going through my mind does need to be expressed. I have been through a lot in my 35 years and feel that more than a few will relate to my life.  Now I am coming clean. Clean with my emotions feelings and struggles.  Clean with all the dirty little secrets and skeletons in the closet you want no one to know.  Clean with all the good bad and ugly in my world.  This will be my day to day blog. My writing will be from the past, presence and future. The past that I cannot change and have to work on letting go. The present I need to have the courage to change. The future I have to believe will be good. If anyone has any comments feel free to express them.