Posts Tagged ‘family history’

I Think I Need

October 15, 2016

To write some inventory.

I am mad right now.

I am fucking livid.

I am pissed at the lover who basically bailed and said tomorrow night.

Not cool.

I’m annoyed with Comcast and the pop up window on my computer.

I am tired of work and trying to figure it out.

I can’t.

I am annoyed with the airlines and trying to book a flight and arrange the deal and figure out what makes most sense.

I am fucking livid with God.

FUCK YOU GOD.

REALLY.

I’m just mad.

Mad.

Mad.

I suspect it’s been there for days.

I know it has, when it’s this big and sitting this high in my throat that is, it’s like collateral damage anger, anger that is rooted in super old fears, seeping out from old wounds re-opened.

I can’t quite get it out of my system and really what I want to do is scream.

SCREAM.

Scream and flail and kick and scream some more.

I don’t care for it when I get this angry, it’s hard to navigate through it with any kind of grace.

I am tired of watching the entire fucking world pair up and not I.

I am sick of trying to figure it out.

I am tired of working so hard to work so hard.

I just want to throw it all in the sea.

Not myself, but all the things.

Like.

If I could afford to I’d smash my laptop right now.

l am that fucking pissed.

I am mad at my body.

I am angry beyond words at the violence I have been exposed to and been handed to deal with.

Oh.

I am sure I will grow through the experience.

Fuck you too, “growth.”

I’m tired of that as well.

I can’t actually remember the last time I was this mad.

Oh.

Wait.

Yes.

Haha.

I can.

It was a few years ago.

I did yell out loud too.

Now that I recall it.

I know the anger will pass, it usually does and it is a good indicator of places I need to grow through and I know that the anger usually masks a lot of fear.

I am afraid, once again, that I am broken beyond repair, that no matter how much work I do I will still get stuck.

I am stuck.

I really don’t like being stuck.

This process.

This here.

This writing.

It’s my way of getting unstuck.

The fear that I am not enough is so deep in the grain it can feel like it will overtake me and nothing can save me from the annihilation of myself and my life.

I’m not having ideation, suicidal or otherwise, it’s just the emotions working themselves out and I’ve always been uncomfortable with anger.

I suspect that it’s not all mine either.

Work was really challenging.

A lot of temper tantrums.

Bigger and more intense than I have seen in the past, from both the boys and it’s hard holding my own against them.

I feel like some of the emotion is just from that.

Leaked out on me.

Both the boys had whopper temper tantrums.

I was able to walk through them both, but it took just about everything I had left for the week out of me.

And kapow.

I was kaput.

Then the cancellation tonight, which was fine, really, I realized, oh look, I had expectations.

I expected to get laid after work tonight.

And that poof.

Disappeared.

And then I thought.

Fuck.

I’m supposed to be working through these emotions, I probably need to process out the enormous amount of historical trauma that I was informed about and all the ramifications thereof.

Not to stare at it, but to let it work its way out of my body.

Boy howdy.

Is it working its way out.

I will, of course, do more writing after this.

The big stuff, the inventory.

The fears list, the I’m mad at God list.

And I’ll get to work it out.

Like always.

And it will be fine and then I can get down to the other work.

All the fucking homework.

All of it.

I am not helpless.

And.

Ah.

I am not as angry as when I started this blog.

I feel better just for getting some of the vitriol out via the keyboard.

I will also feel better when I take care of buying my ticket back to Wisconsin for Christmas.

It looks like I’m probably going to catch a red-eye out on the 23rd and get in early the 24th.

I’m going to fly back the 30th.

Which reminds me.

I need to get a hold of the new family and let them know that I set my official end date with my current family at December 23rd.

That I am further going to take that next week off and I’ll be fully available to start on January 2nd.

Get my ducks in a row and not have to be too concerned about it any longer.

I’m thinking about that spiritual axiom, the one about being disturbed, and I know that all these feelings have to do with my idea of how my life should look.

Not how it looks.

Not that it is pretty fucking incredible when I give myself to get out of my myopic world view, because it is.

I am disturbed and therein lies the rub and the relief.

If there is no one else to blame, if it is all about me, well, then, I can fix that.

I have a simple kit of spiritual tools.

I just need to pick them up and use them.

I’ll be making a list and checking it twice.

I promise.

No more angry blog.

Just some writing for other eyes, some tea, and some bed time.

Good night.

Sleep tight.

Don’t let the bed bugs bite.

Those fuckers have gnarly teeth.

Seriously.

 

Once Again

January 5, 2016

I felt like Charlie Brown with the football.

Hey, Lucy, sure, I see that ball, let me kick it and fall on my ass.

But.

At least this time I circumnavigated a little discomfort by making a phone call.

That’s right.

My readers for my next semester of classes are not ready.

Nothing says good times like making plans before you fall asleep at night to have them changed abruptly.

I rolled with it though.

I took care of what I needed to take care of for myself and I also had a little unexpected free time.

I did some extra writing.

That always helps.

I called some people and left some messages and just in the leaving of messages my brain chemistry changed.

When I share the crazy, the crazy, magically, is not so crazy, or at least I can hear it, deal with it and let it go.

Forgive myself and move on.

Sure.

I fell in a pothole, but I got myself out.

Then.

I actually had a nice phone call with my mom.

That lasted more than five minutes.

We must have chatted for twenty minutes and it was light, although some of the subject matter was not, and funny, and connected and it was nice.

I also quizzed my mom a bit on some family history.

One of my classes for this next semester, handily one of the classes that doesn’t have it’s reader ready yet, has something on the syllabus in regards to knowing about ones own family background.

I know zilch.

Well.

Maybe not zero.

But I don’t know much.

I have heard bits and pieces here and there, but nothing really outside the basic facts.

Which are: on my mom’s side I’m German and Scot and on my father’s side I’m Puerto Rican and Polynesian.

I mean I really don’t know much.

But I have always been curious.

I will be reaching out to one of my cousins on my fathers side, if my internet ever comes up, yeah, that’s right, another day where it’s not working.

I need to say something to my house mate, my utilities include a hefty chunk towards internet and it’s usually not that great, but four days in a row is not cool.

I have things I could be doing.

Reading the reader links for one of my classes that the professor put up since the reader is still not available.

Um.

Yeah.

I’ll be right on that.

When and if I can ever get the fuck online.

I am honestly not certain how the hell I was able to post a blog last night.

It was a complete Hail Mary and it went up.

But I wasn’t able to do anything else.

Like e-mail my cousin and ask after the ancestry information he has.

If I recall correctly, there was a conversation I had briefly with my cousin that someone in the family, him? Another cousin? An uncle? I cannot for the life of me remember, had done some research.

I am going to need that for this class.

I don’t know more about what I need since I can’t access the online syllabus.

Like I said, this whole not having internet is like cool for about a day, maybe two, yes, I did do a lot of pleasure reading, but enough already, I have things I need to do.

Damn it.

Ugh.

Anyway.

I did have a talk with my mom, who basically re-iterated to me the German and Scot thing on her side, with the possible Scot side maybe even coming from Iceland and the German side possibly have come from Switzerland?

Ok.

What I found fascinating, however, was the story from my father’s side of the family.

I knew that one of my ancestors had been taken from Puerto Rico to work on the plantations in Hawaii before it was a state of the United States.

What I did not know was that there were two of them, and they were brothers, and they were really young, twelve and fourteen.

She told me there names and that they had been taken to the island of Maui.

They were supposed to be given money to send back to their families in Puerto Rico.

Well.

You probably know how that went.

The brothers both married and one of the women, whom I am apparently biologically related to, was a, wait for it.

Witch.

Fuck yeah.

Which means.

She was probably a healer or a midwife or a doula or some sort of natural path.

Or a witch.

Ha.

My mom said, “healer” after letting the witch part slip.

I found myself fascinated by that and recalled a time in my life were I explored voodoo and witchcraft—Wicca as its traditionally known as, and I was also curious about a lot of other non-traditional spiritual practices.

Hell.

I still am.

According to mom, and by that I mean, second hand through my dad, who is probably not the most reliable source, the brother who married the witch divorced her and remarried.

I do know as well, that my grandmother was born in Paia, on Maui, in 1928.

I also found out that my father was born on Hawaii before it was naturalized as a state, so in some dystopian way, he doesn’t find himself to be a real American, he considers himself a “Hawaiian.”

Now.

I had heard that from him before, when, couldn’t tell you, my conversations with my pops were not always the most factual or honest and so much of the relationship was fantasy in my head anyhow.

My dad was not there after a certain point of my life.

And he’s remained not there.

And that’s ok.

I did my work around that.

I am still doing my work around that.

That sweet little girl, alone, cold, wet, abandoned.

Yeah.

I know her pretty well.

I try to scoop her up and dry her off and tuck her into bed with good stories and hot tea.

Most of the time, it works quite well.

Once in a while, she freaks out, but that is ok too.

Yes.

I am aware I have digressed to speaking not only of my inner four year old, but also in third person to.

I digress.

The conversation with mom was great and piqued a lot of curiosity.

Now.

If I can ever the fuck get online.

I’ll send my cousin and email and get so more stories.

I can always use more stories.

They are the stuff of life.

My life.

Anyway.


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