And How About You?

Does anyone else out there have this problem?

I just want it to stop, that's all. It's really not that much to ask. Why doesn't my crazy brother get it? Oh yeah. Because he's crazy. Hmmm. Crap.

And so it goes. What, exactly? Well, it goes back a long way into ancient history, however, it continues pretty much the same all the way to now. Just crazy stuff. And for whatever reason, I get to be the victim. Yay.

When I was younger I was enthralled by my brother. I thought he was so amazing in so many ways, and I was his happy little puppy who wagged her tail over everything he said and did.

Until it slowly started to dawn on me that although his craziness was at times entertaining, most of the time it was really a horror show. And the moment I began to realize this, I was the bad puppy who peed on the carpet, and had to be swatted.

Years and years and years. Long messages, filling up my voicemail. Calling at any hour, at any time. Long long emails. All about how supposedly horrible I am. Obsessing over every minute thing, and things that don't even exist. Accusing, admonishing, condemning, harassing, over and over. Trying to pick a fight. Trying to mess with me, completely screwing with my head. Last time he took notes on my behavior and went through it with me, point by point. Interspersed with utter craziness. Not harmless craziness, but utterly malicious evil nasty abusive vindictive horrible scathing putrid craziness, aimed to hurt me. Using the things he knows that hurt me the most. Obsessed, unrelenting. If I try to talk to him it gets worse. If I try to not talk to him it gets worse.

And all the rest of it. Being his caretaker. Chasing him all over to get him out of homelessness. Apologizing for him. Waiting for him. Waiting and waiting and waiting, for hours, for years. Accommodating his sickness, because that's what was required of me by my family.

I'm not the only one he does this to, but I might be the only one in which it's been lifelong, and where there is no protection, other that what I try to do for myself. I think I may be the only one expected to embrace the abuse. Because we were close as kids, because I'm female and I'm not supposed to ever say the word "no", because anything bad that happens is supposedly my fault. How dare I refuse his sick relentless harassment? How dare I even think of having the audacity of merely saying "no", "stop"? Just like the gang of guys who hang out on the street corner, who, when a woman walks by, harass her... and if she responds in any way, it's worse, and if she doesn't respond at all, it's worse. "Bitch", they say.

Because the rest of my family, unfathomably, think it's ok, or that somehow it's my fault. Maybe not all of them. But the one thing that seems so obvious to me, that his behavior is his, seems completely invisible.

And of course it's worse now because he's so physically ill. So then there's all the guilt too. And of course the martyrdom. While he sucks the life out of our parents.

I'm required to worship a monster. But I don't follow the program of selfless mute noble servitude. So I'm a bad daughter. They actually think there is something wrong with me, rather than something wrong with him. It is so twisted. And it's not the 1800s, or so I thought. I just want it to stop. That's all. I just want to live without this twisted thing twisting me.

Tina Turner moved to France. You can divorce an abusive husband, but what do you do when it's your brother?

Since I stopped being his mute puppy, I have been walking the knife edge, attempting to merely protect myself from his wrath, while not completely divorcing myself from my entire family in the process. Because they don't see it for what it is. Perception is a very strange thing indeed.

I wasted years of effort, time, thought, and so on, trying in so many different ways to get my parents to see what was right in front of them. But for whatever reason, it's just not possible to change things. The big elephant remains invisible. So I had a choice - I could continue to be the victim, or I could change my own little world.

Christmas 2007 decided it for me, finally. The craziness was so over the top, it was astounding to me. And made worse by the fact that my other crazy brother joined in. Keeping everyone awake late at night yelling into the phone to my other brother about how horrible I was, because I dared to say something about his horrible behavior. The yelling went on for hours, nobody could sleep. Typical stuff. After this episode, I pretended everything was like it had been, I was the mute puppy - only until I could make my escape. Now I am safe, and I intend to keep it that way. I am my own protector. It's all I have, but thankfully I have that.

And so I walk the knife edge. Of course I love my family, that is a given. But it is a real eye opener to observe what happens when I merely protect myself. This is a change they do not seem to get. And it's brought more wrath. Thankfully it is not very often that I have to go through what I used to have to go through on a regular basis. I do feel much safer now, more than I ever have in my entire life I think. But there are still consequences.

I look at pictures of other families on outings, enjoying each others' company, being sane. I tried to marry into that, but I guess I picked the wrong one. I somehow found a way to be happy in myself, and that can be enough. I'm not just saying that. It's all any of us really have, when you come down to it. We come into this world alone, and we leave it alone. Some of us are lucky enough to find the best kinds of love along the way, family being one of them. I do hope that I will somehow piece together some sort of family of my own before I leave this world. But it really is ok if that doesn't happen. I feel very thankful for what I do have, for the life I've lived up to now.

It is enough, figuring out happiness. Despite the odds.

Beware the Brides of March!

My million dollar viral screenplay idea

Would you go back to a time in your life, 20 years ago, and re-do it?

Could you force your own re-run?

The screenplay could be modified any number of ways to fit anyone's storyline, or multiple ones even. To do it right, one would need to re-create that story as authentically as possible. So, my own story would start with the purchase of a 1966 VW bus, red, the one with the small rounded windows all the way around the top and the split windshield, with bad brakes and a hole in the floor. Check. Then, find that first house I lived in while at Syracuse, the giant house on Clarendon Street with it's 3 floors of 12 bedrooms and 3 kitchens and worn heavy woodwork and hardwood floors and cold drafts and high ceilings and the wacky attic... and add in the eclectic bunch of gals who lived there... then, go shopping at some thrift stores to find a long wool coat, worn jeans, white rebox sneakers, and hippie blouses. Get an old jansport backpack and fill it with books. Find a giant black portfolio case. Then walk endlessly through campus while it whips around in the cold wind and almost pulls your hand off. Hmmm... what else? Well, you get the idea.

To make it work I'd have to go to that house on Clarendon and kick out whoever was currently living there, and put it back into it's shabby neglected rental state, and find some young women to play the parts of all the housemates.

Then what? What's the point of all this? Well, just to see what would happen, how funny and weird it would be to try to live that life again, to really try to recreate it. Kind of like that movie "high fidelity" where the main character revisits all his old girlfriends, to try and figure something out - what, he's not sure until the end. So it's really a sort of vision quest. Yes. A journey back to find the meaning of now and of the future, if there is any. Compare and contrast - where you've been, where you are, where you're going. Would it be enlightening, or would it just be silly?

I guess that would depend upon the perspective of each member of the audience, how they can relate or not, who's story it is...

Perhaps there might be a web site attached to this movie idea, where people could compose their own stories and even re-create them to whatever degree they can, and post them as videos. Include as much detail as possible, to try to be as authentic as you can. Old flames, bad teachers, loud concerts, horrible apartments, cheap food, broken cars, wild ambitions...

What's your story?

Too Much Stuff

Spazzing and then calm... and then spazzing again... just too much stuff to do!!! I look around at everything that needs to get done and I'm doing it and then I look around at how much more there is and I have to go lie down...

Yard sale today, did ok, sold some stuff, would like to sell it all. My mailman paid a visit and asked where I was moving to. When I told him "Boulder" he gave me a lecture about how "out there" Boulder was - actually it was a warning... he assumed I was on "his side", the other side, from his nebulously described non-description - of what? - liberals, democrats, feminists? All that. He jumbled and warned. He himself was moving to Colorado Springs. Selling his 2.7 million dollar home out in the hills beyond Napa. A mailman... well, must have bought decades ago I suppose. And he corrected me, to make sure. Two point SEVEN, he corrected me. Mentioned that guy from the promise keepers out in Coloradow Springs, looked at me meaningfully. My mailman, my creepy promise keeper follower. Eeew. I liked him better when all I knew about him was that he pushed dog bones through the mail slot for my dog, even put his fingers through to let her lick them. So he looks at me intently, meaningfully, again, not really saying things clearly, just implying things... like I'm with him on this. Talked about Boulder, and lobbed the "socialist" word at me. Socialist? What kind of socialist? There are so many different kinds, I said. I started to rattle off the different flavors. He asked me intently about them people who scam the system, take our tax money. Pointedly implied I should be scared for my life about socialists, socialized health care. Said Clinton and Obama were socialists, and I should be scared. I said that I thought it was the decent thing, the civilized thing - and heck, the christian thing - to help those who really need help. He quoted something, again, pointedly, meaningfully. I better listen. The quote was something about helping those who can't help themselves, and expecting those who are capable to pull their weight. I thought he meant Jesus, but no, he said it was Marx. He was making a point. He began stalking off, muttering.

In the midst of this, a yard sale customer appeared and pawed through stuff, said hello, was friendly. Mailman said we were having a discussion, he was a Reagan Conservative and... and I piped up "... and I'm a bleeding heart liberal!!!". And the customer said "uh oh". And I said, "well, it is a free country, and discussion is always a good thing, and he loves my dog, so he's a good man." That's when Mailman stalked off muttering.

A small thing, a microcosm of the larger standoff... unfortunately the minions have been manipulated so well by the talking points and twisted logic, fascist same-think... Human beings have to be arm twisted into not helping others. It's in our nature to help each other, we are social creatures, we are tribes. I think that's why the logic is so faulty, and why there's so much screaming rather than calm discussion... A promise keeper quoting Marx with a Jesus-like message, intent on it's badness.

Though, even my favorite ranter has been writing positive entries lately. I won't let Mailman get me down. He's just an old guy who loves my dog. Poor misguided promise keeper follower, who just wants to retire to Colorado Springs with two point SEVEN. Wish he would have tried to come half-way in the discussion. Guess that's not a talking point.

But I'm feeling the dark dank DUHbya distaster years starting to clear, lift, dissipate...

Boulder Bound

Wow. Bam. Bang. Moving to Boulder. Soon.

I think the change will be good.

I think I may have been a bit of a barn sour horse for a bit of a time. The horse in winter settles into the warm barn. Come spring, the horse wants to stay in the barn, even though its so nice outside. Takes a bit of prodding to get the horse out of the barn.

Out she goes.

Happy Mother's Day!

Happy Earth Day!