Life Really is a Bitch

And Then You Die.

I remember when I first heard this expression and laughed heartily.  It was after I had been through many trials in my life.  I think I was in my early 30’s at the time.

This is a true saying so stay here as long as you can and try to get as much enjoyment and fulfillment as you can without taking anything away or harming others.  That being said, serving others used to bring me much fulfillment until I could see what I was really doing.  Mostly “enabling.”

I don’t think it’s a favor to anyone to placate and make their lives easy when your life is so hard.  It actually makes no sense at all.  How is this coddled person ever supposed to develop character of their own?  How are they ever going to be tough enough to live in this cold cruel world when they have others in their life treating them like a new-born baby just so they can feel needed.

Anyone else see the cheery gif on Facebook & Twitter?

 Sad that this is where I am at right now and it’s not going to get better.  I can’t even pretend but I really don’t want to get into everything right now besides TWO of my brothers are critically ill at this time.

One of my brothers is hanging on after being in a coma for about a month, is able to eat and be transferred to a wheelchair after being completely bed ridden for which I am very grateful but another brother has now taken a turn for the worse with possible cancer and surgery in the next couple days which I am praying about.  Sad fact is I can’t snap out of it.  I can’t even make myself feel “Christmassy”  I should feel super happy and grateful that my brothers are still here, though just hanging on and I’m expecting a miracle for them but I think feeling such horrific stress that comes with a loved one on the brink and not knowing has been just too much for me.

I’ve tried, believe me.  Too many treats, trying to make myself feel better.  I’m even considering taking up drinking which I hate!  Wasn’t keen on this woman’s idea of fun either.

This one, cute, but also a no.

So I know why it’s so hard this time of year. I have posted a few things about my dysfunctional life but not much. I wanted to keep this blog as superficial as possible. I hate being real because real for me is not an option. I LOVE being in a dream world. Not one of drugs or being artificially high but one where I am lost in a good book, maybe an old movie, a painting or some act of creation, when art was my thing. I love being lost in beauty or something interesting. I hate dramas, never liked soap opera’s because I had enough real drama in my own life. I needed peace.  Strange that I find solace in social media now because sometimes you get some real weirdos.  Most are pretty cool though.  I enjoy it.

I was never alone in my life til the last few years. It’s been horrible and great depending. I actually hate being alone. At first it was pure torture and it sort of fragmented me, but now that I’m used to it in a way that I can deal with it, I have found that I don’t like being around others for too long.
I get uncomfortable for various reasons from boredom to trying to placate or figure out someone’s unpredictable behavior.  Oh the joys of human interaction!

I do know that since I have been hurt many times in my life, I no longer trust. When you don’t trust, you can’t be around others. You become sort of paranoid. I knew others like this. That started avoiding others and got like a hermit. That’s a little like I’m becoming now. I moved to an area I had always wanted to live when I had money, but now that I have no money I was able to move here. Boy, if that’s not the story of my life….A dollar short and a day late, damned if I do and damned if I don’t. I can never get my life timed right. Anyone else ever feel that way?  This picture shows why I now have zero tolerance for the narcissism of the typical alcoholic and all the trouble they cause for others.

Christmas 1960 where dad must have been drinking again. I feel so bad for my family and how sad or scared we all look.

Some do have their lives go along perfectly, their plans are never disturbed. This was never my case. I knew women that could plan when they wished to become pregnant and they did. I did the same, didn’t happen as I planned doing everything right. Same with other things in my life like working hard, saving, etc. Finally purchased a home and the mortgage crashed. I realized it really didn’t have anything to do with poor decision making but just bad luck. I actually used to feel that I was cursed and reading the Bible used to make me feel bad about myself in this regard. I felt that God didn’t bless me because I must be doing something wrong. This really turned me off religion. I since got into the actual Words of Christ so I get it. Life sucks, people suck and it’s just one of those things. All you can do is pray and never give up no matter how much you want to.


Truth is, you never know when something’s going to turn around. You never know if you can be a blessing for someone else and not even know it. So F the bad luck and BS of the world. Jesus overcame it all for us and the very least I will do is LIVE and walk in the Word to show that I appreciate it.

Daily Prompt: Clinging Desperately to Any Branch of my Family Tree

Was going to write a pleasant, congenial blog post about trees so I didn’t have to be real about what I have been feeling as of late.  I have decided to go another route completely and make this “branch” prompt about branches on my family tree.  The heck with trees, I just want to talk some truth today.  I’m actually allowing my brain to “regurgitate” all kinds of krap that I hold inside of myself.  I think getting my DNA tests back and researching various family is causing me to feel things that I usually choose to push way back as I live my life on automatic.  I was in such a bad mood yesterday after a distant relative “innocently” made a very thoughtless and incorrect comment about my life to me and I flew off the handle.  My mood has not improved as I have had time to reflect on many things.

Some of you might have read some things I posted about a year ago when I was finding out more things about my family that I had not known or was not sure about.  That is when I received a few things from a family member regarding news coverage of the vicious crimes my father was involved in before I was born and that he was only captured when the police shot out their stolen car and stopped he and his “gang.”

My parents marriage was a freak show that lasted 19 years with many hiccups along the way.  They were separated many times for various reasons such as other women or incarcerations.  There was that one time that my father was actually one of the Detroit 59er’s but that was a complete “bust” as well.  A person with a positive brain would concentrate on this story, but that’s not what I’m going to do since my father decided to get drunk and give up as usual.   He has so many opportunities I could only dream of and threw them all away for whatever reason.

My mother had a chance to divorce him when she was incarcerated while pregnant with me as a possible accessory to his criminal actions and a few times after that but she wouldn’t let go.  It wasn’t until recently when I heard someone explain the psychological make up of those that choose to stay with narcissists did it make sense to me.  They were a perfect fit.  She hated herself and he agreed with her.  He continued to commit various crimes in between infrequent employment, running around with other women, drinking and brain operations to help ease grand mal seizures caused by scar tissue received falling from a horse as a young teen.

Never heard any stories about my father because neither of his parents cared about him or their grandchildren.  I never knew either one of them.  I met his alcoholic father a few times but he never said a word to me the times we were down to their farm years ago. His mother took off because of his father’s drinking and refusal to hold a job and she never looked back.  She didn’t want her son, because he cramped her style trying to find another man.  I don’t really know what she was doing but she managed to move all over the country for a while until she came back to Detroit to fulfill her dream of marrying a wealthy man.

I saw her for a short time while we lived in an old farmhouse in the country nearby owned my her new hubby.  He owned a number of businesses and homes in and around metro Detroit.  My father was running one of the businesses until he began stealing from his own father in law because whatever he was being paid and living in a free house was not good enough for him.  He was fired and we were kicked out, forcing him into yet another mediocre job to survive and moving into a very run down, rat infested home in Detroit.

My dad was nice looking and could be very fun and charming when he wanted to be.  I will say as abusive as he was when he was drunk, I still preferred him over my mom.  He taught me to play the guitar, banjo and the piano, loved animals and shared everything he had with me like his collection of records including John Lee Hooker and Johnny Cash and his only guitar.  With my mother everything was “you don’t need this, no you can’t have it.”  My father was never good with money and sometimes even at our poorest, he would say “hey kids, let’s go down for some ice cream.”  My mother would say “they don’t need ice cream” because she knew we couldn’t afford it but my dad would say he knew we didn’t “need” it but he wanted to get it for us anyway.

My mother was an odd, inhibited, beaten down person that didn’t like to cook or clean house and completely ignored her family unless she was fighting with my father about something.  She had to be suffering from depression but was never treated for it.   She would vacillate between being lost in books and newspapers completely ignoring us to lashing out if you provoked her and we loved to provoke her just to get any kind of reaction.  My brothers still talk about how we knew our mom was not paying attention to us so we would ask or tell her outrageous things to hear her pat answer of “that’s nice kids.”  Stuff like “mom, Bryan just set the house on fire.”  “That’s nice kids.”  We would laugh!  “Hey mom, Bob just stabbed Bryan.”  “That’s nice kids.”  Course we stopped laughing when he actually did it one day.

My mother was also a victim of a closed head injury when she was hit by a Trolly in Detroit as a teen, suffered a severe concussion as well as fractured skull.  She was is a coma for quite some time according to my grandmother but fully recovered having to relearn some things which put her back a year with no memory of the incident.  My mother’s intellect never appeared to be affected and she love to put the rest of us down or laugh at my dad because he was not very bright.  Can’t imagine why he chose the company of other women to her and always spent as much time away from the house as possible.

As I write this out and edit so many things are becoming clear like why the chip on my shoulder is so large and why I have so much pain and emptiness inside of me.  I never had the love that I needed so desperately.  Many of us don’t.  I was never invited, never felt welcome, was always considered a misfit or an outcast, just like the rest of my sad, loveless family.  I never meant for this post to develop as a bitch fest about my parents but folks have to realize we are all victims of circumstance no matter what our station in life.

Years ago I finally told my mother that I never felt loved by her or anyone in my family.  She was half-assed defensive about it but I told her our family was unGodly.  The Word of God was NEVER spoken in our house and where there is no God there is no love.  I truly believe that.  I believe the only reason I survived this freak show somewhat intact was that I did get to live my first four years with my Christian Aunt and those years are the most formative even if you cannot remember everything that happened.  My sister and I used to stay with her and my maternal Gram on weekends after that because it was too hard for my parents to take care of us all.  I am not a well-adjusted person nor do I cope with things well because I feel every slight or disappointment that happens is just another reminder that I will never win in my life and I am right.  It’s not a good feeling.  When I was younger I could convince myself that things were going to get better.  I was wrong.

I can pray all I want but I know the spiritual truth of this evil world because I’ve lived it.  The more good I do, the worse things that happen in my life.  God only knows why because sometimes good things do happen to good people but more often than not “no good deed goes unpunished.”  That saying came about like Murphy’s Law, from real people living real lives and seeing certain things in action, not in wish-fulfillment.  I believe in praying to God to thank Him for each day and for strength and mercy but I have given up on the dream that I will ever have things the way I think they should be in my life and in the world.  I have seen such suffering and pain in others as well as myself that defies any logic of spiritual reciprocation.  The great thing about that is that is does not discourage me because that’s not why I do things.  God knows my heart that when I do it, I do it freely for Him, not for a favor from Him.

Those that have many trials have to decide to how they wish to respond to those trials.  I just saw something the other day about the load some have to carry is not about the weight but how you choose to carry it that will break you.  I know some alcoholics that bitch and moan and cry about the same thing all the time because for some reason they cannot mature enough inside themselves to understand that this is life and sometimes there’s not a damned thing you can do about it no matter how hard you try.  Which means grow up and deal with it instead of feeling sorry for yourself.  Develop a grateful heart, a heart for God.  A heart for revenge if you must.  Revenge against evil and that is in doing good.  This type of thinking helps me cope with my reality.

 

 

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