Tuesday, September 29, 2020

Until I'm 19

 I don’t remember how the conversation started, but the kids and I were talking about who would take Primero’s bedroom when he moves out (not something that is happening anytime soon, just an eventual inevitability). The kids each tried to stake a claim for Primero’s bedroom but I told them I would likely move into his room. I’m not 100% certain I will move, but the room is larger than mine so it has some appeal. Chica Marie was satisfied with taking over my room but was dismayed when I told her the TV would not be staying. Love Bug, realizing he would be in a bedroom by himself for the first time in his life responded to his sister’s plea for the TV by stating “we need it downstairs.” “We?” I asked incredulously. “There is no ‘we’ moving downstairs, just me.” “But who will I sleep with?!” Love Bug wailed. “You will be a big boy and sleep by yourself. How long do you think you will be sleeping with me?” I asked, hoping to appeal to his rationale side. “Um, until I’m 19,” he responded. And there you have it. This child has zero plans on sleeping in his own bed anytime soon. So, now I need to decide if it’s a habit I want to work really, really hard on breaking or just concede to 13 more years of Love Bug’s feet prying apart my ribs….

 

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Monday, September 21, 2020

A Note to Bullies

 During the Covid quarantine, as the time stuck-at-home increased beyond my initial imagination, I decided to start diving inward and work on the stuff that seems to hold me back in life. Maybe it’s a weird time to get so introspective, but it’s been working for me. One of the things that bubbled to the surface was how much I let the pain from childhood bullying still haunt me as an adult. One of the therapists in the women’s empowerment group I attend accused me of still thinking of myself as a victim. I am not a victim. She suggested I write a letter to my childhood bullies as the adult I am today. So, I did. And when I read it to the group they insisted I share what I wrote publicly. So, I am sharing it here and I might share it to my social media, but I’m starting here where I am (mostly) anonymous.

 

Dear Childhood Bullies,

 

    For far too long I have allowed you to take up space in my head. I have allowed you to mentally torment me for years. I have swallowed your words, ingested them and made them my own. Those painful poisonous barbs have become so imbedded in my psyche that they have become my inner voice. The voice that tells me I am not good enough, not worthy. The voice that viciously dissects every perceived imperfection. The nasty voice that repeats the vile epitaphs you called me with such distain – fat cow, beached whale, fat and ugly. Does it make you feel good to tear another person down like that? To reduce their humanity to their body shape? Surely you do this to hide your own deficits. But, when I was younger I didn’t know that. All I wanted was friendship, to belong. Why did you deny me? Why did you hurt me? How could you take such pleasure in my pain? Why was I your target? I am sure by now you have found you reap what you sow. As for me, I am done allowing you to hurt me. I am evicting your mean, uncaring, untrue words from my head and heart. You can fuck all the way off. You can take your small-minded, pathetic opinions with you. My self-worth isn’t dependent upon the shape of my body and you are one fucked up loser to think that way. You don’t deserve to lick the bottom of my shoes because you are weak and nasty and unkind. All things that I am not. What a sad life you must live! What a pitiful existence for you to only get your jollies from putting someone else down. It says a lot more about you than it does about me. I am strong and beautiful and kind but you are too bigoted and close-minded to even see that. What a terrible existence! It must really suck now that I have tossed you out. But, being a typical bully you will likely find someone else to torture. How broken you must be inside to take so much pleasure in someone else’s pain! Back then I never felt strong enough to stand up to you. I let your words and low opinions of me crush my soul. I took what you said to heart. I believed you when you told me I was ugly and fat and worthless because I started wearing a bra in third grade. You put your hands on my and made me feel dirty. You had no right to touch me! Not ever! You, the only high schooler on the bus, made fun of my lunch box, called me tubby and made riding the bus total hell. No one was there to stop you but guess what asshole? I can stand up for myself right now and if I could I would tell you to your face what a dickhead you are. You will no longer hurt me, make my cheeks burn with embarrassment as you callously encouraged the other kids to make fun of me. You intimidated me back then but now I see you for what your are – a loser trying to assert his power because he felt powerless. Fuck you! Did you feel big picking on a girl three years younger than you? How fucking pathetic! Grown up me can do something adolescent me could not. Grown up me would go toe-to-toe and let you know you picked the wrong bitch. Oh the whole bus would hear my mouth telling you to grow a pair and pick on someone your own size. Why were you the only high school kid on our bus? Were you not able to pass the driver’s license test? Had no friends willing to give you a ride home? I wonder why that might be? You would not want to mess with adult Empty Arms. You would not get the satisfaction of seeing me cry. You would not leave that fight unscathed. The same kids you taught to make fun of my would be making fun of you. The tables would be turned. I would not shrink away and try to block out the sound of your voice. I would not let your awful words penetrate deep inside my heart. Instead, I would roar in protest. I would call out your lies. I would eviscerate your logic. You would not stand a chance against me. I have grown and this whale can end you with one flick of her tale. I am not little and meek. I am not hiding. Your power is gone. Now everyone can see you for the coward that you are. Your words have no place in my head. They are lies and I have learned out to dig them out. I am worthy, no matter my size. I am enough, just as I am. My inner beauty is abundantly clear. Take your demons and be gone. Fuck off.




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Tuesday, September 15, 2020

Adrift

 Last week was our first week of virtual school. I prepared as much as I could. I tried getting the kids psyched up for it. We made table top tri-folds to give them some privacy and help keep them focused. We wrote out their schedule and talked about “classroom” boundaries. We tried on their headphones and logged into their computers. I figured we were in better shape than we had been in the spring when the rug was yanked out from under us and we were in a confusing free-fall. But, alas, it seems no amount of planning and preparing is going to make Love Bug comply with virtual learning. He did great his first day while at daycare but began a rapid backslide at home that culminated in a very difficult Friday in which I spent most of the day begging, pleading, bribing and cajoling him to just sit in front of the computer with his headphones on. It was sheer torture for all of us. I was supposed to be working but trying desperately to get Love Bug engaged (along with the wrap around support staff who were there in some capacity nearly the entire day). Love Bug was done with all forms of virtual schooling and just did not want to do it. And Chica Marie was upset that Love Bug was getting so much of my undivided attention and she was expected to carry on as if nothing was happening. I described it to a friend like this: in March our carefully constructed and supportive boat capsized into rough and choppy waters. I seized a life raft but was soon knocked out of it by a large wave. Not one to give up, I have battled the raging seas and managed to lash together the things that were dumped from our life raft and we are floating together in one jumbled heap. I have even managed to locate our life raft but every time I grasp hold of it, a wave knocks it away from me and so here we are – floating lashed together within sight of our life raft with little hope of climbing aboard it. We are safe, we are healthy but it would feel damn nice to get on some dry land one day soon!  



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