Bitch Rant Rave

The strains of unconditional love.

There are some days when I realize I should never have crawled from my bed.

The past 48 hours have been a living hell, surrounded by madness that threatens to take over all that I am. Granted, the madness has been going on for years but now the possibility of freedom from its deathly grip is slipping away. I am held hostage by my heart which is now broken into a million pieces, scattered about what used to be a home. Now it is a shelter enveloped in insanity.

The rage is beyond anything I have ever witnessed. My 12 year old screams and growls like a wild animal at the slightest movement or sound. The dogs cower in the corner trying their best to hide under the table and away from her rampage. They cling to my every move, frightened that I will leave them in her presence alone. I cannot leave them in the room with her alone. She has already tried to injure them and has threatened to let them out of the house, or worse, kill them. They too are held hostage. She threatens on a regular basis now to kill herself. She rages about how she would be better off dead. I cannot imagine a grief greater than losing my child by her own hand. She has attempted to jump from a moving car and to jump out of a second story window. I have hid all of the knives and other sharp objects in the house. The medication is locked away and hidden. She is at her lowest. My once modest home is now a shattered wreck with holes in the walls, broken furniture, and her ever expanding debris field of items thrown and broken. Even the laptop pc is not immune from her wrath. It was tossed across the room; the insides of it rattle like loose change in a pocket. She was watching a movie, seeking some respite from her racing thoughts. When the laptop no longer cooperated with her, it was met with a flying fast pitch across the living room.

She does not want me around. She does not want me to stay. She is clingy and demanding on her terms. She is pitiful and broken. Her hair is now in stringy tangles and she refuses to bathe or tend to her hygiene. She is in a circle of madness and there is no exit ramp. Medications are not working. The Prozac has been stopped. The psychiatrist says it is causing the latest meltdown. The anti-anxiety drug is not enough. The two anti-psychotic drugs are not enough. The ADHD medication is not enough. Her psychologist cannot see her for two more weeks. We are in insanity limbo and it is dragging us both into a pit of hell. I have taken up smoking again. I can no longer have a drink to soothe my raw edges. I have to be alert and focused to take care of her. Dear Lord, please do not let smoking kill me before she is 18. I refuse to put a helpless guardian through this heartache. The nearest adolescent psychiatric hospital is an hour away. They will not take her because there are no beds available now nor in the foreseeable future.

What do I do? Thoughts have ran through my head that I cannot even fathom putting down into real words. How far will I go before I snap, my mental light switch turned off? God, help me keep the lights on. I am middle-aged, 50 years old. I am trapped for the remainder of my life or hers, whichever ends first. God forgive me for feeling helpless, trapped, lonely, and afraid. Please do not let her madness become mine. We will make it through this roller coaster ride through hell somehow or someway. I love her with an all-consuming passion and I will never give up on her. I want her to have a normal life with friends, boyfriends or girlfriends, school, a career, a partner, a family. I want her to know she is loved to the moon and the stars and back and beyond. I want for her to know what normal is like.

God, do not let me lose my grip on normal.

~Jane

Ditzing myself down.

I was asked to do this again, today, by a colleague.  Someone that is highly respected in his profession.  Someone who has a lot of experience that I don't have.  And he asked me, wait...he told me....to ditz myself down.  Why?

So that I don't lose my job.

What?  You are kidding right?  Those words bounce around in my cranium and push through the colorful neurons that make up my brain.  They make my hearing so sensitive that my heart beats are banging so loudly that I feel dizzy.

The ugly truth is that he wasn't kidding.  He was dead serious.  I could tell by looking at his face. Our conversation didn't stop there.  He had more suggestions for me.  Recommendations on how a woman can stay alive in this shitty economy and job market. He elaborated.   While you are dumbing yourself down, start laughing at the jokes that they tell about minorities.  Laugh when they call female ex-employees "bitches" and "whores."  Remember to keep it in perspective, he tells me.  They pay your bills.  Your mortage.  Your insurance.  They keep a lot of us alive financially. 

"But, but, but" I muttered to him.  Inside I am absolutely screaming.  What about having a sense of pride in the workplace?  How about extending that sense of pride to myself?  That pride defines who I am and gives me perspective on the battles that I choose to fight.  "Let them go" he says. 

I can't let this shit go!  I have been playing this game for far too long.  The lines in the sands of my careers were drawn years ago.  I can't stand by idley while sexism runs rampant in a workplace.  I can't stand by while racism is the standard mode of operation.  I can't stand by and watch as possible candidates for a position are judged, and determined, by the color of their skin and the type of sex organs they have. 

That is fucking wrong.

But he reminds me; that is the way it is.

I thought about this all day.  And now as I make dinner and think about how much wine I will need to swallow to make this craziness make sense in my head, I realize something.

He just may be right.

I think back to elementary school when I had to dumb myself down in front of the boys.  I think of middle school when I was doing really well in Math but it was uncool to be the smartest girl in class.  I turned myself off to something that I enjoyed doing.  I willingly did it to myself.  I did it again when I started dating.  I didn't want to appear to be smarter than the guys I hung out with. 

And it continued into my early adulthood, and, into my marriages.  I ditzed myself into corners that I sometimes couldn't get out of.  What is that they say?  Old habits are hard to break?  Maybe on some level I realized that this was the way of the world.  That women, no matter how confident, smart, and, upwardly mobile they may be, will always be required to put a certain amount of ditz into their dialogues.  Just enough ditz to get by.  To take the eyes off them.  To make it easier to work in relationships, office spaces and at the board room table.  Just enough ditz to keep us under the radar.

I like this colleague.  He seems nice enough. I believe that in his heart of hearts he was giving me, what he felt, was good advice.  I can appreciate that.

He also recommended that I start talking about guns at work. 

My head has been spinning since.

Equality in loving soul mates and life partners.

"How do I love thee?" It seems this has become a loaded question in today's world.  Loving someone, finding a soulmate, living and loving all that life has to offer, is a large  part of the human experience. Why, in the 21st century, does this seem like a near impossibility? Why is it wrong in the eyes of so many to "love the one you're with?" Why do those same people feel justified in telling others how to live their lives, how to seek fulfillment, and how to love?

Finding the mate of your dreams is difficult at best. Sifting through all the possibilities can, and often is, a drain on the soul. The euphoric highs of meeting someone who may be the one to sweep you right off your feet, or at the low point let you fall on your ass, are what memories are made of. The first time you make love to a partner, the excitement of learning their body intimately, it's difficult to find anything more pleasurable to a person. With enough experience, and not just sexual experience but life experience, one develops a sense of who may or may not be a real candidate for a life partner.

Hopefully, intimacy grows and develops and links us to our real soul mate, the one to live and love, share, and be with.

In today's America, a stigma has been placed on relationships that some consider outside the realms of "normal" human sexuality and true intimate love. In today's society, it can seem a near impossibility to search for true love much less know what to do with it if is found. Society has made it difficult to express how one feels because, for many, same sex relationships are a serious no no. Why? Why is it wrong to want what heterosexual couples have in a relationship? Why is it wrong to want love, intimacy, a life partner? Why is it wrong to want to raise a family in a same sex couple? Why in hell are people so intimidated by that? Are they so insecure in their own relationships?

Many people express a "love one another as you want to be loved" attitude until it comes to same sex relationships. Suddenly, they turn like a nest of vipers, striking out at what is perceived as a threat to their way of life. They try to intimidate via religion/faith that homosexuality is against the will of God. If it is wrong then why does God allow homosexuality? Does God allow the birth of human beings that He knows will be homosexual only to turn His back to them? If one is a true follower of Jesus (I am), doesn't one owe it to Him to follow one of his greatest commandments? If people want to use the faith card, they'd best recall that Jesus said we should love one another as we love ourselves.

Seeking love and fulfillment in a relationship should not rely upon having one person of each sex. Love and fulfillment, intimacy, and yes even sex, should be dependent upon being IN love with the one you're with regardless of gender. Life is too precarious to waste it searching for an intimacy that cannot be attained because one is searching in the wrong direction. Love the one you're with. Hopefully that one will be your soulmate, if not at that moment, then after the question "how do I love thee?" is finally answered. Good luck.

 ~Jane

Women over 50 like to have sex.

Yes.  I typed it.  I have put "it" out there.  If you are a mother of a daughter who is over 50, a daughter of a mother over 50 or a spouse/partner/friend of a woman over 50 and you don't like thinking about that 50 something woman in your life liking sex, read no further.

But if you are okay with it, read on.

I am over 50.  This year has marked quite a few "firsts" for me.  Some I don't mind talking about and some, quite frankly, are only my business.  But having said that, I will share that I experienced my first ever pedicure this past week.  I sat next to one of my dearest friends on the planet.  We talked, laughed and enjoyed each other while two very sweet 20 somethings painted our toes.  Our conversations varied.  We talked about our kids, our partners and spouses.  We talked about life, love and things that make us happy.  We shared these conversations with the lovely 20 somethings. 

But when we started talking about sex (yes, women over 50 like to talk about sex, too) the 20 somethings ears perked up.  They gazed at us in wonderment.  Their eyes glossed over as they asked us questions about relationships that we have with men.  My friend is happily married.  I am no longer.  My pedicurist told me that her mother, also over 50, has a boyfriend that she doesn't like.  We talked a little about that.  She relayed that the boyfriend was nice to her Mom, that he treated her well but that she just didn't understand why her Mom needed a boyfriend.

I was amazed that she was amazed.

I told her that I like being with my partner; that I like sleeping next to someone I care about and love.  But then I dropped the bombshell - I boldly stated that I like to have sex and that maybe her Mom does too.

I watched the color run from her cheeks.  

She thought about what I said and then replied "You know, you may be right. Maybe my Mom likes to have sex."

And maybe that is the whole reason she didn't like her Mom's boyfriend.  Somewhere deep in the back of her mind she had her Mom up on a virginal pedestal. 

I am going to enjoy my 50's.

 

 

Random shit that has me thinking about life.

Uber rich people are mostly assholes.

Corporations are life sucking, blood draining, soul crushing structures that we all, for some reason, want to be associated with.

Married people do not have a clue what it's like to raise kids and care for parents on their own. Then again, maybe they do and that's why they stay married.

Marriage should be for everyone who wishes to engage in the institution.

Good people should be allowed to adopt children regardless of sexual orientation.

Votes are not in my vagina or uterus.

War is waged by those who sacrifice nothing. They send the most vulnerable to the slaughter to be sacrificed for the almighty dollar.

I am a Socialist.

I'm confused about my sexuality even at my age. I love that I have a lifetime of
opportunity to figure it out. Hopefully it won't take that long.

I'm a hippie wannabe.

I think marijuana should be legal. Package it, tax it, ensure it's safety, take out the illegal profit margin.

We are stewards of earth. Lousy stewards, but stewards nonetheless. I'll try harder, get my hands dirtier, tread a little lighter and try to be a better steward. I promise to even love snakes and spiders since even they have a place in it all.

I still don't understand Twitter.

Abortion is a choice not taken with nonchalant attitudes. Walk a mile in her shoes before you criticize her lawful choice.

Health care should be affordable and equitable for all the citizens of the world.

I am a Christian. I recognize my flaws and inability to attain perfection. Therefore, I ask for forgiveness daily. I strive to be Christ-like in my attitudes towards others less fortunate than me.

Education is a right.

Not everyone wants to go to college. That's okay. Create jobs that are good paying and with benefits for them.

Newscasters are full of total bullshit. Don't believe any of the blowhards.

Being a parent is the hardest job of all. It comes with a lifetime of responsibility.

My dogs are my children with four legs and adorable outlooks on life. They always love me, no matter what.

My human child makes me crazy at times.

Sometimes I think I'm going to lose my marbles, again.

I am an artist with little time to create. Therefore, see the previous sentence.

I hate racism and racists. They are scum.

I wish I could take my dogs to work with me.

I want to live on the beach.

I'm lonely.

I'm Jane. Thanks for reading.

Abuse of power on the Cain Train

Herman Cain is suspending his campaign.  I don't care what he calls it.  I am just glad he is gone from the political arena. 

I despise him.  And men like him.  I don't care what political persuasion they may be.  I don't care what color their skin is or how much money they make.  I despise men who get into positions of power and take advantage of women. 

I don't care if they cheat on their wives.  What goes on between two adults in an intimate relationship is no concern of mine.  I have always believed there are two sides to every story.

But I do give a shit about men who sexually harass their female employees.  Or, females they work with.  Or, females that they meet in the boardroom, the lunchroom or at conventions. 

Cain has been accused of sexually harassing, not one, but many women.  He fits the mold...the pattern.  Men like Cain do this because there are no consequences.  They do it because they can.  They are congratulated at happy hour, on the golf course, in the mensroom.  They are patted on the back and given raises because of their cocky attitudes and ability to freely womanize in and about the work place. They turn sexual harassment into a game.  A hunt.  They pick up their weapons and set their sites on a female form with relentless pursuit.  They are then surprised when the woman defends herself or files an action with the EEOC. 

The worst part about sexual harrassment in the workplace (there are so many things that reek about sexual harassment, but, for me, this is the worst) is the financial aspect of being sexually harassed.  That position of power is destructive to the woman who is being pursued.  The fear of retaliation, for saying "no", is overwhelming for a woman being harassed by her boss.  The harasser holds the woman hostage to her financial situation.  They are worse than drug dealers; they victimize and take advantage. No one should ever be forced into a situation where they have to even consider sleeping with someone they don't want to because they could lose their job.

Good bye Herman Cain.  Good riddance.  I hope your wife kicks your ass and you disappear from the public view. 

My List.

A friend told me over lunch one day that I needed a "list."  A list of what I want.  What I need.  What I see as mine.  Okay.  I mulled it over for a couple of days.  What harm could a written list do to my general psyche?  Might help.  Certainly couldn't hurt. 

I made a list.  It was part bucket list; part relationship oriented.  The bucket list part was fun to write.  I fantasized about where I would go, what I would do and what I would feel. 

The relationship part just about did me in.  Thinking about what I wanted in a personal relationship was overwhelming.  It wasn't because I wanted diamond rings or lavish gifts.  It was because my desires were so very simple.  At least I thought they were.

I have always wanted to be in a long term, passionate, sexually charged relationship with my best friend.  Someone that I can trust wholeheartedly and say anything to.  Someone who will let me fall asleep on their chest and will be happy to see me first thing in the morning.  Someone who will leave me an unexpected love note.  Someone who will glance across the table at me, past all the other dinner guests, and look at me with eyes that desire every inch of who I am. 

Seems simple.  But it's not.  Those simple gestures are hard to find; hard to hold on to.  Maybe that is why women desire the diamong rings or the lavish gifts.  Perhaps they signify those simple things that are missing in their personal relationships.  A love note doesn't cost much; diamonds do.

On love, compassion and what the future holds.

I am the mother of two grown children, a son and a daughter.  My daughter has given me the most precious gift in the world - my granddaughter who is 7 & my grandson who will be 4 on Saturday.  I know that I will not always be here to protect those I love, and I fear what the future holds for them.  It is my hope that the women of our generation will make the world a better place for those we love.  We must remain strong, bound together by our love and compassion for others.  We must continue to fight for the right of every human being to be treated with respect, to be cared for when they are sick, to be protected when they are vulnerable, and to live and die with dignity.  Peace and love to all.

-SuzieQ

Can one small thing redirect a life?

I was in the East Bay area of San Francisco last weekend.  I used to live there many years ago.  I stayed with my friend Sandra who I've known since those golden days of Valley View Middle School and College Park High School.  Count me as lucky when it comes to long term friends; Sandra is certainly someone I want in my life..well...for the rest of it.

We drove through the rolling hills and reminisced about the memories we had of 1975 and 1976.  Those rolling hills jogged my memory of a cute guy in my Spanish class in 8th grade.  Actually, he was more than cute.  He was a cool, bad boy with a head of curly shoulder length hair.  He wore black platform shoes with his Levis.  He always smelled of weed.

He sat behind me.  Me...a shy, timid, very unselfassured girl afraid of life and intimated by a law enforcement father at home.  Several times a week he would ask me to go up those hills, with him, to get stoned.  I really wanted to go with him up those hills.  Not necesarily to get stoned because I was a "good" girl and "good" girls didn't do that but because I had a huge crush on him.  But, I continually turned him down.

Driving through those rolling hills last weekend I wondered...would anything about my life be different had I done what I really wanted to do?  Would it have hurt to venture up there and smoke some weed with a cool, bad boy, and, the possibility that I could also sneak in a make-out session?  Or, would I have become a "bad" girl and earned the wrath of that law enforcement father? 

I don't know that I would have changed.  Or, that two kids temporarily acting out of hormonal driven 8th grade desire would have set the planet on a wonky plane.  I don't think it matters.  But it is one regret that I have.  I should have done it because I wanted to and this is one life that is entirely mine.  Sad that it took me all these years to realize this.

Burn, Baby Burn

Am I not worthy of being loved?  I’ve been divorced, single; whatever you call it, for a very long time now.  Many of my friends and family have been divorced, remarried, started new families all during this time, my time of being lonely.  Oh sure, I’ve had relationships.  Some of them extended, others often lasting a few weeks or less.  But there’s never been that one, the one that makes me feel like my soul is on fire.  What the hell is the matter with me?  Or, is it not me?  I can’t even make up my mind about that one, flip-flopping back and forth that I shoulda, woulda, coulda done something different.  Yeah, it’s me with the problems and only I can undo what’s led me down this path of longing for another. 

Honestly, I’m never really alone.  There is always someone around to fill the gap.  I’m not talking about lonely in the sense of friends and family though.  I’m talking about being lonely for the touch of someone else’s hand on my face, a hug after a particularly rough day, at night in bed curled up together and listening to their breathing until I fall asleep.  I miss the skin-to-skin touch that comes from knowing someone intimately, knowing their body as well as I know my own.  I’m lonely for that feeling that comes when you know you will see that special someone at the end of the day.  I miss terribly the feelings of excitement as I count the moments until our time, just our time, together.

So, what’s my problem?  To answer my first question, yes I’m worthy of being loved.  Deep down I know that to be true.  I think my problem is I can’t return the love that comes with, or should come with, a real relationship.  You see, I don’t think I’ve really been in love in my post-marriage life.  I thought I was once or twice but really it was just that I loved the concept of what I thought being in love was all about, namely the things mentioned earlier.  I’ve mistaken many of the relationships I’ve had, both short and long-term, on what I thought love was.  When the passion and romance went away I walked out and never looked back. 

With the exception of my marriage, I’ve always been the “dumper,” the one who walked out first.  Maybe I’m frightened at the prospect of being “dumped on.” The “I’ll get rid of them before they do me” mentality rears its ugly little head.   I am worthy of being loved.  I just don’t think I have it in me any longer to love back the way someone deserves.  So, I guess I’ll continue doing what I do.  Meet someone, love the idea of being with them, enjoying the passion of new romance, and when it fizzles out say to them that it’s been fun and that I’ve had a great time but I don’t think it’ll work out.  Doing just this very thing has worked this long.  Maybe sometime down the road I’ll change and find that someone that lights my fire and keeps it burning.  Maybe, just maybe; burn baby burn.

Jane