What She Could not Say

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You are a ridiculous caricature of excessive vapidity

I honor where you are in your life.

You are a textbook narcissistic power and control parent

I honor where you are in your life.

Your undertones of intimacy with me are uncomfortable

I honor where you are in your life.

You embrace and incite unnecessary drama purely for attention

I honor where you are in your life.

You need a level of support that I cannot provide

I honor where you are in your life.

Because I truly feel the statements above reflect

the most difficult people surrounding me,

and my intentions towards them,

I feel that I must examine what pieces of me they are reflecting.

I am a ridiculous caricature of excessive vapidity.

Please honor where I am in my life

I am a textbook narcissistic power and control parent.

Please honor where I am in my life

My undertones of intimacy with you are uncomfortable.

Please honor where I am in my life

I embrace and incite unnecessary drama purely for attention.

Please honor where I am in my life

I need a level of support that you cannot currently provide.

Please honor where I am in my life

I cannot see all of these things (other than the support needed) in myself, but I know they must be there.  Some version of them at least.  Maybe I AM feeling some feelings other than terror and fear.  I would prefer to feel joy, love, and contentment – maybe those come later (?).

Have you ever spent time turning your “You” ‘s into “I” ‘s ? Embracing empathy? Or, more vapid self reflection?  Ack!  I am not sure.

It doesn’t feel good when reflecting today, living in a swirl of dysfunction.  I hope that I can figure out how to stop the cycle for my sweet bear, SonHerisme.  Or at least allow him the opportunity to contentedly thrive with overall personal satisfaction, feeling embraced with functional and appropriate love and support…

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

A Dime a Dozen

One of the most stark realities of going through the court system

with: divorce, protective orders, contempt of court, po violations, victim’s coordinators, witness coordinators, parent coordinators, parent evaluators, visitation monitors, social workers, Child Protective Services, therapists, Circuit Judges, District Judges, States Attorney’s Office, Best Interest Attorneys, Attorneys, Masters, Mediators, Detectives, Police Officers, Sheriff’s Officers, discovery paperwork, interrogatories, copies of every bit of paperwork that may potentially define you (bank statements, mortgage statements, medical records, bill statements, daily activity logs etc), and reiterating your story a bajillion times to everyone and anyone, as if you have never told it before…

it is F’IN exhausting, uber full-time and you are not one bit unique from thousands of other women and children trying to extricate themselves from an abusive situation.

 

We are a dime a dozen to all of those professionals.

They see us multiple times a day.

 

We are overwhelmed and out of balance because our situations are so real and unique to us.  This belief that we are unique, is a great lie that we tell ourselves.

We are not unique.

 

Do you know how many women you personally know who have been sexually abused, emotionally abused, physically abused, financially abused? I challenge you to ask in your family, or your closest friends, if you cannot think of anyone off the top of your head.  I guarantee that you know someone who has been abused.

 

We follow in the tragic footsteps of countless women who have gone before us.  Some in situations where they found justice and survived.  More in situations that bent towards whichever way the current power and control swing was going.  Others ending up dead as a result of abuse.

 

As we continue on this great human shift away from a patriarchal society, which I believe we are on (another post, another day), I hope that we all continue to speak our truths and share our stories loudly – even when we have no hope for justice, even when we have no hope for safety.

 

This is our war and I am betting that, despite losing battles here and there, we win the long race.

 

We are a dime a dozen, but each of our dozen wield mighty and powerful voices, deceptively couched in that lowly dime.  We are slowly building, stack by stack, until we outnumber those lone one-in-a-million voices who attempt to stop us.

 

I am cheering your truth on!  Good job, YOU – go, YOU, GO!

 

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

pssst… Donate to your local domestic violence shelter today and reach out to a friend today

The SURFy-ness of me

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And so it has been a while…

 

I started a new therapy.

It is hard.

It is physically hard and thinkingly hard.

I hope it will be worth it.

 

My parents have been experiencing significant health issues.  My mother spending her time in a local hospital and in my care (at my home).  My father spending some of his time in my care, but most of his time in his own care (in another state, in my parent’s home) because that is how he rolls.

 

My sweet bear, SonHerisme, continues on with his own bittersweet  growth and development.  He is eight-years-old. He is growing his luscious hair for his buddy with cancer, or to be a “real Jedi.”  It all depends on which time of day you ask him about it.  He thinks it is hilarious when people (adults) think he is a girl.  We wear the same shoe size.  GAH ACK BLAG*&^%$#!

 

MrexH exists far away, elsewhere.

 

I am a single parent.

 

I am a generationally sandwiched caretaker.

 

I am unemployed.

 

I use an iPhone AND I accept food stamps/Medicaid *GASP*

 

Not intriguing/sexy enough for you?

 

How about the following:

 

Instead of trapping you in my web of positive spin of myself, I’ll begin with faults and we can grow our relationship from there.

 

SURF (Single, Unidentified Race, Female) – the worst kind (according to When Harry met Sally – look it up, it’s now considered ‘classic’), as I am high maintenance who believes she is low maintenance, so good luck with that.  I also cannot fake orgasm like Meg Ryan (again, When Harry met Sally – Nora Ephron is always worth it).

I do not understand feet on pillows where your head should be, or street clothes purposefully on a bed where you sleep.

I do not trust most commercial dining places.  I would rather eat questionable yogurt from the bottom of my purse, than a salad from Ruby Tuesday Longhorn Applebees Fridays Outback Cracker Barrel Macaroni Grill allotherplacessimilarexactlythesameinnature eateries.  I love America.  I love workers.  I am afraid of our food practices – like a-fear-t afraid in a way that people are afraid of snakes.

In a similar, but stronger vein, I am afraid of any incarceration.  Which leads me to believe that I was a terrible person in many of my past lives, which caused me to be horrifically incarcerated in many of my past lives.  Therefore, I acknowledge the possibility that I am sketchy at best in this life. I also wish you luck with that.

Zoos and baths worry me and I avoid them (I do shower, I’m not that naturally minded).

Microfiber is disgusting – stop gifting it!  I know that my house is a freaking mess, but I will not use your microfiber cloth anywhere EVER, so just stop. Please and thank you.

I love piles and piles and piles of books.  Books are my comfort food. (currently reading)

About every week or so, I drag my sheets across my wood floors as I take them to the basement, and otherwise behave as if my floors are self-cleaning.

I like responsible open fires, hyggelig (Danish, now I’m showing you how cool I am), notecards, water/sauna/swimming/lakes/oceans (I know it is ironic since I detest baths), books, animals, cooking, traveling, writing (duh), being outside in nature (not Jay Gruen level, I go gently), live music, live performances of almost any kind, thinking, listening to my sweet bear, seasons, and wind (not that kind).

I am an out-of-the-box problem solver in more than a resume filler way.  For example:  Need a birthday gift for a young person/neighbor/classmate AND your vintage auto-clutch baby blue VW accelerator pedal popped off, again?!?  No problem!  Purchase a Barbie/large Action Doll from Target and unwrap it from the packaging.  Re-wrap the doll in remnant fancy tissue paper/gift bag (from the microfiber gift you recently received), place gift bag in backseat of VW.  Take the unbelievably irritating and strong twisties that were holding the doll in the packaging with you as you yogic twist yourself into a position to see the accelerator pedal.  Wrap the twisties around the accelerator’s hook coming from the floorboard.  Carefully jam the twistie wrapped hook through the loop on the bottom of the accelerator pedal.  Twist that twistie as tightly as you can to prevent the hook from escaping the loop.  Carry on driving your VW with acceleration confidence in style, and deliver the doll.  Viola!

 

Be sure and recommend me to your friends, now that you know how absolutely dreamy I am.  If they speak softly, or not at all, I’ll probably like them best too.

 

The bottom line is that this SURFy is tired and wondering if everyone else is too.

 

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo