2004-08-06 @ 11:42 p.m.
It’s funny, but today when I got this newsletter, I realized how lucky I am. What was the newsletter? It was a newsletter for Survivors of Sexual Abuse. Why did I feel lucky? Because I survived sexual abuse? Hell no. It was because I looked through the 8 page newsletter and realized it was 8 pages of whining. It had the word “Healing” on the cover, but there was no healing in it. It was merely a big pity-fest with catch phrases like:
...My heart is empty..it eats away at my soul....it gnaws at my insides...it shreds the fibers out of me...”
Yeah, yeah, yeah, we all feel like that, but having 8 pages of that shit staring at me was too much, so I threw it away. Yup! I just ripped it up into really, really tiny pieces and tossed it into the garbage can.
You go, Witty!
I know I complain an awful lot in my diary about not having things. And its true. I don’t have much money. I don’t have a love life....only an exuberant wish list where Married Guy is concerned. But I actually do have some stuff. I actually have a lot of stuff. And I’m not talking about my overflowing closets.
First of all, I have my health. I have a little problem with fibromylagia, but I totally kick its ass by walking 10-15 miles a week. Sure it hurts, but what doesn’t? Besides walking gets me out of the house. It gives me time to think about things. It good for my health. It helped me lose 45 pounds after I moved out of my mother’s house (the happiest day of my life, thus far! Although, on the mom guilt-o-meter..well, it actually broke the damn thing. But oh well. Everything has its price, and my freedom and happiness was worth a malfunctioning guilt-o-meter).
I also have a place to live, as opposed to living under a bridge. I admit I do get supremely annoyed at the air conditioning unit next to my bedroom, but considering the last place I lived had mold growing on virtually everything in the apartment and was causing both me and my cat health problems, not to mention considerable noise problems from my neighbors, this place is like a mansion. Plus I have a garden space, which is something I really enjoy doing in the summer.
I also have some really great friends and associates who keep me in an upright positions. First of all my friends. I’ve never had a huge array of them, but I’d much rather have quality over quantity anyways, right? Its funny but I don’t have any childhood friends since I moved from Florida at age 10 and I literally have no memories of my early childhood. Guess they were all blocked out since that was where I was abused.
So most of my friends were from my high school years in Northern California. And thank God for my transfer to a cool, somewhat progressive (at least compared to Catholic School) high school full of hippy types. That was really what shaped who I am today. (Thanks Elmo.) And that was also where I met one of my best friends “T”, a Japanese/Mexican chick. And man, we couldn’t have been more different. She was like Class President and head School Rah-Rah and I was hanging out in the band room making fun of the Class President and School Rah-Rahs, yet we still became friends because of our similar sense of humor and we’re still friends over thirty years later. Yay!
And then there was my fabulous gay friend “G” in Manhattan. He wasn’t always from Manhattan though. We grew up in the Little Apple, right “G”? His stepfather and my stepfather were brothers, so we were officially “step-cousins” but unofficially we were the bestest of friends, sharing a huge love of theatre and dance. But dammit, didn’t he have to go and be gay, otherwise we would have had the cutest, most creative, most brilliant children imaginable together. Definitely.
I also have “S”, who I met while working at Macys. She was an older woman, who sort of became the nice and kind surrogate mother I had always wished for but never gotten. We still write occasionally and she’s been to visit me on the East Coast about 4-5 times.
And then of course on the East Coast, I have Married Guy. Of course the other day “A” suggested that he is “the enemy”, but you sure can’t prove it by me. I actually met him when I got a gift certificate for a massage from a friend. We met at Bally’s Health Spa where he was renting a room, and he got to see me naked on our first meeting. Wasn’t he lucky? V.E.R.Y!! We’ve had our ups and downs, and I actually knew the freakin’ dork before he met his wife. What’s up with that? Why didn’t he ask me out? Well, I was a very different person than. I was at least fifty pounds heavier. I was without a speaking voice (long story). And I suffered from severe depression. And yet we STILL managed to strike up an enduring and loving friendship.
And I have the infamous “A”, my ever
Good old “A”. He was such a freakin’ hippy then. Long wild black curly hair. Big round John Lennon glasses. He’d rarely have shoes on and he’d sit with his legs hooked up over the top of his chair like an eight year old. He actually still does that. And I was very enchanted with him, because he was very kind and whimsical and he’d do things like unplug a computer on his desk and hand it to you, if you said your computer croaked. Good ol’ “A”. And although he has “matured” and gotten more corporate over the years, I still see him as my favorite hippy shrink who’d rather quote Austin Powers than Freud.
And lastly, I’d just like to say, I was lucky enough to grow up with some good looks. Truly. There’s no denying it. I had two good looking parents. I got the good DNA. I’m still working on believing it and all. And that’s certainly been a long haul. Believing in yourself is always hard work, especially when you’re a survivor. But, well, other than people telling me that I look like I’m pissed off all the time (I’m not, really...only if you tell me there’s no chocolate left.), I think I’m all right.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty