aftermath

Bucket Castles

~ Bon Steele ~ 4 Comments
One plastic scoop and a whole lotta building material.

I spent a lot of today sedated, in bed. Gave me some time to think. Know what you think about when you are recovering from conscious sedation? Your life. 🙂

It doesn’t make this a very profound post, I am afraid. But it is what was on my mind.

These are the things I want to do, to accomplish. Not just to cross them off some damn list but to do them. Note that these things are for me; they have no bearing on my being a mother, wife or student. Whether or not I actually ever accomplish them?  Doesn’t matter.
Never hurts to work toward something, does it though?

  • Travel – possibly live – outside the continental US
  • Live as a functional adult1 in a state other than Texas
  • Go to live music shows of the bands that I enjoy
  • Take Zumba/Zoomba/ZoomZoom(?) classes with a pod of friends
  • Publish a fiction novella. Maybe more
  • Meet President Obama, live and in person
  • Spin under a night sky in the center of Stonehenge
  • Party like a Jimmy Buffet for a week; starting in Nawlins and winding up in Cuba
  • Build the perfect garden and pool setup, with the ultimate deck to go with it
  • Grow my own veggies, enough that I don’t ever have to buy anything unless it’s something unique
  • Build the intentional community – everyone has their own house but its all within reasonable walking distance. Tribal raising of the kids, grands. Community defense, garden plots, and pool.

That’s all that I can think of right this moment. It’s late and my brain is exceedingly tired.

But I want to know…what is YOUR list? The ones that are important to you?

1 – I am not counting the years I lived with Greg$. I was not functional.

Buckshot Delivery

~ Bon Steele ~ 3 Comments

∴ Tomorrow is the day: Dental Mayhem. Halcion + two root canals in my lower canines (1 each) = a very, very nervous me.

Thank goodness for amnesiac drugs.1

 

∴  So, this weekend – particularly Saturday – sucked gangrenous donkey sack. I wish I could say that it someone else’s fault.

Saturday was the day that I have my Philosophy class. This Saturday past, I was in class taking a “quiz” that should have taken me all of thirty minutes to complete.

I, in fact, spent two hours with it and STILL did not get it done. Not even close. I was the only one left in the room, struggling with it. Finally, I just gave up and turned it in. Near tears and pretty much hating myself thoroughly, I went home. I spent the better part of the afternoon sobbing. I had not felt so completely and utterly useless/stupid/worthless in a very long while.

What, you might ask, was this Philosophy quiz over? What was so damn difficult for you? Isn’t there ‘no wrong answer’ in Philosophy?

I have no idea. We hadn’t gotten to the Philosophy portion of the course, yet. Instead, we were covering logic and formal language.

Something like this

These? These are notes taken directly from the board along with an example problem. When this was being explained, I could almost get what was being said. I asked questions, they got answered. And while I was parsing the information that had been told to me – the professor had moved onto another problem, another logic rule.

Don’t get me wrong. I liked my professor. He’s smart, funny, and dedicated to his craft.
I just didn’t grok his teaching style.

 

*SIGH*

I think it’s safe to say that I totally bombed that quiz.

Again – not felt that idiotic in a long while.

 

∴  Sunday was a far superior day. Sunday was game day. I am playing in a DnD 3.5 game. It is light-hearted, silly fun. Totally what I needed after Saturday’s fiasco.
My GM had written to say that we should come to game in costume. I took him at his word. Although, as I said to Mister Man, “He didn’t specify what sort of costume he wanted us to wear.”

You can't see it but I'm wearing a sort of gothy Tank Girl getup.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I felt pretty, the group had a blast and I got home in a fabulous mood. I finished up an essay for Critical Thinking and turned it in. Watched “Heart of Darkness: A Filmmaker’s Apocalypse” for class. Checked on some other grades (5/5 and 5/5 – woot!)

I feel ever so much better, today.

 

∴ — Today is more school and more buses (STANK!) and no eating after midnight and and and.

Today Agenda: Crush my enemies. See them driven before me. And to hear the lamentation of the bibliography. 2

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

∴  — Yep, I know.
1 – Which is just a horrible thing to say on Valentine’s day. :/
2 – Paraphrasing.  🙂

 

 

Trigger – Not Just a Horse, Today

~ Bon Steele ~ 2 Comments
Warning. Trigger.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do you know what rituals are? The linked Miriam-Webster definition is accurate but I prefer Wikipedia’s version: A ritual is a set of actions, performed mainly for their symbolic value.
Rituals have set meanings and observances. When you are frightened or desperate, patterns that you can cling to are important. Sometimes, you create them out of the blue. As a way to cope, maybe. Or a smokescreen. Or simply as handful of grass on the slippery slope of sanity.

These are the things that you do… these are rituals of safety. You do them to keep yourself physically or mentally safe. You keep them sacred and you survive.

If your ritual is touching all the ice cubes with a finger that just cleaned the toilet – and learning to love hot or room temperature beverages – because knowing they’re drinking toilet flavored tea helps keep you sane? You do it.

Or making sure that you are the first one up, to make breakfast – oatmeal, two lightly fried eggs, one patty sausage, two strips crispy bacon, two charred pieces of toast – so that your day doesn’t start out with violence? You do it.

If you keep a photo hidden away of the people who actually love you so that you can look at it when the house is empty so that you can remind yourself that you aren’t alone in this stupid world? You do it.

Dinner is always within fifteen minutes of being done when they walk in the door after work. You can hand them their perfectly rolled joint and a glass of chocolate milk as they settle in to wait. Any punitive “lessons” averted are worth it. You do it.

You do these rituals and you keep them sacred. But…

But.
For chrissakes, you be plotting and planning and calling for help (furtively, if you have to) and scheming on how to get the fuck up out of there.

You find a safe place to be. You surround yourself with love and acceptance and friends and healing and therapy.

It can be done.

I promise.

We don’t need a Day of Remembrance or a half month of activism against it.

We need this shit to stop.

—–

There is help. Yes. There is. Don’t say “even for me” — this help is especially for you. Because you deserve help. Because you are loved. Because no matter what anyone says – you are a terrific human being and you.are.loved.

Call or email the National Domestic Violence Hotline.

The National Feminist Majority Foundation will also be able to help.

Or if you think that someone you love is being abused – there are resources for you, too.

 

As a final thought: You matter. You matter. You matter. You matter.  You look in the mirror, into your eyes and you repeat that until you believe it.  And call or email or do whatever it takes to get yourself out of there and to a place of safety.