MATTERS OF THE HEART AND OTHER FAIRYTALES AND QUANDARIES

Often times little girls are misdirected into believing love is supposed to be some once upon a time fairytale just waiting to happen.  They read about love, dream about love and expect love to happen just as it's written. So what happens when those little girls get disillusioned and suffer from a broken heart? Some of them learn how to cope with real life while others become maniacal bitches who nag, manipulate and feel like they have to beg a man for his attention. They become willing to do anything just to be loved.  Yes, sometimes their lives become a scene right out of the movie, Fatal Attraction and when confronted with reality, they get insulted that anyone might think their behavior is erratic, illogical and just down right mean or insane at times. A snake has more warmth than a spurned woman and its bite is a lot less venomous. Doesn't the old saying go something like, "hell has no fury like a woman's scorn?"

What happened the first time you had mind-blowing sex with someone and they never called again? Hopefully, everyone is saying to themselves, "I don't have an answer to that question because I've never had a one night stand."  Hopefully, each one of you has had mind-blowing sex followed by years of unadulterated bliss with the same person or you haven't suffered the slings and arrows of unrequited love. Unfortunately, for some of us that doesn't happen.  Unfortunately, some of us have mind blowing sex and if anything follows at best, it might be a mind-blowing abusive relationship. Yep! Some of us allow ourselves to believe that we can conquer or fix anything and everything and each time we allow ourselves to remain oblivious to the writing on the wall, we get repeatedly hurt  Being blinded by false love only gives the green light for more abuse to occur.  Sure, we're afraid to walk away because we have a fear of the unknown. Because of that fear we allow our self-worth to be so badly beaten down that sometimes it becomes non-existent.  For the lucky ones when enough abuse occurs, our survival instinct finally kicks in and we get the hell out of Dodge quickly with our suitcase and what's left of our dignity in hand! But a crucial lesson we all have to learn is not to piss and moan continually about the Neanderthal we live with unless we're ready to stand up and do something about our situation.  Until we have the strength to help ourselves, we really can't expect people to support our decisions and to give us the empathy we need. Before then it's just another sad soap opera playing out and we are the drama queen extraordinaires.

Yep, I've been through it myself...looked down the barrel of a loaded gun more than once. Been tied up for a sessions of sexual fun and games only to end up having my breast used as an ashtray. The scar makes me shake my head and wonder what the hell I was thinking then...obviously I wasn't thinking and didn't have much self-respect or self-worth.  The definition of insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly with the expectation of a different result. Well, quite a long time ago I decided to get off that roller coaster ride and walk on flat ground again.  It was then I decided that the insanity I was living really wasn't appealing and I deserved a better life even if that better life meant being alone and as I always say being alone is a much better place to be than being with the wrong person...and a much safer place! Finding the courage to admit that and then actually removing myself from the game long enough for me to reevaluate my priorities and needs wasn't easy to do, but I did it because I knew I was long overdue for a change.  The insanity, the drama, the turmoil and the negativity had to stop!  Now, after 9 long years of being out of the relationship/dating game, I'm slowly getting to know someone again that I knew when I was a young girl before all the madness began.  Time will tell what happens, but until then at least now I know what I do and don't want and need and I have the courage to walk away if I see any red flags.  The hardest thing for me right now isn't telling myself that I'm worthy of getting to know.  It's believing it!

Repost from June 24, 2014

UPDATE: Here it is January 9, 2023, I'm still floating free in the cosmos amongst the other galactic matter...

30 TRUTHS IN 30 DAYS - DAY TWENTY-NINE

Truth #29: As a young person, we all think we are invincible. We can survive on alcohol, junk food, drugs and practically no sleep and be ready to go do it all over again the next day. The abuse we put ourselves through both physically and mentally isn't something we ever give much thought to until something happens to us or to someone we love. As we get older that abuse catches up to us in the form of health problems. Most of us learn the hard way that we have to take care of our bodies. We have to eat right and exercise. We have to stay hydrated with water and not booze or Coke. Those bad habits like smoking, alcohol and drugs, take their toll in enormous ways on our bodies and on our personal lives and relationships. If we don't part ways with them, they will devour us and unfortunately, be our demise. 

Here are a few things that usually develop as a result of neglecting our bodies:

Heart problems: Alcohol and most drugs are linked to heart and blood vessel problems. This can lead to irregular heartbeat, heart attack, stroke, and death.

Dental problems: Many different substances cause dental problems, like dry mouth and tooth decay.

Lung problems: Smoking or inhaling drugs can damage your lungs and increase your risk for lung problems like bronchitis or lung cancer.

Infections: Injecting drugs increases your risk of infections like HIV, hepatitis, or heart and skin infections. Drug use can also weaken your immune system, making you more vulnerable to infections.

Kidney damage: Some drugs can damage your kidneys directly or make them have to work harder than normal.

Liver damage: Alcohol and drugs can damage your liver, especially when combined.

Mental health problems: Many drugs can worsen or cause new mental health problems like depression or anxiety.

Cancer: Cigarettes and alcohol have been linked to different types of cancer. 

[I'd like to dedicate this post to my biological father who died at 58 years old from complications of what years of alcoholism and smoking 3 packs of non-filtered cigarettes daily did to his body.]

30 TRUTHS IN 30 DAYS - DAY TWENTY-ONE

Truth #21: Variety is the spice of life. Yes, some people can take this concept a bit too far and get themselves in a lot of trouble with it especially regarding relationships, but in general it makes life much more interesting. Think about how boring everything would be if everyone thought the same way, acted the same way and did everything exactly alike. We would be nothing more than clones of each other! We would have no room for debate or for learning new things from one another. One of the things I enjoy the most in a new relationship of any type is the getting to know a person stage. This stage always allows me to broaden my horizons by teaching me new things and exposing me to new ideas and new interests I didn't have before. I've read books, listened to music, watched shows and movies, met people and gone places I never would have if I had closed myself off from the idea of variety being the spice of life and other people being the instrument leading me to that spice. Sometimes you just have to open your heart and mind in order to get a little spicy... 

30 TRUTHS IN 30 DAYS - DAY THIRTEEN

Truth #13: Relationships do not thrive on neglect. I see it all the time...two people get together and they're the perfect fit, the perfect couple. They have everything going for them and then BAM! Everything goes to Hell. It's simple. They got caught up in their own hype and thought their relationship didn't require any work when in reality all relationships require work.  Your relationship with your significant other is a work in progress until the day you die. The day you stop working on your relationship is the day you should go sign the divorce papers or just call it quits altogether. Relationships require comunication and honesty regardless of what a person may think. Yes, there are going to be difficult times and times where just looking at the person is going to make you want to pull your hair out but it isn't the fact that you love the person that gets you through a difficult time, it's the fact the you LIKE that person and that you RESPECT that person. It's the bond you have with that person that gets you through the hard stuff. It's knowing that no matter what, you can talk to that person about anything. If you have someone you can share anything with and I mean the most intimate details of your life without hesitation knowing that person will still accept you for who you are and they won't turn their back on you, then you need to hold that person close to your heart always because that person is a true gift that doesn't happen often.

IS LOVE JUST ANOTHER FOUR LETTER WORD?

I could probably write a whole dissertation on the unfairness of love, but I won't. I could rant on about how many mistakes we all make in relationships. I'll let that slide, also. What I discovered or should I say rediscovered is that some love doesn't fade. It smolders unnoticed and unattended and then it takes only a word...a thought...a touch to ignite the fire that once was. That realization made me both happy and sad. When something is right, it remains right. It withstands the horrible disappointments and remains honest and open regardless of past scars. There is no fear in letting the person know how you feel even at the risk of those feelings being unreciprocated. Love is brave and foolhardy all in the same moment. 

Imagine a tree reaching upward towards the sky...arms open...strong and ready to embrace any of the sky's unpredictability and to weather any storm. Limbs break, leaves fall, yet the tree still stuggles to live and grow. There's a quiet place deep inside that harbors that special love against the unfairness and mistakes. It sits patiently awaiting... believing in love itself. That place transcends the obstacles and sometimes in a few rare cases where the people are bold enough to take a chance and to make their dreams into reality, they seek the love that safely lives in the shadows. 

They fearlessly bring it out into the sunlight together. Then it no longer exists only in dreams or in the stillness of all the 4 a.m.'s spent alone remembering, hungering for a touch that once made each day filled with passion and laughter. Something inside me awakened as it has in the past. It smiled and my eyes twinkled for a moment before it retreated back into the safety of the darkness within my cave.

*Repost from March 31, 2010

CAN MILDRED COME OUT TO PLAY?

I haven't been feeling well for the last few days and in one of my "spleeny" (it's a Maine word meaning whiny) rants to a friend of mine about an old boyfriend, I had a lightbulb moment. No, it was more like a holy shit moment.  All of a sudden all the stupid, wasted, self-destructive relationships I've had made sense. It didn't make me feel any better, but at least it made me see why I had taken the path I had taken. 

Being sexually abused as a child severely fractured me and distorted my image of what relationships should be like. I grew up pretty clueless. And since my abuse went unchecked and like many sexual abuse victims I kept it hid. I buried it and blamed myself for it happening. I never felt like I deserved to be loved. I truly felt unworthy of having anything good or wholesome in my life. It's sad for any child to grow up feeling like that. At the time I didn't have the foresight to see the direction that was going to take me and no one seemed to want to enlighten me. As I got older, I did drugs to numb me and then I became promiscuous, but strangely enough I never connected the dots. I always gravitated to men who wouldn't love me like I needed to be loved or deserved to be loved. I lived a self-fulfilling prophecy to prove my unworthiness. If any good guys paid me any attention, I passed them by like they had the plague. I just wasn't interested in what they were selling. I found nice guys boring and sedate. What I thought I needed was something that was going to set my hair on fire and make me teeter on the edge of insanity. What a waste of time and energy that was! I should have gone with the dude offering the house and the white picket fence instead!

I have spent a lifetime proving to myself that I'm not worth anything. I'm not worth loving. I'm not worth having a decent relationship with because I believed I'm not a decent human being. That really makes me sad that I have done that to myself, but what makes me sadder is that the people who love me...my family never have questioned why I have done this to myself. Or why no therapist has ever questioned it? Why hasn't anyone simply said STOP IT? Just stop it and try something different because your way isn't working? Now, I'm afraid I don't know how to start over and do things differently. I don't know how to feel differently or be different. I know I should. I know anyone who has put themselves in timeout for 17 years has a HUGE problem, but here I sit. It's safe! No one can hurt me. I'm isolated!

Recently, I started to do the online dating thing, but only to find out that 95% of the people on the site aren't even who they say they are. The other 5% may be the nicest people in the world, but for one reason or another just don't appeal to me. Let's face it! We all have preferences. So for now I put that great idea on hold! I'm not going to say my time has passed because I don't have a crystal ball and I can't see into the future.  But I do know I am a bonafide freak magnet and until I can figure out how to curb that and how to trust my own choices in what appeals to me then I need to stay in time out for a while longer. 

WHEN KARMA IS KIND

When a person gets to a certain point in their life making new friends and expanding their inner circle usually doesn't happen often. I have a handful of close friends that I've been through the trenches with at various times for various reasons who I would say know me better than anyone else. These people are my soul sisters...the sisters I never had in real life. Have I had close male friends? Of course! I still do, but until recently (within the last year) I've never met anyone who reached the "soul sister" status until this person. 

The connection I have made with this person is quite odd because first it came completely out of the blue for both of us. It's a bit on the serendipitous side. Neither of us sought it out. It just happened! The connection was instant and quite powerful...almost as if we were being drawn together by some unseen force. The funny part about it is that I don't feel a bit uncomfortable telling him personal things about myself because he doesn't judge me. I think he sees me for who I am and he thinks that person is okay. And I feel the same way about him. We both may be damaged people, but the pain we feel is shared pain. Somehow we've found comfort in knowing each other.

I've only had that type of acceptance from so few people in my life that it feels odd and mysterious at times, but I've grown not to question it, but to embrace it for what it is...a true gift. I hate to use this word because I'm not a religious person, but I feel blessed. I know things happen for a reason and sometimes we never find out those reasons...this may be one of those times where I'm just supposed to sit back and enjoy the ride and not over analyze it and pick it apart (that's a Virgo thing to do, by the way) If something jumps we have to know how far it jumped and why it jumped and if it'll jump again.

Years ago when I was in so much emotional pain, my ego had been completely destroyed when I left Texas as an empty shell. That's all I was. I was no more than one of the walking dead when I returned to Pensacola. Now 17 years later the universe seems to want to right itself by sending a kind, gentle voice from Texas to touch those painful places in me and help fade the scars that have held me prisoner and made me believe I'm not worth very much as a human being. How do you thank someone other than just by giving them a heartfelt thank you and by being there for them when they need you?  I often wonder if he has any idea what impact he has had on my overall psyche this past year. If not, I'm sure he'll get an inkling when he reads this blog post.

ME TOO! PART ONE

You see it time and time again. Some woman, any woman, maybe even some woman you may know personally experiences any sort of sexual assault and as soon as she gets the courage to speak out about her experience, she's immediately confronted with opposition instead of support. Sexual assault/abuse comes in many forms (anything from some unwanted groping to being raped) and every form of sexual abuse/assault causes permanent scars. These scars aren't visible. The scars a woman carries with her from sexual abuse have been hidden away, yet under close scrutiny those scars are worn with everything she thinks, she feels and she does. All one needs to do is open their eyes and see the pain.

I totally understand why it takes some women years to be able to speak about their experience. I understand the years of self-hatred and shame they bear. I understand the feeling of knowing how speaking out will open an ugly can of worms devouring maggots and once it's open, it can't ever be closed again. I understand the feeling of knowing how some people will think you have an over active imagine, you just want to cause trouble and of course, some people will do the worst thing possible. They'll pity you and try to keep you in the "victim" box. It's especially damaging to anyone who has managed to move past being a victim to be constantly stuffed back in that cold, dark box by everyone around them.

I understand being reluctant to say anything because once you say anything, a barrage of questions follow. How could something like that happen? Are you sure it happened that way? Why has it taken you so long to say something? Why didn't you just say no? Why don't you remember all the gory details? Being the center of attention is the last thing anyone who has been sexually assaulted wants.

I understand how people question how it's possible to forgive the person who assaulted you. Forgiveness has little to do with  the person who caused you pain. It has more to do with taking back your power and allowing yourself to heal. In order to do that forgiveness is required. That forgiveness includes forgiving yourself for being too weak to stop the assault or for putting yourself in harm's way. How many times do you hear "well, she asked for it?" No one asks to be sexually abused unless they're a masochist. For most, sexual abuse is a horrifying, crippling experience and it takes a lifetime to heal.

Imagine in some cases having someone you know and trust sexually assault you. Imagine not knowing who to tell or how to tell someone because you don't know if anyone will believe you. Imagine feeling conflicted about saying anything because you know if you say anything it will cause pain for the person who assaulted you. Why in hell should that matter? Trust me, it does matter, A twisted sense of loyalty can form to protect the person who assaulted you if you know and love that person, but along with a twisted sense of loyalty a permanent sense of dread forms as well. If someone who's supposed to love you would harm you in that way, then what is the rest of the world going to do to you? What are all those faceless nameless individuals who don't care about you going to do? You feel as long as you protect your abuser, you protect yourself as well.

Being constantly on guard takes its toll on a person. Sometimes the person lets that guard down and says "what the hell!" Some people become promiscuous as a way to deal with their pain. They see having sex as a way of being in control. So the more sex you have, the more control you have. Some people turn to drugs and/or alcohol to numb the pain. In the end, nothing works. The pain stays with you staring you in the face each and every day.

I understand that it's an ugly topic to discuss. People who have been subjected to sexual abuse would like nothing more than to keep that ugliness hidden away, but the longer it's hidden away, it festers and affects how you look at the world. It affects every relationship you have and often times, it prevents you from having a lasting relationship. Many people who go through this experience spend their entire life seeking something they just don't know how to have or where to find it.

* reposted from 9/18/18

DRIPPING ON MY KEYBOARD

I first became aware of my grandparent's disappointment of me when I was a teenager. It was deserved, but it still hurt when my grandfather told me his dog was better than me. I had done some horrible things and yes, I had deserved scorn, but I didn't deserve cruelty.  Now, as an adult I look back on that part of my life and I wonder why no one stepped up and saw that I was in crisis. I was struggling. Jesus, I had my first overdose back then. Was it so hard to figure out I had some serious problems? I'm not excusing my behavior because I was incorrigible. I hurt many people and I'm deeply ashamed of that and always will be.

Whenever I would go "home" to Maine I always spent one day visiting my deceased relatives.  My brothers always thought this was rather morbid of me, but it never struck me that way.  I ways grabbed some lunch at a fast food place and ate lunch with my father, grandfather, grandmother and aunt.  They were all buried next to each other in the same cemetery.  On one such visit, I had had an emotional awakening the entire time I was in Maine.  My feelings were raw and I needed to vent so sitting there in front of my father and grandparents who were all non-participating entities in my life growing up I blasted them with everything I had.  I'm glad I was alone because if anyone had been in earshot, they would have thought I was crazy.  My final words to my father were, "Carl Goggins, are you listening to me?" Of course, he wasn't!  He had been dead for over 30 years at that time.  My words fell on deaf ears and my tears fell on stone marker bearing his name.

My next stop was to visit my mother's parents. My heart was so heavy because I knew what a disappointment I had been to them and I had just come from having "words" with my father.  I wish I had been able to say I'm sorry to them while they were still alive.  I wish they had known the turmoil I felt inside me growing up.  I wish they knew the panic I felt.  I wish they knew that I felt I had nowhere to go and no one to talk to and how trapped I felt.  I had to keep everything inside and for a child that's a huge burden.  Eventually it's going to erupt and it did erupt.  When it did, all everyone saw was a kid acting bad and not one person questioned why I was acting that way.  I don't think anyone cared or wanted to know because no one wanted to take any responsibility.

I pulled into the small cemetery where my grandparents are buried and got out of the car.  But instead of going to their grave, I stopped dead in my tracks. On top of their headstone was a huge roll of duct tape.  There wasn't a soul in the small cemetery and why would someone leave a roll of duct tape on my grandparents headstone?  I started laughing because I have a "thing" about duct tape and I took it as my father's answer that he was listening to me. I took the roll and sat down with my grandparents and told them I was sorry for being a disappointment to them and I wept.  It hurt to say that.  It hurts to admit that I hurt so many people that I loved and I wasn't able to tell them I was sorry while they were alive.

Now, let me fast forward to the present day...my mother is 92.  I love her dearly, but we've had a what I'll call a "ruffled" relationship my entire life.  It's never been smooth.  I'm her only daughter, but I've always wondered things like why she never sat me down at a certain age and showed me how to put make up on or how to style my hair, etc. when she herself dressed to the nines and looked like a model whenever she left the house. The other day I sat down in hopes that with the time we have left together that I might try to mend our relationship somewhat and make it smoother by offering an apology.  It was so difficult for me to hand her the olive branch, but I did it. I told her that I was so sorry that I wasn't the daughter that she needed and wanted me to be.  I told her that I really wanted us to enjoy what time we had left together and that I didn't want us to keep butting our heads together all the time (that's a story for another day.) I said I didn't want to be a disappointment to her any longer. My mother sat there without any reaction whatsoever while I wept and said nothing. She said nothing. She said nothing and she has said nothing about it since. End of discussion.

I can't even begin to describe the emotions that have flooded through me lately. I feel as though she continually punishes me for things I did long ago. I know karma is a bitch, but when is enough enough? When have you paid your dues? When are you truly forgiven? I can't help, but feel that my mother's silence is her way of being cruel because at 92 she's limited in what she can actually do now. I mean she can't whack the hell out of me with a hairbrush or a wooden spoon. Oh, I guess she could try, but I'm a little faster than her. I really hate to say that I think it's her way of being cruel  because I do love her. Jesus Christ! Now, I'm crying again! And I have to go find some meme to fit this stupid ass whiny post. Blah! Blah! Blah! Oh Mildred! Dry it up! Go get a Kleenex! You're dripping all over the keyboard!

By the way, I still have that huge roll of duct tape my father gave me and I use it quite often.  Each time I use it, I think of him and I actually thank him. The last time was to tape a hole worn in the fingers of my favorite pair of gardening gloves. Don't say "get a new pair!"  I've looked and they don't make that exact same pair and that's the pair I want so when I wear a hole in the fingers...duct tape it is! Thank you, Carl Goggins!

Can I get an Amen up in here?

Addendum: written 10/23/2022 Sunday morning - My mother passed away almost six months after I wrote this blog post on 6/1/2020. Although I'm much better now grieving has been a difficult process and finding purpose in life after being a caregiver for two elderly parents for the better part of two decades of my life has been challenging. When the options are limitless, how does one choose what to do?

THE MEAT MARKET

Listen up! I have not been on a date since 2005! OMG! I really can't believe I'm even considering doing this but here I go...After long and careful deliberation, I've decided to give dating another try. I'll probably throw in the towel and run for cover and regret doing this, but for now, I've made up my mind and I'm going to at least give it a try. How bad can it be, right? Oh please, don't answer that because I already know the answer. 

I remember the last time I did this and it was a long time ago. Look after you reach a certain point in your life, your dating prospects dwindle and the likelihood of meeting that diamond in rough is a long shot. I'm going into this with my eyes wide open because I know I'm damaged goods so like me I'm choosing from a bunch of damaged goods. I'm just hoping to find someone I can mesh well with and who doesn't try to either tell me I'm doing everything wrong in my life or that doesn't immediately sweep me off my feet only to disappoint me five minutes later by being a total loser. 

Semi-normal would be nice! Not on a bunch of psychiatric meds ...sorry that was my ex-husband and thanks but no thanks! I'm tired to being a caregiver! I want someone I can just enjoy life with and feel like I can finally exhale. Tall...intelligent with a great sense of humor and a sense of adventure. Definitely has to be open-minded. Looks aren't really that important to me but sure, it'd be nice to have someone that wasn't fugly. I'm not going to lie. We're all visual creatures and of course, we like to enjoy what we look at. I'm not even going to worry about the physical stuff because I figure that'll either click or it won't. If it doesn't it's back to the drawing board...

Wish me luck! I'm off to races or the meat market! lol

CHRISTMAS WITH THE WALTONS

I wish I could take credit for this story but alas, it is not one of Mildred's. It was written in 2006 and is titled Christmas, Family and Porn but is still worthy of reposting reading today in my most humble opinion. There's no need to worry because it contains ABSOLUTELY NO PORN so you won't need to cover your eyes! lol

It’s a few days before Christmas and I’m visiting my sister. My brother-in-law’s mother lives with them in a very nice suite in the basement, she is however in California for the holidays. My Dad and step mom are visiting from California and occupying the guest room. Bare with me folks because sleeping arrangements figure into the story.

After dinner, conversation, and libations we all head off to bed. I get the mother-in-law suite. I get into bed and notice someone is still up and watching an action film in the home theater room. Now, I don’t have to tell you, but I will, it’s a tad loud and booming through the walls. In the spirit of the holidays, I decide I’ll just watch the tube until whoever goes to bed. My sister’s house has like a million TV channels. Poor peasant that I am I don’t even have HBO. I’m flipping through channels, there’s Harry Potter, nah, then Dexter, nah, half over and then the show REAL SEX, bingo! Like most folks I find sex mildly interesting so I’m gonna watch.

This particular segment was about the company Real Dolls who manufacture those $7,000 sex dolls. Well they have finally come out with a male doll. I will refer to the doll as Beach Boy Bob or Bob. All products must test marketed and this one is no exception. The company hired three “experts” (porn stars) to run Bob through his paces. So I’m watching. Now this probably a good time to mention that the bathroom connected to the suite has a second entrance from the hall. I hear the door open from the hall. I’ve left the light on in the bath so I can see. Into the bathroom walks my brother-in-law and he appears to fishing in his sweats for his little soldier. He notices the sounds coming from the room and begins to wander in asking, “Hey who’s in here?” I say, “It’s just me.” His attention moves from the bed to the TV where one “expert” has mounted Bob and the other two are helping her so to speak. The action is at a fever pitch. I say, I’m watching that show Real Sex. I say this as if that will make it clear that I’m not just watching any old porn but the classy HBO kind of porn. My brother-in-law gets a look of embarrassed horror on his face, a look that screams my eyes, my eyes, and in my mother’s bed. He tries to quickly retreat from the room and close the door behind him. Unfortunately, for both of us, I have hung some of my clothes on the door and they are preventing it from closing. They fall to the floor, he picks them up, places them back on the door and tries to close it again, and they fall to the floor again. In frustration, he throws the clothes onto the lazy boy and slams the door.

I find the whole thing hysterically funny and I can’t wait to tell everyone in the morning. My sister refers to this episode as, THE INCIDENT THAT DARE NOT SPEAK IT”S NAME. My brother-in-law claims that his therapy will be very expensive and I won’t find the bill so funny. So how was your Christmas?

I'll have to admit after reading this post, I was curious as to whether there have been any advances since 2006 and was surprised to find out they have all sorts of devices and gadgets to blow one's mind sexually! They even have robots for those who can afford them. Color me old-fashioned, but it makes me wonder if people even want to have sex the tradional way or some variation of it any more or if it's all about games, gimics, toys and marital aids? Geez! Maybe I need to go back to that website and have another look-see! lol 

MY HERO

I awoke this morning needing exactly this post written by daughter years ago. As I read the words she wrote about me, I wept knowing how lately I have failed miserably to live up to her words by sinking into some self-imposed abyss. Honestly, I don't know if I have the courage or the strength to pull myself from the crevise in which I've fallen. I may need Lassie to come bring me a rope to help hoist me out of here...

"Wimpy Daughter" aka Christina was given an assignment to write a paper about her hero for one of her college classes 7 years ago (2004). The following is the paper she wrote:

By definition a hero is somebody who is admired and looked up to for outstanding qualities or achievements, somebody who commits acts of remarkable bravery or who has shown great courage, strength of character or another admirable quality. I find all these traits in my hero. "Try to picture a person who stands apart from the crowd who sees things not in black or white, but in varying shades of gray. Try to picture a person who closes their eyes and hears the beat of a different drummer, then marches proudly and eagerly away to do their own thing regardless of the consequences or popular opinion. Try to picture a person who is not a polished gem, but a diamond in the rough...someone who believes true beauty is in the eyes of the beholder and that the best things in life are free." (an excerpt from blogsite, Abnormally Normal People written by Red Kitten aka Mildred Ratched) When I picture this person, I see my mother and she is my hero.

Ever since I was little, I always knew my mother was different. It was not until I grew up that I later could appreciate the “difference” in her versus the stereotypical normal mother everyone else seemed to have. My mother raised us to be leaders not followers, to chart our own destiny and to be no one’s fool. This was daunting to a young child whose only desire was to fit in and have what everyone else had, a normal mom. My mother always taught my two brothers and me that the mind was a wonderful thing and we should use it. As far back as I can remember, probably to when I was three, I was told, “you are a smart person, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” Now I realize that all mothers will tell their children that, but most would not have done what she did. She let us use those brains instead of thinking for us. She told us that God gave us a brain and to use it, if we made a mistake or got into trouble we were to use our brain and figure out a solution. We had to, she was not going to suffer our foolishness and molly coddle any of us. Does this make her different? At the time I certainly thought so. When all my friends bragged about their parents giving them the answers to homework problems, kids picking on us at school or about how so and so parents was screaming at someone about their child’s actions my mother sat back and said to us, “You figure it out.” How I hated that, I wanted normal so bad and I didn’t have it, but it taught us to use those brains and boy did we figure it out.

Normalcy was not ever in abundance with my mother. Living in an area where racial slurs were the norm, my mother taught us to respect everyone equally as a human being regardless of skin color. She taught us to look beneath the surface of a person’s outer skin and find the true essence of who that person really was. I never knew what racial discrimination was until I became an adult and heard it. It was shocking to realize that the person making those remarks was so narrow minded. I guess witnessing such narrow mindedness opened my eyes to the fact that once again my mother defied what was normal and instead of seeing things in the standard black and white, she saw those gray areas. I never realized as I was growing up that she taught us from those gray matters more than from the black and white. As a young child I was allowed to watch what I wanted to on television. Most parents shudder to think what a child would choose, not my mother; she just sat back and allowed us to make those choices on our own. Instead of choosing stupidly we chose wisely and by doing so were taught a valuable lesson, the reward system. If you show that I can trust you, I will extend your freedom, but if you mess up you lose that freedom. I can honestly say our freedom wasn’t yanked away very often.

My mother will never be a polished gem; she will always be a diamond in the rough. Like an uncut diamond she has many flaws that I once saw as imperfections and now badges of courage, lack of selfishness and a kindness that is so overwhelmingly generous. I was taught it is better to give than to receive and always thought, "you’ve got to be kidding, right? You can’t really believe that bull!" But time and time again, we learned through her actions she meant just that. Her kindness and generosity to family as well as strangers will linger forever in my mind. What I saw as a weakness in character, thinking she was being taken advantage of, was an error on my part. You can only be taken advantage of if you let someone do so and she never allowed that. She showed strength in choosing to help those in need instead of doing the easier thing and ignoring them. She did without when others needed because she felt they needed more than she did. She didn’t just talk to us about these things, we saw her doing them time and time again. My mother taught us about the beauty found in the art of giving, the courage to love when you wanted to hate, to be strong when you wanted to be weak and to have the strength to go on when you feel that you are failing.

Christina (Wimpy Daughter) and Karen (Mildred Ratched)

My mother has not lived an easy life. The choices she has made are choices she has to bear, but bear them she does. Sometimes in frustration, in wishing she had done different, sometimes with laughter as she recalls a happy moment, but however she does it, she always bears them with honesty. She explains, not lectures, about her mistakes she has made along the way, in hopes that we will not have to go through the same things. I don’t look at them as mistakes though, because without the things she has witnessed and gone through herself, she would not be the person she is today and that person is my hero.

 Repost and edited from 12/01/2011

THE ART OF BRIDGE BUILDING

Have you ever given any thought to the bridges you build with other people? We all build bridges with people with whom we associate and depending upon our skills as a master craftsman is how sturdy the bridge will be. Factors like the length of the relationship and the nature of the relationship also play a big part in bridge building process. Keep in mind also, that as we build our side of the bridge, the lanes going the other way may not be constructed at the same speed and with the same materials. 

Once a bridge is completed we then have the pleasure of traveling across it. That journey should never be taken blindly because we may miss spots that require additional work and reinforcement. The other side of the bridge reveals new destinations to move towards and carries an element of the unknown, yet the bridge itself holds a sense of security and familiarity because each step of the way was designed and hand-crafted by us. A bridge is our work of art and sometimes our legacy. So we should take great pride it what we built. 

Sometimes we burn bridges to end a relationship and other times we hang an Under Construction sign on it while repairs are taking place. The destruction or reconstruction effort depends solely upon the amount of damage done and our priorities. Keep in mind some bridges can’t be repaired and once a bridge is burned we can’t cross it ever again. Sometimes we get the opportunity at some future date to rebuild the bridge. It’s up to us if we devote our time and effort into that endeavor. I highly recommend not building the same type of bridge as before, but a new and improved model that is resistant to past damages and flaws. 

Sometimes what becomes confusing to us is when we have built a bridge and try to surpass its capacity. A hemp bridge over a dangerous ravine might be functional, but hardly the type of bridge you’d carry a heavy load across or travel across quickly. The durable bridges made of steel and concrete are the ones that withstand the test of time and are made for strenuous journeys. Hemp bridges become easily frayed and worn, while more durable bridges seem to last a lifetime with less maintenance required. Just as it may take a whole village to raise a child, it takes a whole crew to build a bridge. As long as you treat the crew right and reward them justly, the bridge you build will be a masterpiece. 

Gratitude statement: While I have to shamefully admit to building some rather flimsy bridges at times, the bridges that matter most to me are the ones that have withstood the true test of time. 

2005! 2005! 2005! 2005! 2005!

Over time I’ve come to the realization that I’ve possibly never been more than just a blip on anyone’s radar because I doubt any man has ever truly loved me.  No, this isn’t self-pity waving its flag in some horrific surrender. Perhaps it’s more aptly named self-realization and I blame no one other than myself for this happening throughout my lifetime. Who else can I blame? I certainly can’t blame someone else for not loving me. No, the fault lies with only me. It’s that ornery, independent streak in me that keeps decent men at bay. Oh yes, the ones that claim to have been attracted to me for my independent nature seem to only want to change me once they deem they have "captured" me. They feel I no longer need to be that way. Thus I should change or "tone it down" a little and become someone I no longer recognize as myself.  Of course, I've always strongly resisted and often become offended at the thought of relying on anyone when the intent wasn't to change me, but to help make my life easier or better. 

Is that how the game is played? Is that why I'm still alone? Do I not know how to compromise? Do I not know how to properly blend? Instead of allowing myself to need someone I push all decent, rational men away and invite the freaks and losers in like it’s open season at a Turkish bazaar. I get used and abused until there's nothing left. I can’t ever let myself feel or seem too vulnerable to a man who wants or needs a real relationship. What I do instead is make horrible choices that end in disaster that would make most people cringe in utter whatthefuckery.  

From an early age I convinced myself that the only men who would want me are ones who are severely damaged and broken to the point they can't be repaired. I never believed I was worthy of anything good or long lasting, so why would I ever look in that other neighborhood? I convinced myself that neighborhood was boring! I always went slumming on bad boy side of town. And then one day I totally gave up!!! I just stopped. I said no more! While extremely stimulating as it might be, relationships don’t thrive on insanity or neglect. So I said I’m not doing this any longer. That’s how it’s been ever since.  I've been in time out since 2005. Would I like to find someone? Absolutely! Do I trust my own judgment? Absolutely not! So, until I get a panel of fully qualified judges capable of selecting an appropriate significant other for me I guess I’m up the creek without a paddle. It’s me, myself and I! Wouldn’t it be nice if a good guy just would tell me to shut the fuck up and deal with it because he loves me? Ha! If it were only that simple! If only there were someone that brave!

I’ve been married twice and I would wager neither man could tell anyone when my birthday is, what my favorite color is, what my bra size is, what my favorite season of the year is and who my favorite author is.  That may be hard to believe but it’s true. In fact, I doubt they know much about me at all. This inner turmoil I feel now has finally allowed me to see something from another perspective than my own. Yes, it made me feel much smaller and insignificant but I can accept being smaller and less significant if it allows me to finally see the truth about myself because that’s where the true freedom lies. I can accept that role because sometimes we aren’t meant to play a lasting role in a person’s life.  

In the past I've referred to myself as an emotional cutter, someone who tears the scab off an old wound just so she can feel something…anything. I think my life has become so blah, so nothing that ripping that scab off is an act of final desperation to feel even if feeling is just to feel some old emotional pain.  Who does that? Why do that? Is feeling something that important? OMG! I'm so ashamed of myself!

Why not go for the gusto and feel happy for a change? Yes, for a change I think I’d like that, but I’m clueless and don’t know where to begin or how to begin. It seems like such a foreign concept that it makes me ashamed to admit that where love is concerned I’m a complete novice. Just the thought of the whole process scares the hell out of me.  But will I allow that fear to continue to paralyze me? I need to make some changes. I need to first make a commitment to myself before I can make one to anyone else.  The time is now to move forward into the future or be buried by the past.  Too many bones have weighed me down for too long! It’s time sling those bones aside and rejoin the land of the living. 

Okay, Mildred one foot in front of the other, Take baby steps if you have to, but damn it, move forward! It's way past time... It's time to hit one out of the park and make the crowds go wild or at least make yourself go wild with some real happiness for a change. Just keep telling yourself everyday when you wake up 2005! 2005! 2005! 2005! 2005! If that doesn't motivate you, nothing will.

FOREVER YOUNG

I just realized something. The thought really did just pop into my head from out in the cosmos somewhere floating amongst the galactic matter that I, Mildred Ratched have gotten old.  How this happened I don't quite know. I'm puzzled! Confused! Vexed! Flummoxed! Just good old plain mind-blown. I have become THAT OLD WOMAN who bitches and criticizes and complains. When did I start disliking people so much? Is it everyone that I dislike? Am I becoming a crabby troglodyte again? I'll really start to worry if I feel the urge to paint my bedroom Bohemian Red like my previous "cave" was painted. When did I get old? It seems like it happened overnight. Yesterday, I was young and vibrant and today, I'm The Sea Hag. My body doesn't seem to know what muscle tone and tight flesh means anymore. Things grow where they shouldn't and stuff falls out that I wish would stay put. I'm the female version of Archie Bunker, except I'm more pitiful because I don't have anyone to call "Meathead" and unfortunately, Mildred doesn't have a "Judith" or a "Jack/John/Joe or who really cares"...that is, unless one of you dear creatures want to fix me up so I'll have someone of my very own to love, honor and abuse.  I'll bring my own recliner and remote control, of course. Geez! It sounds like a righteous deal to me and on a good day I might even cook a meal. What more could anyone dream for or expect from a relationship? 

AN EMOTIONAL CUTTER'S LIFE - PART I

My mother used to tell me that I was so shy when I was a little girl that I would cry if a stranger would look at me. I really can't imagine living a life where I felt like that, but lucky for me, I have no conscious memories of being that way or feeling that way. I eventually blossomed when I started school. I discovered I had a mouth. The gift of gab was magically bestowed upon me and I transformed into a storyteller and the class clown all rolled into one lanky-legged little girl. 

My safe place growing up was never at "home."  My safe place was in an imaginary world I had created in my bedroom where I could transport myself to other realms and be other people or things. It was easy! I'd just open the door to my pink wooden closet on wheels, carefully push the buttons I had drawn on the inside of the wooden door, climb inside the closet, shut the door and transport myself somewhere else. Then, instantly off I'd go on my merry way. It was like reading a book, but only better until my mother would holler for me or at me...and out of the pink closet on wheels I would come. Blasted back to reality with a thud, I would jump out of the closet with a half-glazed look on my face. Undoubtedly, I had done something wrong...yet again! I would sigh and trudge my way downstairs to find out what I had done wrong this time and suffer the consequences.

I can't say I really know what love is because it's not something I've ever received in abundance. That's not being said from a place of self-pity, but it's a statement of fact pure and simple. My childhood was no better or worse than many girls or boys who grow up in alcoholic families. I struggled from having a distorted self-image that continually convinced me how ugly I was coupled with the negativity that was always shouting at me telling me I wasn't worthy of being loved. I was awkward. I felt stupid and I just wanted to be one of those pretty girls. My self-image was reinforced by how I was treated by my family. My mother never took me under her wing and molded me into a "girlie girl."  Isn't that what a mother should do with her only daughter? For Christ sake, my daughter is a princess. She's beautiful in every way and has always been since the day she was born. When I was growing up, my mother wouldn't dream of leaving the house unless she was dressed to the nines. Me? Not so much! I was the rebel. Go figure! I became a hippie. No make-up. No frills. I was tall and skinny. A pair of jeans and bare feet were great in my eyes. I always told people I had natural beauty and didn't need anything to enhance myself. Some people actually bought that bullshit! Now, I jokingly tell them it's a handicap to be beautiful. I think perhaps, that may be the truth.

I've always wondered what it would feel like to be able to look in the mirror and like what you see or at least be okay with what you see. I've never been okay with what I see. Don't get me wrong...I'm not saying I'm completely fugly, but what I see and what other people see are two entirely different things. AND then there's the matter of what's on the inside. OMG! That shit is scary! That's the kind of shit that makes people nutty. "We" have to keep that shit in a locked drawer NEVER to see the light of day. 

One of the worst things my mother ever did to me was when she got it in her head how darling I would look with a Twiggy haircut and she made me get my hair cut like that. I was 11. Puberty hadn't quite hit yet.  I already was shaped like a boy.  What she did gave me the kiss of death. It was horrible and I had absolutely no say in the matter. I was so traumatized. It was truly awful. I know! I know! Suck it up! Right? But when you're young stuff like that matters. Stuff like not being listened to matters. Not having anyone to talk to matters. Looking like a boy when you're a girl MATTERS. I wanted to be cute and I wasn't. If my mother had been kind, she would have featured her tall daughter as a model and made her feel beautiful instead of awkward and homely. She should have slapped some make-up on me and enhanced some of my features and then turned my face towards the mirror and told me that I'm beautiful. That never happened and I often wonder why she never attempted to let me know I wasn't ugly. Did she not know how I felt? Couldn't she see it?  All the while this minor bullshit and pre-teen angst was happening, I was struggling dealing with sexual abuse. So I suffered in silence. The ugly duckling waiting to become a swan suffered in silence. It was my self-imposed prison for which the sentence was indefinite.

This was in a time when NO ONE talked about stuff like that. Yes, sexual abuse happened back then. It's always happened and unfortunately, will continue to happen. On some level, I instinctively knew I needed to just keep it to myself and "protect" the person. So, I sacrificed myself to protect someone else who didn't deserve protection or my loyalty. But why did I do that? If this makes any sense...although I feared and hated what the person was doing to me and yes, I also hated that person, but on the other hand, I also loved that person. I was just a child and I was torn.  My loyalties were torn. I was so confused.  I didn't have anyone to talk to and even if I did, what exactly do you say? How do you slip something like that into a conversation when you don't really understand what's happening or why it's happening. OMG! That child inside me still cries at times! Sometimes, I lay awake at night and I get flashes of old memories and feelings. That little girl still lives and she has lived a war-torn life. The battle scars may not be visible to the naked eye, but they do exist. When I look in the mirror I see the scars. When I look in the mirror I feel the scars and when I close my eyes I feel the fear.

FOREVER

Yesterday, while I was sitting here I suddenly got inspired to write a poem. I know! Poetry! YUCK! Hey, you have to run with inspiration when it strikes, no matter what direction it takes you in, right? So, humor me by holding your nose and reading my heart-felt words. Mildred is really trying to heal and come home...

It's a good thing I was by myself when I wrote this poem because I cried the whole time I was writing it. Yes, I actually wrote it and didn't type it. There's something about holding a pencil that seems to stir something in me, but it's difficult to stay inspired with a snotty nose and tears dripping all over the place. Somehow, I managed to find the "right" words and finish the poem. My first draft I emailed to my "bestie" and of course, she thought it was lovely. But, I'm wondering if she thought it sucked if she would have told me to go back to the drawing board and keep working. That thought brought a smile to my face... 

Forever

 One moment she was breathing

And then nothing filled her eyes.

I can’t prevent the ending…

Forever

She gifted me with life and love.

Now, outstretched while growing cold.

And from her death tears erupted…

Forever

 My whole life changed that moment.

And my heart won’t be the same.

Still somehow, I march forward…

Forever

 A crushing grief weights my soul.

While trying to drown the pain

 Prevents this crevice from closing…

Forever

You never thought I listened.

While you showed me who I am

I hope you knew I loved you…

Forever

 As time grew near to free you

My heart was opened wide.

That moment remains eternal…

Forever

 The moments when I need you.

You tell me to reach inside.

I get my strength from you…

Forever

You’re all around me always.

A deafening silence holds you there.

You will live on inside me…

Forever

I know how things must happen.

Reality stares me in the eyes.

Until someday I join you…

Forever

 And while my heart is healing

I still have these tears to cry

But each sunset brings a sunrise…

Forever.

💔

by Mildred Ratched

22 Feb 2021

Is There A Contractor In The House?

I was just sitting here scanning over my adult life in respect to the serious relationships I've had and well...it didn't paint a very pretty picture. It probably most resembled a Jackson Pollack masterpiece "Male and Female."  Understand that and you might understand the jumbled mess inside my head. I can't say I've ever had a healthy, intimate relationship with the opposite sex.  Once sex got thrown into the picture all bets came off the table.  Why that is I most likely can come up with a fairly accurate answer, but at this stage in my life I'm wondering how much does it really matter. Don't we all have baggage? Some suitcases just weigh more than others.

When my last relationship ended, I put myself in what I called "time out."   I guess for most people after a break up, they need time to adjust before they get back out there and throw their line back in the water to do some fishing again, but my time out has lasted 15+ years. Oh yes, you read that right. I have been celibate for 15+ years and I'll go a step further...I haven't even been on a date in that time period. Before all of you scream "WHY?" in unison, I'll give you my five cent explanation. It's rather hard to go on a date or to meet anyone if you've become a hermit. I had a rather cozy cave.

I jokingly referred to myself as a hermit on my blog over the years, but I don't know how many people actually took me seriously or knew to what extent my being an actual hermit had become a reality.  I think I was really on the verge of developing agoraphobia. When someone once called me a troglodyte as an insult, I adopted the word because I liked it better than the word 'hermit". Hermit sounded too common and who likes being thought of as being common or ordinary...or normal? Certainly, not me!

Anyway, in January of 2019 my hermit days abruptly came to an end. A childhood friend, came for a visit and ended up moving in right next door to me. Martha (Linda) was the little red-headed girl who lived next door to me in Maine and we grew up together. We've known each other since we were 4 years old and did typical Mildred and Martha secret, naughty things growing up.  Having Martha back in my life was a much needed wake up call. It was one that I hadn't fully realized I needed until now.

Physically, I was barely living when she arrived. I couldn't stand up for more than a few minutes without the pain being too intense for me to bear.  In fact, I struggled to stand up from a sitting position and sitting was uncomfortable. Doing anything seemed like a struggle.  I had fallen down the stairs and fractured my vertebrae and the recovery was very slow.  Sometimes I wondered if I was ever going to recover. My legs and feet were swollen to the size of tree trunks, but not from the fall. I didn't find out until later that I had fluid around my heart. Before Martha moved here I went days without getting out of bed and I just didn't care about myself anymore. I had given up and no one was getting on my ass about it.  Nobody wanted to deal with the wrath of Mildred so my family just left me alone unless it dealt with my safety like when my adult children banded together and moved my bedroom downstairs after I fell. They banded together because they expected me to give them a real hard time about it, but I fooled them when I never said a word.  I knew I couldn't walk up and down the stairs and they were doing the right thing. I would have been a real bitch if I had given them a hard time about being concerned about my well-being. I'm a lot of things, but being a real bitch isn't one of them. All you assholes out there who think I'm a real bitch better keep your opinions to yourself or else Mildred will have her way with you! lol 

After Martha got here, I started doing more physical things and now I can work outside all day long in the heat and humidity of Florida like I did when I was younger. In fact, I'm in better shape now than I have been in 20 or 25 years. I've lost a ton of weight and I feel good physically and mentally most of the time.  And when I don't, I smoke some weed and then I feel better. When my back hurts, the weed comes out.  When I have trouble sleeping, you know the drill. And when I just feel like kicking back and getting stoned, well I kick back and get stoned. What can I say? I'm a hedonist!

When a person becomes a hermit they forsake their need for other people.  When I went into "time out" I went into time out all the way. I wanted to cushion myself from the world and I did a great job of it for 15+ years. Nobody came knocking until Martha rapped on my door. You see, I thought it was just going to be a visit and then she left to move to South Florida. but when she left I knew she was going to move back here even though she didn't know it at the time. It was just a feeling I had and I was okay with that feeling. It didn't put me in a panic to think about not being a hermit anymore. 

And I was right! She moved here shortly after she left for South Florida. Who wants to live in South Florida with all those people anyway? (There goes that hermit in me talking!) When the house next door to me came up for rent, Martha jumped on it and moved in. What I discovered is that I'm not a hermit after all. I enjoyed having a friend to do stuff with and even when we weren't doing anything, but goofing off doing nothing we still had a good time doing it. You know why? Because we're Mildred and Martha and Martha and Mildred, that's why! We're one hell of a team!

Unfortunately, Martha moved back to Maine about a week ago.  Sometimes things happen and make it so we have to make difficult decisions.  Doing the right thing is rarely easy.  Right now, we all live in difficult times.

I'm empty now and I'm scared. I definitely know how to be a hermit, but I don't want to be a hermit again.  Is it wrong that I want someone? That I need someone?  Oh, I know we're in a pandemic...blah, blah...BLAH and social distancing and all that hoopla and I have to be a hermit to some extent and yeah, I can do that. I'm good excellent at it, remember? I did it for a very long time! Geez! I thought something was wrong with me when I kept reading on other people's blogs about how blue they were about being locked down during the coronavirus. I was afraid to tell anyone that I was okay with it because I had been doing it for so long that it was just second nature to me. It was no big deal. But now, what?

My grand plan that Martha and I used laugh about was that when the pandemic was over and I felt I was back to my old running shape I was going to start hanging out....not in bars...fuck that! but I'd go to Lowe's or Home Depot in the Contractor's section and pick-up a contractor so I could get someone to help me to fix my house (you know we could work something out in trade...). I'd say, "Baby, show me your tool belt, your tools and your truck...and definitely your financial statement!"  He'd probably call security on me and have me kicked out of the store.  Hey, it's been awhile since I've picked someone up, but I bet I can still do it.  My daughter gets aggravated whenever we go anywhere together and men flirt with me and not with her. ha! I think it's hysterical.  My pheromones must be stronger than hers.

Anyway, I miss my Martha. I talk to my dogs. I talk to the birds and of course, Cecil. I talk to all the plants I planted in my backyard. I talk to myself. That's a trip. Damn it! I need a person. Maybe I should buy a mannequin or a blow-up doll. What do you think?  Does anyone want to volunteer to be my person?  Mildred does not bite! Much :)

MIXED FEELINGS

Check out the mullet!

Last night my daughter, Christina sent me a text message telling me that my ex-husband, Jim wasn't doing well and probably wouldn't live much longer. Her ex step-brother, Josh had texted her to let her know the news and asked her to pass along the information to me with a copy of a short note I had written him years earlier back in the early 1990's. I wasn't too surprised about the news about Jim because he has never taken care of his health even when he was younger.  Of course, I have mixed feelings about the news and will deal with those feelings over time. Ho! Ho! Ho! 'Tis the season...

I have to admit that I was more surprised that Josh had kept that note than I was about the news about his father. When I read the note, I did so with a "red pen" in hand looking for errors. Of course, I found a few. Go figure!  What stuck out most to me was the part I wrote about God. You see, I am NOT a believer, but Josh is so I must have written that part for his benefit. Mildred has a heart after all! Shhhh! Let that be our little secret because I have a reputation to uphold. What brought a smile to my face were the personal touches that only he and I would know what they meant.  I have to admit the note brought a tear or two to my rather dry eyes.

I vaguely remember writing the note, but the circumstances aren't crystal clear. Old age is a bitch! Obviously, it must have been one of the times when Jim and I parted ways. Josh had finished high school and had started college.  I do feel proud of him because he went on to finish college and he became a doctor. His brother, Jason is also a doctor and his sister, Jamie works in the medical field as well.  I never had a close relationship with Jason and Jamie because they lived in another state with their mother and we only saw them periodically. Josh lived with us. And for the record...Josh was a handful and then some! I always thought he just needed someone to believe in him no matter what and I always tried to be that person.

When he finished college, he came and found me to let me know he had graduated and had been accepted into medical school and would be starting soon. The rest is history...

It's been a long time since I've heard from him and I know the circumstances suck, but I'm glad to know I still am in his thoughts occasionally.

The Perfect Man

(A repost with some editing from long, long ago because I'm lazy today...)

I know there are far worse things in life than being alone.... like being with the wrong person. Maybe at this point in my life emerging from "my cave" with a checklist of wants and desires after a very long time-out and finding "the perfect man" is just too much trouble for what it's worth. Somewhere along the line my judgment where potential mates are concerned went way off the deep end, so I figured I'm better off tucked away in my cave with a Coke and a smile. Perhaps, fate will take care of the problem since I spend no time actively looking for "the perfect man." I guess he'll just have to come find me if he's really out there! :)

From my extensive chronicles as a single adult, I have found most (BUT not all) men I have met, dated and/or married or lived with fall into one or more of the following categories below:

1. Merv the Perv ---- Merv believes using feathers is great, but using the whole chicken is more erotic. Monogamy to this man is all about being faithful to each one of the many members of his very large harem only while spending time with each one of them before moving onto the next. He loves the internet, bars, parties and crowds and can be identified on the internet by some clearly exaggerated erotic name like "lovedoctor69" or "muffdiver4u" or by flitting about a party collecting phone numbers and copping a feel here and there. Check out the size of his friend list on whatever social network he uses and the extensive list of porn sites saved on his Favorites. That should indicate just how "into" you he really is. He clearly is trying to make up for what he lacks in real life and the size of his friend list is in direct correlation to how much of a legend he thinks he has become online.

2. Screwy Louie the Psycho Man ---- Louie needs psychiatric counseling and major drug therapy, but thinks he's nothing more than a case study for being well-adjusted and normal. He usually wallows in self-pity, abuses drugs and alcohol and claims he's a loser or an asshole whenever he's confronted about his problems. Do yourself a favor and believe him! On the internet and in real life, Louie is usually the instigator. He loves to fan the flames of controversy and anger and get things stirred up because the words "serenity" and "harmony" are not in his vocabulary. In real life, he's the guy who always has some major crisis happening and of course, none of his problems are ever his own fault.

3. Peter Pan ---- Peter lives in NeverNeverLand and emotionally never advanced past puberty. He still loves cartoons and goes nowhere without his PlayStation or some other favorite toy. When selecting a mate, he chooses the one best suited to take care of him. He has dreams, but is quite content to let them remain just dreams. Peter is the guy who falls in love with every woman who shows him any attention. On the internet, he's the one who'll send a rose to all the ladies on his favorite social network site in hopes someone will notice him. In real life, his child-like qualities are initially endearing until you figure out that his whole life is spent in "playtime".

4. Dudley Doright ---- Dudley believes all women need to be rescued because they are helpless, weak creatures. He's quick to offer his help, but if you look closer he has control issues disguised as being a nice guy. Look closer and you'll see a chauvinist lurking underneath. He'll fix your car, hang a ceiling fan and give you a crash course on football, just as long as you stay needy and dependent upon him. Never show Dudley you have a brain or opinions contrary to his. Ladies flutter your eyelashes and Dudley will be forever yours! This guy is the "go-to" guy on the internet. Got a computer problem? He's your man!

5. Jim Baker Revisited ---- Jim preaches religion and/or the Golden Rule, but lives by other standards which are self-centered and hedonistic. Look up "morally challenged" in the dictionary and you'll see a picture of this man next to the definition. Jim is an uninhibited party animal on Saturday night, but always gets right with God every Sunday morning. This guy is omnipotent, dominates everything especially relationships and is as much a predator as Merv the Perv is. On the internet or in real life, he's usually the "misunderstood" married man or ladies man just looking for a "friend" because he's in a loveless marriage or doesn't want any real involvement. He's a smooth talker and knows how to manipulate people into his way of thinking. Ladies beware!

6. Cinderfella ---- Cinderfella should never be confused with Dudley Doright. This man is the virtual handyman, also and will fix anything for you, but his motivation to do so is entirely different than Dudley's. This guy is a doormat and usually goes after the high maintenance women and plays the martyr role well. He's been used and abused by the best and is more than willing to share his sad story with you. This guy will bend over any stump you put in front of him just as long as you keep him busy and toss him a bone every now and then. He cleans up well, can be taken out in public, but don't expect him to be too stimulating as a mate. He's too busy kissing your ass and being pussy whipped to be anything more than a "yes" man.

7. Kevin the Chameleon ---- Kevin is whatever you need him to be and will change his colors to fit into any environment or situation. Of all the categories, this man is the most diverse and omnipotent. His objective is to gain control in any way he can and once he has control, you are his to do as he pleases... a mere puppet. This man is powerful and easily gathers people into his flock. See Hitler, Charles Manson or Jim Jones as an extreme example of being a 

8. Dr. Jekkyl/Mr. Hyde ---- Initially Dr. Jekkyl seems to be the picture of perfection until Mr. Hyde appears out of nowhere. This dynamic duo is very obvious once set into motion and can be seen as a good cop-bad cop routine, a very complex man of extremes. This roller coaster keeps their partner always guessing and never knowing quite what to expect. Moody and brooding on one hand and then turns playful and elated. The triggers are never apparent and this man, in many instances, can be emotionally and physically abusive. Of all the categories, this man is the most unpredictable and the most likely to be classified as an "emotional vampire".

9. Mr. Mom --- Mr. Mom is that strange fellow who looks and acts very much like a typical soccer mom, yet he's quite masculine. This guys does it all and does it well, except it's virtually impossible to start a relationship with this guy because his children ALWAYS come first even after they've grown up and left the nest. Be ware if he brings one or all of them on your first date! He's getting their feedback before taking it to the next level! If a relationship is established, the children will always be the buffer between you and Mr. Mom.

10. Billy Badboy --- Billy is sexy as hell, wild and carefree. He makes living on the edge look appealing enough to try it for awhile. Relationships and this type of man just don't mix well (like oil and water). Save this guy as a real treat when you're up for having an affair or just some good old cheap, sleazy sex. He's so good in bed you'll keep going back for more hoping each time he'll tone down the badboy act enough to want a relationship. It takes awhile to catch on that this guy is never going to change! He likes how being a badboy makes him feel. Nothing not even love can take its place.

11. Joe the Jock --- Joe comes in two styles: the actual jock and the wannabe jock (armchair quarterback). Both versions are totally obsessed with sports to the point of never having any free time for the women in their lives. Joe is usually married to a "football widow" and occasionally he lucks out and finds his ideal match in Cheryl the Cheerleader or Julie the Jock. Joe has his teams he remains so loyal to that you can always gauge how his team is doing by his daily demeanor and moods. Inside Joe's house is usually a shrine devoted to his teams and a special area for sports equipment and/or other sporting paraphernalia. Ladies, NEVER get sick or die on Superbowl Sunday or else you'll be doing it alone!

From experience, finding the ideal mate indicates to me that Murphy's Laws are alive and well and that the elusive perfect man is like the lush green grass growing on the other side of the fence! If you do happen to find him, just throw some weed and feed down a few times a year and leave the rest up to nature.