Managing Life and Its Time
The mornings have been blessedly cool. Other than the early morning letting dogs out and waiting in the yard bundled in slippers and my muppet jacket, I love this time of year. I feel refreshed and at ease. It is the anticipation of change that is on the way. Nothing says happy more than banana bread in the oven and chicken and dumplings on the stove. It is a season of comfort!
I spent the last week meandering through a mental fog while deep cleaning my home. The shoebox as I fondly refer to it. My 974 sq ft maze of an eclectic collection of belongings makes up a cluttered combination of things I need for personal space and personal use. Some day I will have my dining room back! Some day I will have a mud room combined with a laundry room heaven made for my dogs and their crates! When you live in a shoebox, organization is the key to functioning!
I am off today, it is an extra day to recoup from working at a lovely festival yesterday. A vendor show that I really wished I would have been able to participate in. The vendors and artists had the most ornate setups. Meticulous tents and signage with their wares on display. As usual, the crowds were thick and a handful had bags from their purchases. The weather perfect for day drinking and tasting the typical carnival foods! I heavily thought about my past person and how I drug him through every other fair known to man that he tolerated because it made me happy. Those events gave me ideas and he knew it! Costly ideas but he mostly didn't complain. Even on our last trip to Gatlinburg, we drove ridiculously misguided by GPS for a strip of known artists that turned out to be my biggest disappointment. {trying to make a connection to teach there} Oh well... can't dwell on disappointments, now can we?
I find I need to manage my time better. After years of fight and flight, regulating time and the things I need to get done is discombobulated. I like to stay active and I can not function if my house isn't clean or the yard isn't maintained. I want to start a new painting. I want to gear up for those really colder months where I can go to the basement and paint in my little corner of solitude. After this last flood a few months back I do need to get a new rug for my spot. Something Frances can lay on while underfoot. #thriftstore
I also need to get all my wares together and create a new plan. The original was when I moved to have an outbuilding to set up shop a Wed and Sat market since that is not happening at the moment I need to declutter and rethink it all. It overwhelms me and the disappointment of being let down by a false promise sets me back. Did I say I need to manage my time better? Yeah! I did!
Then we have the book. A chock-full mind of words that need to be clearly spelled out and put into form! Readsy is the program and it was Acclaim publishing that I was working with before. See there is more to that story. It is not so much the characters in themselves but the storyline and the timeline that played over a long period. The intentional motives set out so one could gain attention and validation for behavior so underhanded and to remain in control.
*Hoovering; a manipulative maneuver to lure or to make someone jealous after they have distanced themself in the relationship to cause emotional casualty to another life. It is a way to exert power and control perpetuating a cycle of abuse.
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What was the point? Why would he continue to reach out, send text and pics of his new supply, "seggusal" messages if he no longer was interested? He had already discarded her long before, He was 2+ women after her. As if she had forgotten what he had done or the horrific things that were said and done. He left her for dead. The disrespect was blatant. The ignorance was intolerable. Trauma bonds and the hold he created for his validations.
It was his choice of women that nauseated and disgusted most. It was easy for his friends to give them names. The first one 300 lbs a java the hut type known to everyone as the beast, the second, all was sure a recovering addict whose child was removed from her for various reasons, rode hard and put away wet. A stringy hair mess of blonde that drank like a fish and to match his energy cheated on him as much as he was cheating on her. They referred to her as the hag! A worn out presumably gold digger looking for ways to escape from her past. There was also much to be said about his latest! The crone, life's beaten down tragedies that showed every angle on her crooked face. A washed-out blonde with gray strands that intertwined. A waist that matched the size of her hips and a voice like nails on a chalk board. Fiercly opinionated and loyal with no righteous cause. Religious by life's defaults and blindly stupid and manipulated by the man who was mirroring her efforts.
She could not imagine the mental state he must have been in from all those poor choices. Trying to cover up all the deceit and making sure he kept his lies straight. To herself, she thought, When your pool of women comes from bars and a dating site or even a job-type setting, there would have to be something in it for him to connect. He attached... and then he secured it which was completely the opposite of a commitment. And if a commitment were an exchange of words, it was only because he was beaten down and tired of his own games that had caught up to him and motivated by someone's offerings and material gains.
It showed severely in his own personal wear and tear. That personal image he had tried so hard to keep up; his appearance was now disheveled and dingy. That is the thing about alcoholism and the liver... skin color and the whites of your eyes show it all! It was his friends that took notice. Where once they all thought his behavior so funny now found it all very alarming.
She was far removed from this matter and his patterns but the words on the street talked about how his demise had caught up to him and the snare he now was in.
More later
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After my mom died in 1968, my dad briefly remarried in 1970. It did not last but 15? mos. It was the worst decision he had ever made. He already was tired, broken, and disheartened by life and his foolish ways. My dad a functioning alcoholic made decisions to spite everyone including himself. Something to prove and something to show! It was a marriage that almost did him in. She drank more than him. They met in some bar! I will say the very first time I met her, I hated her and her daughter. Evil mean and looking for something they could secure.
My dad was driving a truck at that time and while he was on the road, she ran around by the time he came home, dinner may have been on the table but she was so disheveled. It drove my dad mad. Her persistence and her conniving ways were more than my dad could deal with. He had a nervous breakdown.
She was not my mother. In fact the complete opposite of my mother.
My mom was refined and demure. An upbringing comparable to ... she was talented and beautifully manicured with a voice like an angel. She lost her life at the age of 31. Her death had finally caught up to his emotional state. Dad knew he needed to stop and change his life for himself and his daughters.
While he was in the hospital, the woman he married, cleaned him out. She stole every bit of our furniture and everything that belonged to my mother, leaving me and my sister with nothing that belonged to her. Beyond salt in a wound, it devastated my dad and the recovery from that loss hit harder than the actual death of my mother!
Downtrodden and broken is a mental state that needs to be approached gently. The bad decisions that come from choices made under those conditions are detrimental; to one's state of affairs.
I still look for my mother's china! White plates with a silver rim adorned tiny violets on one side of the wares.
Kitryn Marie
#lifecoach #writer #soothsayer
