Category Archives: my own family

and today the sun shines

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It has been pretty dark around here. I’ve been pretty dark. I know I have been scaring my kids and my darling husband a little. I know that because I know how I felt growing up watching my own Mommy Dearest slump into her darkest days.

My darkest moment earlier this week came when as I was gathering all the information the IRS is demanding from us, I could almost hear Mr. Potter’s voice in my head…the part where he looks at George Bailey and says “You’re worth more dead than alive!” That was a scary thought rambling around in my head. And as it crossed my mind so did the memories of the times when my Mommy Dearest would have the strength to get up. Too many times as a child I bore witness to her unsuccessful attempts on her own life. I don’t ever doubt the pain she was in or the hopelessness that she felt. Still while I love her so (in spite of what my brother and sister believe) I have never been able to reconcile those acts. Becoming a mother really made it impossible for me to do so. No matter how dark and hopeless and worthless I might feel, I look to my darling husband, my five beautiful circus clowns…my greatest achievements ever... and my gorgeous grandbabies and well, I see just how wonderful my life is because of them…in spite of my fears, my anxieties, my depths of despair.

How lucky am I?

I can not turn away from such wonderfulness…not ever.

Then there are the friends, old and new, acquaintances and people whom I have never, ever met, but have had conversations with who have reached out. It all overwhelms me in a good way…in a very good way. So like George Bailey, I see light as I realize in spite of what is most definitely an impossible situation, I am surrounded by a lot of love and am indeed enjoying a wonderful life.

I won’t lie, it would be even better if y’all had showed up with baskets and baskets of money…unless you are coming over later.

Are you?

Regardless, it is a wonderful life and I promise that I am working hard to appreciate that and to enjoy every minute of it.

in the arms of an angel

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When she was just a little girl, my sister Valerie’s daughter, Marie sang to me “In the Arms of The Angels”. No surprise to me, Marie had the voice of an angel. What can I say, it runs in the family.

And faster than I could prepare myself for, that little girl grew into a beautiful, young woman who, early this morning became a mother for the very first time.

How lucky little Austin Gregory is to be born into the arms of an angel. Congratulations my dear Marie!

 

surrounded by goodness

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Okay, enough ranting and raging over poisonous dysfunction!

I bet y’all are heaving a big sigh of relief.

I came home to see this bit of goodness and love here under the Big Top.

And this too.

Awww!!!

My daughter, Jodie has a sweet tooth and a crazy hunger after hours of dance practice every day that can sometimes only be satisfied with a little bit of late night baking and gnoshing of the results of said baking. But knowing that the two favorite men in her life have the same kind of crazy hunger and a sweet tooth (even if they didn’t have hours of dance practice) and are fast asleep during her late night baking sessions, she always saves a little bit of sweet, chocolate love for them.Yes, she sets aside some for me too.

Isn’t that just so sweet?

It is.

I am so lucky to be living with such sweet love. But she isn’t the the only one. There’s Daniel with his sweet, warm smiles and hugs that he greets me with every single morning. I wish that I could bottle up that and share it with the world because it is indeed something that this messed up planet could use…along with a few of Jodie’s chocolate chip cookies.

Abby always has tales of adventure with her friends to share and lately she is starting to share a little bit more. I love how the angst, anger and suspicion that comes with being a teen fades slowly away to reveal the awesome human being that is your child. I learned with my first born (the hard way of course) to just be patient and wait for the brittle, protective shell of adolescent to break away and fall off of your child, now a wonderful, young adult. It’s happening again…slowly…but surely.

While I couldn’t be prouder of Zoë and the dreams and adventures she is pursuing down in LA, I miss her. It’s true, I miss her a lot. I miss seeing my Zoë every day so much that it hurts. Don’t cry, Zoë. But I am so grateful for the fact that while she is off making her own life and adventures, she is always connected to us here back under the Big Top. Hurray for internets and Skype and Amtrak!

Then there is Hollie. I learned so much from Hollie and together we have come through the adventures and experimentation that is learning how to be a parent and raise that first child without a how-to guide that they should have come with. What an extraordinary woman she has become…because of or in spite of me…you decide. Thanks to her, I get to enjoy the love of three more: Hazel, Ben and Fallon.

And of course there is Bill, my darling husband, Bill. The man who, through the years, has made me see so much goodness and worth in me and the man who figured out and showed me how to block the crazy that was blowing up my phone and breaking me down.

I am surrounded by so much love, so much patience, so much kindness and so much goodness here under the Big Top.

Lucky?

Yes.

Yes I am.

the toxic swill from which I crawled from

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Around here under the Big Top I am often accused of dropping the f-bomb a little bit too much…because I do. Actually I have improved, as in I don’t use it as much as I used to. No, really. It’s true. But I am a work in progress. I will confess I dropped it a few times this week…this evening even when I had to ask two of my clowns to clean their bathroom for the third time today and I was greeted with heavy sighs and eye rolls. Go ahead and judge me. But you have to know what I was nourished on all of my life…so much toxic awesomeness that how could I not believe that the f-bomb is the perfect adjective to be used in every sentence like say, the way Brittany Spears uses “amazing”?

Don’t believe me?

Oh…

Allow me to share some of the toxic awesomeness that is mine all mine and bestowed, dumped, vomited into my voice mail box just today.

I am so blessed!

Really!

Hey, I don’t play around when I’m talkin’ on the phone. I’m not like tryin’ to do anything like that and you coulda identified yourself…and I luv you and all that and I’m sayin I don’t like bein’ jerked around I never have and I won’t stand for it and that’s what you’re doin’ to me. Sorry you’re havin’ a bad day and that’s all ya know. Ya know you’re gonna sit there for five minutes and ya know jerk me around ya know. All right, I luv you and I don’t play fuckin’ games. I just hope you know that. I’ve known you all my life and you’ve known me all my life actually. You know. I’m sorry. Hope you’re day turns out better but I don’t put up with bullshit like that. I don’t like using the phone to begin with. All right. I luv you goodbye.

I had to respond because, WTF? Right? So I did…by text because I can’t talk to my family when any of them are like this. I aced Argument back in the day as a student but that was civil, intelligent exchanging of differing opinions. No, when any of my family launch stuff like this I learned to duck and cover because if I didn’t it got violently physical very quickly. Let’s just say that I am very good at ducking and covering.

Hey, I don’t need this big long explanation because you were jackin’ me off. But whatever. That’s irregardless. What sort of help do you think Valerie needs? You get information off of her stupid daughter who knows nothing about this planet and is going to sit there and judge her mom? You know. Hey! If you wanna help, if you really want to be this, this CHRISTIAN  you supposedly are, you wanna help? You help your fuckin’ sister cuz she got fuckin’ takin it in the fuckin’ jaw from everybody and she ain’t doing nuthin fuckin’ wrong not like her cunt fuckin’ daughter says. You’re fuckin’ sister got fucked over by some assholes…and she ain’t got fuckin’ no one and I come off the road to try and help her and if you want to help her you’ll get on the fuckin’ computer and find her a fuckin’ place to live around here where she can have her fuckin’ dog where she lives near somethin’ you know, Miss Fuckin’ Cunt Christian! I don’t need your fuckin’ 800 word essay on why you weren’t wastin’ my time because you fuckin’ were. And you fuckin’ know it. Hey, I don’t need this bullshit. Like I told Mom, I’m tryin’ to help my fuckin’ sister. Mom’s busy judging her. So is her fucking dumb, stupid, dumb daughter who knows nuthin’ ’bout planet Earth. Let me reiterate that. And fuckin’ A, I don’t see you tryin’ to help no one. I don’t see anyone tryin’ to help but me. I don’t see anyone in this family tryin’ to help anyone but me. So hey, go ahead and try to go to church on Sunday like you do every fuckin’ week. Yeah, Miss Fuckin Christian. Fuckin A, your sister is more of a Christian than you…luv ya! Bye!

Don’t you just love how I am assured that I am loved? Yeah, me too. The 800 word essay was the text message I sent. For it to be 800 words, considering the rate I text one would receive it in time for the next Presidential Inauguration. Don’t believe me? Ask my kids. Meanwhile, I’m thinking it is a very good thing that my niece was raised by her paternal grandparents considering how her Uncle thinks of her as highly as he thinks of me. What a lucky girl! I might be a “fuckin’ cunt Christian asshole” but apparently I am a fuckin’ cunt. Christian asshole who has a lot of power because I can apparently get my sister secure into a home in Pennsylvania with her little dog too from the comfort of my laptop here in California. I could help my sister. I should help my sister. But there really is only so much help one can do for an addict…an addict who would actually steal her dying father’s oxycontin. yeah, I being a little bit judgmental but for the record, I haven’t been in church for a very long time. Maybe she is more of a Christian than me. Unfortunately, the toxic Springer side of my family really doesn’t know me very well at all or they might know why I don’t go to church anymore.

But then again some of them do like to cyber-stalk me.

:::waving:::

Hey, for your information I was not drunk, asshole and the only reason I freaked out and yelled is because you were jackin’ me off and you know it. You let me talk for three fuckin’ minutes and ask questions. You were fuckin’ jackin’ me off you fuckin’ queer. Go ahead on your Facebook, you’re a fuckin’ simple-minded fuckin’ idiot like all the other idiots who are gonna get taken in by the fuckin’ Douche-bag when He gets here to rapture your ass outta here. You’re a fuckin dumb ass, you fuckin’ queer. Don’t ever talk to me again. Hey, you two-faced fuckin’ asshole, yeah like the way you treated mom, no wonder Randy fuckin’ hated you, you fuckin asshole. Go face your shit on Facebook you fuckin’ queer. Goodbye.

How else could they know that I am nothing but a simple-minded, fuckin’, asshole queer…even if I am very much a heterosexual woman who LOVES men! But they would know this since they seem to know what I might be posting on Facebook. There is much that can be wrong with Facebook. I read about it often in letters sent to me with very thoughtful, compelling arguments against it and other dangerous social media. But Facebook is the mark of the Anti-Christ? Who knew? Right? well I’m pretty sure that the Anti-Christ isn’t going to be rapturing my ass and all my Facebook friends out of here. At least that is not how I read it in Revelation. But at least I am comforted knowing that we aren’t ever going to be speaking to each other again…especially after that low blow telling me that our dead brother hated me because I was the only one who was with him when he was dying and begging for me to find you all and I was the only one who would so willingly, without even hesitating offer him a portion of my liver because I was the only one healthy enough to offer him such a gift…thank you for that…at least I’m not going to be calling.

But then…

Oh dear…

Hey, just to clarify, you seem to think I’m some kind of drunken fuckin’ asshole or somethin’. But I just have a low fuckin’ tolerance for fuckin’ ignorance and that’s what you fuckin’ gave me. So hey, go play on your little Facebook and all that shit. An ignorant, mother-fucker like you would do somethin’ fuckin’ like that. You’re a fuckin’ weirdo. You’re a fuckin’ idiot. . Luv ya. Goodbye.

Yeah. There is always more toxic hate to be shared because I really, really need to understand that I AM THE FUCKIN’ IGNORANT IDIOT WEIRDO. But, hey, I am still loved. Lucky, lucky me.

Boys and girls, this is the toxic swill from which I crawled out of kind of like that rogue managing to evolve just a little bit and crawl out of the primordial, dysfunctional, toxic ooze the rest of the family seems so content to swim around in. I know that I am not perfect, not at all. I have the lifetime of damage from people whom I share DNA with to thank for a lot of what is horribly wrong with me. Just imagine those four tirades every day of your life throughout your childhood, every waking moment of every day and stir in a lot more…so much more.

This is me.

You created me.

You all should be so proud.

Now forgive me while I give thanks that you are not an everyday part of my life and (THANK GOD) not a part of my circus family’s life.

why you gotta be so mean?

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My younger brother called me out of the blue the other day. Actually, he wasn’t calling me. Butt-dialed, miss-dialed, drunk-dialed…whatever it was, he called me. It happens sometimes. But because I am me and he is a part of the toxicity that is most of my family, it was all my fault…all my fault that he called me by mistake and I was the one to waste his time because it took him five minutes to realize that I wasn’t “Louie” but his sister…no, not his younger sister…but the other sister…yeah, that sister. I know this because he told me so…and then continued to blow up my voice mail and text messages, my email and all over my Facebook timeline to make sure that I knew this. This is me. This is my family. This is what they do when I fail them in some real or real only in their mind way. This always was and sometimes occasionally continues to be my life…the toxic family life I try so hard to stay away from, to shield my circus from.

I’m not too much of a fan of Taylor Swift, as cute and adorable as she is but still I find her lyrics to “Mean” circulating through my head lately.

You, with your words like knives and swords and weapons that you use against me
You have knocked me off my feet again got me feeling like I’m nothing
You, with your voice like nails on a chalkboard, calling me out when I’m wounded
You, pickin’ on the weaker man…

You, with your switching sides and your walk-by lies and your humiliation
You, have pointed out my flaws again as if I don’t already see them
I’ll walk with my head down trying to block you out ’cause I’ll never impress you
I just wanna feel okay again

I have had a lifetime of mean from people whom I share DNA with, people who tell me they love me sometimes but more often will tell me everything, and I do mean everything, that is wrong with me. They point out all my flaws, all my poor choices, my bad parenting decisions, my actions that always serve to disappoint them…because it is indeed all about them.

Always.

Yet it isn’t all about them all the time.

I know that much is true even when I apologize and forgive them and keep them at arms length; because although what didn’t kill me and made me stronger doesn’t mean that I have to choose to accept your incessant criticisms to my face, or by phone or by text messages or email or snail mail or anywhere else. When I was a child I could not choose to filter it out. You made it painfully clear that I could not.

But now I can.

Now I do.

Because you haven’t killed me. You made me stronger.

I know, I know. Believe me, I know. In your eyes, in your heart, I suck. I am worthless. I piss you off. I disappoint you. I should be agreeing with you and your criticisms and that I don’t deserve you or your “love”.

But I don’t.

It’s true, all you are going to always be is mean.

I love you still…we are and will remain family and a lifetime of you kicking me down in every way possible doesn’t change the fact that I still love you…oh dysfunction! But thanks to your toxic kind of love, I have been molded and shaped into the person who I am today. The person who sees your kind of love for what it is. Not the kind of love I deserve. No. I am so much more than you see me as.

So much more.

And you don’t deserve me at all.

Note: If you are reading this and are my family and imagine that I am writing this about you well, you are correct. Just know that sometimes to survive you, to forgive you and to try to continue to love you in spite of who you are and how you continue to treat me I have to get your shit off of my chest, out of my head and out of my heart or I just might shatter into a million little pieces…and then who are you going to be mean to? Really? Get over it or better yet just add it to the list you keep of all that is wrong with me. I’m fine with that because I know that is who you are.