Missing Laughter

One of my gifts is a good sense of humor.  I’m quick witted, and am told it takes intelligence to pull that off well.  I don’t claim any kudos for that.  I was born that way, so it’s natural for me…or used to be.  I jokingly say, though, that if I come back to this world again, I want a smaller IQ and a bigger breast size.  Then I will never be alone.  Intelligent, strong women have a harder time of it, I’m convinced.  So the “next” me should exist in ignorant bliss.

And don’t assume for a minute that I’m not a women’s rights champion.  I am.  But I live in a world rapidly sliding backwards into women being nothing but objects.  And I vehemently rebel against that.  I am comfortable standing toe to toe with any smart guy.  And I might beat them at golf too.  And I dare them to think of me as nothing but an orifice.  But once you lose sex appeal, you have no value.  Sorry: True.  That’s okay with me, by the way.  I’m done with trying to make men feel good about themselves.  That shouldn’t be my job.

Intelligence may have its advantages.  I’ve enjoyed being intelligent, being in the upper echelon of intelligence as they say.  I’ve had insights many people miss, and I’ve stumped a lot of ‘bright’ people.  Out of curiosity, I ask questions which to me are just clarifying questions, and I get the blank stare back.  And I often hear, “Nobody’s ever asked that before”.  Well okay.  But the flip side is that in the girlfriend world, things I want to talk about are definitely NOT the usual girl gathering topics of conversation.  I guess I’m a misfit.  My favorite topics are golf and the stock market.  Well there you go.

I awoke this morning at about 2 am, which happens a lot, due to stress, and the first thought I realized was, “I miss laughing”.  I used to laugh all the time.  ALL the time.  Sometimes that first thought, which in my case rushes through my consciousness, gives heavy insight into my condition, or things I need to work on, or what’s really at the root of issues.  So I pay attention.  I know laughter is the “best medicine”; and maybe it’s not the laughter itself, but the circumstance under which it happens, that makes it important.

Thrown Away Wives often end up very alone.  We end up alone because our husbands throw us away and our family abandons us. Well remember, I told you about that ten year statute of limitations on that abandonment, so we’ll see.  In four years maybe my “family” will come back. What remains to be seen is whether I will want them back.  What do you think?  Would you want people in your life who abandon you when you are most broken?  Seems like a no-brainer to me.  Andddd there’s the thinking again.  A lower IQ person would just rush back in.  Me?  I have to think about that.  And the answer is no.  Forgive?  Yes.  Hang out?  Nope.

I am a real estate agent, so I am around people all the time, and I attend my church regularly, so I am around thousands of people, regularly, in that venue.  But in the grand scheme of things, I am alone in the universe.  Feels like I am loosely tethered, but never engaged.  That’s a terrible feeling, and it wakes me up at 1, 2, 3 in the morning, sometimes in the midst of a panic.  Your subconscious mind works all the time and it’s undeniable that mine works HARD.  Sometimes those 2am thoughts come through as shouts, sometimes just a comment (not voices in my head, but thoughts…relax); but I’ve said before, many times, that I am determined to survive this situation into which I was thrown.  So my subconscious has its marching orders.  Work this out; solve this problem.  And it gives me things to write about, to share with you.  If I don’t know anything else, I know there are hundreds, if not thousands of you, who can relate.

It’s the venue for laughter that makes it the best medicine, because in order for it to happen, there have to be others around and you have to be engaged, plugged in.  In other words laughing at a TV show doesn’t count.  The key is the ‘gathering’ part.  When you are tossed out of your life and things familiar to you at senior part of life, it’s just harder to reinvent that wheel.  And at the time of life when you should be retiring, your need to clump with others goes down.  It’s a conundrum.  Sometimes it’s just easier to go to bed early, you see?  I’m chuckling.  Life is never dull.

So…I find myself becoming more and more isolated, in spite of the fact that I know I need to be around people with whom I can engage.  Prolonged depression or sadness, takes a lot out of you in terms of energy to reach out.  That’s not good.  So my next task is to make a plan, set a goal, to reach out and get together with people at least once a week.  Lunch with a friend, invite a friend to dinner, things like that.  And I’m already thinking that once a week might be too much.

See what I mean?

See you soon…

The Value of a Hug

It seems everywhere you go, if people know you, you will end up in a conversation about being thrown away.  What this does for the one asking, is inform them about something they can’t possibly understand.  It’s good that they want to know, most of the time, but still, you can look at their eyes and see that they don’t have a CLUE about the devastating impact of being thrown away.  Good for them that they haven’t experienced the tragedy, and of course you know that if they HAD experienced it, they wouldn’t ask about it.  It’s too painful to re-live.  You guys know this stuff by now.

So I had a really nice visit with some friends yesterday, on the heels of putting flowers on the graves of three loved ones.  I almost added “who died” but then I thought, of course they died: otherwise why would they be in graves?  See how my mind works and how quickly I can run down a rabbit trail?  Stay with me.  It goes back on track.

Anyway it was an emotional endeavor, but it was good to honor my loved ones.  Then I visited my friends and we went to dinner, after which we talked until late into the evening.  One big topic, of course, was my armageddon.  Listen, I really love these people and I know they love me.  I know the reason they ask questions is because they care. And listen, even if they don’t ask directly, the topic bleeds in because you say things like, “When I was homeless…”  Crap like that.

“You were homeless???”  Anddddd off we go.

Afterward, as I drove home…a two and a half hour trek…I cried for the first leg of the trip.  And of course all of the emotion was once again, just at the surface.  And….it got me to thinking…

I hate it when that happens.  But I got to thinking about the people who were in the passing train cars as I suffered, how they shouted misguided wisdom or even sometimes hateful discourse, all in the guise of “help”, OR didn’t bother to look for God’s sake, as they trundled past me into the comfort of their life train…leaving me in a heap beside the tracks…so to speak.  And these are people who LOVE ME PEOPLE!  LOVE!  You can’t make this stuff up!

I’m sure they felt better having shared their misguided wisdom and of course that’s all that matters…that they feel good.   I mean they TRIED to help me, but I just wouldn’t help MYSELF.  Assholes.  No really, that’s what they believe.  GRRRRR.

See, I can’t help but be facetious when I talk about this stuff.  I mean people really piss me off.  I call them smooth-brains.  But I digress.  Again.

What does it mean when you get angry because you get sad?  I think that’s got a label somewhere.

And it suddenly stuck me…nobody hugged me, she said, finally getting to the point.  As broken as I was when I was discarded, as emotionally traumatized as I was, as alone as I felt and as embarrassed as I felt…you know all of the feelings…NOBODY HUGGED ME.  NO BO DY. And I wondered….

Am I unhuggable?  Am I not worthy of having anybody reach out in true caring love?

See, it’s been six years…five years…heck I can’t remember anymore.  Six.  It’s been six years, and  STILL these self destructive thoughts come crashing in.  NO.  I am NOT unhuggable.  And YES I AM worthy of caring love.  By society’s standards I’m more WORTHY of hugs and love than some of the assholes who treated me like garbage and reinforced the trauma.  Oh yeah, I’m in the anger phase.  But the GOOD thing is that I finally GET IT that I’m a VERY good person. And I get it that the train riders are out of my life.  Period.  My standards are higher now.  Oh look: A benefit.

Are you following this crap?  After all of this time, the PARADIGM of having been thrown away and society’s view of it still pollute my emotions.  After all of this time, a deeply seated part of me still believes somehow it’s my fault.  And that’s wrong.  It wasn’t me.  It was a person with no integrity, a liar and cheater, who was at fault.  I was targeted by him BECAUSE I am huggable and BECAUSE I am worthy worthy of love.  Precisely those reasons.  And I happened to have a lot of investment assets, which made me a HUGE target…just so you know I’m not all THAT lovable.  I mean, I’m pretty doggone good, but I’m not perfect.  Close though.  hahaha.

Bottom line is this.  After you send some anonymous cash to someone…as I suggested in the last blog entry?  HUG THEM, DAMNIT.  It doesn’t cost you a DIME to give someone a hug…and not a meaningless AIR HUG.  I mean a REAL HUG, and let them know they are NOT invisible and that they DO matter.  And if you are not trying to pick their POCKET while you hug them, then you just might be a keeper 🙂

And oh, while my anger phase is in full swing?  I still have my sense of humor.  HA.  The cheating, lying asshole couldn’t take THAT.

I’ll try to be nice next time, but I can’t promise.  The anger phase is good for me.  And NECESSARY.  That’s what all of the experts say…

I’ll be back.