Beautiful Quotes…by Me #2

Beautiful Quotes…by ME

Creative Writing Snippet

In Memory Of…A Poem For My Grandma

My grandma passed last Friday. Today is her funeral. I am going to ask to read the following poem in front of everyone because I was not present in the last 18 years of her life. She had Alzheimer’s and didn’t know any of us so I selfishly said, no, I can’t see her this way…This is my ode to her life, her memory, and my admiration for her. It’s all I’ve got. And she was a writer so I think she would appreciate this poem more than any eulogy.

In Memory Of Grandma

You were dealt a hand you didn’t deserve
but you paved a new road for you and yours
you forged ahead, not looking back
living life to the fullest, giving all you had
Finding your voice halfway through your life
You backed down from no one, no challenge, no fight
You used your mind and your words
to set yourself apart
into your family and writing, you poured your heart
You loved, you lost, you carried on
yet again dealt a bad hand
from life’s cruel deck of cards
Year after year you hung in there
it was one hell of a fight
now you can have the peace you’ve earned
and finally again be
with the love of your life

Tears

The bipolar medication dam broke today and I finally cried because my grandma died. I couldn’t seem to get it out, even though I was truly sad, I was just…dead inside. And that’s what my dad is, I don’t want to be him, so I felt so damn shitty and…hobbled. But I grabbed pen and paper (old school really works for grief) and… I wrote a poem about grandma and her life.

It felt good to cry. Like a dam breaking. I was able to function and get done the errands that had to be done.

My stepmom called to “inform’ me they were in my yard early this morning, doing something to my car. My dad is still not speaking to me, and that was before Grandma passed. I guess my fuck up with the car battery was just something so sinister and unforgiveable he cannot bring himself to speak with me directly.

Normal families, this is the sort of thing that’d bring you together. You’d commiserate, discuss good memories, you’d hug and maybe tear up.

Not my ass trash family. I mean, my sis and I are sad, and even my mom,despite dad having divorced her 20 years ago, she still had grandma as a mother in law for 28 years and loved her. I don’t know how my man child brother is coping. He wasn’t close to grandma even before the alzheimers kicked in so much as he is like dad, I doubt he has much emotion going on beyond what society demands ‘a real man’ show.

My kid is being a spaz and saying I can’t make her (giggle giggle) go to a funeral (snort snort) cos she can’t sit still (he he he) and I BETTER NOT let my grandma’s funeral make her miss school…OMFG. If I was not related to this child, I would absolutely despise her and find her a disgrace to humanity. Yes, I know, it makes me a monster, but I just…can’t stand ego and vapidity. Even in an 11 year old. Not that I am letting her know that. I paste on the stoic face, I ooh and ahh over her Pokemon cards, and I keep shit to myself unless it’s something vital. Like her pants not fitting and hanging off so badly her crack and cheeks show.

So she starts bawling and screaming that I am verbally abusing her by pointing out that her pants fit poorly and it’s, legally, indecent exposure….

Not even a mom with no tears actually crying tears and a family death can stop The Drama Llama.

Well, my dad just drove by in his rig and trailer and blew the horn, so he’s working, literally 12 hours after his mother died.

Priorities, man. Yes, work is important, but taking one day off wouldn’t have hurt them an iota. It’s just how he copes. He focuses on anything but emotion or ya know, being kind.

I think I’m just over this rant.

I will however leave you with the poem I wrote, even though it means trying to type with frozen bedroom fingers. I wrote this about grandma and how her first husband walked out on her and left her with two small children, then she married my grandpa and had another kid, but grandpa was so jealous, he wouldn’t ‘let’ her work or get a driver’s license til she hit her forties and just…did it. Never mind his fists of fury, she finally found herself.

You go, Grandma.

————

You were dealt a hand you didn’t deserve
but you paved a new road for you and yours
you forged ahead, not looking back
living life to the fullest, giving all you had
Finding your voice halfway through your life
You backed down from no one, no challenge, no fight
You used your mind and your words
to set yourself apart
into your family and writing, you poured your heart
You loved, you lost, you carried on
yet again dealt a bad hand
from life’s cruel deck of cards
Year after year you hung in there
it was one hell of a fight
now you can have the peace you’ve earned
and finally again be
with the love of your life

Z Whack A Mole

Yesterday, I was so defeated and deflated I was honestly ready for them to lock me in the rubber ramada or just take my kid away. I can’t control her.

Like the idget I am, I trusted her to be hanging out with the neighbor boy since I’m like one room away. I figure he’s 13, she’s 11, surely they can be trusted to hang out without a helicopter mom.

Then I got a call from my stepmonster whom my neighbor lady called to let me that this boy and my kid were hanging out at her bedroom window with a lighter, setting things on fire in the window sill.

What the actual fuck?????

This house was built in the 1920’s, it would burn like kindling from a stray flame.

I sent the kid home, grounded her, repo’d the tablet, and did battle with her for 2 hours. It’s fault she has such a boring life she thoughting setting things on fire would be fun. It was the boy who did it. No, it was her idea, but he got the lighter. It’s because all the other kids have a dad they at least get to see. It’s because I don’t make her feel loved enough.

I am so fed up with this kid I almost wish they would take her away. I am obviously a shitty parent or she wouldn’t need to pull this shit then all the lies and thieving and drama…Maybe she needs to go live with a drill sargeant because me giving her my trust proved to be an epic fuck up on my part. I can’t even trust her alone in the bathroom, she gets into my stuff there, too. Last time she had chafing and decided to help herself to my powder then started bawling because it made it worse. Well, duh, it was Estee Lauder perfumed powder and she’d been told numerous times not to touch my stuff and to certainly NOT put perfumed products on raw skin. But nooo, my kid has sticky fingers and can’t leave shit be even when it’s for her own good.

I swore I’d never let this blog become so damned kidcentric. I am a single mom, and it’s a huge part of my life and mental health struggles, but this shit lately it’s turning into the Spooky Sociopath blog. And it infuriates me that she can take yet one more thing from me when I already have so little to call my own. But if I don’t vent about what a nightmare she’s making my life, I fear I might implode.

She found yet another way to screw me over and cost me money, so now I can’t pay my water bill because I had to pay to replace her necessary glasses. $85 to replace them because she’s too lazy to put them up properly.

Just problems everywhere like moles, I Z Whack one, another pops up.

I found a way to keep the heat on but now she has to have glasses (it’s called neglect, apparently, not making sure she has glasses) so I can’t pay the water bill I just fucking got caught up on from last month when the car battery died.

At some point, I’m gonna wanna use the Z Whacker on myself because I feel so fucking trapped and depressed and anxious. Living with this child has me scared to sleep, literally. God knows what she’ll get up to if she wakes during the night and is bored. Blow the place up with the gas pilot light? Bludgeon me with a hammer? You may think I’m going overboard but this kid scares me. She needs the kind of help I can’t afford and she’s in a que now but because of all the psych center changes, she won’t be seeing a shrink any time soon no matter how obviously she needs one. Her insurance only covers 20 minute counseling sessions and those are pointless because she just tells them she’s ok or the only thing wrong is mom told her no to something or can’t buy her something.

I did not create this monster, there is something off in her brain.

I need to get her help, but hey, what about me? I’m barly staying afloat mentally myself?

So tired of Z Whacking one problem only to have 2 more pop up. I love my child, how can she say she doesn’t feel I love her? And how dare he blame her father’s absence on me? He made his choice, I didn’t run him off, I don’t keep him away from her. Why am busting my ass for this kid and yet she blames me for every negative in her life?

I know, put on the big girl panties and put away the whine and cheese.

I’m just frustrated and depressed and anxious and I don’t feel safe with this kid, she’s…scary. Not always but often enough that I live in one eye open states. She wants a ‘normal’ family. She wants a family with money because people with money have more fun lives than we do.

Well, I want a normal family,too. I want a kid who isn’t a pathological thieving pyro liar who blames me for everything and beats up on me.

Neither of us got what we wanted.

Prior to the tween thing I thought we were a family, me and her against the world, mom-daughter team. To learn she no longer views it this way…

And that my poverty is why she’s so bored she needs to set shit on fire for fun…

Nice try, kid. I’m pretty beaten down but I’m not braindead enough to fall for that blatant bullshit manipulation.

I’m just gonna keep doing me, keep blogging, keep writing (when I have phone data to post it) and I am going to introduce her to what boredon really is. No friends, no tablets, only PBS to watch.

It may not have gotten this far if they hadn’t taken away a parents’ right to swat a child on the butt when they misbehave. All this mollycoddling grounding bullshit is what helped create this little deviant I am raising. I don’t believe in abusing kids, but all it ever took me was one good spanking by my dad when I was 5 and I NEVER fucked with him again.

I digress. Or something. Fuck, my brain is moosh.

Just. Keep. Writing. I will not let this tween tyrant rob me of my writing, even if she seems to be the star of it lately. I will vent, then…I will take back my story and talk about that as opposed to lamenting the latest horror she has perpetrated.

Just not today. Today I needed to rail and Z Whack some moles.

Free Verse- Alone

Alone, people say,
like it’s a bad thing
being alone isn’t so bad
I wrap my arms around the wall
it doesn’t wrap its hands around my neck
alone is fine by me

Monsters- Poem About Mental Illness

I am the boogeyman in your closet
the monter under your bed
I am the bug crawling under your kinvor
the works crawling round in your head

I am the bad dreams
that you cannot escape
the living nightmare from which
you can never awake

I am the parasite in your bloodstream
The predator, your soul I will take
you may wither and die
before you ever wake

I am the carnivore
upon your soul I shall feed
Leaving you a husk
making you forever bleed

You run and run and run from me
in the end you will find
I am the monster inide you
from which you cannot hide

Imperfect Me-Poem

Your perfectionism chokes me
provokes me
you can only be who you are
why not afford me the same
I am imperfect and flawed
messily beautiful
chaotic my forte as is perfection
is yours
The more you push me to be
more like you
the more I don’t want to be
anything like you, I only
want you to let me be
and let me be me
The messiness you shun is
the tempest within me that
keeps the fire in me alive
who you are is smothering
the flame of who I am
Yet what do I do to quash
who you truly are
Nothing
You want perfection
you’ve knocked on the wrong door
and for these reasons it’s likely
my chaos and I will
vanish into our messy ether
your kingdom of order and control
and perfectionism
all yours to savor
while I go my own way and
shake off the joylessness
I felt being under your thumb of
control and perfection
I want to be free
I want to be chaotic and messy and
mostly
I just want to be imperfect me.

Poem-Purr

Middle of the night
a soft furry paw on my eyelid
is the food dish empty?
do you need more water?
Middle of the night
a wet lick on my forehead
do you need attention?
or are you saying you love me?
Middle of the night
a cold shiver met with a content purr
Warm fur pressed to my cheek
Happiness glowing from within