When does life really begin has always been a question of great discussion. There are those that believe life begins at birth, others that life begins at conception, and others that life begins with cognitive thought. Then there is me. I think life really begins once one turns 43. Why 43 you may ask, what is so special about that number? Well life changes at 43. In my case I have been divorced, lived high on the hog and in the mud under the hog. I’ve had three children, have the stretch marks and c-section scars to prove it (as well as the three children). I was raised by a mother who self medicated herself with alcohol, then prescription medications for pain. Then she finally overdosed on her pain meds because they didn’t work and she had forgotten if she had taken them that day. I grew up with a dad completely addicted to soccer. That was his way to escape from whatever reality was throwing at him. I remember when I was three and he didn’t come home from work as he had been in a bad accident on the LA freeway. I didn’t know what happened or where he was; but when he did come home he looked like a robotic monster all wired together. My superhero was taken away from me. I’ve been to Libya where we had to fight for survival and food; Yap where at times we had to shower out of the rain water bin because there would be no water on the island (yes surrounded by water) for three months of the year. I have been to court to fight for the right to live my life in my way; without abuse and constant degrading. I won that fight, then lost that fight and had to re-battle before finally declaring victory over the war. Judges aren’t really as smart as they like to pretend they are. Most of the time they don’t even hear what is going on since their mind is consumed with their crap from their own lives. I have read tons of self help books that I have torn up and thrown away; all of them trying to improve on who I am by making me someone I am not. I have been diagnosed with bipolar co-morbid with high anxiety disorder. Been to ER three times for my own safety and admitted to a psych ward once. I have been deceived by those I love greatly and brought back by those I hardly know. I now, after 43 years have the ability to look back at all of that and say “life is a journey, it is what it is.” And so begins the story…
Many people say I have lived a hard road. I don’t see it as any harder than anyone else’s road; just a different trail, a different path through a different part of the woods or on a different sandy beach. We all have hard times when we have to pick ourselves up by the bootstraps and say suck it up sister and get your ass moving – that is just life. Sometimes easier than others. What you have in your hands is a collection of thoughts through my life and my eyes when the flow of life has challenged my inner being.
Constipation stops up the world with all kinds of shit. There is work shit, kid shit, divorce shit, money shit… and it all gets stuck deep in the bowels of your own living hell, until you end up in the hospital. Then the doctor does x-rays, examinations, tests and more tests and comes back and says, “All you need is a good shit.” No kidding…That is what this writing is about – cleaning out all the shit and moving on with life. Recovery and celebration… getting the flow re-established.
Gretchen and Terri didn’t even know that they were drowning in their own bile when they set off for San Diego with their combined 7 kids, an ex-husband’s van which they didn’t know had no insurance or current registration, heading for the one hotel room they thought they could afford… thank the money shit gods for credit cards, or at least back at that time… now the credit card gods have fallen so far below hell they will never recover – lesson learned.
The morning they were loading up the van to get on the road it was noticed that the spare tire had metal thread showing through; of course the ex-husband currently and forever more named FF had forgotten to mention that. The ladies sat and discussed the pros and cons of leaving the spare and taking it with them. The room was needed for the peanut butter and jelly that they planned on living off of for the next 4 days so the spare tired was left behind – lesson learned, if you don’t have it; you will absolutely need it.
The kids loaded up and they headed down the road only a short 3 hours behind schedule. The ladies actually thought they were doing pretty good.
It became quite obvious about an hour into the trip that the kids needed something to do in order to not kill each other, so to protect our sanity we stopped at Wal-mart and picked up not one; but two portable DVD players that could be hooked together so there would be not arguing over who could see and who couldn’t, and several movies. Of course there was arguing over the movies so one of us became the instant movie control freak. Not an easy task by any means – lesson learned, no solution is as easy as it appears to be.
We were once again on our way only a short 6 hour drive from putting our feet in the sand and salt water of the Pacific Ocean. How hard could this be, we are two grown women, independent and brave… we could do this. We in fact could do anything we put our mind to and yes, we did eventually all arrive in San Diego, CA.