So okay, Herman never came home. Fine with me, but the boys are hurt. We finally took them home after waiting for the Rat Bastard at Derrick's then zooming over to Penn Station in EWR to bring his huge duffel bag to him, couldn't find him there either.
Doris was mad at me for voicing my opinion about her little asswipe motherfucker. Like me talking about it is making it worse for the boys. How can it be worse? And how can they love him so much? Everybody just adores this selfish prick buttbrain who calls & leaves messages like, 'everyone wants to spend time with me, but I don't have so much to go around,' 'Next time I'll spend a day with my friends & set aside the rest of my time to be with you & the kids.'
Doris is really furious with him, but she will just let it go so as not to aggravate her blood pressure. At least this time she did voice her displeasure. But of course, I should not. Actually I've been better than usual about it (in my opinion), but not to her. She keeps clearing her throat. Like that's gona stop my thoughts & feelings on the subject.
When we finally got back home, I was so gleeful: "oh Poochie, isn't it so great to be home alone again, just the two of us!!?" She replied non-chalantly, "it's okay."
Well, fuck that. My whole vacation has been ruined. As usual. It's all been built around the holiday, getting the place ready for her family, esp Herman & his boys, creating a comfortable nest for them to visit in, & dealing with the result of their pain of not being put first.
So I guess that is what it's all about really. The pain of not being put first. Better to be the adult, than the child growing up & having to learn & face the reality of not being loved for real.
As an adult, the pain is just regular that still burns thru the years, something you can forget about with practice, until those times it pops, up, back in your old psyche... That dull ache (like an old broken bone that throbs in the dampness) reminding you that you weren't then & aren't now good enough, or deserving of true love. That happiness can only be relative to the moment, not really dependable or even expected.
So the lesson always is that one must create their own happiness, live their own love. Doris does this well, usually. I'm always thrown back to the little kid desperate to please, offering her heart to those who just aren't able to give back enough, wanting to become whole no matter what whom ever else does or thinks,... But stuck in that all to familiar limbo to really make it. To be it, to live it, to heal it, to do it. To be who I am & thrive accordingly.
I always think I've about gotten all this down. Until God (gee thanks, God) throws a monkeywrench into the mix & sends along someone to remind you how fragile reality (yours, mine, their's, ours) still can be. That the lesson(s) still needs to be learned & conquered, That one step at a time we must walk thru the aggravation until we become better. And someday I might finally "get it."
Until I do, I'll have to repeat the cycles over & over again. So what is the fucking problem, why is it SO HARD to learn life's lessons? Some people never do, I doubt seriously my mother did. I do not want to be doomed to have to repeat all this shit & have to come back in my next incarnation & start all over again with this same crap.
So what to do, what to do? Don't get stuck! Observe it all, recognize what can be changed & what can't. (I can only change myself, not Herman, not Doris.) Okay, Go on, live & learn. Stop bitching, start climbing above it- somehow, someway. Hmmmm, sounds impossible to me. Because I'm quite comfortable sitting & complaining. So try a more positive effect: What? This is where I get stuck. Just go on & live. Love. Oh man, too much effort. Gotta do it, gotta be it. sigh, maybe. Whatever. shit. Lethargy. Avoidance. don't wanna. oh God, here comes that bolt of depression. I gotta get better at this, or nothing will change.
Clomp clomp clomp. (Me plodding ahead one step at a time.) sigh.
AAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaa!!!! I fuckin' hate it, I really don't know how to get/be more positive.
Well, gotta try. Or it will only get worse.