Wednesday
December 1, 1999
*the red
shes and hers
denote the other woman. All black shes and hers are me.
She was
thinking of her mother quite a bit lately. This was only her
second Christmas without her around
and that concept seemed so alien to her. No mother, no Santa,
no Christmas joy like She use to feel. Feelings of closeness
intensified by her mother's impending doom...
A new
Christmas that could always guarantee days up until Christmas
day spent in the hospital wishing her mother could come home.
There were many days when her mother was most ill, laying in
bed in the hospital getting heavy doses chemotherapy that she
could never visit. It was hard to watch her die like that. She
was so close to her mother that she could feel so much of the
pain that she never complained
about. That's why when she finally decided to quit hurting for
her her heart was littered with
tiny holes... she had learned how to let go of the pain herself
because she was not going to drag that kind of energy with her
into her next life.
Liudmila
from the Czech Republic told her "when you lose your mother,
you lose everything." Her mother
had been dead over 27 years. She told
her stories of many beautiful places She had read about in books,
seen on TV and heard from other weary travelers in the hostels.
Liudmila was surprised to find her in a laundromat. "You don't
see people that like to travel everyday."
She listened
to her intently as her
broken English was delivered in a melodious voice. She wished
her mother had some of the qualities Liudmila had.
She found
herself seeking solace in different kinds of women these days...
something She did as a teenager because her own mother was too
ill to tend to many of her needs. This was a bad habit she could
not shake, or maybe it was more of a reality of what she or
what anyone felt. Seeking completion, confirmation, even validation
from elders to make her feel better about herself as a woman.
She found that she sometimes comprehended concepts about life
then many women twice her age didn't even understand. She was
thankful when she thought of how wise she was at such a young
age when her peers seemed suspended in blissfully ignorant lives.
She was
hoping this holiday season would be unlike any one previous.She
always thought that this time was the time that her life would
change. She wouldn't allow herself to fall into the pits and
holes of her consciousness that made life so unbearable at times.
She thought
of herself as a teen.She remembered a time when the class was
to do a paper on the importance of Christmas. She was the first
one to read her paper and it was intimidating enough so people
that were going to read their's after decided that what they
had written was far too hokey. It started off something like
"This will probably be the last Christmas I celebrate because
it's going to be the last one I get to share with my mother.
My mother makes sure that the true meaning of Christmas, spending
time with family and giving thoughtful gifts that will always
remind me of her even after she
is gone."
She had
no idea it would be like this. She often came across gifts her
mother had given her and she kept some of the things still wrapped
tightly in a box so she wouldn't damage the preciousness she
felt or forget the feeling of her mother looking at her as she
opened her gift. She remembered when her mother cried and cried
and cried because she could not
give her children the Christmas
she thought they deserved. One
Christmas she bought toys at a
consignment shop and felt guilty. As she listened to her mommy
tell her this story as an adult with childlike tears in her
eyes she confessed that she had never known her toys were used
and that her Snoopy was one of her favorite toys.
Part of
her mother's resentment for her father came from such stories.
He had cheated her and her
babies out of living an ideal existence. As an adult she was
grateful she was not a snobby cunt like many of the girls that
drove BMWs to high school. Unaware and oblivious of the many
struggles to life that lead to an enriching existence.
She never
knew that all the little intricacies of her life would lead
her to be a much more understanding and compassionate person.
She craved to feel that closeness, that intimacy she felt in
her family with a man that was intense, but she always sought
men that had a stable childhood existence where both parents
were at home on Christmas morning.
May be
she thinks the normalcy of that kind of existence will somehow
make her a better person. Better then she already was but she
was not convinced she was worse right now. She was beginning
to understand the uniqueness that was all that she was. I think
it's defined as confidence.
Monday
December 6, 1999
She tossed
her legs over his shoulder and watched him as he serviced her.
She was ready to change positions and he had her put her left
leg in between his sprawled legs. He continued going into her,
deeper with each thrust. She reached up and put his nipples
in between her fingers, careful not to squeeze *too* hard...
he didn't like it rough.
She felt
the power of the engines roar through her body. She decided
that she had to fly through the air in a large metal penis at
least once a month to make her happy. This month she would fly
at least 4 times. Twice to Boston, once to DC and once back
home. This was one way to escape that dreadful place that made
her feel so awful this time of year.
Yes...
escape was necessary. She began to realize more and more how
toxic Kentucky had become. There is no where there that she
can fulfill her dreams or become the kind of person she envisioned
herself being. Samantha helped her with that. Samantha helped
her with so much. Together they had a complete brain.
She was
in Washington as Samantha's attendant. She sat and listened
to them talk about disabilities while understanding the nature
of her own. Being a "disabled" woman opened many doors for her.
It also closed some as well. She could never have an interview
and be comfortable because she could never remain consistent
long enough to let the interviewer believe that she was worthy
of hiring. It wasn't that her skills were lacking... but that
this web page is just so "outrageous" that it disturbed people.
She decided to say fuck them. People that judged her solely
on this... her life as she saw fit to broadcast and saw this
page as something they could not possibly comprehend. She no
longer took many things personally anymore.
So many,
many things to write about... and so little time. She was tired
from the meeting and the energy it was requiring to be social...
Tuesday
December 7, 1999
The day
was long and her head hurt. Hearing information about brain
injury and the hopeful new treatments excited her. Here she
was at the NIH once again, this time with Samantha, being an
assistant. To hear all the proposals was overwhelming. She often
wondered how she made it through college.
She stopped
and talked with a man about being a disabled woman with brain
injury and what kind of person she needed to see to help her
adapt more readily to aging with a disability. He told her to
contact the APA and ask someone about division 22.
She talked
about her frustrations she felt that she could not get a job
because she couldn't lie long enough in an interview to hide
her true character.
She and
Samantha had many a late night conversation. She thought of
all kinds of things, pieces she revealed about herself in her
journal, how she began to distance herself, trying to relate
better to the people that cared about her.
Normally
she felt guilty because she didn't always return phone calls.
She was bad about communicating but great at keeping her journal
and she knew it confused people that would write to her. It's
not that she didn't care about them... it was just hard as someone
with brain damage to remember to keep up.
She thought
of how she might have "acquired" brain damage. There was that
awful fall when she was 3 or 4. Back then they barely had cat
scans and she was confident that since kids came in with bloody
heads all the time they didn't think to follow up. Then there
was the auto wreck she was in when she was about 6 when her
mother was driving with bald tires and hit a rock wall on I-71.
There was another time she was trying to prove to herself that
she could climb a fence without falling down as an adolescent
and she fell once again head first on to concrete. The first
time she hit a brick. The final injury occurred when she had
brain surgery and as she sat up from her hospital bed the first
time after the cyst was drained, her brain fell and she felt
it.
She snapped
through the images of her mind and determined that she had to
have acquired the brain injury when she feel as a young child.
Her memories, except for the abusive years living with her father,
were crisp and clear. She could think of the bee stinging her
left hand for the first time and trying to nurse a baby bird
that fell from its nest when she was really young.
Then she
thought of her dad and how mean he had been to her. Maybe it
wasn't all the things she felt... at least not totally... but
maybe he was cruel to her because she didn't always answer him
the way his other children did. She could only assume but then
she remembered what a prick her dad was period. The way he treated
her as an adult proved his ignorance on how to deal with a disabled
child. Everything was still her fault.
Looking
back through adult eyes she found new reasons to lose respect
for her father every day... and miss her mother even more. Her
mother, pre-chemo, would have known if after she fell she acted
differently... but he never would have paid attention. Her mother
would know...
Everyday
she found a new reason to miss her mother. It doesn't get any
easier because there were always questions she would want her
mother's advise on. Do you like Kevin? What the hell happened
to me that night I felt as if my cunt and soul were wide open
when he was deep inside of me? Why can't I find a job? What
is wrong with me? Why can't I be normal?
But her
mother was no longer physically there and just as everyday she
found a reason to miss her mother, she also found a reason to
hate her for dying.
Thursday
December 9, 1999
The plane
ride back to Boston was exhausting. No to mention that middle
Eastern bastard that told them the downfall of civilization
was going to be the Internet. Plus the sermon on how the world
was going to end... she always loved to hear that shit.
She forgot
her power supply and was patiently awaiting her new one to come
via Airborne Express. She picked up Samantha's copy of Coping
with Mild Traumatic Brain Injury and started to read and
discover so much about herself. Nobody had told her that she
suffered from MTBI. No one told her she would suffer
from fatigue. She went to her regular doctor not long after
her brain surgery and complained about always being tired only
to be told that she might suffer from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.
Now she knew that was no longer the case.
She found
many things interesting about this book... but most of all this
paragraph: While a significantly heightened sexual drive
is usually associated with moderate and severe brain injuries,
this condition occasionally occurs as a result of MTBI. In some
cases, this intensified drive is manageable. In other instances,
it can become overwhelming and compel an individual to make
inappropriate jokes, comments, and physical advances, or to
engage in exhibitionism and other overtly sexual behavior in
public.
She wondered
if maybe that could be the explanation for some of her behavior...
Saturday
December 11, 1999
High strung
and over wrought her hysterical sobs rung through out the US
Airways ticket counter. "I've looked everywhere and I CAN'T
find my ticket." Another $70 that she didn't have... All she
wanted to do was to feel his arms around her and kissing her
lovingly. She was emotionally tapped this time of year. Everything
that had ever bothered her in her entire life came out of her
uncontrollably.
She knew
that she could go home... she was standing... waiting for the
plane and started to cry as it left without her. She didn't
understand what had happened to it. She ran to security and
to where she had sat with a young lady, Ali, traveling on her
own. It was not in the garbage... she hadn't gone to the bathroom.
It had to have been in one of her "safe places." Her mother
used to have her safe places
where she would put things only
to be discovered many days, months or years later.
"I CAN'T
AFFORD ANOTHER $70 DOLLARS! I JUST WANT TO GO HOME!!!" she continued
to sob hysterically. And then something she could have never
have anticipated in a million years happened. A woman waiting
in line behind her place $100 bill into her hand and that caused
her hysteria to heighten. All she could think about again and
again was how much she wanted her mommy and she couldn't call
her to be consoled. Writing these
words in the airport reminded her that she still had a recording
that her mother did for her before she
died. "I love you... if you're having a bad day, I'm sorry.
I will always love you." But these words did not fill her head
at that time. Just the emptiness she felt of living without
her... the encroaching holidays,
the fact that she and Samantha did not come to a resolution
about the web page she had spent so much time working on and
her early departure back home to Kevvy Joe and substitute teaching.
She passed up the opportunity to start working in Chicago to
go up to Boston and DC.
This was
not part of the script. She was suppose to get on the plane
and get back home and fall into his consoling arms in an intimate
embrace by 1pm. This was not the first time she had missed her
plane... she had missed it more times then she could remember
but losing the ticket was a first.
A woman
came from behind the counter and started searching her bags.
She felt violated in a way, but she was still crying uncontrollably.
She held the $100 bill in her hand and the thought that a perfect
stranger could care so much about her... more then her own father
just added to the resentment she held for him. She wished she
could forget such a man existed and that all the time she spent
telling herself he did not love her and he only cared about
her in his fucked up manner would sink through. But all she
could feel was wounded.
She stood
up after putting all the contents of her purse back in and the
woman snatched the ticket out of the back pocket of her blue
jeans but still the tears flowed. She was angry at her obnoxious
display of emotion and even more angry with herself for forgetting
where she placed her ticket.
"It happens
all the time." The agent took her back to where the stranger
was and she thanked her so much
for her kindness. She even told
her to keep it but she knew she was just overwhelmed at the
time and she really didn't need it.
She went
to wait for her plane and Ali was sitting there listening to
her headphones and working on
animated gifs for her web page.
She sat
her stuff down and called Kevvy Joe... not so hysterical but
obviously upset. Then she went back and started talking to Ali.
Ali was
so amazing to her. At just 14 she
decided to go away to school on her
own. She admired her courage,
strength and character while still being ashamed for crying
so much. She sat and listened to her
life and by the time they parted she hoped that if she ever
had a daughter she would be as
safe and well rounded as Ali.
The one
thing that disturbed her the most was how close she
was to her sister. She envied
that and felt a tinge of resentment for her mother who seemingly
went out of her way to forge
some kind of resentment between her siblings. One of the most
destructive behavior patterns she hoped to never repeat.
Sitting
in Charlotte, she decided that the script would still continue...
she would fall into Kevvy Joe's arms not just defeated and consolable,
but full of desire and passion. She was finally allowing herself
to trust him and with that trust came love. Although she did
not like some of the things he did or was, she admired him for
his character and ability to ease her neurosises by simply caring
about her and being there for her and loving her the way she
needed to be loved. He couldn't fill the gaping craters in her
consciousness that plagues her daily... but he was beginning
to open up to her and love her the way she needed to be loved.
The week
before she left for Boston he was so tender and loving. Their
bodies were beginning to be entwined as he awoke for work. One
morning he just laid and savored her body glued to his before
he had to leave for work and when she awoke later that day she
still felt his presence with her the rest of the day.
The relationship
wasn't perfect... but it was something that she was beginning
to crave... something that she could be proud of and something
to call her own.
Sunday
December 12, 1999
There
was milk in the fridge when she got home and he showed up to
the airport a little late so that as he was desperately looking
at arrivals she was already walking up to him and about to kiss
him before he realized she was right in front of him. He handed
her the single red rose and balloon of Elvis. She kept wrapping
her arms around him and kissing all over him.
They went
to the store to pick up her photos and she saw many interesting
photos from the past 4 months that she had not gotten developed.
Michael in Chicago... Colleen and her on the cruise... Zack
holding Colin as he slept.
Then he
wanted to take her out to dinner and she told him Arby's was
fine with her. She wanted to go home and feel him next to her
body. She could not believe how much she ached from not having
physical contact from him. She was almost as ashamed having
to feel him inside her as she was sure most men felt powerless
to women.
It seemed
to her that the battle of the sexes was a hoax. The only reason
men felt they needed to dominate women was because we caused
sensations and feelings in their bodies they could not control.
Pornography was not about objectifying women, she felt, it was
more about getting men anestizied to any one woman.
She held
the photographs of Keir's naked body in her hand and almost
died. A flood of wonderful memories filled her mind of the week
they spent in Amsterdam. She had no idea such intimate portraits
would lead to her feel such overwhelming feelings again.
They had
chatted on ICQ the night before... telling each other some of
the things they wanted to do to one another. As soon as everything
was out of the car he was on her. Her body ached for him. She
kissed all over him, so appreciative of his love, hungry for
his touch and yearning for his intellect. She was slowly allowing
herself to feel her love for him.
She talked
to her older sister on the phone for almost an hour. Their bond
was getting tighter and tighter. She
exclaimed "Catherine, Catherine... oh what a life you lead!"
and thanked her for being a wonderful aunt. She wanted to cry
when she heard these words because it showed her that she was
indeed appreciated.
She talked
to her Granny for a while and then as soon as she hung up he
pounced on her like a kitten with a toy. He held her close standing
behind her caressing and feeling her soft milky skin.
She was
a girly girl even though she rarely wore make up or a bra. She
told him as they bathed together in the tub how she saw Bringing
Out the Dead on Friday night with Sam. Nicholas Cage had
this great line... he had been divorced for a while and woke
up in Mary's apartment and went to wash his face. "There were
three different soaps smelling of different seasons..." She
told him how much she enjoyed that part and what he must have
thought the first time he saw her toilteries.
Echo said
to Sam when they were here "coming to Cathy's is like going
to a spa." Which naturally made her feel even more girly.
When he
first went inside of her she felt as if her heart stopped. It
hurt just a little and she felt once again like being with him
was completely different. Kissing, moaning, pumping away her
mind was concentrating on the absolutely ecstasy he was delivering
bit by bit and then full force.
She had
thought about sin and how as a heathen since she didn't know
Christ then how could she possibly be a sinner? And her grandmother
told her that when she would sin she would feel guilty but nothing
she had done out of the ordinary of her life made her feel like
she was a bad person.
"I love
you, Sassy Joe."
"Again."
"I love
you, baby."
"Again."
"Uhhh...
Aye yay yay."
"Why?"
"Because
you are a good person, a good Aunt, you are caring..."
"But how
do I make you feel?"
She straddled
him and started to give him little kisses on his lips and eyes.
She made him hold still as she massaged his eyebrow with her
lips and intermittently switched to kisses. She moved her mouth
to his closed eyes and tenderly kissed his eyelids. She rubbed
her face against his and ticked him with her hair.
She was
very glad to be home.
Monday
December 13, 1999
She sipped
the whiskey and coke and thought back to the first time she
was ever drunk. She wondered if that memory would live with
her forever. She thought of the intermittent times she had drank
whiskey and coke and if it brought her much delight. She was
an alcoholic, that was part of her DNA since her father's side
were all a bunch of lushes. Unless you don't count drinking
everyday just-a-little-drink as alcoholism.
There
was more liquor on top of their refrigerator then clothes that
hung in her closet when she was a child. (As a protest, she
kept cereal boxes, oatmeal and pancake mix there now.) Nice,
expensive liquor which is where she had taken the Maker's Mark
from in order to experience this glory drinking was suppose
to bring.
She remembers
being 13 and staggering drunk, scaring her sister to death because
Anne had never seen her that way. But then she wondered...
Last night
on 2 a.m.Oprah she watched as this man talked about addictions
as wounds that needed healing. She didn't drink on a regular
basis but she was a predisposed alcoholic. She loved sex voraciously,
but she had been with only one man for 6 months now. She loved
the consolation of food and thought of her own excitement and
pleasure she derived from being bulimic. She also wondered if
she didn't love milk for the very reason that it brought her
so much comfort... and if every time she drank it she was reminded
of when her mother gave it to her in a bottle.
She remembers
the images from a book on her father's shelf that she stole
when she left his house of WWII Concentration Camp victims.
She was weaned on Hitler's madness from the documentaries on
TV to the WWII books laden on "the family" bookshelf.
She thought
of herself as a three year old coming inside the house crying
because the boys in the neighborhood called her Cathy Clay
Streaker, a nickname she now relished.
Trying
desperately to make *any sense* of some of the madness... Any
sense of her "addictions." Any sense out of why she felt it
necessary to put up with anyone else's abuse no matter how insignificant
it seemed. And then how it all related back to some of the shit
that use to come out of his mouth.
She thought
of what she had told Sam the other day... All bad behavior can
be attributed to insecurity and jealousy. If you can absolve
yourself of these two characteristics, she felt, you were allowing
yourself more energy to spend on enlightened awareness. People
that still exhibited such characteristics allowed their attitudes
to be displayed in one way or another through simple everyday
tasks or the language that they used. She knew what she was
doing by saying the word cunt in polite conversation.
She knew
she was not perfect... she made many mistakes but she was forgiving
enough to herself to allow herself to make those mistakes. Plus
she knew she was the most perfect Cathy Clay Streaker in the
world. There were people thinner then her, there were people
more intelligent, people with more something but there was NO
ONE that was like her... she made sure of that by pushing herself
so hard.
So whenever
things started to bother her she always took assessment of the
situations and compared them to some of the past experiences.
Like picking up two pieces of quartz off the ground and deciding
which one you wanted to keep in your pocket.
She wasn't
into being abused any longer, not in the slightest form. Life's
too short to worry about such problems.
Tuesday
December 14, 1999
She watched
carefully as he moved his hands across her engine. Every twist
of the socket wrench to the plugging up of every wire. She loved
to watch Damian do things that came so incredibly "simple" to
him. Everyone in his family had some kind of specialized knowledge
in something. His dad had been an air traffic controller, his
mom did mom things and now is finishing her degree, his brothers,
twins, were a tattoo artist and a stereo god. And Damian is
by education an electrical engineer. He almost has his ME.
To say
Damian amazed her on a consistent basis would be an understatement.
Not just with his accomplishments and creativity but by also
being a member of a family that was still somewhat happy. It
may not have always been great but it was good enough now that
when she was in their house her heart ached to feel that sense
of warmth only families can have this time of year. She experienced
it Sunday when she went to Lesli's.
They drove
around and looked for Christmas tress after he installed her
altanator. She was so grateful for him just being the way he
is. They found a white pine that she liked and the redneck asshole
wanted $28. She talked to the sexy Croatian and he gave it to
her for $25. He had fallen in love with his wife when he worked
on a cruise ship. They had just gotten back from there and had
a journey home that lasted over 28 hours.
She bid
Damian adieu and came home to get to work on her tree. Damian
had talked about the tradition of using a tree came from how
they are everlasting... but now it's just much easier to kill
it and put it up in you living room in a pre-paid commercialist
economy.
She put
it in the stand and moved it to different areas in her apartment
and decided on a place before he got home. He just wanted to
come home, listen to the hockey game and prepare for his trial.
He was reluctant to help her out which made her a little sad.
She knew after a few minutes it was because his father was dead
and there must have been some kind of meaning with the tree
and his dad that he wasn't ready to share, but he did ask her
for a hug as he finally decided it would be fun to get it ready.
She had
been collecting ornaments since she was 16. Now they all fit
in a giant green rubbermaid tub and a medium box. Most of them
were now bulbs from many Christmases ago and an accumulation
of a group she would get at a yard sale here and a thrift store
there. The first one on the tree was her Sylvester and Tweety
"solar" powered bulb and it showed Sly running around the cage.
The extra garland was placed in a different box she had last
packed up almost 3 years ago.
Most of
the bulbs stayed in their old homes since she finally had enough
funky and cool ornaments to go up on her tree. Her favorite
thing to do was to go to Pier One or a Department store the
day after Christmas and get everything on sale because ornaments
of good taste never went out of style. Kevin killed Santa and
one of her favorite ornaments that had never hung on a tree
of a glass swan encapsulated in a bubble swimming on a mirror.
After that she wouldn't let him near her favorite ones again.
Her mom
bought her several but she did not have the heart to put her
favorite one up because of the fear of losing it. Maybe when
her floor was carpeted. Andy's mom's snowflakes and some of
Andy's ornaments were in there. They made her a little sad.
She shouldn't have them let alone hanging them on her tree.
There was one from Skip. One she swore she had given to someone
else. They were from all around the world. Camels and bells
from India, unusual glass ornaments from the fifties, new blown
glass ones from the Czech Republic and Poland. One or two from
Russia.Her favorite ones were super gaudy ones that looked like
cup-cake crowns with rich yummy frosting on top. There was a
clear glass whale that was rather large and angles made in China.
She wished she had now ignored her mother's wishes for her not
to steal some of the family ornaments but her mother had given
her a gold star she had bought in Germany. They were all suppose
to have at least one after she died. She was sad to think of
some of the ornaments she made in elementary school were stuck
on some tree that they didn't belong to but such was life.
The angle
was one of the characters from The Nightmare Before Christmas
and was stuck on the top. She had seen many angles she
thought were pretty but she never bought. The only thing missing
now was tinsel!
Wednesday
December 15, 1999
She opened
up her mail and found an e-mail from Jenn.
Last she had heard Jenn was looking for a way to come up to
Kanfuckme. She looked at the photograph of what she knew used
to be a perfect, smooth belly now scared by two babies that
were never to see the light of day.
The first
e-mail she got started off with EVERYTHING IS OK... and then
she continued to read and tears started to stream as she read
about the ectopic pregnancy.
She found
it ironic that she called her web
page The Ovarian Scream.
She was
desperately trying not to fall into the pit of despair. Kevin
was rocky right now from missing his daddy and although he showed
composure most of the time his anniversary had just passed and
she knew how hard the imprinted memory of a parent dying was
forever a part of your biological clock.
Kind of
like how Jenn would never forget the day she lost her babies
and a fallopian tube.
Life life
life...so unfair and so demanding. Without the bad days then
it would be so uneventful. She was trying her hardest to not
feel the pain, to let the hurt just wash over here as she watch
the waves underneath the surface but she was starting to feel
this edge come back. This edge that made her angry, the edge
that moved her through Europe after her mother was in the ground.
That edge that made her just a little bit bitchy, but in a loving
way.
She had
been led to believe that she was feeling such sensations before,
but after returning from Boston she felt it all the way down
in her own ovaries. The rage was back but more refined, more
enraging and more honed.
Life may
not be fair, but she wasn't into becoming a statistic.
Thursday
December 16, 1999
She received
a letter from G. today that told her to find her center... Then
he started to use the example of riding a bike. And naturally
a great dad story came out.
Dad used
to run while the food he was preparing was cooking because it
always took longer then 40 minutes for my dad to cook anything.
(He tried to get us all interested in cooking but after I sliced
the top of my middle left finger off with a carrot slicer I
decided cooking wasn't for me... especially after seeing the
blood run all over the potato.)
While
things would be simmering he would run around the neighborhood.
Some times he would run before he started dinner. Anne and I
always tried to ride our bikes with our dad as he ran. I hated
when he would ride by Amy Able's house because that bitch tormented
me all the way through middle school and it wasn't until I was
much older did I realize she was jealous because she had no
hair and chicken skin.
We would
make it past Mary Alice Handel's place and these girls were
such rotten whores to me they would go out of their way to always
make me cry. One time I was hanging out at my "best friend"
Tina's house and she convinced me to go outside and play when
I didn't want to. A gang of teens came up on us and then they
started chasing me around. I could never understand what in
the fuck was wrong with me that so many people hated me.
That day
Tracy Turbiville found me in a bush and pinched my arm as hard
as she could until I started crying. I thought for the longest
time that people were always mean. My dad was abusive, my peers
were abusive and the geeks I hung out with were so glad they
knew a girl that they creeped me out.
It wasn't
until much much later that I realized not everyone wanted to
hurt me and I guess that's why I have this exterior around me
that has made me such a bitch.
So one
time I was following Dad as usual and I told him before we started
that my pedal wasn't working right. I guess, as usual, he didn't
believe me so I just decided to go anyway on my boy's dirt bike
that he got me for my tenth birthday (note-- boys bike-- like
I was ever going to fit in). We made the rounds and for some
reason Anne stayed home.
We were
almost home when my bike started to wobble way out of control
and I fell over and skinned my leg. It was my worse bike accident
and after that I didn't ride my bike much anymore. I think the
next birthday I got a new one.
She thought
of how her father had picked her up off the ground and carried
her the rest of the way home. She often wondered if he felt
bad that he didn't look at her pedal after she told him. She
had noticed that he had put her pedal back on the next time
she rode it.
Zack and
her had a long talk about socialization last night. She understood
how he could just be content spending time to himself. She was
an outcast and it was always much easier to spend time alone
then wasting it on people you were never sure about enjoying
your company.
There
were times she was a butterfly and there were times she was
reclusive even from her family and now happened to be one of
those times. She found social obligations too overwhelming this
time of the year but still sought some comfort from outside
stimulation.
Matt and
Susan were suppose to be coming over tonight and she was hoping
things would work out just right. The last people that came
over for dinner were Cathy and Ed and then her tooth-less, full
blown, red neck neighbor from Arkansas stopped by in a drunken
rage about his brother throwing a pizza at him. She had been
humiliated and ignored him when he knocked lately.
She didn't
mind befriending him and having a drink but she was not going
to listen to shit. She was finding her center and figuring out
just how wonderful life could be and fuck the rest of what was
going on outside of her own little existence. That's what everyone
else does, right?
Sunday
December 19*, 1999
The roach
was the biggest fucking thing she had ever seen and it was crawling
on the Pringles at Kroger. She got Kevin's attention and they
both watched it.
"Should
I kill it?"
"No."
They watched
as it's massive legs carried it's body all over the Pringles.
As they were about to walk away they watched it fall. She felt
herself bend over to watch it's path. It was too big to go anywhere.
She picked up one of the cans and the roach fell to the floor
and she stomped the life out of its body.
"I don't
know what to think of that." he said as they walked away from
the carcass.
"It was
just too big. It scared me and made me think our roaches are
cute. Oh my God... I just said roaches and cute in the same
sentence."
Last night
they spent time at Joe's. The party really picked up when Kathy,
Ed and Ted arrived. But not long after Kevin had to take her
home. She hadn't had that much to drink in a long time. Since
that time he didn't come to dinner the night Lesli and her family
came.
She got
home and puked a little. The room was spinning and the poison
was not leaving her body fast enough. She stuck her fingers
down her throat to get it all out. Some times she was grateful
she used to be bulimic.
Today
had been rough only because she started her period. She felt
her breasts swell to a larger size last week and she knew it
was coming. At the store she reluctantly picked out some liver,
hoping he wouldn't laugh at her like some of her friends had.
Matt and
Susan came for dinner and Susan had gotten her the prettiest
skirt that actually fit her that she had ever seen. She hadn't
a chance to get anybody anything and the time was nigh... most
of the time she was better prepared but she knew what she wanted
to give to them.
They had
a good time tonight. Kevin made tandori chicken. He also found
a forth reason why he was good to have around but she forgotten
the second and third but then remembered his cooking. He cooked
so wonderfully. Susan and Matt had brought a pie. They talked
about all kinds of things. It seemed to be one the those good
times that you have with friends over good food that you prepared
and good port.
She held
back the tears for her present. She felt very special again...
and ever since her mother died she had issues with not understanding
why she even had the right to live. Sometimes she didn't feel
this way but it was a mind set she found many Motherless Daughters
exhibited.
She took
a deep breath and exhaled and remembered that it was all going
to be OK. There wasn't a tragedy lurking in the background although
she still felt like in the back of her mind someone or something
was lurking there just daring to take her shot at happiness
away but more and more she realized that this mind set was one
that kept her alive and determined to live through some of the
worst experiences life has to offer.
She led
a really good life and was happy about a lot of things. She
actually felt good about having some kind of future for the
first time in a long time. Next week, Christmas and then back
to Chicago to hopefully nail down a job and start some kind
of life.
Life was
very strange and she was awaiting the next transition.
Tuesday
December 21, 1999
Happy
Winter Solstice.
She sat
across Uncle Tom and died each time he said something. They
were a lot alike. Feeding off one another. She kept him on track
as he told story after story.
Being
around a "family" for the first time around Christmas... family
with 3 teenage girls and a mother and father that were still
married. She showed the girls all kinds of photographs from
her computer and they giggled and Alexa asked "Do you look at
these everyday?"
"No...
I have Kevvy Joe."
She laughed
and cried and she delighted out of being around a dad that enjoyed
being a good, zany father to his girls. She missed that... but
it was something she was slowly starting to realize that was
never hers. She could remember calling her father as a child
and at this time she was sure that he liked it when they called,
but she couldn't imagine having the kind of life Uncle Tom provided
for his girls. It was happy.
Thursday
December 23, 1999
Busy,
busy, busy. She had not been this busy in a long time. Last
night with Jenn and Grisha out drinking and making a fool of
herself. Kevin wouldn't shut up. Sometimes he gets like that.
Kevin
was off from work for a few days. Those few days in Maryland
were sooo nice. She got Zack's present there. She still had
so much shit to do and when Jenn saw how disordered her place
was she told her about how if someone
ever broke into her house and murdered her it would be hard
to figure out which was hers and which was the murderer's mess.
"Well,
I just got back from Boston... and I have been fucking..."
"and fucking
and fucking." Kevin added.
They snuck
in to Man on the Moon last night. Probably the only movie
Jim Carey will ever be nominated for an academy award. She didn't
like it that much... she preferred the special she had seen
about his life on Comedy Central more.
Zack was
coming in tonight. She had so much to clean up. So much to do
and still a lot of shit to buy.
He woke
up this morning and came back from the bathroom with cold clinging
to his flesh. He crawled back into bed and held her tight and
stroked her warm, naked skin. It didn't take long...
I guess
I was right when I wrote that if a man keeps me happy in bed
then I am willing to put up with just about any amount of shit.
Friday
December 24, 1999
Shit shit
shit... I am not ready for tomorrow. I still have a few things
to get and then Zack wakes me up this morning with "It's snowed
last night. Big time."
"Kevin
will be happy." I thought. It's snowy and he was complaining
how it wouldn't be Christmas without the snow. I honestly didn't
think it would snow because for the past few years it has sprinkled.
I must admit that I do like snow for Christmas.
We exchanged
gifts last night. I got Zack a Disco Ball, some incense, a few
other things and a box of cookies in a yellow school bus since
his greatest fear in the whole wide world is having to go back
on a yellow school bus some day.
He told
me about the good news in Vermont yesterday and it was the happiest
bit of information I have heard all year. I would like it if
one day I could see him get married. His skanky maybe boyfriend
called last night at 2 am, right as we were going to bed.
Zack got
me a cock lamp from Ikea... ok, so maybe it's not really a cock
lamp per say but it is very phallic. And then he has been sewing
lately. He made my wrapping paper which was so fucking cool.
And the photos he sewed for my present are from our trip to
San Francisco. I knew when I saw the frame that it was probably
one of those frames that had a bunch of little photos but when
I saw them sewed together it made me feel really good.
I have
been running my ass off, going insane. I can't remember the
last time I have been this busy. Maybe when finals would roll
around when I was in school.
I finished
my Christmas present to you.
I've down loaded my entire fucking web page, which is about
50 megs, from Andy's house last night. And by Jan 2000, I will
have had over 20K hits to my personal web page, without advertising,
by word of mouth and links alone and to me that makes it all
worth it. Now if I had a dollar for every hit...
Merry
Christmas, or what ever fucking holiday you are celebrating
this year!
Me and Jacinta, Dec 23 1999
Monday
December 27, 1999
The ride
up to Chicago was calm and peaceful. Zack helped put everything
in order before I left. It was a nice gift since I have so much
trouble with what to keep and what to throw away.
I beat
Kevin at Trivial Pursuit three times but the first time
just barely. He didn't think I could do it again so I had to
mop his ass up. And the third time I let him catch up before
I creamed his ass. That was the best game for me. I went from
pie to pie directly answering every question right.
"What
does the winner get?"
"My eternal
devotion." he said holding me like a spider ingesting it's prey.
"You've
never lost to anybody, have you?" I asked sardonically.
I'm too
tired to think. Just barely able to report. Christmas... there
were two things I LOVED about Christmas. One was riding a sled
with my nephews as Kevin pushed us down the mushy snow and the
other was riding Kevin later that night.
It seems
the ghost of Christmas past would not ease her grip upon us...
and giving the doll I gave to her to her mother probably didn't
make it any thing less then a painful memory.
Kevin
slowly caressing my body that night did. He has been so good
to me. He didn't get me anything on Christmas, but today he
went shopping for some after Christmas bargains, which I completely
endorse! Just think if you did all your shopping AFTER Christmas...
how much money would you save?
I got
to spend an evening with Jenn. I got to spend some quality time
with my sisters and my family but still... I feel a little sad.
I think if I hadn't put up a Christmas tree this year, I would
have let all the shit from my past crawl back up on my shoulders
and I was desperately trying not to think about that... but
then I didn't get a stocking this year with cheap girly lip-stick
and other shit and I didn't get gifts from my mommy and it hurt,
but there is nothing I can do about it.
Tuesday
December 28, 1999
I have
been spending a lot of time alone. This entire year it feels
for the first time in my life I have been living my life for
myself and I must say it is rather nice.
I have
also taken the past couple of years really getting to know myself.
Sure, that may sound cliche but up to this calm point in my
life, sitting on Zack's computer as his tree blinks pink lights
and Frazier (which is Zack's last name) comes on TV as the snow
danced wildly as the cold beats relentlessly out my window...
these past couple of years I have been trying so desperately
to fill with the only meaning I have had in my life and the
only definition I have know... events.
Events
and weird ass funky shit drops itself in my life like a cat
that likes to sit in your lap but doesn't like to be pet. Things
I should probably ignore but things I consider anyways...
Once I
was faced with my own mortality I found it difficult to return
to previous ways of thinking and I find that sometimes when
I am with my family together, I am reminded of those thought
patterns and somehow get stuck like a record warped by the sun...
just a little.
I don't
like myself in social situations. I feel so awkward at times,
somehow being the topic of conversation even when I am absent.
Things I do, words I say that just set me apart from other people
and you have to wonder how I show that I am brain damaged when
I find it difficult to comprehend the lies people tell in order
to survive. Sometimes when the lies are especially transparent
then it's hard for me to believe anything coming out of the
liar's mouth.
I find
it difficult to find that many people that can relate to 1/10
of the madness I have endured but nothing... nothing compares
to this bullshit I feel from Y2K.
What if
this is Armageddon? What if we all die? What if some terrorists
do somehow manage to blow up a couple of cities? Would they
choose Louisville, or will my white trash neighbors just blow
up the neighborhood instead?
I do not
age in my mind so easily. I find that sometimes I savor certain
mind sets that kept me alive while I lived with my father...
but lately I am thinking (once again) that my dad did me a fucking
favor by allowing/kicking us out of his home. I was allowed
to become the woman I knew I could be.
I talked
with Tanya today for about 3 fucking hours. It was one of the
best conversations I have had all year. Intense as the conversation
I had with Jenn (Ovarian scream Jenn) the other night as well.
Do I want to ever put myself in a position where I am not as
happy as I could be? Am I settling? Is the world really going
to end at Y2K? Should I take out all the investments I have
or risk it and make a ton of fucking money from all the other
people that are scared? Will I ever feel like I did that moment
I was standing in the Moscow metro watching hundreds of thousands
of people walk by all equally as depressed because the economy
fell again?
I am enjoying
my time to myself. I have such self confidence on one hand and
the other has this little girl's hand that I am sick of holding
on to. I want to play with the adults now. I want to be happy
that for the first time in my life I feel like I am completely
falling in love with the man I also so happen to let in between
my legs.
I am happy
to have someone that loves me but is sweet enough to admit that
he doesn't know why he doesn't act the way he wants to (because
he's afraid) but he's man enough to admit it. A couple of months
ago I never imagined things with Kevin would start running so
smoothly. I miss him. He has been so good to me lately, another
reason I haven't been writing so much.
When I
had brain surgery, I pretty much lost all faith in people. I
felt like it was the last betrayal in a series of betrayals
that lined my life ever since my father threatened to kill my
mother when I was 6. I mean if you can't trust your family to
fuck you over then who can you trust?
So...
I have been introverted trying to define myself once again.
I try not to make resolutions because who fucking cares. Zack
and I were talking about it the other night and I think I tend
to agree with his philosophy in that you should look back and
hope that you have become a better person.
Wednesday
December 29, 1999
I decided
to go back and read through my journal. I started from the beginning.
It's funny how the people that were there at the beginning,
the people I really love deeply are all right there. Relationships
ebb and tide and naturally there are some people that will always
be in my life.
I find
it funny that the best friends I have were not people that I
had an instant connection with. And I even wrote this about
one of the guys that had a crush on me via the Internet:
Oct 9, 1997~
So then
I started to think, "Cathy, maybe you are shallow." Then I have
to hit myself because I just won't allow myself to talk to me
that way. Besides, I know it's not true. I have been through
too much to be as empty as my sperm donor. Plus everyone is
shallow and surface when you first get to know them. Some people
want to dive right into the deep end but end up cracking their
skull because they are still in the shallow end. Or worse, they
get in the deep end and realize there is a current that will
pull them under and make them drown. My favorite people are
the ones that wade in the water, letting it slowly tickle their
toes, and let it envelop them into comfort as you go past the
hips and the nipples. Soon you are swimming in no time trying
to figure out which stroke to use.
Kevin
has waded in. When we spent one of those first weekends together
here in Chicago we went swimming. I hung on to his neck and
wanted him to hold me tight but he kept his arms around him
trying to keep his head above the water. I was trying to get
him in the deep end and he wouldn't go. I don't think he likes
swimming as much as I do. I was practically raised in the water.
Wow...
I just got done reading up to Dec 28th, 1997. I must admit I
did do a pretty good job of sketching out my life in those first
few months. We will see how I feel about it later.
Thursday
December 30, 1999
Jan. 4th,
1998
I feel more helpless and vulnerable then I ever have, and nothing
I do or say seems to help me come out of it.
Yuck.
I still feel this way. I have just barely made it past mom dying
in my journal and naturally I have tons of tears streaming down
my eyes. I like this girl I read about. I sometimes forget that
it's me. I forget that I have a personality that overwhelms
me.
Well,
I can say this. I have become someone I hate. I can't get motivated
to come away from my emotions. I am so sad and I think that's
all I need to be. Maybe it's not so good or so healthy to be
so demanding on yourself but sometimes you just need the time
to be sad.
I miss
my mom terribly and I know there is no way anyone could ever
love me the way she did. I can't expect them to. And I have
deep issues about love and how I watched my parents use us to
hurt one another. I don't feel loved. I don't know if that's
because I don't allow myself or if I still feel like I don't
deserve to be loved.
Why don't
I deserve to be loved? Because my dad is an immature dick that
never knew what love was when he had us calling him every day
at work to see how he was doing when we were children? Did I
do something so fundamentally wrong to him that no matter what
I did he could never love me.
FUCK NO!
I am sick
of feeling like this. This is not the way I want to live the
rest of my fucking life.
My relationship
with Zack is the best it ever has been. I want to be closer
and feel him more but when I examine it right now, it's one
of the best relationships I have going.
Kevin
and I are getting along better then we ever have. I almost didn't
think he had it in him but he proved me wrong.
Anne told
me the other day that I had "grown up." I thought to myself
"You haven't." She acts like she is doing me a favor every time
she pays for storage and she still has shit in the fucking thing.
I would like for us to have a stronger relationship but I am
not taking on her baggage from when we were kids. I'm an adult,
she is an adult if she makes mistakes and fucks her life up
or lives it the way she wants then great! I am not going to
be emotionally involved like I was.
Melissa
and I have some work to do.
I value
Jacinta more and more.
I can't
go around trying to deny the person I am any longer to my grandparents
just so they can be happy.
Lesli
and I are growing together. I am growing with my nephews.
That's
what it's all about. Growing and enriching my life. I can't
say that I won't be sad anymore. I can't say that I feel strong
either. I can't say anything about myself in a definitive way
like I used to. I somehow feel like with my mom dying, I have
lost the edge that made me such a bitch. I feel much softer
now.
If growing
up means you have to lose your edge then I want no part of it.
I don't
know about many things these days. I feel like I am coming out
of this cocoon and ready to emerge a butterfly, that is if the
world doesn't end tomorrow.
**************************************************************
I decided
that after 20 thousand hits to my page that I needed to figure
out where some of the hits were coming from. I didn't have a
counter on catherineclay.com
but instead on my welcome page.
I came
across this web page and I couldn't help but cry. Sometimes I feel so
incrediably lonely even with all the messages I get. I can't
keep up with anybody like I used to because I just don't have
the energy to. I wish I could because I have met so many interesting
people.
So I read
her page and I don't even know who has written it and nothing
I can do can tell me. Not index.html... Nothing in the source
code. So... Thank you mystery lady for making me feel so good
this evening. Sometimes finding a mystery makes me feel even
better about myself and that maybe... just maybe I'm not as
alone as I sometimes feel.
