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As all the heavens were a bell
Jan. 30th, 2011 09:12 pmSorry for the spam, guys. I know you don't mind though. That's part of what this journal is here for, after all. I just have one more thing to say about the emails today, so I can get it all off my chest.
Apparently, ~everything I write & everything she writes is "shared" with my sister & grandma too~ (this comes from what she said earlier as well. She sent multiple emails all within the span of about twenty minutes), like, oooh, I've been a bad girl! (I guess that's why she threatened to "tell my father", eh?) And they think it's so, so mean. Everything I said my stepdad did was "imagined" (I suppose even the things she knew about when I was a kid? Even the things caught on camera? Even the text he sent my sister? Even the sex abuse he was convicted for by police?), also, and he is a "good, good man." She doesn't "know me anymore."
It's not just her crazyness that hurts. It's my grandma & my sister. That's what has me crying now, when nothing my mom said did. I'd like to come up with an excuse for my grandma, like she's senile or something else; I don't want to think about it. I just want one person from my childhood who I can remember fondly. No Christmas card or Birthday card from her this year, and this is why. Because I did what was right. She took care of me when I was sick as a little girl. She mixed together 7-UP and Hawaiian punch & let me watch Sleeping Beauty & Wizard of Oz every day after school. She'd always have either ice cream or a Kit Kat waiting, along with a can of Diet Coke. Of course later she went on & on about how guilty she felt for that because I ended up "fat" (when I was eleven, mind you), but hey, the ice cream was nice while it lasted. She's the one I went clothes shopping with at the start of every new school year. She taught me to swim--with my aunt--at nine years old. I called her Nanny Norny & compared her to Rabbit from Winnie the Pooh when she got mad. I made her almost pee her pants when I did impressions of hair stylists. It's all over now.
Nothing means shit. I'm so tired of it.
Or maybe it did? I thought it did. Then anyway. I don't know what it means now.
To think that my sister is *still* over there, entrenched in all that? She read what I said about the "tuck-ins" & still waves the flag for Camp Dysfunction? If he ever does anything to my nephew or niece--assuming he hasn't already--it will be her fault. Do you hear me? His & hers, both.
I just want to let all of this go, so bad. But it hurts. It does. I don't understand it. I know people can be flat-out nuts--there are holocaust deniers for fuck's sake; this is nothing in comparison--but my brain has such a hard time releasing it. It wants to make sense of it & fix it, but it can't. I think all I can do is acknowledge that it hurts & not *try* to understand it for right now. Maybe someday I will, I don't know. Right now I just need to step away, except for letting myself feel it & talk about it of course (but I mean "step away" as in stop opening her emails), and keep doing what I've been doing, which is to live my life, make room for joy, and do my thing.
Most life spans in America are roughly seventy-odd years. This is still part one in a way. Only the first chapter. It will not last forever. And I have other things that matter right now. They are not my whole world.
Aaaand a deep breath, in & out. That's better.
Thanks, guys. I appreciate you being here. Even though this basically constitutes me just word vomiting on you, and you then later replying to be like, "Yeah, pretty much!" Heh. It's still more helpful than you know.
Now, back to my fic. But first, I'll leave y'all with a fanvid. As![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
keenai said to me in a comment earlier today, I've got "Bones on the brain." Basically yes. Everywhere I look: Boooooones. Brennan & Booth, being all Brennan & Boothy. Rockin' it inside my limbic system. Making songs become about them, amusing me when Facebook shows me ads for "anthropologists wanted!" (with a picture of a skull! Hee. I've always loved anthropology though. But still. Heh.), other characters that remind me of them, and so on & so forth. It happens to me every time I go apeshit over a show. Just like clockwork.
Today though, I'll switch it up. BSG gets sad when I forget about my obsession for it for too long, so I need to make it feel wanted. It's hard being a polygamous fangirl. So many show-marriages, so little time.
(Go with it. Joking about silly crap makes me feel better)
This one is by dustingdustin & is all about the first episode of season 3. BET YOU WISH YOU WATCHED THIS SHOW NOW, DON'T YOU? LOOKS PRETTY AMAZING, SI? Unless of course you already do. In which case, y'know, carry on.
(When I'm done with my fic, I totally plan on having one Hell of a BSG marathon, btw. Not sure if I just want to rewatch season 3 & 4 right now--I'm hankering for those two really bad right now for some reason, which is funny because I used to always say season 2 was my favorite--or the whole thing, but I just know that show is on the horizon. That, and I'll be having myself a good-ass cry over "Maelstrom.". . .Along with a rewatch of the Sully arc on Bones--hee, see? ON THE BRAIN.
Apparently, ~everything I write & everything she writes is "shared" with my sister & grandma too~ (this comes from what she said earlier as well. She sent multiple emails all within the span of about twenty minutes), like, oooh, I've been a bad girl! (I guess that's why she threatened to "tell my father", eh?) And they think it's so, so mean. Everything I said my stepdad did was "imagined" (I suppose even the things she knew about when I was a kid? Even the things caught on camera? Even the text he sent my sister? Even the sex abuse he was convicted for by police?), also, and he is a "good, good man." She doesn't "know me anymore."
It's not just her crazyness that hurts. It's my grandma & my sister. That's what has me crying now, when nothing my mom said did. I'd like to come up with an excuse for my grandma, like she's senile or something else; I don't want to think about it. I just want one person from my childhood who I can remember fondly. No Christmas card or Birthday card from her this year, and this is why. Because I did what was right. She took care of me when I was sick as a little girl. She mixed together 7-UP and Hawaiian punch & let me watch Sleeping Beauty & Wizard of Oz every day after school. She'd always have either ice cream or a Kit Kat waiting, along with a can of Diet Coke. Of course later she went on & on about how guilty she felt for that because I ended up "fat" (when I was eleven, mind you), but hey, the ice cream was nice while it lasted. She's the one I went clothes shopping with at the start of every new school year. She taught me to swim--with my aunt--at nine years old. I called her Nanny Norny & compared her to Rabbit from Winnie the Pooh when she got mad. I made her almost pee her pants when I did impressions of hair stylists. It's all over now.
Nothing means shit. I'm so tired of it.
Or maybe it did? I thought it did. Then anyway. I don't know what it means now.
To think that my sister is *still* over there, entrenched in all that? She read what I said about the "tuck-ins" & still waves the flag for Camp Dysfunction? If he ever does anything to my nephew or niece--assuming he hasn't already--it will be her fault. Do you hear me? His & hers, both.
I just want to let all of this go, so bad. But it hurts. It does. I don't understand it. I know people can be flat-out nuts--there are holocaust deniers for fuck's sake; this is nothing in comparison--but my brain has such a hard time releasing it. It wants to make sense of it & fix it, but it can't. I think all I can do is acknowledge that it hurts & not *try* to understand it for right now. Maybe someday I will, I don't know. Right now I just need to step away, except for letting myself feel it & talk about it of course (but I mean "step away" as in stop opening her emails), and keep doing what I've been doing, which is to live my life, make room for joy, and do my thing.
Most life spans in America are roughly seventy-odd years. This is still part one in a way. Only the first chapter. It will not last forever. And I have other things that matter right now. They are not my whole world.
Aaaand a deep breath, in & out. That's better.
Thanks, guys. I appreciate you being here. Even though this basically constitutes me just word vomiting on you, and you then later replying to be like, "Yeah, pretty much!" Heh. It's still more helpful than you know.
Now, back to my fic. But first, I'll leave y'all with a fanvid. As
keenai said to me in a comment earlier today, I've got "Bones on the brain." Basically yes. Everywhere I look: Boooooones. Brennan & Booth, being all Brennan & Boothy. Rockin' it inside my limbic system. Making songs become about them, amusing me when Facebook shows me ads for "anthropologists wanted!" (with a picture of a skull! Hee. I've always loved anthropology though. But still. Heh.), other characters that remind me of them, and so on & so forth. It happens to me every time I go apeshit over a show. Just like clockwork.Today though, I'll switch it up. BSG gets sad when I forget about my obsession for it for too long, so I need to make it feel wanted. It's hard being a polygamous fangirl. So many show-marriages, so little time.
(Go with it. Joking about silly crap makes me feel better)
This one is by dustingdustin & is all about the first episode of season 3. BET YOU WISH YOU WATCHED THIS SHOW NOW, DON'T YOU? LOOKS PRETTY AMAZING, SI? Unless of course you already do. In which case, y'know, carry on.
(When I'm done with my fic, I totally plan on having one Hell of a BSG marathon, btw. Not sure if I just want to rewatch season 3 & 4 right now--I'm hankering for those two really bad right now for some reason, which is funny because I used to always say season 2 was my favorite--or the whole thing, but I just know that show is on the horizon. That, and I'll be having myself a good-ass cry over "Maelstrom.". . .Along with a rewatch of the Sully arc on Bones--hee, see? ON THE BRAIN.