Category Archives: Barack Obama

Day 7: Someone who has made your life worth living.

Oy. Really?

I hate this shit.

You know I am going to say the Hotband. You know I am going to say Nick. You know I am going to say Samantha. You know I am going to say my grandkids. Have you not read at least 604 posts all dedicated to them, the love they give me and the way they have held my head above water for the past five years? Writing this post will bore me to tears and, more than likely, that will trickle down to you.

So, instead, I am going to write it about someone who doesn’t hear my accolades too often.

Esther.

If not for Esther, half of the posts I write on here wouldn’t be worth reading. She is truly a gift in my life. Not because she’s a great mom (which totally depends on the day) but because she is so spontaneous, so without tact or forethought, so “from the heart to the lips”, that she is literally entertaining. Even at her most cutting, she is undeniably funny. No matter how rotten she is being, there is something hysterically funny about the things that irritate her. She is quirky as hell. I mean, who cleans the house because they don’t want the cleaning lady to see her house dirty? Who does that? Who designates an entire bedroom of a house to her dog, complete with monogrammed Lazy Boy chair, monogrammed towels that say “Max”, more photos of her precious pitbull in frames than of her own grandchildren and, mind you, his own SONIC CARE toothbrush?

Let me tell y’all. If you believe in karma, pray hard to come back in your next life as my mothers dog. That’s all I’m saying. She leaves the house for a few hours and she calls a babysitter for Max. I recall being 9 years old, my brother being six…and her going out for dinner with a boyfriend. No babysitter. Just “here ya go kiddies” as she put the TV dinners on the TV trays for us. “Be good, I’ll be home soon. I’ll have Sonja next door check in on you.”

But Max…a 13 year old Pitbull gets a dog sitter if she’s gone for more than 2 hours.

Pretty good life, if you can get it.

Overall, my mother is not a bad person. She doesn’t have much of a mind of her own. Her politics depend on whatever my father’s thinking involves. Her logic on certain subjects in incredibly flawed and dare I say on occasion, desperately uneducated. If she didn’t hear it on Fox News, it couldn’t have possibly happened. But, despite this, she is a source of a lot of the laughter in my life…now that she and I no longer live in the same state.

I will say that I have taken some of her best and worst traits for my own. We are both terribly and often inappropriately outspoken. We both don’t sit idly by for injustice. We will get involved when we see someone in trouble without much fear for our own personal safety. We are both crusaders that way. Very strong woman. On the flipside of that coin, we are both easily angered. We tend to get involved in things that don’t necessarily require our input. We can both be incredibly overbearing to the point of overshadowing others.

The difference that separates us most probably is tact. Spend 10 minutes with both of us, and I will come off looking like one classy dame. She’s got a mouth like battery acid and while I know how to flip the “off” switch on that…she does not. But if she did, what on earth would I ever have to write about?

So, Mom…this one is for you. Someone who has made my life worth living. You gave me life despite all the craziness in your life. You were a single parent with two little kids doing the very best you could. Was it always the right thing? God, no. Did you fuck up quite often? Definitely. But, in doing so…I learned from your mistakes as well. I am not saying I would be a better mother than you were…but a different mother. I know you grew up in a very abusive household, as did I. But you inspired me to break that cycle. And, while I didn’t always do a fantastic job of that, I did well enough so that now, when I see my daughter interact with her babies, I know for sure the cycle of abuse is officially broken. It’s over. No one will ever get hit again.

I forgive you, Mom. I DO love you. I know I don’t say it enough. I don’t know that I ever will, but as I watch you grow older, becoming a bit more reserved and not as quick as a whip with that vile tongue of yours, I find myself softened. Something in your eyes have lost that edginess and I see the first signs of an older, more frail human being. It allows me to let my guard down a little.

And, just when I become afraid that I will never see that side of you again, I wait for you to come visit, just so I can say “Bill O’Reilly sucks and Obama is the best President ever!” It winds you back up, you lose 25 years in your eyes…and you’re back to calling me a stupid bitch who doesn’t know shit.

I will always love you for that.

I am a Democrat…

tried and true. I have always supported the Democratic Party since the time I could first vote, going back to the Reagan era. I have never wavered. Since that time, however, I have found that I am getting a bit more conservative. I used to denote myself as a “liberal”. But now, I don’t know. As I am getting older, I don’t believe in the “live and let live” theory so much any more. What am I floundering on all of a sudden?

The death penalty.

I used to be dead set against it…even in the most heinous of cases. After all, taking one life for taking another somehow doesn’t even the score. I truly believed that, once upon a time, most criminals could be rehabilitated. I believed that more money should have went toward the rehabilitation of these criminals and possibly turn them into productive members of society.

Yet now, I have to admit…my feelings have changed.

I find myself adamently in favor of the death penalty. Not sure where that puts me as a liberal any longer. I suppose the label no longer fits. At least, not as snugly as it used to. I watch all these cases about murder and rape and I find myself wanting these animals put to death. Increasingly, I am adhering to the principles of an eye for an eye. For example, you rape? You get raped. You sodomize? You get sodomized. And, of course, if you commit murder…you die. Plain and simple.

Naturally, the nurse in me wants at very least 99% DNA proof of this before you are mandated to die. There has to be guilt beyond a shadow of a doubt, not reasonable doubt. That’s simply not enough for me.

I have to admit that I feel badly for feeling this way. Maybe it is ever since becoming a grandmother. I don’t want my grandchild brought up in a society full of animals who, with one good defense lawyer, will be released back onto the streets.

A long time ago, I believed that Roman Polanski should be left alone from his crime. The victim had since forgiven him for his transgression some 40 years earlier and there was a monetary settlement reached. Let’s leave it alone. However, now I feel that he has been parading around all through Europe without a care in the world. Frankly, the man is a fugitive and needs to be treated as such. I have watched his Hollywood cohorts hail him as a hero of the film industry. While that may be true, it is also true that he plied a 13 year old girl full of alcohol and quaaludes. He fled the country before ever serving his sentence. I can’t help but wonder if it were Joe Schmoe from Buttfuck, Idaho, would we be satisfied with time served?

As I age, I no longer feel this is justice.

What scares me so much is that I feel like I am losing grip of my liberal self. I want people to be able to live freely with all their rights afforded to them, but at the same time, I think we are giving too much leeway to hardened criminals. It strikes me as odd that people commit DUI manslaughter and receive 3 years in prison.

What really has me a little bitter are the people in my intensive outpatient therapy group. Some of them have committed multiple DUI’s and are relegated to 12 weeks of outpatient therapy. 12 weeks for the potential of having killed themselves or more importantly, someone else. Something just doesn’t feel right about that. I can’t help being a little angry at those members of the group. You can tell which ones are truly remorseful and which ones are just rolling with the punches and jumping through the proverbial legal hoops. It’s frustrating. I want to shake each one of them and tell them that if they are to ever hurt my daughter, son or grandchild, that I will personally kill them myself.

So, I am questioning my commitment toward liberalism now more than ever. And quite frankly, it really has me bothered.

Changes in the air…

There’s something going on in the world today. Something bad.

I have found that, as of late, people are losing a lot of respect for one another. Perhaps this was always the case, but for me, it is far more prevailent now. What were once courteous situations are turning into tirades and I find that it is affecting my mood.

There’s definately something in the air.

Yesterday, at my group therapy session (a pretty way of saying “yesterday, when I was in a room full of addicts…”), there was conversation about how each one of us became addicted to our drug of choice. I told my story and discussed my addiction to percocet. Another nurse in the room began to question my story…explaining that just because I took some pills home from my job, that I was not to consider myself an addict. After all, she continued, nurses bring things home in their pockets accidentally all the time. Ah, I said…the key word there being “accidentally”. I didn’t do this by accident. It was very pre-meditated and done quite purposefully. Just because I chose to turn myself in instead of getting caught doesn’t make what I did any less a crime…or make me less of an addict.

Basically, I feel like I am always defending my position to this woman.

Finally, I blew up.

“Are you going to challenge me EVERY time I speak?”

“Huh,” she replied.

“I said, are you going to challenge everything I say everytime I speak. Let me know now…so I can gear up for battle every Tuesday.”

“I wasn’t challenging you. I was asking you a question.”

“Yes, but you only seem to ask questions when it is me who is talking. I haven’t seen you question anyone else about their meds, their motives or their means. It seems to me you have taken an unnatural interest in me.”

“Well obviously,” she says, “I must be a stupid fucking asshole, because I don’t get what you say most of the time. I need things repeated to me.”

“Now THERE is something we can both agree on,” I said, quite flippantly. Then, I realized that I was being just as malevolent as she was being. Nope. Not going to go there. This is supposed to be a safe haven; a place where I can focus on staying clean. Stressors and arguments are triggers for use and frankly, I am not ready to walk that road again so soon after a relapse.

And it dawned on me that I allowed someone else’s bullshit to take over my day. I walked around pissy and angry for the remainder. People who were just trying to do their job got the wrath of CP all day long. No one was safe. I even got bitchy with my kids.

I realized that I was contributing to the not so nice attitude that seems to be going on in the world lately.

I think it has to do with everyone being so on edge with the uncertainty of this economy and the new administration. People are trapped in their own heads and there is no room for anyone or anything else. The first thing we tend to forget are our manners and civility. And it’s understandable. These are very precarious times. People are walking around scared and confused. Where’s my next dollar coming from? Will we be able to keep our roof over our head for another month? How am I going to possibly afford college for little Suzy someday?

We’re all preoccupied.

So, with that in mind, I am pledging to be part of the solution as opposed to the problem. I am going to wear a smile on my face every single day that I stay in recovery. I am going to say hello to strangers, even if they snub me. I will be a little kinder to the kid in the McDonalds drive thru. I will remember the basics of “please” and “thank you”.

Hell, I might even start calling my mother more than once a week. Oy.

The change is gonna do me good.