Routinely showering at night instead of during the day, which was onerous. Today I am on an incontinence day because of the continuous lower GI issue; for 2 1/2 years it has been in abeyance with the daily use of Miralax, truly a miracle after a decade and a half of sick, serious lower GI problems that had me in a thrall. Hard to imagine but it WAS the case. Recently there has been 6 months of poisonings; (I wont belabor it); since my mothers death in early 2020; they were in the habit of watching British murder mysteries on the telly. And then there were the cats. I am finally able to let go. Yesterday, over the death of my mothers cat Sasha; which was about her but now I FINALLY REALIZE it was ALSO ABOUT MY MOTHERS DEATH. We’ve all been held up over this.
Thats where all of this frantic posting started.
I was writing to the regional newpaper and then the New York Times Op Ed page for months. Because I was so scared.
I couldnt go the Memorial dinner for my mother last March (2020) because I was so scared. I knew that my sister was hooking up with an old mutual friend of hers and my mothers out in State College where she has been pursuing a PhD and I felt extremely threatened as there had been an incident with her the previous Autumn (2019.) My father had taken me out to lunch (after my mothers death, February, 2020) at Wegmans and launched the word “institutionalized” at me and the waitress supported him; he and my mother had always been regular customers there; and I rarely went there.
So, I sensed he was going to publcally humiliate me. It the Memorial service.
I was totally blown away by my mothers death. For weeks I couldnt finish my sentences. I had a written a long email to her that brought up some sore points: BECAUSE I WANTED TO ADDRESS THEM WITH HER. The LAST THING I WANTED was for her to die.
Given that she did I immediately JUMPED on board with laying out the planks that EVERYBODY would need in the wake of her death because I always knew her and what she was up to in a way that others didnt. I was often her go to in a way that others didnt understand. i was TERRIBLY grieving. BUT I WAS BEING ACCUSED!!! that, in the wake of her death, I NEEDED TO BE PUT AWAY!!! I was on a 6 month antipsychotic meds change through all this that went sour through all this; and I wound up at Horsham psych clinic an hour south of here. My father tried to blame all of this all on the med change when, in fact it brought a world of good FOR ME and there were serious reasons for trying a new med and I was able to return to the original med with some help with the side effects that had been troubling me and that was well too and all this was going along also for serious reasons that had no rhyme or reason with regard to my mothers death. It was in its own right and my father did not need to be sounding off about my meds in regard to my mothers death. These things were not in any way related. He was just trying to use me to handle his emotions and everybody else’s emotions as always and in every regard. This was TERRIFYING for me.
So, today, I would like to remind a certain fantastically successful Hollywood figure who was once a law student when I was failing out of Harvard; of the movie “Legally Blonde” and of its portal of Harvard Law School men as generally extremely constipated and I recalled that and I figured that that was what happened with my bizarre constipation. He was mapping it off on me for me to handle.
So, as far as poor little Sasha, they (my father and my sister) put me in the position of euthanizing her when I returned here from Horsham clinic in May of 2020 as my father BEGGED ME TO (to return.) I was in the position of sympathizing with her–the cat, Sasha–over my mother’s bullying her– telling people what she was thinking and blocking her and the like. She was a roadside rescue and completely devoted to her. I always trod that lightly. I felt like I was a roadside rescue myself after going to the state hospital!!! In fact I actually was pulled from the side of the road several times starting when I ran away from home at age 16.
!!! So, as far as Sasha, I figure it is odd to speak of her as having so much intelligence (???) but she did. It was hard for her because she was loyal to Judith, our mother, all of us were. Its hard now with her gone. But, we are all connecting now. Its sad. I wish it could have been done another way.
So, I took Sasha to the vets for a URIBARY tracklct infevetion–and she wound up getting euthanized. I came home with a corpse because I couldnt afford cremation. My own cats–my sons two male cats, about 7 years old–were terrified.
Something had happened on the way to the vet–an urgent care vet, I went on a Saturday– that left me in limbo in my head through my spastic OCD problem. I still dont know what happened, only that I picked up that puzzle piece again at the vets where I took Tanner yesterday (similar location, different vet) for a follow up on the mysterious lump on the head 4 weeks ago, also, Travis had had a similarly mysterious eye injury months before. It seems to still bother him at times.
So, with that, my whole “under and over” situation with my marriage and child-rearing flips around as everything about my life proves through in this regard. My ex (+ future?) husband is a Scot of Clan Chattan, clan of the cat. Inside the pall of the state hospital that is a completely Satanic experience, that I was left waiting in my mind for a husband who was somehow associated with all the cats in my life. But, my ex had a Satanic connection through a motorcycle gang in Canada so, he really cant opt out in that regard of a Satanic dynsmuc to our connecting.
Way before the state hospital there were a dozen “sick as shit” serious cat issues in my life, from when my mother put down the mother cat that had just had kittens so that my sister could be born. That mother cat was called “Kitten.” The father was another stray we had taken in. They asked me to name him and I called him “Majestic” because he was a beautiful long- haired grey cat. Elegant; and she kept that name for him I watched them mate when I was alone (with them ) in the basement.
My mother said Kitten would scratch the baby and had her put down and never said another word about it.
The kittens were only about 10 weeks old as I remember.
This just in:
After taking a shower at 6 pm (?7?), I am feeling half human again. Before that i wasnt. I missed my shower last night because it got too late; dear Lord, let me never do that again. That was what I was trying to say at the beginning of this post. Its 8:30 pm now.
So, the upshot of the past few weeks; the past few months, the past few years, my entire life, is that I now have Jesus and of course with that on board, everything else is beginning to fall into place.
And, with that I am able to see that I dont have to play 2nd fiddle to my little sister any more. It happened over “Kitten.” I was terrified over the new baby. I remembered my father coming to the 3rd grade classroom to tell me. I dont remember what happened after that. All I remember is that I was asked to change her diapers when they left her with me on Saturday mornings to play tennis at the municipal courts. When I was about 10. I never dared to ask for anything for myself after that. I was sent away to private school. When she turned that age, they didnt make her go.
Recently, as things sorted out, I see that I unwittingly asserted myelf recently in this regard after so many DECADES of bullshit; when I made a joke about her Ph.D. when she routinely insulted me at the dinner table by bringing up her wedding in the woods in Utah, to which she did not invite me.
And that takes me to Dr. Taube. The other, serious situation in my life that was associated with a 3- digit mnemonic.
I saw him in Bethesda, MD, a year and a bit after my son was born, we had moved there from Buffalo after moving to Buffalo from California, I was insanely exhausted and I cracked up.
The number for David at Wernersville was “143” which, for him and the girlfriend on whom he blamed his illness; meant “I love you.” 1 letter; 4 letters; then, 3 letters. I can’t remember even a day later how it happened but that broke yesterday; I have staved off that connection in my mind all these years. He had a spell on me.
Dr. Taube in Maryland’s office was Rm. 101. Is my reader familiar with the novel, “1984,” by George Orwell???
Room 101 in that book was the torture chamber, the worst of worsts. The thing that makes you despair.
For the character in the novel this “worst” was rats.
I dont know why I made such a lasting association there with Dr Taube and his office address but I did. as soon as it came off of me about David at the state hospital and “143” the number “101” came up (likely on the microwave.) And that too was resolved and the fear of it came off of me. I had always blocked it out. Now I realize that it DID really mean something Like the number “111”–for the Trinity, of course. That, I always did allow as a little, loving sign of God.
101 was BECAUSE OF MY HAVING THAT SATANIC OBSESSION with numbers, letters and the like. I remember how he looked at me like a whore when I talked about it. About driving the California highways free-associating to numbers and letters in license plates and also car colors and traffic patterns; that was what had happened to my mind through the state hospital and when I came back East I couldnt control it. It was terrifying. I was desperately trapped in Dr. Taube’s mind, WHICH WAS as steady and as stable as iron.
I clung to it.
So, now, today, everything is coming out in the wash as I continue to move through these healing moments in the wake of a year after my mothers death.
And to show that I will introduce the biggest and worst puzzle piece, where my current was launched back in the 80s .
A male friend from Kent School, my boarding school in Connecticut, the one who OFFERED to write my peer references for my college applications, and did so (and I got in everywhere) was totally queered out by my condition when he came to visit at the end of Fall Term, Senior Year in College. I took him to bed with me. I shouldnt have. I will just leave that there.
That was Dec. 82. In early ’85, after a year off halfway through my Senior Year, and then returning to Cambridge and graduating and moving into an apartment in the bordering city of Somerville, Mass., I realized that this person didnt want to contact me or have anything to do with me because of what happened when he visited me at Harvard in ’82.
And I seriously grieved over this. He was a good person and a beautiful man. I was in all kinds of trouble over harming Ivy League men.
So that finally came full circle tonight when I realized that he was probably the one person to whom I could express my feeling that I am, not just hi-tech Society but HI-TECH ROYALTY!!!
My being hi-tech at the Advocate (where I was wrapping up being president of the magazine that fall) was not anout what hi-tech could do for the Advocate but about what the Advocate could do for hi-tech; and that continues right through to this day.
I had qualms about that once; but, with recent developments; I dont feel that any more.
My mother and father were a dashing British couple. He was a leading light in the industry, she was a cultured British socialite with connections to the crown.
He cut a James Bond figure as the high tech industry continued to roll through to what it is today.
I had my job to do and I have done it; there still work to be done.
But, as for my Kent friend, who himself went to Yale, I sense that it would be welcome to him to hear that I see things this way. Because, children like me with parents like mine DO have an in at places like Harvard because of what we have gone THROUGH. Not because we DESERVE IT but because we NEED it and can benefit from it.
So, I was a legitimate Harvard student and I have the authority myself to declare my legitimacy as the Advocate President.