Women’s Center
Day 62
Labor Day
Monday
September 4th, 2017
I had another dream last night about when I was a Vet Tech. I really miss the work. This afternoon I laid down, but weirdly, all I could think about was two years ago, when this whole mess started, and how the nurse at the hospital catheterized me against my will. That still really bothers me. It was like being drugged and raped. Haldol, handcuffs, and a nasty nurse with a catheter. In front of a police officer.
Horrible.
I wish I could sue that woman personally. I probably could. But what would you call it? Rape? Illegal invasion of a body cavity? Assault? I’ll have to look it up. That’ll be a fun time.
More of my book:
The curriculum for mourning includes:
- Undoing emotional bonds with the deceased
- Devising comforting ways to maintain bonds
- Finding meaningful activities that give life new purpose
- Banishing guilt
- Allowing pleasure to revive
“Somewhere along the line, the load get a little lighter and the sky a little brighter.”
7:30pm
Off to a meeting. Drama about who’s going and who isn’t. Luckily, I get to go–I needed some time away, and I only got to go to two meetings last week. And bonus–this one has candy! Most of the time anyway. Munchy is getting pissed off at Chantilly always being right up her ass. Also, Chantilly made a mistake and told a few residents that she and Munchy had slept together. Of course that spread like wildfire and got back to Munchy, who of course adamantly denied it.
Then Chantilly tried to act like she had never said it, but I know she did, because she said it to me. I didn’t tell anyone, but when Munchy asked me if it was true, I told her the truth. I don’t know why she does it, but Chantilly is a chronic liar and can’t be trusted. It sucks because I never know whether to believe her.
Went to the meeting–there’s this one guy there named Rick, and he’s a running joke with the women here because he has a speech impediment and can’t pronounce “R”’s. Like–what the fuck–the poor man can’t even pronounce his own name. So he’s relentlessly getting made fun of, anyway, and today he spoke three times at the meeting about what a hard time he was having, and even started crying once. So they all said he was drunk! Sometimes I just think that some of these people are nasty, egomaniacal shitheads.
Then one of the women there asked me what was wrong with me after the meeting. I told her that I had lost a son, and that his birthday was coming up, so I was sad. It’s funny, she misunderstood me and thought that social services had taken him away from me, and that’s what I meant by “lost.” You can’t win, I tell ya.
If you say that you lost a child to people outside AA, they think you had a miscarriage, and if you’re in AA, they think you had a bad run-in with social services. No one thinks they actually DIED. Ugh. I have to read more of my book–or practice the serenity prayer more. Anyway, she said she could relate, because she had lost children, but they were reunited now.
Then, when she realized that they were DEAD and not LOST she told me a bizarre story about how she, too, had lost four children at 16 years old (Is that even possible–four kids by 16??!!) AND a husband in a house fire and then spent four years in a psych ward in a catatonic state afterward. I was like–WHOA. I don’t even know how to respond to that because it is so fantastical. She told me she was married at 13, and four kids by 16?? The only one she told me an age of was six months old.
I’m beginning to think she’s got a touch Chantilly Lace’s disease. I don’t know. Hopefully that really didn’t happen to her. I just don’t know. Anyway, she told me to call her (I won’t), and to talk about it with someone I trust (I’ll try).
Time for lights out.
Leave a comment