Outpour My Soul

If you found me, hello; brain dump ahead TW. All The Shit. Proceed with caution. Sideblog: @confuzedspamblogger I've been on this site for over 15 years and i don't intend to leave

[jaceconfuzed]

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[jaceconfuzed]

I had an impromptu dentist appointment this morning- and it went really well, considering where we started!

No panics, no flashbacks, so that’s good. The Breathing and Meditation soundtrack from my childhood does still work

(I was kinda concerned with how frustrated I’ve been with Christian music, but I’m not the one who is having the issue with the dentist so the girls being calmed by the familiar rhythm isn’t surprising- and the goal (remembering to breathe) was achieved.

I’m really pleased with the lack of panic. I was really embarrassed the first time when it took like 15-20 minutes to stop crying when the dental assistant put her hands in my mouth (I know and was assured that isn’t an uncommon occurrence but my relationship with tears is adversarial, and tentative at best, having been locked out of that reaction for closer to decades than years before integration of the upper and lower circles of our system kinda unlocked that again.)

I have a few cavities, and am scheduled to eventually have my other wisdom tooth extracted- apparently it is straight, but doesn’t have room to be properly reseated in the socket, and is hard to reach with flossing.

I got an actual cleaning for the first time since I was probably 12 and the pick didn’t hurt like it did last time.

I’m happy I kept trying to figure out the dentist and found one that works well with me.

I kept there after the emergent extraction of a broken tooth because the secondary doctor had a demeanor similar to my cousin and I was able to remain calm despite having his hands in my mouth bringing up a lot of shit, but I think I’m comfortable enough with the other 3 people in the office that I might eventually not have elevated feelings around visiting the dentist

Now all I have to do is figure out the gynecologist, which I will freely admit is probably a good idea on the preventative side since my family has a lot of history with breast and reproductive cancers. I think my great aunt has mentioned a BRCA mutation in our genetic history.

If I can figure out the dentist, I can do that too.

[jaceconfuzed]

Part 2: I have a filling I need done apparently

[jaceconfuzed]

Part 3: no music today- and it still went well!

I can’t feel the left side of my face

We bit the dentist once when he stuck the needle in, oops; but I do remember the fact that that happened, so- pain, bite, makes sense tbh.

Did work on the side I normally have my earbud in, so the drill kinda drowns out the music so we just forewent it. Had the song Old Neptune, He’s Roaring stuck in my head instead

Tzo got really close a few times when the dentist was drilling and doing the tugging on the filling, really dizzy and spinning and rising fear for a hot second, but she listened- dentist’s doing his job, that’s why his fingers are there, Hun; left front let me deal with the dentist, thankfully. And the headache- was it the drill or the switchiness, idk.

One more set- another set of fillings and a wisdom tooth extraction. At least I only have 2 wisdom teeth. Fairly certain all 3 of my blood sisters had 6.

[jaceconfuzed]

Part 4

2 cavities filled and a final extraction- hopefully that’s it until the next cleaning

I should attempt to schedule that, if there isn’t anything yet.

The second extraction went way easier without the broken tooth- just popped it out.

I feel about 100x more present than the last 3 times

[unwelcome-ozian]

[elfagito]

every friend group has a corpse in it. if you think yours doesn't, YOU'RE the corpse.

[jaceconfuzed]

Sometimes it still catches me unawares

The old rules.

Like earlier today. Full body chill, like I’m about to be ill, from the back of my skull, prickling like lightning up over my head into my brow and down my spine, tingling at the base of it before slowly dissipating.

Because it’s Friday. And I’m breaking the Sabbath

(Again- this isn’t new)

in a way my youth told me was punishable by painful death.

(I started breaking the Sabbath in ways I was told were wrong long before this- playing cards because I was bored. Reading books which were unapproved. Joining a DnD party- they were very understanding while my hands trembled for the first hour of every session.)

But it is fair to say that agreeing to a work schedule to this effect is new, I believe, watching the beginning from my car as the sun sinks into the horizon. Having routed over half of my life to those sunsets. We’ve worked Saturday mornings, which started with this feeling too; the feeling will pass.

It is no more harmful. We’ve worked High Days- how is this one any different? It is not worth our fear.

I no longer allow a time to hold fear and terror over me. Any sacred point I hold, I intend to hold because I want to. Not because I’m stuck in absolute terror of doing otherwise.

So I will watch the sunset while I eat supper, and I will go back to work today. Until My fingers no longer tremble because the sun is setting. That isn’t how things are supposed to be. People who rule with terror are not doing so with the best interests of those who are trusting them in mind.

[jaceconfuzed]

It is slowly getting easier, working Friday night. Last night the only prickle of fear was around 8pm, and it didn’t move past a small feeling in the pit of my stomach. Though, working through Sabbath issues with work isn’t helping the fact that it is August and I am the only person who does anything to corral the teenagers in my parking lot- management doesn’t do anything, police don’t do anything unless they’re playing chicken with their trucks. And I get to say Do Not put your friend in a buggy and release him down the hill into traffic

Fucking Hell

Yesterday was angry, like I was on fire. It wasn’t even particularly hot yesterday. People just kept coming and coming (as is typical of a Friday) and things kept breaking. My zero button only works when it wants to, which is frustrating, and I watch the entire transaction ring up after I have already completed ringing it up, which slows down my times, which is frustrating.

Had a kid demand $60 gas for the $40 he didn’t pump after having paid on a credit card. I can’t wait for them to approve demolishing that place so they can install dispensers that aren’t over 20 years old and can interface with a computer from after 2012.

But I’m making $2 more an hour for 20 hours less work than if I took a community health or state job. So.

[youaremusic1900]

[notahorseindisguise]

everytime i wear an outfit like this i think about this tweet

[funnykidmemes]

[never-have-we-ever]

Never have we ever accidentally used "we" instead of "I" while talking with someone who didn't know about our plurality

We have

We have not

Nuance/unsure

Remaining time: 3 days 15 hours

[jaceconfuzed]

I led sentences with “we” instead of “I” so much in secondary school that an upper class friend gave the (completely bogus) explanation that Hebrew didn’t have 1st person, using (English) references to the minor prophets quick transitions between POV as her proof, and I heard this told to me by multiple sets of people I barely knew.

Had an underclassman repeat it to me with the added twist of it apparently being a rule from my “church’s mafia front” and B (her grademate from my assumed kin) also had issues sometimes with 1st instead of 2nd or 3rd person language. (Which was wild to me because The Church was where I got in the most trouble for not using ‘I, me, my, myself’ to reference myself- explosive outbursts, degrading comments, even got slapped for 3rd person once).

I actually feel the most connected to myself in the last year or so and have noticed language shift mostly from ‘we’ to ‘I’ I suppose that’s the differentiation, memory integration, and confidence to do a lot more on my own though.

[funnykidmemes]

[emmaubler]

Someone clearly never had a sister

[jaceconfuzed]

Clearly there’s attempted poison in that tea

[angelnumber27]

my mind hand touched a hot memory stove

[jaceconfuzed]

I heard via my sister who my mother told to tell me (cowardly) this week that they’re preparing for Granny’s end of life care and funeral.

I don’t know how I feel. Almost like a double grief, but also so abjectly numb

This was the first family to tell me the way my father treated me was wrong. I told Buddy first- knew if anybody’d get it, he would- what with his monstrous story of escaping abuse himself

In her backyard and then again in her living room were the first times I told a breathing soul the extent of the things Daddy said and did when nobody was looking. Wept on her knee as I sat in her living room and she held up my chin and told me there was nothing I could have done to make it better because I was the child and it wasn’t my fault.

She was part of the reason I got into interdenominational hymns and all worship music being for god- which gave us the One coping skill and regulatory ability that was available to us in high school- not just selections from the brown and blue books and the occasional modern worship. Sure Mama had an eclectic musical taste, but Granny and the choir were the ones who had the breadth and depth about the hymns that gave me the hundreds of songs I could flip through and sing every single day as a teenager instead of sobbing and shaking for an hour every day.

She was also the first one to say that if I didn’t cry out for help when being assaulted in a public place then it was my fault too (I don’t know if she was directing that at me during that bible study, but it was heard none the less), and who called me a worker of Satan when I left.

We haven’t talked since she told me if I don’t ask Baba’s forgiveness for grieving him and destroying our family- a charge she laid blame with me- then I was the one still in sin.

And that complicates the final grief of her death.

I don’t want amends- there aren’t any to be made. I don’t want reconciliation or forgiveness

Maybe somewhere deep down I want another hug. But I want the hugs back then

With all the assurance they held.

She had her flaws. Nobody should have ever in a million years told anyone ever that they should honor and obey and be submissive to the husband who left marks on their family. It isn’t my place to judge the fact that she did with her own, with the terror and psychological abuse in the middle, but I can’t fathom repeating that as advice to others.

I’m not attending the funeral; I’m not visiting- haven’t done it not once in the last 5 years, won’t now. I’m not messaging the gratitude I still hold for those words she said when she grabbed my arm and shook me and held me while I sobbed at 14. I didn’t even attach a name or message to the donation towards end of life and funeral expenses, but I gave myself that acknowledgment of the love I once held for her, and allowed myself that one thing. That one final acknowledgment and gratitude for the place she once held in my life.

Goodbye Granny, I do miss you

[jaceconfuzed]

Had a realization about how I’ve been receiving memories lately this morning

Talked about Granny in therapy today, and what keeps drawing me back to the idea of her, because even 6 years later, I still think about Granny a lot- multiple times a week. More than Red or Brother Brown or Baba or even my own mother some weeks, (most weeks?)

I found out that I spent a lot of my mother’s time at her house as a preteen and young teenager, when everything was happening, before Mom felt safe leaving me at home, watching my sister or otherwise. When Baba and I started chafing ideologically and I was less than welcome at the Lounge. Spent a lot of time dropped off at Granny’s House when Mom and Dad were spatting, when Mama didn’t trust Grandma with us girls- the time those memories took place.

Lots of conversations and world view building and conversations concerning justice and mercy and building my own opinions instead of just being able to parrot all of the opinions back

They dealt with a lot of the stuff I wasn’t safe to express elsewhere

And she was an anchor point in Dad’s stuff- somebody knows and will say it’s wrong. She still holds that anchor for us. (Still? She’s gone, I don’t know.)

I also noticed it has felt increasingly easier since gaining more access to my teenage years to acknowledge memories brought up as my own- less like being hit with a thrown ball, or told about a film somebody else saw, and more like putting on a piece of clothing- sometimes it feels like it could be mine, if I kept it.

Sometimes warm, sometimes like I found a jacket 2 sizes too small or too big. A jacket that still smells like who gave it too me, and has patches I didn’t put on there, it wears with a different wear pattern than I would have given it, had it been mine all along, but it holds the reassurance that somebody didn’t want me to be cold.

And I can acknowledge that they’re mine now- it’s my life we’re passing memories back and forth about- the story is about me, not ‘a random kid (poor kid)’.

Not like I used to fear, when first starting therapy and talking about integration, not like trying to hold everything at once and left alone with it with no capacity to handle it all. I don’t hold on to the memories- maybe it would be apt to say we’re sharing life better.

[thedankmemes]

[thememedaddy]

[unwelcome-ozian]

[depsidase]

[peanutgallerymemes]

*cue me breaking down for a couple minutes before going about life like nothing ever happened*