I thought I'd add part 2 of "My House" writings. 

My House, Too

             I wake up slowly, and realize it might be an easy day. What's hard is to wake up with a jolt, no warning, like a bucket of icy water thrown in my face. Even so, I open my eyes cautiously. I never know what I'll find. This afternoon, I don't see much out of order. Unfortunately, what one sees is not what one gets. It's what I'll find under the bed, in the closet and in the kitchen that concerns me.

            I sit up and smile. She left the bedspread. I had spent a long time fixing up the one that was here, and I wasn't sure she would keep it. I'm glad she did! Maybe there is hope for her yet. I say that in jest, but only partly so. I don't have that much influence on her, and I'm not sure I want to. We do influence each other, but we mostly go in circles.

             She closed the closet door. That helps me know how she is doing. She is fearful. I open the curtains to let in some light. Light always helps! As I turn around to head for the bathroom, I see she missed the hamper with her dirty clothes again. As usual, I pick them up and deposit them into the bulging hamper. I sigh, does she ever do the laundry?

             I can smell roses before I turn the corner into the bathroom. Bath salts, there on the counter. I'm surprised! I know she hates roses. I don't much like them either, but someone does. I see she had a change of heart, as some of the salts are still in the bottom of the trash can. I find my toothbrush where I left it, and brush my teeth. My nightgown and robe are still behind the door. Now I'm really shocked!! Usually I have to dig it out of the trash, or go buy a new one. It was nice of her to put up a hook for me.

             I sigh audibly as I go down the hall. I wonder how the kitchen is. I shouldn't have wondered. What a mess!! Unwashed dishes litter the counter top. Empty food boxes are all over. I think she is afraid to throw anything away. It's as if some part of her, or some event will be erased if she discards something. I doubt there is any food to eat. If I weren't so famished, I'd go back to bed! I decide to find something to eat first, clean second. I look for the bowls, the new pretty ones, and finally find them. I had all these cupboards organized... not too long ago. I'm sure it hasn't been that long, but I guess I'm not that sure. Oh well. There are a few flakes of oatmeal left, and a can of peaches. That will have to do.

            It takes a long time to clean the kitchen. I am weary by the time I finally put the last dish away. I have somewhat worked out my feelings. I am very tired of picking up after her. I so often have to put everything in order. I'm not angry, just tired. When I back up, I can kind of see her side. Maybe...though I really don't know for sure. I can only guess. I think one reason the house is always a mess is because she leaves in such a hurry. Maybe she doesn't have a chance to clean up before rushing out the door. Maybe I shouldn't be so hard on her.. Maybe...but I think she should at least buy food. What am I going to eat? I will have to go shopping soon, and that's on top of the laundry! Non of us will survive long without nourishment. Maybe because she leaves so often it is hard for her to keep track of what needs to be done. I know I am only one in a large system...and I know far more than she does.

            The living room isn't too bad. It doesn't take me long to straighten it up. I don't think she spends much time in here. It's ironic that she spends her time trying to live while bypassing the living room. This is where I spend most of my time. I read, listen to music, draw and take naps in here. The kids toys are in here also. It is a great room to baby sit in. I can fold laundry in here, and iron. I do have to admit though, that for a long quiet sleep, nothing beats the bedroom.

            I sit gingerly on the bed. It is late, and I am tired. I hurt everywhere! The clothes are washed and put away. Ironing done. The kitchen is well stocked again and everything is cleaned and organized. Now the kids will have something to eat. I guess i didn't have to do all this work in one afternoon, but I never know how long I get to stay. i take a deep breath and exhale slowly. Now I have time to think. I wish things would change, but I don't know how they can. I will continue to pick up the pieces after her, sharing in our life. I hope one day she will know how much I do for her. I hope one day she will know how much I love her, and won't see me as a bad or scary thing. For now I will be content with my hook behind the bathroom door, and a pale yellow comforter with blue and lavender Hydrangea on it. Finding a good book to read is an added treat!

(Rachel)

Hello again

It has been too long since I posted anything. My computer died, may it NOT RIP. It took 5 months to get a new one. I am still in therapy...most likely will be until I kick my copper colored bucket.

I've been working on thriving...not just surviving!! I've done more research on the ACE study and finally found info on how to fight the physical effects in adulthood stemming from childhood abuse.

1) Get Psychotherapy. Don't quit until you are working well with the therapist. It took Mac and me several years to work well together...now we move mountains.
2) Take a lot of Omega 3's. Find a good source of fish oil, and take a lot!! All the essential fatty acids are great to reduce inflammation. (Chia seeds are great...better than flax)
3) Exercise, get moving! Slow is good at first, and I promise it will get easier and you WILL feel better!
4) If your sleep patterns are all goofed up, get help. Good sleep is ESSENTIAL to living a normal life span.
For those of you with high ACE scores (mine is an 8...or is it 9???)  Eat healthy and think positive. Our brains just might be our best chance to fool the reaper.

I thought I'd post a few stories to demonstrate what it's like to live plural.


My House

  I turn the knob and slowly enter the room. It’s pitch black, and I quickly reach for the light switch. As the light spreads, I gently set down my bags, and close the door, locking it. I am happy to see that everything is in place. No laundry on the couch, the plants are still alive, the books are all put away and the toys are in the toy box.
  I leave my bags by the door, unwilling to unpack them. They'll be ready next time I leave. Being prepared is important. I’m not sure how long I've been gone. More than a few hours, and less than a week, I'm guessing.
  Trying to identify the growing knot in my stomach, I go to the kitchen. I decide I must be hungry. Thankfully the dishes are done. I couldn't remember if I had done them or not. I automatically reach for a bowl. Cereal sounds good right now.
  I stare in amazement in the cupboard I just opened. Where are the pretty, peach colored bowls that reside on this shelf? Why do I see cans of green beans and sweet potato?
On the second shelf, where my plates go, I see dried beans, rice and pasta. These things belong in the pantry! I swing around to open the pantry doors. In front of me are pots and pans! The food is gone! I’m not sure if I’m scared or angry. Who has the right to rearrange my cupboards without asking me?
  Now I am wildly opening my cupboards, and seeing where everything is. All thoughts of food flee, as in a rage I begin to put everything back where it goes. Some time later,
I sink to the floor, exhausted. I'm shaking like a leaf, and in great need of some water. At least now I know where the glasses are!
  I decide it’s time for bed. I'm too tired to do anything else. I've calmed down now, as I make my way down the hall towards the bathroom. All I want to do, is to brush my teeth, and go to sleep. Even now, it is such an effort to put one foot in front of the other. As I turn the light on, I'm dumbfounded to not find my yellow toothbrush. I guess I can go get the one out of my bag, but that doesn't tell me where my yellow one is. I ALWAYS keep one here and in my travel bag. As a second thought, I look in the medicine cabinet. There it is, but I have no clue why it’s in there. Oh well, I’m too tired to care.  As I brush, I keep smelling mint flavored roses, ugh! I know where the mint is coming from, so after rinsing, I sniff again, and search for the roses. I don't like roses; everyone knows that, don’t they? I find rose scented bath salts and fling them into the trash. I hate baths too!  If I have to smell them, they will at least be out of sight!
  As I turn towards the door to go out, I see an unfamiliar nightgown and robe hanging on the hook behind the door. I put that hook there, why does it betray me? I’m shocked at my thought processes. How could the hook do anything to me? But it’s the only sensible thing to think! As I hold them out and look them over, I realize with a shudder, that they are my size, but they're way too skimpy to be mine. Where did they come from?
  This is MY house! No one has the right to mess with MY house, MY things, or MY head. I realize with a blaze of anger that messing with my head is what really bothers me
the most. I don't mind it that someone house sits when I'm gone, but I think they should leave MY stuff alone, and leave things as they find them! Is that asking too much? I march into the bedroom, to see what else I can be mad about, but as usual, my anger is short lived. I find I'm too afraid to be angry. There is a new picture on the wall, MY wall. MY simple light blue comforter has been destroyed. Someone has bleached it, and painted it. Now it has lavender and blue hydrangea on a pale yellow and ecru background. As I look closely at it, I see that it really is beautiful. It is something I would have done, if I'd thought of it. Maybe I can get used to it, I think, as a smile forms on my lips.
  I sit on the bed to think. I know this is MY house, because it just is. Besides, I checked the address outside. There are some things that no one has messed with. Most everything looks normal.  No one has done me any harm in the changes I found in the house. Well, except the rose stuff. The kitchen was an inconvenience I didn't need, but no real harm. Besides, I left some of the things as I found them. They were placed in better spots than where I'd put them.
  I am starting to get the feeling that I've done this before. It feels that way, anyhow. It’s the head stuff. I’m not comfortable with finding my things messed with. But, I now realize, that rarely has anything of mine disappeared. I've always found everything. And, almost ALL the changes I find, are good ones. Well, except the roses….   How will she feel when I'm gone, to find her bath salts in the trashcan? I go back to the bathroom, retrieve the stinky salts, and place it back on the counter. I feel better.
  I sit on the bed again, I'm not done thinking. I know I go away a lot. The house does needs to be kept up when I'm gone. Someone is obviously doing that. So what’s the problem? I guess the fact that she doesn't ask permission when she changes things. It’s the head stuff again. No respect. My wishes or needs don't matter. I don't have any control over my life. She acts like she has every right to do as she pleases in MY house. It’s not fair!!!
  Whoever said life is fair? I must write that down, and stick it where I can read it often. I seem to forget so easily. I sigh, a long and audible sigh. I am so tired. Tired physically of being confused, afraid, and angry. I'm too tired to think any more. My thoughts wander with my eyes, and I spy a book on the nightstand. I guess things could be worse. I smile as I realize she could enjoy boring books. As I pick it up and lay back on the pillow, I exclaim out loud, “hey, I've been wanting to read this book for a long time!!
                                             

                                                                                                                 Crystal