One thing I can always count on, is after a sleep, the next day has promise. Well, most of the time that is.
Anyway, we have kitty food cash.
We also have amazing friends who asked if they could help, however, my dear Papi is too proud, and gets terribly mad at me when I share about financial problems.
i can already hear the pending, 'HONEY!!' as i write this ...
I suppose growing up on the West Side of Vancouver, and having everything you ever needed would create this attitude.
Yet, I grew up with a single mom of 2 girls. There were many a time, when my mom would be crying because she didn't have enough money.
Well, this also had me reflecting on my years' past 'special seasons' and how I didn't deal with them very well.
When I was a kid, my mom booted out my drug dealing sperm donor, because he brought around all kinds of undesireables.
were they the ones who assaulted me?
This made for difficult times, especially at Xmas, because they'd fight whenever the children exchange would happen.
Not that my father asked to see us much. He was pretty vacant. Literally.
But every year, and every Xmas, there would be harsh words and terrifying fights between just about every family member.
This was followed by me 'disappearing' from it all. I would remain silent and invisible, hoping I could just fade away. I believe this is part of the reason for my anorexia every Xmas.
Every single year, whenever those little mandarin oranges would arrive, I would exist only on the aforementioned.
I would whittle away, try desperately to vanish, or die like Karen Carpenter did. In a sick way, she was my hero. She made it out of this life, and she wasn't forced to see my extended family, stress, fighting and tears.
Oh, we'd all behave while G'pa was cutting the turkey, ham or roast, but after dinner, the alcohol would kick in and the fur would start flying.
Even when I got older, the anorexia still came a knockin' at Xmas, but it was coupled with an attempt to evade these Xmas dinners from hell.
As a young adult, I would lie to my family and tell them I'd gone out of town for the season. I'm sure they wouldn't believe me, but I did my best to make it seem true.
I didn't know I had it all those years until I was diagnosed with it after my motorcycle accident.
I'm a walking vessel of anxiety. It's just the way my brain was woven.
So, when the shit hit the fan yesterday, my PTSD kicked in and worst case scenario was my obsession.
Deep down, I know that everything will work out, because it always does.
So, 'you', my imaginary friend will have to deal with my gratitude list of positive thinking for the next 2 weeks.
If you're having a hard time, would you join me? Would you write your gratitude in my comments box? It will do us a whackload of good.
I'm grateful that I have enough food to last a good few weeks.
I'm grateful that I have a loving home to live in.
I'm grateful that I have a devoted spouse who allows me my feelings.
I'm grateful for the world's most loving, amazing friends.
I'm grateful for my musical talent.
I'm grateful for the pain killers that helped me clean my house, and now are helping me live through the pain of cleaning my house.
I'm grateful that I can walk.