I had never lived with children before my brother Ben and his children moved into a house share with my boyfriend and I. The kids were us three days a week.
Although I did not like the hand and foot-marks on the walls or the increased frequency counters, tubs and floors had to be cleaned again, I did like that the house was filled to the brim with the lively messiness of happy children.
Whoa: Parenting is hard. Ben is the first parent I ever lived with that wasn't my own mom and dad.
Parents need love, support, encouragement, company. When they invite you to their house for dinner: GO OVER! Bring a 6 pack. Smoke them up for crissakes! They are spending their money on winter coats and shoes for growing feet not on eighths....dubs.....dimes.
Ben: I suspected before and I know for sure now: you are a the BEST DAD EVER. Your children are the BEST. You are doing everything right.
Saturday, November 28, 2015
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
Darkness revealed
After a tiny little woman friend was traumatically attacked and nearly killed by a stranger in Lancaster, I could not sleep for a month.
After weeks of insomnia, I had a panic attack that took me to the ER at four am. Straight to psych.
They released me and asked me to see my family doctor and therapist, which I did.
My therapist asked me to pay attention: during the panic attacks, which have continued, my hands won't work:
MY HANDS:
Won't open doors.
Won't turn on a faucet though I can move my hand to the sink.
Though I can feel the cool porcelain on the skin of my hand.
But not operate my hand to turn a faucet.
MY HANDS
Won't open the purse strapped to my body.
Won't operate the phone I can see in my purse.
Won't clutch at the cigarette.
Won't open the bottle of Xanax I have been keeping in my purse.
The therapist prompted me to trust my body. What are my hands asking me to remember?
I REMEMBERED!
I was drugged on a first date. I have been blaming myself for what happened.
July 2012, NYC:
I WAS DRUGGED AND RAPED ON A FIRST DATE AT 32 YEARS OLD.
It does not matter that I broke three single girl dating rules that night.
I forgive you, Regina, for getting into a taxi that he insisted I take when I had wanted to cancel because I had been hanging out with friends and it was too late for me to take a train.
I forgive you, Regina, for entering his house hesitantly at his invitation to be polite because he had just given the taxi driver the $40 fare.
I forgive you, Regina, for taking small, hesitant, polite sips of the cold white wine with his sickening words, "Drink up."
Maybe one day I will stop hearing his voice...............................
After weeks of insomnia, I had a panic attack that took me to the ER at four am. Straight to psych.
They released me and asked me to see my family doctor and therapist, which I did.
My therapist asked me to pay attention: during the panic attacks, which have continued, my hands won't work:
MY HANDS:
Won't open doors.
Won't turn on a faucet though I can move my hand to the sink.
Though I can feel the cool porcelain on the skin of my hand.
But not operate my hand to turn a faucet.
MY HANDS
Won't open the purse strapped to my body.
Won't operate the phone I can see in my purse.
Won't clutch at the cigarette.
Won't open the bottle of Xanax I have been keeping in my purse.
The therapist prompted me to trust my body. What are my hands asking me to remember?
I REMEMBERED!
I was drugged on a first date. I have been blaming myself for what happened.
July 2012, NYC:
I WAS DRUGGED AND RAPED ON A FIRST DATE AT 32 YEARS OLD.
It does not matter that I broke three single girl dating rules that night.
I forgive you, Regina, for getting into a taxi that he insisted I take when I had wanted to cancel because I had been hanging out with friends and it was too late for me to take a train.
I forgive you, Regina, for entering his house hesitantly at his invitation to be polite because he had just given the taxi driver the $40 fare.
I forgive you, Regina, for taking small, hesitant, polite sips of the cold white wine with his sickening words, "Drink up."
Maybe one day I will stop hearing his voice...............................
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