Sometimes I wonder about the things people tell me in my dreams. For someone who’s had dream premonitions and has had people come out and tell her that yes, certain things I dreamt of them doing, having, thinking or saying were actually true, I wonder about these things at times. I think of certain things people I know have told me in my dreams, both good and bad, and I wonder if they’re true at all.

As I have told people before, I don’t mind explaining myself to a degree to those who are curious, but I do mind being judged and told that my way of thinking, believing and doing is wrong. My attitude is that unless you specifically ask for my opinion, I don’t do it to you, so don’t do it to me. :) So don’t say I didn’t warn you up front if you don’t like what’s on my mind right now that I’m about to write about. You see, they say you can’t meet a nice girl in a bar. Well, guess what folks? Sometimes you can’t even meet one out in the country! I live out in the country and I am anything but nice at times. In some people’s eyes that would be because I’ve been thinking and wondering a lot lately about what kind of inheritance I may be in for a little more than I’d like to be. But not because I feel selfish or guilty for it so much as because I don’t want to get my hopes up for nothing. I’ve already been teased from above with the prospect of money before and I promised myself the last time it happened about 5 years ago that I would never let it happen again. But every time I start to tell myself it can’t be more than around 10K since it seems something up there wants us to struggle most of the time, I start to wonder if there’s any chance I may be wrong.

Andy said he didn’t understand why I’d care more about my mom than my siblings when she’s the one, after all, who helped make them who they are and who also made much of my own life quite miserable.

It’s true. My mother was a very negative, moody and domineering person who said and did an awful lot of mean things to us that will leave us scarred forever. Most of the abuse was verbal and emotional, but every now and then she liked to show her anger with the palm of her hand. One time she slapped me so hard – it was at the beach but I don’t remember where; my back or my ass, I think – and it stung and burned so bad it was all I could do to keep from screaming out in pain. I held it in, though, for I knew that would only make it worse.

Thank God I wasn’t like I am now for I would have mauled her. Same with my brother and uncles for threatening and pushing me around the way they loved to do when I wasn’t “fast enough” when we’d be out running errands or whatever. I was just a wimpy, defenseless kid at the time and they could have and would have kicked my ass and maybe even killed me had I tried to fight back. But the modern-day Jodi knows it’s best to stay away from these people because she’s now the stronger one and she also has a very nasty temper when pushed far enough. Normally I would never touch anyone who didn’t touch me first or someone I loved or my stuff. But there are a few people that wouldn’t quite have to go to such extremes to get a taste of my own hand, and worse – my fist and feet as well. Why not? I would only go to jail for 5 minutes since this country loves to take the more serious crimes a lot less seriously than it does the petty crimes. You can spend months in jail for something you say, but you’ll only get a slap on the wrist for beating the shit out of someone. Besides, they’re as white as I am and they’re “family.” I’ll continue to keep my distance, though, but if they could magically appear before my eyes, they just may be worth that 5 minutes. :)

I’m willing to forgive almost anything, but there are some exceptions. I know some folks could forgive their own murderers, but I have my limits. My family and our racist ex-neighbors have made that list of limitations. My immediate family has been abusive and if my extended family hasn’t they’ve at least had big mouths or totally alienated me. So, seeing that my brother and uncles (though one of those uncles is dead and the other’s got to be close) are bullies and my sister is a vindictive bitch who will do anything to spite you and make you miserable if she gets pissed at you, you would think I would be in a hurry to do away with the whole damn “family.” Oh, I am. Make no mistake there. But I’m also that mean, selfish country bitch who, like most people in the world, isn’t exactly going to not conveniently be around with the palm of her hand stretched out to anyone who may want to plop some money in it. The only difference is that I’m one of the few who can admit it, even though I will only share this entry in full with just a couple of my closest friends.

When my sister defended her abusive ex and shocked the shit out of me by proving she was obviously still in love with the bastard even though she’d already moved on to the next man (Tammy can’t stand to live alone any more than I can stand apartments), I had no idea she’d go so far as to call the cops.

I don’t have a problem with admitting when I’m guilty of something any more than I have a problem with admitting I’m innocent of something. Well, I was 100% guilty of letting her ex have it both by phone and in a letter for abusing her and her older daughter whom she had with some loser in Texas. I don’t regret one single word I said either. But you can imagine the shock I felt not only when I learned she called the pigs, but when I also learned there was a warrant out for my arrest on account of our old neighbors. They used a cop friend (my next shocker) to set me up for lodging a complaint against them for noise and vandalism. This was a threatening letter filled with racial slurs the pig shoved in my hands to get my prints on during our little “interrogation.” I had no idea what was going on at the time and was naive to the law other than being dragged into court for prank calls they barely slapped me on the wrist for. So I lost 6 months and thousands of dollars for words on paper that weren’t even mine, and it wasn’t until 2.5 years into the probation part of the 3-year sentence that I was finally acquitted.

So that’s why I don’t think I could ever fully forgive God, my family and the old neighbors. Sorry, but they went a little beyond not returning a pair of pants they borrowed, or spilling coffee on my floor and not offering to help clean it up.

But despite the fact that my mother certainly put me through a lot more hell than my siblings, there’s still this strange sort of connection I feel with her. Yeah, she made my life hell, but she also saved Tom and me back in the motels in 2007. They say God doesn’t give us more than we can handle but He damn near did just that and had she and Dad not stepped in and pulled us out of the quicksand when they did, that’s exactly what we would’ve gotten - more than we could handle. Tom might’ve been tough enough to survive the streets for a while, but if God had pushed me just a little further into the dark I probably wouldn’t be alive right now to write this. I don’t know if it’s literally a “God.” It’s just a generic term I use cuz I don’t know what else to call it.

But there will always be this sort of odd connection I will feel for my parents, dead or alive, just like Tom will feel for his mother despite her turning her back on us in our time of need. Things almost got as bad up in Oregon as they did down here when we first got there. Expenses and problems came up that we simply couldn’t have anticipated at the time.

I personally lost all respect for his mom the day she decided to stop being a mother to my husband and a MIL to me. Especially since we had done so, so much for her down in Arizona. We gave up so much time and money to that woman who for a while became more like a daughter to us than anything else. Nonetheless, I always told Tom it was his mother and his choice and I will support whatever he chooses to do about her. Just because I don’t agree with something doesn’t mean I’m going to try to stop it from happening.

But his family isn’t the kiss-and-make-up type, nor do they hold grudges. They simply “move on.” So we don’t expect anyone to ever contact anyone, but that is probably a good thing. I think that when you accumulate a certain degree of history that’s negative, you’re probably better off keeping it as history and just continuing on your own ways. What can happen once can always happen twice. Tammy’s current man can beat the shit out of her right in front of me and I wouldn’t do a damn thing about it. Not if I’m the one she’s going to turn on. Besides, as sad as it is, there are some women who actually like abuse and my sister seemed to be one of them. Every kick, slap and punch was one more reason to feel sorry for herself and to be the sympathy junkie that she is. Same with Rihanna. Yeah, Chris is a real shit and I hope he hits the wrong woman someday that’ll give him a taste of his own cuts and bruises, but it’s hard to feel sorry for a woman who has more than enough money, support and resources to escape a bastard like that but doesn’t. And why? Because she liked the abuse and the attention it brought to her and her career, that’s why.

Back to that nagging question. How much might I get when my mom goes? Andy’s mom said she heard she got a fortune from her own parents, but how much is a “fortune?” Wouldn’t that depend on a lot of factors? After what we went through, just having a grand in savings is a fortune to me! She may’ve blown a lot of that fortune, though. For years she lived high off the hog while I lived like a little bum in the slums back when I was on disability. She was a very materialistic woman who only accepted the best life had to offer.

He suggested waiting a few months, then bringing up the subject of wills with her but I never could bring myself to do that and don’t think I ever could. I don’t know why, but how do you ask your mother, good mom or not, “Hey, what are you leaving me when you go bye-bye?” Besides, I figure she’ll tell me whatever I need to know whenever I need to know it, and if she doesn’t, she’ll have Tammy or someone else tell me. All I know is that I can’t walk away from Tammy yet, nor can I trust her to give me our share. Hopefully, Mom will be smart enough to have an unbiased and independent person she trusts to do that part cuz if Tammy could rip Larry off, for example, do you think she’d hesitate? Hell, I sure wouldn’t! But last I knew Tammy was indeed the executor of the will.

When mom’s parents died, they had 2 kids to divvy their assets to, while my mom has 3. They didn’t sell the exterminating business. They gave it to her bastard brother. But there was the house and 2 luxury cars. All 5 grandkids got a couple of grand, too.

In my parents’ case, there’s the condo, store, and 2 luxury cars, but I don’t know how much they owe on these things. I also don’t know if they plan to split things evenly amongst all their kids or give more to whoever’s needier which would probably be us. I still don’t expect much, but even if it were just a few grand, well, if the car crapped out or we had an illness or an injury being uninsured as we are, that few grand could really come in handy even if it wouldn’t last long. So if the lady who told me I never should’ve been born and that she’d “cripple” me if I stole another snack or toy from another fellow preschooler has anything she’d like to give me, I’ll take it. It can’t undo the past and I’m sorry she’s suffering right now but still, I’ll take it. Any bit of cash helps. Five grand won’t undo the fact that my mother got rid of me at age 15 so she could have a “quieter” house, but it should get me dentures when my teeth really go to hell. Another five grand won’t undo the fact that she taunted me about my weight (even though she herself was fat) until I became anorexic for a while in my teens at just 85 pounds, but it would get my husband and I to Florida.

I wasn’t locked in dark closets for days. I wasn’t beaten to the point of needing to go to the hospital. But sometimes the “lesser” forms of abuse can be bad enough. They say that a lot of my behavior problems in the past stemmed from this abuse, but that doesn’t mean I don’t try to change myself for the better. Perhaps I should’ve started bettering myself at 18 instead of 28, but I’m always working on it. Even if that means continually having to restrain myself from doing things I know I shouldn’t do.

Later…

As a child, I was the “cutest” little thing most people said they ever saw. In my 20s I was a stripper. In my 30s I was still being hit on or gawked at by almost every man I passed. In my 40s I am old, fat, gray and ugly-looking. Time to make up for those “beautiful” years! And payback’s a real bitch too, as I wonder why some folks in their 50s aren’t even gray yet while I sit here with my hair gunked up with dye at 46.

And what the fuck is wrong with my brain lately? I’m making all kinds of writing errors. Andy’s been kind enough to catch them for me, but it’s still not like me. Neither is forgetting things like crazy.

I called and checked in with Mom yesterday. She sounded a bit perkier. As I suspected, Tammy went back home, but the pedophile is still there. I asked how she was getting along and she said she was able to make her bed. Again, despite the abuse in the past it was hard not to feel a sense of sadness over that statement. When being able to make your bed becomes one of your best accomplishments it’s just plain sad.

She didn’t call me Tammy this time or think I was in Oakland, but she still asked me the same questions and told me the same things several times. She’s definitely not as with it as she used to be. She “lost” her phone after dropping it around the place somewhere so she had to keep me on speakerphone. This is totally unlike her because she’s always been an organized neat freak.

My weight is finally climbing. Yeah, I figured it would. Even my bra is tighter. Fucking 40C tits – WTF? beats head Starting next week it’s Q10 for me and a starting point of 1400 calories with a 200-calorie burn. When that doesn’t work I’ll drop another hundred calories from my diet and add another hundred to my workout. At least I know I won’t gain with the 1400 cals/200-cal burn. But I want to lose 20 pounds and drop to 120. I disagree with Tom who says that’s perfect for my age, height and shape. I think 100 would be more ideal, but I’m only in the mood to lose enough to be more comfortable in my clothes and movements, not to look pretty. I’m ugly, I accept it, and one need not look if they don’t like it. Tom tells me I’m not fat and ugly, but he’s my husband. Isn’t he supposed to say that? I don’t look as heavy as I am because I’m still pretty fit, but just letting myself go is easier said than done. I don’t want to keep having to buy new clothes as I get bigger and bigger. I don’t want to have someone else trim my toenails cuz I got too fat to do it myself.

Alison had it out with Molly’s mother again. Aly was still very polite about it, but she let her know that while she may sympathize with her, she’s still making excuses for her, not getting her daughter the help she needs, and as soon as she messes up bad enough, she won’t waste any time taking action against her.

I don’t blame her for feeling the way she does. That lunatic really makes it hard for people to ignore her, and she’s really crossing the line when she starts posting full names. So now you know why I’m hiding. Not just to protect myself, but my friends as well. If I ever go public again on Facebook someday, the one thing you will never see is my friend list unless I’ve added you.

One thing that was funny was something I saw on Blogger. When you delete entries or blogs it says: Sorry, (name of blog) no longer exists. Well, Mommy Dearest must’ve applied some discipline and restraint on the bitch cuz again her latest round of angry rants have been scrapped. Her Blogger blog was called Molly’s Life. So when you try to access it you get: Sorry, Molly’s Life no longer exists. LOL, yeah, she never had a life.

Speaking of abused girls growing up to be naughty ladies that need to control their own behavior, the dipshit goes and posts her number for the world to see and even her email address. I wanted sooo badly to send an anonymous postcard and say things she likes to say like, “I’m lonely. Help me! I need a friend. Can we talk?” then give her own phone number, hahaha.

I’m surprised she still hasn’t risen to the bait. Someone’s been online in her account, but there’s been no blog activity for a couple of days now.

Also, Nane posted on Irene’s wall: Greetings, Irene, from sunny Munich where the weather isn’t too bad.

Irene replied with: Greetings, Marion (that’s her first name), from sunny Salzburg where the weather’s a little better than not too bad.

Well, I had to really sit on my hands to keep from typing: Greetings, Hündin and Irene, from even sunnier NorCal where the weather’s better than both of yours could ever be in early March! Take care, Spitze Nase and Irene. :)