The other Millers

So I had this memory today about The Millers. I was a Miller but these were other, non-related Millers. At 12 my parents got divorced and I chose to live with my Dad. My mother wasn’t too happy and moved out of our house leaving me for my Dad to come and get. He was an OTR truck driver at the time so it was a couple of days. She also left all of my belongings, childhood things, etc in the house but they were in the attic so I didn’t know. I can’t recall how I got to my Dad but I did eventually. The time frames for these events are a mystery like much of my childhood but at some point he bought a trailer in Enon and we lived there. My step mother was only 12 years older than I was and didn’t want me there at all. At some point she gave my Dad the “either she goes or I go” and I went. At the time, my mother still wasn’t talking to me so that wasn’t an option. I had been going to school there and had met a girl with the same last name on the bus. Not a friend because I didn’t see the point of making those. She was kind but I only knew her a a week or maybe up to a month on the bus.

She lived in the boonies up the road from the trailer park. She told her parents and they took me in. The school didn’t know, no-one really knew. Since we had the same last name no one questioned them signing my papers or what not. I don’t know how long I stayed there but the kept me and fed me. They seemed nice enough but for a 12-13 year old, even one overly exposed to adult issues like myself, it was uncomfortable. I’m not sure if I went straight to my sister’s in Canada from there or if I eventually went to live with my mother or how long anything took but it’s a weird spot in my life that I’m not sure how to feel about. Sometimes I think about how lucky I am that someone took me in. Others it reminds me how disposable my family has always treated me. Mostly it’s indicative of when the being “on my own” started. This was the point where my life became transient. I never stayed anywhere for longer than 6 months until I moved to Welland, Ontario. 12 is too young to not have stability or structure. Most people don’t know what a shock it is that I’m still kicking around. It’s also a miracle I had any parenting instincts at all. Life is weird.

Value or whatever

Pretty up in my head and thinking about way much. What I want in life is no where near what I can have. This isn't about fancy cars, designer clothes, jewellery, or anything fancy. Just basic things that I need that I can't manage to provide for myself. It would be nice to not have to go with out OTC meds that make my pain less or the ability to digest food easier, a dollar pack of face wash circles. I repaired by bloody flip flops, $5 dollar flip flops. I couldn't replace a pair of $5 dollar shoes. My $60 runners are over 4 years old. Yup that means my biggest splurge on myself is about $15 a year.

I'm 44 fucking years old. I live in constant pain and many days feel that existing in a contestant state of torture is hardly preferable to not. Alas people count on me who didn't ask to be brought into this world so i'm stuck. Giving up the fight is non-optional.

I think things would be vastly different if I didn't lose sight of my value and allow others to do the same. I cannot leave my value, care, wellbeing, and control of my life in the hands of someone else. No matter how sick I am I have to take my life back and find what I let go of.

I noticed that since I leave the house so rarely I am getting a bit anxious when I am out. I don't avoid going out but am not able to due partly to health but mostly that my transportation was needed, thus taken, leaving me stranded. So nearly 3 years I've spend months at a time not going out. Not out for entertainment, enjoyment, to the store, out to just do anything. Not to grab lunch, visit friends, wander around a book store, or to see all of the beautiful things around where we live. Not having a single dollar to allow me to join a friend for a coffee (or tea in my case).

Add this to overwhelming pain (exacerbated by the stress of feeling imprisoned), nausea, isolation, loss of function due to inactivity, and spending every day alone 10 or more hours alone with an overly analytical mind.. makes for disaster. This can have detrimental effects of the psyche, friendships, relationships, a marriage, and about everything else you are trying to manage.

I have to save myself. No one is going to do it for me. I have to change it. Make things right. With no money, no transportation, and little mobility. heh This should be interesting.

Monsters are better than people

Ever since I was a child I have had an obsession with monsters. Vampires and werewolves were always tops but I dig zombies a lot too. As an abuse survivor and someone who would like to believe myself to be fairly self aware, I think I figured out why.

These bits of realization come when I'm ranting and I say things out load or type them up in a post without thinking. Then that AhHa moment happens and I think or sometimes say "Holy Shit! That totally makes sense." When you start to recover (do you recover or just become better adjusted?) from mental illness that stems from not only a wacky high IQ but also a childhood full of trauma you start to connect things. I find these reasonings or explanations for behaviours or trigger reactions help me to better cope with said reaction. My monster love was one of those moments. 

I realized over a decade ago that I preferred horror movie/story monsters to people because of my life experiences. The people that caused me harm as a kid looked like perfectly normal people. They looked like anyone walking down the street and they were monsters. Not the kind I like but as my oldest daughter referred to people that harmed other people or animals, People Monsters. They are scary. People monsters are horrifying. They play at being like everyone else, fitting the cookie cutter of what people expect but they have evil in them. They thrive on harming others. Fictional monsters not the least bit scary once you have met real people monsters. 

My earliest monster memory was at 8 years old. I was in our living room aka the red room. Damn near as ominous as it sounds. See, my mother worked a job that she didn't need to work and with her earnings bought this hideous red fur furniture, white wallpaper with red velvet flowers, red carpet, etc It looked like a 70s (well.. it was the 70s) brothel or something out of the movie Tommy. We weren't allowed in the red room unless it was a holiday. That was my mother's room. Anyway, I was on the floor in front of the TV watching this movie called Kiss of the Vampire. All I could think was that was what I wanted to be when I grew up. A vampire. No one abuses a vampire. heh So from then on when I went to bed I would go to the window and say "you can come in" just in case there was a vampire outside, then I would pull all of my hair off of my neck and go to bed. 

I found monsters way less frightening than the people I knew. Frankenstein's monster was mistreated and misunderstood so I really got him. He was reactive to the way he was treated. Many of the monster stories were about misunderstood creatures. That was me. It is still me. I will forever be more Morticia than Suzi Homemaker.

All of this drew me to the punk and goth kind of people. You see, people with tattoos, spiked collars, odd colours of hair, crazy jewellery, and other things society deemed odd or off putting felt safer to me. They wore all of their scary on the outside. Their buffer from normalcy made them less of a threat in my eyes. I always looked at it as normal folks or those to adhere, conform to societal norms can be hiding anything. Yes, I know this is not always the case on either side but that is where I found my comfort. Now, at 44 I still prefer people that are misfits, different, or unconventional. If some one is sugary sweet or claims to be all good or looks super normal I proceed with more care. 

Here we go..

Well, here it is. My first blog post on this wacky thing. I suppose I don't need to introduce myself being as my profile is right there. <----points to left of screen 

A preemptive warning in the profile seemed to be the best way to prepare people. I am by no means making an apology nor do I feel this is a negative aspect to my personality. I am a product of my environment, upbringing, self exploration, and life experiences like anyone else. I would like to think I am fairly self aware which seems to be more rare. 

The universe, (feel free to call this what you like. God, the Devil, Flying Spaghetti Monsters, Gaia, Aliens, The Force, whatever) has handed me a colourful set of cards and I try my best to make the best of it. Suffering a chronic illness has made that quite the challenge.  

I also have a deep affection for all things monsters, horror, scifi, fantasy books and movies. They have never really been scary to me like others find them. Vampires, Werewolves, Demons oh my!  All of that being said, er typed, this blog will involve mental and physical health thoughts, excitement about geeky/monster things, and a lot of bitching about things in general. So welcome.