God & Company

I believe in God. The Universe. My angels.

I feel my deceased father around me, even 32 years later. I talk to him periodically.

I have faith.

Ain’t no man or men that can change the shape my soul is in. – Avett Brothers

But I still have no idea what the fucking point of all of this is.

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Why does my brain want me to self-destruct? The thoughts that percolate in there are dark sometimes, my virtual friends.

As my mom would say about me, I don’t handle stress well. This is true. What also is true, my entire family knows that I’m a bit off my wheel.

“Crazy Aunt Abbey.”

Yep. And honestly, as much as I hate to admit it, I am.

Might as well own up to that shit, am I right?

I pray to God & Company to assist me in this life, to help me to stick around and not swallow a cocktail of medications or hang myself from a nice oak tree in the park. I really don’t want to go, but fuck my brain when it starts going in that direction.

I am used to those thoughts, that I am weak and not worth much to anyone. It’s true that under stress, I crack like an old coffee mug. I’ve always been rather Eeyore-like, I hide it behind my sense of humor. I am not the only person who does that, it’s a survival tactic. It’s always worked for me, everybody loves a clown.

A sad clown, a fake-ass funny, happy fucking clown.

I pray with tearful eyes, please God, help me stay strong.

Help me stay alive.

Dental Dilemma

Most of the teeth in my mouth are rotting away and there’s nothing that I can do about it.

I don’t have dental insurance, nor can I afford it.

It looks like I’m stuck with emery boards and pliers.

Emery boards file down sharp, broken teeth that start to stab me in the cheek.

Pliers…well, I would have to be drunk as fuck and completely desperate, like that movie where Tom Hanks uses an ice skate to slam a tooth loose.

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If he can do it, so can I!

Eating is a delicate, slow task. I’ve been practicing eating puree foods.

Anything crunchy scares me, like please no, I do not want a potato chip, thank you Aunt Edna (who doesn’t really exist, remember?)

I come from a family of bad teeth. All the dental floss and fancy toothbrushes over the years has done nothing to keep this cluster-fuck of a mouth of mine from going bad on me.

I don’t smile much, not because I don’t feel like it, no, it’s because I’m embarrassed to be seen with these funky chompers.

Unfortunately, about 130 million Americans lack private dental coverage. That includes 22 percent of children between ages 1 and 17, 40 percent of adults between 21 and 64 and 70 percent of seniors age 65 and older. When families can’t afford dental care, they skip it.   -netquote.com

If you have dental insurance, go get a nice root canal.

I want pictures.

We Must Confront Our Bullshit

It’s been over a year now since it’s been just my daughter and our two dogs living under one roof together. I fought for almost two months to get my cheater husband to move out. He didn’t want to leave (nowhere to go, he said) and holy fuck, it was such an awkward and extremely stressful time in my life.

Actually, he was the bringer of stress and chaos, drama and bullshit, for many years. I put up with all of it because of 3 main reasons:

  1. He was the love of my life, wasn’t he?
  2. I’d invested so many years of my life to the relationship.
  3. I became complacent.

The level of stress in my life has gone down considerably since he’s been gone. That isn’t to say that I don’t continue to have stress, because that’s just a part of life.

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Ah, knowing when to stay or go. It’s different for everyone, I’d reckon.

I wish that I had kicked his ass out long before I did, but there’s no such thing as a time machine. If so, I’d have one in my bedroom.

He left behind tons of memories (good and awful) and I’m still in the process of sifting through them, one by one. Some people tell me to just forget about him, but I know that if I don’t allow myself to deal with these thoughts and emotions, I will never heal.

Um, I want to heal.

I will not do what I did the first time around when I left my daughters father and then proceeded to hit the floor running. That was part of the recipe for my 2011 mental breakdown.

We must confront our bullshit or else we’ll continue to step in it.

Abbey  11/29/18

The Douchebag Scale

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I had a philosophy that I now realize is offensive to men, I called it The Douchebag Scale.

Every man on earth automatically receives an initial score of 1, just because they have a penis.

The score goes up if the male acts like a fucking jerk. Most jerks are actually douchebags, if I may be so bold.

Even my dad who was like the nicest guy ever, he was a level 2 douchebag because he sometimes upset my mom by being a jerk!

My brother is a level 4 douchebag. If you’re under a 5, it’s not considered as a full-blown DB.

My first abuser is a 10. He is a controlling, demanding, manipulative, perverted, cruel monster who still haunts my nightmares after almost two decades.

The second one was a moderately safe DB at 5, until he started graduating from level to level, which put him into a close tie with my first trauma provider, at an evil 9.

I see now how awful this idea of mine was. It’s the same as men saying that every baby girl born in the world gets an automatic 1 on the bitch scale.

But honestly, I’m about a 3 myself and I’ve known a ton of total bitches.

I made it up mostly to make my coworkers and friends laugh. And it worked.

But that was a long time ago, so I sincerely apologize to the douchebags men who might be reading this, although it’s doubtful with all the internet porn.

Come on, that was funny.

It is funny.

Don’t be a douche.

Abbey Normal  11/1/18

Scorn & Sage

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I start each day knowing that I’ll come face to face with something that will remind me of my cheating husband. I still haven’t filed for divorce and I’m not exactly sure why. I haven’t had any contact with him at all since January and I don’t know where he’s living currently, although I have a suspicion that it’s with another woman. Lord knows that he can’t hack it on his fucking own. I was always the one who paid the bills and made sure that we continued to have a roof over our heads.

He wouldn’t know an electric bill if it bit him in his fat, disgusting ass.

The days continue though, full of landmines. Spending fifteen years with someone, you tend to gather tons of relationship tidbits. A song, a saying, a certain food…I’ll never be able to listen to Led Zep again without wanting to puke my guts out.

The restaurant we frequently had dinner at burned down and I was actually glad that it was gone, his easy conversation and fake smiles smoldering in the ashes of someone else’s worst nightmare.

The owner is rebuilding down the street, so my guilt isn’t as heavy, but I still feel like a total asshole for smiling like a fool when I first heard. I pray that their pork chops stay moist and delicious.

I have some sage to cleanse my house. I’ve never done anything like it before, I’m just your average middle-aged, scorned woman who wants to rid her home of evil, smelly, perverted energy.

Abbey Normal  11/1/2018

There’s a woman screaming in my neighborhood, so come read my blog!

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Starting this blog is incredibly necessary for the continuation of my healing from a lifetime of traumas that continue like fucking hell on toast to hold me back from living my best life.

Wow, that does look like a real sentence…damn, Abbey.

Not bad.

Within this space I will lay down, with sincerity and truth, all of my worst memories.

It might come in spurts or like an avalanche, I cannot promise you a post a day, also not in chronological order. I can however promise to be real.

We are made from our past, slowly molding into the people that we are right at this moment. If you hadn’t met that one person and gone to that party, or had that emotional gutter punch to an already upset stomach that aches day and night.

My mother cannot shit. I mean this sincerely. This issue has plagued her for going on 5 years and she’s slowly starving to death. She tries so hard, my God she tries, I am suffering watching her weaken before my eyes and holy fuck she’s going to die pretty soon and all of us who love her has to watch.

Does anyone else feel this way, or like me, afraid to bring it up least we all face the music?

People are afraid of the truth.

I need a safe place…cause I have a bunch and they are screaming at me.

Abbey Normal 10/31/2018

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