survivors guilt

it seems that more and more tragic events are hitting. a dear friend suffered a devastating blow this week. another had an incredibly close call. maybe it’s simply part of becoming a grown up (in which case i wish i call dibs on playing peter pan FOREVER). maybe it’s simply my time in the karmic cycle of crap. either way, there’s a side effect that i’ve know about, and written about for YEARS, but until today i’ve never put a name to it or really understood what it might be.

a week or so ago i discovered some old journals and read through them. it was something i could have written last week, not 7 years ago. even older journal said the same question over and over: WHY ME? and not why me as in the sad panda, tragic, sad story, why does everything happen to me. but why me as in why did i make it out the other side of the tunnel? what preserved me and let me make it through? what is my greater purpose that’s keeping me on this shit pile we call earth? why hasn’t my cosmic timer dinged yet? i’ve asked the same question over and over. i’ve written about it. and today i researched it a bit- in a twisted, fucked up way (but of course, it is me after all…) i think it’s a form of survivors guilt.

i had a kid at 17. i still graduated high school and went on to graduate from a four year college with an advanced degree. WHY? what made me so different from the other 98% of teem moms that drop out of school to never return? what made me so special that the doors opened up (full ride scholarship) and opportunities were thrown in front of me? what made me decide to take those opportunities?

in the same line- i had a kid at 17. it was an easy, text book pregnancy. delivery was less than text book, but we both made it out healthy with no worries or problems. WHY ME? why was it so easy for me to get knocked up (not even kidding…first time out of the gate kids)? why did i have such an easy unplanned pregnancy when other people have been sick or concerned or worried through the whole nine months? why did i get knocked up the first shot when others have tried for years and done things in the right order (aka not being 17 and single and in high school). why did i get knocked up right away with BOTH my kids when people like my SIL had to suffer through several miscarriages? what made my uterus so magical and fertile? why were mine so healthy and boring when others barely (or not at all) make it through?

what made me be able to walk away from an abusive marriage in one piece when others can not and have not made it out? what made it so easy for me to get an incredible job that i’m still at 10 years later? why have other friends had such a hard time getting good work and i just fell into mine? what has kept me (knock on wood) in such good health over the years when other people have had to battle through cancer, sickness, health problems? what has allowed me to be successful in life where i can support my family on one income when so many others are barely scraping by on two? what has moved me to this point in my life?

some of it is just my own damn hard work. some of it is luck. some of it is genetics. i’d have to say all those combined together equal about 5% of why i am where i am today. the other 95% is that there is some greater cosmic purpose to my life. BUT I CAN’T FUCKING FIGURE IT OUT. there is a reason i had my son early. there is a reason i stayed in school. there is a reason my health and well being has been preserved. i believe i am mean for something. my kids are meant for something. we have something that is yet to be accomplished in this life. but yet knowing that doesn’t erase the guilt. that doesn’t make me feel any better about making it this far. it makes me feel bad that other people completed their purpose early on. it makes me feel guilty that i haven’t figured mine out yet. ok. pause for a moment. i call bullshit on what i just said. i DON’T think everyone gets to complete their purpose. i look at all the missing people around and i can’t see their purpose. i can’t see what they accomplished or did to deserve to be taken this early. they didn’t get their full time here. how can an infant that has never drawn a breath have completed his time here? how can a precious helluva fighter 8 month old baby girl have done all she was born to do? how could either of the mothers lost at the same time have accomplished what they were here to do? it’s BULLSHIT. there is no reason for their leaving. which makes it even harder to be left behind. they were both amazing women. both perfectly innocent children. what made them be taken before me- the fuck up? what justice is there in that?

there’s just SO MUCH anger and guilt. i want to know why. i want to know why i’ve been left here and why i’ve made it. why have i been spared? what is my greater purpose? what am i here to do? how can i earn my spot in this small patch of universe?

if anyone has the answers…

option b usually wins

ok kids. a little house cleaning first. it’s been a while since i made an attempt at a funny blog so it may take a while to get the wheels good and greased up (think dirty thoughts if you so choose, i was). i have been saving notes of odd things to throw in here, so i’ll get those out of the way and then move on to a magical fairy tale of mythical creatures, air guitar, and fat bottom girls. you’re welcome in advance.

odd thought #1: when it’s just you at home (or if you live alone) do you close the bathroom door? ran home yesterday on my lunch break, had to pee (yes, it was important to the story) and was closing the bathroom door when i suddenly had a moment of freedom: IT’S JUST ME HERE. I CAN PEE WITH THE DOOR OPEN. not quite sure why this was such a happy thought, but it was, and my day was better for it.

odd thought #2: if you don’t stop for a pedestrian at a crosswalk (not that any of us would ever NOT stop…but hypothetically you understand) does it make you feel less guilty when the car behind you doesn’t stop either? i always feel bad if i don’t stop for whatever reason and most times apologize (which they never hear cause i’m in my car…but whatever) but it always makes me feel LESS bad if the car behind me doesn’t stop either. if they DO stop i usually have a few choice words for them.* never with my kids in the car you understand…i mean, what kind of parent would not stop for pedestrians AND use 4 letter words? what kind of an example would that be? yeah….

*see choices listed below

odd thought #3: JUST REALIZED: santa really has the child labor thing figured out. i bet if kathy lee gifford had put little hats and pointy shoes on the kids in her factory she could have totally gotten away with it. GEN.IOUS. a few pointy hats, some slippers with bells on them, my kids could totally be helping pay the rent.

odd thought #4: was listening to a video blog this morning that contained the following phrase: “biblical happy meal” to described the fish/loaves experience. HAPPY IN THE PANTS. after wiping up the coffee that shot out my nose (not even kidding…you think white chocolate tastes good? it smells even better). do you have any idea the thought process that followed? biblical happy meals…what was the toy? moses parting the red sea? a rod that turned into a snake and back (the original transformer)? chariots of fire (the original hot wheels)? baby moses in the basket (obviously a bath toy)? fuck moses, i would have wanted rahab in a basket personally (she’s the hooker in the bible if you haven’t read it recently…escaped out a window in a basket. would have made a kick ass bond girl if you ask me). and then there’s the whole passing out of the happy meals…was it in the little box with the golden arch handles? did it come with a drink? were there huge containers of mystery orange drink? did they all get their own sprite? was there an option of chocolate milk? a biblical happy meal. video blog magic.

ok. house: cleaned. onto the real magic. can i even say it? do i need a warning label? “THIS BLOG CONTAINS MULLET”. yes. that’s right. mullet. seriously…giggling and clapping my hands like…hell, i can’t even think of anything…I’M THAT EXCITED.

so. friday night a few gals from work and i headed out for drinks and music. it was a pretty quiet evening for the most part with the exception that we somehow found ourselves in the middle of a few birthday parties with some “dresses” that looked more like a legging pulled up too high but whatever. (ladies: if you sit down on the chair and your BARE ASS is on the chair because there’s not enough dress to cover it, you may not call that a dress. yes, i’m jealous. shut up.) so there we are, enjoying food, drinks, listening to the REALLY OLD BAND (i think they were the house band at the opening of the garden of eden…sorry for all the biblical references today...you may consider it your church for the week) and i spot it. down below us on the main floor (bless balconies for their great vantage point). i blink. this CAN’T BE REAL. but it is. or i think it is. i swear on the soul of my father the devil: a mullet. a real, live, permtastic mullet. and this isn’t just some half ass mullet…all high and tight in the front, long in back…this is a FULL mullet. a full head of golden, curly, shagtastic mystical mullet goodness. what do you do in a moment like this? (besides the obvious asking for a towel for your chair)? i quickly pointed him out to the two gals i was with which drew the attention of one of the birthday group guys so he was included in rare spotting. we couldn’t believe it. a mullet. in our midst. STUPID CAMERA PHONE…couldn’t take a picture that far away in that low light. depressing. but we all saw it. four of us. we couldn’t all be having the same blessed dream, could we? and then…old as dirt (may have been the official band name…may be wrong) started up fat bottom girls. to understand the full additional magic that’s going on, you have to understand the full set of music that was going on. they had already played: little sister, my big green tractor, and the joker (among others that i can’t remember). it was an anything and everything in between type band. rounding it out with fat bottom girls. AND THE MULLET ON AIR GUITAR. oh yes. air guitar. in the middle of the bar. without spilling a drop of his beer. at this point, the 4 of us are IN AWE. full on awe. this can’t be real. a mullet. and air guitar. all in one night. so. the night continues, we go back to chatting, and suddenly i am smacked on the arm. THE MULLET IS ON THE BALCONY. less than 3 feet away from us. standing there. in all his golden mullet glory. complete with head toss. yes, a head toss to shake the golden locks. i think i heard angels at this point. or it could have been the ringing in my ears from the noise. either way. so birthday party boy is quickly informed and he comes up with a plan: this CAN’T be real…we need proof. he’s going to touch the mullet. i suggested actual petting of said mullet, but he decided to be a little less obvious and go with the casual bump against the shoulder as he walked by. whatevs. BUT HE COULDN’T DO IT. every time he got close, the mullet would move away. and there’s only a certain number of times you can try that move before people start getting worried and checking for their wallets. HE NEVER TOUCHED THE MULLET. he couldn’t do it. which proves the fact that we were in the presence of a mystical magical creature. like a unicorn. with a mullet. charlie…let’s go to candy mountain charlie…it’ll be an adventure charlie! (go youtube charlie the unicorn if you’re lost at this point. i’ll wait).

so. thinking back on it now, it may have ruined the night if actual touching of the mullet had been achieved. it may have ruined the mystique of it all. as it stands: the world may never know…


*choices: a) asshat b) fuckwit c) bastard d) god damn good samaritan e) fucking asshole that made me look like a bitch f) jim

odd twitters explained:

so, in case you were wondering, here’s the story behind yesterday’s tweets:

super guilt: someone at the gas pump before me had prepaid but forgotten to fill up. pumped my gas and went to pay but didnt owe.

to whomever prepaid for gas at pump 2 in ritzville but forgot to fill up: i owe you $40!

SERIOUSLY?? found the people from the gas mix up and paid them back. AWESOME!

so, yesterday i was driving home from zillah with the boys and we had to stop at ritzville for gas (coasted into ritzville for gas...cut that one close!). pulled up to the pump, got out, opened the gas cap, took out the pump, selected my grade, filled up, all seemed normal. went inside to get some drinks and pay...still seemed normal...til i got to the register and my chevron card is NO WHERE. not in my pocket, not in my purse, not in my wallet. so there i stand like an idiot...and i ask the gal if she can hold the purchase for just a second while i check my car...run out, tear through the car, NOTHING, no card...S.O.L. i get back inside and she's all confused because there's a guy asking for his change from pump 2 (which is the pump i'm on). she's all confused, i'm all confused...change? i haven't even paid yet...what the hell? he says he prepaid for pump 2 but didn't fill up and he wants his money back...but when i went to fill up there was nothing on the pump...WHAT THE HELL? she gives him about $6 in change then goes to ring mine up AGAIN and asks how much i want on pump 2..umm...i already filled up. oh, well then you took that guys prepaid gas. SHIT. so i look out the window and he's already pulling out of the station, so i finish paying for the drinks and whatever (thankfully i had cash since i STILL couldn't find my card) and try to get out to catch him, but he's GONE...was going to offer to pay for his gas since he paid for mine. but it's ritzville, i have no idea if the guy lives there or if he's passing through like me...and he's GONE. now what? i feel guilty for taking some guys gas...it isn't cheap, and if he's like me, he can't afford to just write off forty bucks...SHIT...now what? not much i can do at this point. ugh. GUILT.

so i get back on the road headed back to spokane, cruising along...right about springdale i recognize a car a few ahead of me...silver and black rodeo type rig...NO WAY...it can't be them. so i pull up next to the rig, but don't recognize the driver....but the passenger looks familiar...NO WAY. of all the directions you can head out of ritzville, PLUS maybe living there or in one of the nearby towns...here's the car i owe money to on I90 on the way back to spokane...NO WAY. so, i try to get their attention, but it's not working. we get into spokane and i see they're taking the maple street exit...so i take the exit too...and while we're stopped at the light at the bottom of the exit i jump out of my car (in my son's sandals because i couldn't put my shoes on that quick) and pop back to their car and ask them if they just filled up at ritzville...or tried to anyway. they're looking at me like the crazy person that i am...i tell them i was the one at the pump that ended up with their gas and have $40 for them...we pull over in a parking lot nearby, they hand me the change the clerk had given them and i hand them the $40 bucks they probably thought they would never see again and on our way we went.

HOW RANDOM! of all the directions they could have headed...the speed factor of me catching up to them (not even kidding, this is one of the rare times i wasn't even speeding and i caught up to them!), all the exits they could have taken, rest stops they could have turned off at, everything...and i caught up with them and recognized their rig from a 2 second glimpse out the gas station window...

AWESOME. felt so good to get them their money back! and it was a good lesson for my kids too...even if it makes you seems like a crazy person, always do the right thing! even after i did recognize their rig i could have driven right past and they probably would have never know the difference. but ALWAYS do the right thing. it feels good. nothing can beat that feeling. the random greatness of the universe giving you a chance to make it right and DOING IT. it was a pretty awesome moment at the end of a great weekend.

so there you have it. the odd, random twitters explained.