Most of us never accomplish this. That’s simply a fact of life. You can ruminate about it all you want but you’re just spinning your wheels. About the only helpful thing is letting it out. Out of your body and your mind. Because you know you are ‘carrying’ this crap with you. I don’t really want to do that; I want it gone. And I’m a talker, just so you know. Nowadays I do it on paper cuz I am getting too old to yak on the phone for hours. This is also purely selfish, because there’s no one to interrupt me and also, there’s even the possibly someone is reading. It matters not if I will never know for sure but just the possibility of it…that’s exciting. Writing is cathartic in two ways for me. I suppose that’s why any of us writers write: to rid.

I came of age in the ’70’s. I graduated H.S. in the year of our bicentennial. Fourth of July that year was quite fantastic. When I think about being a Baby Boomer, (‘Boomers’ they call us, how cute) it actually makes me warm and fuzzy. We witnessed so many notable events. Just being around for the end of 1999 thrilled me. Now I am watching the world, not just America, go through yet another plague. This was NOT something I thought I’d experience. It is still happening and changing the world, and mankind, never to return to the old ways again. Oh, sure, some of the old ways will go on: hate, racism, violence, evil. But we enter into a whole other reality now.

Being quarantined has brought things out in me that I never imagined. After almost 5 months of being isolated in a house with my spouse of 43 years I am feeling ambivalence toward him. Oh, it’s always been there. He is a Narcissist and me, I am an Empath. It’s truly like oil and water: we only get along right after being shaken up and even then it doesn’t last very long. For 43 years I’ve been walking on eggshells. I actually replaced my Narcissist mother with a husband of the same genre. I now know this because along with attempting to expunge my brain of lots of past issues I have also turned to introspectively examining one of the worst events of my life: a DUI.

At 25 I did this asinine thing. I was a latchkey kid growing up in the ’60’s and what self-parenting I did was not very good. Upon reflection~ a bit more self-indulgent than I would have preferred, but being abused I took certain liberties regular kids couldn’t. Being left alone so much, you could stay home and have boys over! You roamed the streets just like gangs nowadays, except we weren’t malevolent. We were just unsupervised 12 year old girls committing petty theft, smoking and hanging around back alleys, mostly. And the boys…I mentioned them earlier. I’m still looking for a few of them actually. Recently on FB I located my grammar school. OMG. Sixth grade was wild and I see a lot of the same faces; it’s really trippy who we have all become 50 years later. It’s just wild.

In the face of adversity, I turned out ok. I broke the chain of physical and mentally abusive parenting that had been handed down for 4 generations of women on my maternal side…and raised two darn great kids. I got a legitimate job manicuring nails for 30 years and even had my own Beauty Shoppe. When my beloved Grama and my parents passed away, I took ‘our’ inheritance and paid off everything with it. Everything we have we own outright; I was fortunate this way. And then there’s this: I’m still married to my H.S., albeit narcissistic, sweetheart.

That night, I knew exactly what I was doing and why. I didn’t acknowledge the fact I could get in an accident and hit another car at 45/mph head on after I dozed off. Falling asleep at the wheel of an automobile while it’s in motion!! WTF? I was just hoping to avoid getting pulled over by the cops…honestly, I wasn’t feeling invincible or ‘daring arrest’ by driving with a sippy cup full of wine in my lap and the bottle in the back. I was just depressed. So depressed that night, the last hours of Valentine’s Day 1983.

Like all silly females, Valentine’s Day was important to me. Especially when it’s pretty much the only time you are gushed over by the guy you’ve been dating for 7 years. With no engagement ring in sight. Ring…??? How about never broaching the subject? Still, I stayed and hoped and hoped and hoped. I was drinking a lot those days. And taking endless midnight drives when I was alone. Being in a very one-sided relationship is the worst relationship to be in. You go deep, delving into the psyche of your partner and wondering what is wrong with them. Wondering what’s wrong with you. For seven years I longed. The foundation of every adult is a childhood. But for some of us, the fundamentals of it are lacking. The nurturing, the physical love; not there. So we turn out best we can and for some of us, we become weak and passive. It simply depends on what X factor was missing in your childhood. In the long run, you can classify your parents into one of two groups: Good or Bad Parents. My mother was aggressive; I became passive.

I am an Empath. This whole situation, the riots, the virus, it’s a bit much. I am not saying that there aren’t many other people out there who don’t feel excruciating pain over the past developments. I am saying that, I personally, cannot deal with it. It’s just breaking me up. And scattering me to the wind. I try to stop these feelings, but they don’t stop. I truly wonder if I am just too different, too weak, too fragile. I am all those things and more. Extremely strong for one, or I would not have made it to 62 in one piece. I may be a bit scarred and way too introspective, but I am strong. Tomorrow is another day to work on it.