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Forgive and forget…no

How does one forgive when the hurt is too great?

Raised up in a Catholic school environment from first grade onward, I believed to forgive was to let go of the hurt inflicted from another. Forgiveness was akin to confession. You acknowledge the hurt, let it go and move on. The party who wronged you would be grateful for the forgiveness and be forever at the mercy of the one-you- who afforded them a respite akin to what HE almighty would have given them.

Bull to the s**t!

Forgiveness comes back…to bite the hand that you thought forgave ya.

Yeah.

I can rant and rave ‘bout the many who wronged me, done me no good and I carry on saying, “I forgive and forget”, mind you, I did do the forgiving, but if you thought I forgot what you did to me when I was down and out…you got another thing coming.

I do not forget.

Nor do I easily forgive. images

Why?

Cause the damage you inflicted upon me is as bad as your thoughts on the tattoos that grace my body.

You can look at me and smile, meanwhile in your pigheaded brain you’re like, “Damn what the F… Why did she go and ink herself up?

That’s what so called forgiveness is for me. I can look at you and say, “It does not matter. What’s done is done. I forgive you and let’s move on”.  Meanwhile my imaginary daggers laced with the venom of angry queen bees is right above your head awaiting countdown to launch!

Yeah baby!

Forgiveness is earned not given.

I earn my race medals through practice and hard work. Not by the magic words, “I forgive you”.

I train, practice and work out what fits in and what needs to go.

If only FORGIVENESS were that simple.

 

***image from the www

 

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Ellipsis abuse or….what I am.

Ok…so I use allot of ellipsis. Allot.
In case you are wondering what ellipses are are defined by Webster:

Definition of ELLIPSIS
plural
ellipses
play\i-ˈlip-ˌsēz, e-\
1. 1a : the omission of one or more words that are obviously understood but that must be supplied to make a construction grammatically complete b : a sudden leap from one topic to another
2. 2: marks or a mark (such as … ) indicating an omission (as of words) or a pause

  images

I surely did not know the definition of ellipses let alone the word itself until now…and I don’t care.
Ellipsis comes naturally to me. I pause. Allot. It’s how my mind works.
Thought…pause…thought…pause…

Of course, my use of the ellipsis is not in the norm of grammatically correct usage. Realistically it’s not…in my brain it is. I’d also elicit a ‘rolling eyes’ response from English professors with my abuse of contractions. I do try to spell out the: I would not, I would, cannot, should not, etc. Laziness in typing gets the best of me at times and…

I do not apologize for my ellipses or my contractions.Yup.

 

***image borrowed from the world wide web

Pieces…Bits and Pieces or WHEN

How quickly the quality of life changes from normal to abnormal

WHEN…

You shaved under your arms with a dull razor two days ago and now two days later your pits are burning

WHEN…

You apply aloe vera to the burning pits, feeling relief until you feel, the LUMPS

WHEN…

Survival mode kicks in, and you’ve been through this before with your mom and know the deal-time is of the essence, so they say, but when it’s happening to you, time goes on fast forward with you driving the train with a clutch when you only know how to drive automatic

WHEN…

Through the layers of receptionists at the doctor’s office and strategically planning, you finally get the receptionist who is willing to help you get that next day appointment

WHEN…

You go through a mammogram diagnostic (you don’t wanna know the details) and ultrasound on the day of your mother’s birth and you keep it on the down low, because your mom is 90 and can’t deal with the possibility of her daughter  being diagnosed with breast cancer, most especially when your mom went through the kidney bean episode  with her sister who died from it.

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WHEN…

You realize how YOU are the THREAD that holds your precious family (mom and fur babies) together and don’t have any provisions or alternative plans for them to follow if YOU should GO before THEM

WHEN…

The diagnosis is normal.

Nothing’s wrong.

No lumps.

Enlarged lymph nodes due to shaving.

And…

the doctor looks at you as if you have three heads but you could care less because being hysterically pro active when cancer runs in the family is far better than sitting back and wishing the lumps would magically disappear  overnight.

How quickly our quality of life changes from abnormal back to normal.

…Bye Felicia Razors…
Hello Nair!

Sadness to Gladness to Gladness to Sadness or…Dear Lord please stop the madness!!!

Glad…

Cooking red kidney beans and coconut rice requested by your sister who is, inappetent and lies dying from breast cancer in a hospital bed.

Sad…

You deliver the goods on the 2nd day of her request and she dies on the third day without tasting a morsel.

SAD…

You do not cook red beans with coconut rice for a long time…

Glad…

…until you decide to make the coconut rice for yourself and buy the red beans subconsciously at Key Food.

Sad…

…when you realize the beans you bought are the red kidney beans you avoided for who knows how long because you have yet to recover from the red kidney beans and coconut rice incident from so long ago when your sister died from breast cancer.

GLAD…

…because your daughter who avoided red kidney beans like a deadly virus, accidently eats the red kidney beans mixed in with the coconut rice you made, because her mind was discombobulated in a strange way which is normal for her on any given day, but not on this day when her mind went far right instead of staying centered.

Glad but Sad…

My tía Nina (Bernice) died from breast cancer so long ago and mom, my mom did not take her passing lightly. I was by her side when the midnight call came letting us know Nina passed on. Mom cried, cried and cried, as I cried, cried and cried ions later when I lost Pi. I did not cry for my aunt at the time, as I was the crutch to hold my mom upright. I did not visit my aunt Nina (Bernice) during the hospital stay. My memories of her were meant to stay in the past, before the cancer: beautiful, dressed to the best, makeup and hair perfectly coiffed. At times, I say, bullshit to that excuse that acts as comfort when fear probably allowed that excuse of not visiting acceptable.

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Mom and Nina were not the best of friends when they reunited in America after going their separate ways in Honduras. Mom, was sent away with an aunt who lived in Jamaica to be raised in a culture that didn’t accept the ‘coolie shitting callaloo’ looking Indian girl,  while Nina stayed in Honduras, going to school and perfecting her spanish language skills. Once the sisters reunited, got over the female drama, they traveled all over the Caribbean and became quite close.

My tía Nina (Bernice) always paid attention to me while the others (the Honduran aunts and uncles) had no time for the Jamaican blood that ran through my veins and made me the ‘other’ in their eyes.

Ma and Tia Nina in Ja096

I was not aware of the red kidney beans and coconut rice that transpired between them. Actually, I found out today. Mom cried when she told me how upset she was about Nina not eating the comfort food she requested before passing. I reminded her, how happy I was to eat it yesterday. SIMG_1538he smiled…and made another pot of it for my weeks’ lunch…

 

Out of gladness comes sadness and out of sadness comes gladness…

Tia Nina018 (2)

Curses and Blessings or Running around in Purgatory since Training is one step above Hell and one step down from Heaven…

Wowza, what a can opener of a title!

But…

Titles ain’t nothing but a bunch of words struggling to rise to importance above the mediocre of other titles with a bunch of words struggling…

Okay. I stop.

In between days or rather in between jobs trying to figure out where to go from where I’ve been. Vet medicine is amazing when things go right, amazing when things go wrong, amazing.

Except…

When you work with people:

-who wear fur coats

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– who abusively use anti barking shock collars on their dogs

– who state you are “too nice with the animals” when restraining

– who laugh at you trying to comfort an animal coming out of anesthesia

-who only croon over the ‘cute ones’ while the ugly ones continue to stress from fear due to neglect not only from the previous owners but now the vet staff

-who come in to work with the alcohol from last night on the breath stench

-who sip Irish whiskey while rounding

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Okay. I stop.

Ruminating about the past, sours the moment of the present and surely delays the arrival of the future.

So…

I return to Curses and Blessings, which have nothing to do with the career I once loved, now loathe and in the process of giving up, but to running.

Yes, running.

The one thing keeping me sane right now and out of this place.

Rikers-Island1

Have you ever heard of a runner going postal on the supermarket line or better yet going postal waiting for the subway?  imgres

Running (interval running in my case) gives me endorphins which are free, and produced by my brain (your brain as well). Endorphins are pain reducers and create within the body a feeling akin to morphine.

Are Endorphins addictive?

Not sure.

Ask Eminem.

2017 is the year of the 10k and the ½ marathon races. A graduation from the 5k’s of 2016. I have yet to run a 10k, (April 9th is the first one) and the ½ marathon is not until October. Nevertheless, it is the year for transition and changes, literally and figuratively.

Now. Back to the title, the can opener which began this work of words.

While I run I listen to an eclectic bunch of music which I classify as Curses (sex, drugs, rnr, rehab and Led Zepplin (sigh) ) and blessings (chanting, Buddhism, Catholicism and Godspell-the musical) all within the scope of: opera, classical, disco, rap, rock (old school) new wave, county and so forth.

Take Led Zepplin. Curses or Blessings?

How about Buddhism chants? Curses or Blessings? (careful with your choice here)

I run.

Through transition and changes, figuratively and literally.

I run.

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“I want a golden goose and I want it NOW!”

Wrote this in 2012 but hey…Still want a golden goose!!

Anelemc's Blog

I want a one-bedroom apartment with a fireplace, indoor parking garage, a pool and a backyard.

I want to live in a neighbourhood where the only sounds I hear at night are crickets.

I want a grand piano and no, not a Steinway but a Bosendorfer.

I want to win Mega Millions and not the $2 prize but the bunch of millions prize.

I want to lose allot of weight in two weeks’ time.

I want new clothes to compliment the weight loss I lost in two weeks’ time.

I want a female pit bull.

I want to name my female pit bull- Ms Piti Bee or maybe Ms Piti Me.

I want a house in the country, in a gated community, in case Jason Voorhees tries to contact me.

I want the entire Fall 2012 Mulberry bag collection.

I want a road bike.

I want to ride my road bike in…

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Let the rain come down…

Nov. 9, 2016

So here I sit in my lonely room
Lookin’ for my sunshine
But all I’ve got is two cigarettes
And this broken heart of mine

-Prince

Cigarettes I no longer crave. I stopped smoking years ago.

I spend allot of time sitting around trying to figure out which way to go while feeling lonely for Pi.  Yes, my heart is still broken but not the broken of being just broken as on October 24 when he passed. It’s a broken of what was fragile, now gone and can’t be put together again.

It’s been 17 days since he passed and 17 days since a drop of wine has touched my mouth. Grief took place with no escape from reality brought on by a bottle of wine. In order for my grief to form, grow and dissipate to where it is comfortable to live with, my mind and body had to be completely clear. It’s working and for that I thank Pi.

The results of the 2016 Presidential election brings fear, trepidation, uncertainty and longing to be in the frame of mind I was in on Nov 7 before the shit let lose.

But…

No regressing, the present is fleeting and the future ‘is not ours to see’ (Que Sera, Sera).

I miss Pi Patel.  img_1125

(Although, I told HIM, I’d drink three bottles of wine a day to have him back.)

But…

As a dog parent friend posted on my FB on Nov 12, “Showing up for life when we don’t feel like it is very healing”.

It is healing.

And although I’d like to stay in bed, sorting through pics of my fur baby, it’s not possible.

Bills gotta get paid, and I gotta start living.

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