Forgiveness Update And Poontang Status; Mooner Still A Fucking Mess

 

So. Much adieu about nothing and so little time. Maybe that should be “much a’do”, and then, again, maybe adieu is most appropriate. Maybe I’m filled with conflictions this new year and maybe I’m simply crazy.

Smart money bets crazy at 1-to-5.

Let me start by saying that my NY Eve date was semi-successful. I wasn’t arrested—I was “detained”. I didn’t assault the asshole sitting on the bar stool next to me—I simply flicked his nose for squeezing his wife’s wrist hard enough to make my fingers go numb. And I got no first-date-everyone-gets-laid-on-New-Years-Eve poontang.

Enough said.

Having said that, let me add that my ADHD is in a unique phase that started when I arrived back to Santa Fe from Austin. I have been ruminating over how much to say about Mother, and my thoughts/feelings thereto. You guys have been incredibly supportive in your attempts to push me into rehabilitations, for which I am mostly appreciative.

However, since none of you took my side and tried to help me find ways to hang on to my anger at Mother without doing damage to myself, please allow me to provide you with further information. Let me make a further attempt to illuminate this runway.

OK. To me, you forgive someone for things they did—stuff they already finished doing. I used to think that you forgive people only when they ask for it—an opinion I have long been of changed mind.

“Forgiveness is for the forgiver, Mooner,” Dr. Sam I. Am-Johnson has told me on something akin to a thousand times.

“Fuck forgiveness” has slipped from my lips maybe twice that often.

Which reminds me. It’s been really cold since we got back and everything but the front porch, steps and sidewalk are covered with snow. And my ADHD has been in a weird stage wherein I am strongly focused on only one of the many thoughts in my silly head.

Problem with that is my focus isn’t on the physical actions of my body, but, rather, what I’m doing is done as an afterthought to whatever else it is upon which I’m focused. Think on that and you’ll understand.

As an example, I was taking the recycling out to the green plastic bins in the driveway but my mind was on my recent date. Half an hour later, I was up to the Ace Hardware and standing in the plumbing isle looking at the plungers while holding two paper bags—one filled with squished plastic and metal containers and the second half-filled with paper. I had the newspaper stopped while we were gone, so half a bag there. The plastic stuff is from the trip back.

I didn’t buy the plunger but I did buy this nifty grinder that was on sale. The two bags of recycling are, I think, still on the floorboard in the back seat of the GTO, and I’m looking for something to grind besides my teeth.

When I told this story to Dr. Sam during my phoned-in psycho therapy session, she said to me, she said, “Look, Mooner, I think that you’re seeking plungers is a metaphor for your sex life. Aren’t you getting any?”

“Bitch,” I told her. “Are you paying any attention to what I’ve been saying for the last three months?”

I guess I am a bit backed-up. Like I said, it’s been quite cold and the puppies hate to get their feet cold or wet. “Get your asses out there into the snow and shit there,” I barked at them the first time I let them out after we got back to Santa Fe. “If you shit on the porch again I’m not taking you skiing with me.”

“Fuck you,” the adorable bundle of brown fur told me. “You pick me up and poke my ass in the snow without proper protective clothing one more time and I’ll shit in your beard while you sleep.”

I’ve grown a beard for a few weeks so the Squirt’s threat had teeth.

“And I’ll tell Yoda to start pissing in your boots again. Now stop looking at me. I’m going to crap on the welcome mat and I don’t like you watching me.”

At least their shit is easy to pick up when it’s frozen like Popsicles.

But here’s what I want to tell you. My Mother has a sister, a woman I’ve never before mentioned in these pages. “On” these pages? Her name is Aunt Mary and she is a family black sheep. I won’t go into all of it other than to say that she has been distanced from our family for decades—a distancing insisted upon by my mother.

Without my knowledge, Mother bought Aunt Mary tickets to fly in and visit at her place in San Antonio after Thanksgiving. When Mother told Sister about her actions, Sister thought that Mother was going to make peace with her sister. While that last sentence was full of sisters, my mother’s actions ended up as not sisterly in any way whatsoever.

After numerous phone calls with Mother to solidify arrangements, my sister, Sister, drove to San Antonio and picked Aunt Mary up at the airport, drove her to Mother’s place and took Aunt Mary and her bags upstairs to Mother’s as previously arranged. No answer, and the door was locked. Worried that Mother had fallen or worse, Sister panicked. She got management to let her in but found no parent when she searched the two-bedroom apartment.

The management person said, “Have you looked in the dining room? Your mother eats an early dinner and plays canasta with friends this time of day.”

Sure enough, Mother was at a table with three other old bags, eating and playing cards. When Sister asked her, “Whatthefuck?” Mother answered, “I’m not giving up my card game for (Envision Mother pointing a finger at Aunt Mary) her. Tell her she’s in the front bedroom. Now go away.”

And to make this a short story of a very long four days for Aunt Mary, my mother’s kindest remarks were at that initial meeting. Mother wouldn’t be in the same room with Aunt Mary, wouldn’t speak directly to her and otherwise treated her like shit. I likely wouldn’t have known about this because, one- Sister didn’t want me to write about it and, two- Aunt Mary has no way to contact me.

I only found out because Gram accidentally spilled the beans. If you want a secret spread, tell my Gram.

In boiling the bullshit out of this, my mother paid for tickets to fly her sister from France—did I forget to say that Aunt Mary lives in France and has Rheumatoid arthritis and that the return trip was scheduled for two weeks after arrival? Did I forget to tell you that Mother made arrangements for her sister to have three layovers of more than four hours each? Me, I’ve got some bad knees and a hip that throw fits on long layovers in airports. I can’t imagine the discomfort a sufferer of RA would endure.

Did I forget to tell you that Aunt Mary is a lesbian and that Mother berated her own sister for, “Your heretical choice,” and that, “God hates you just as she does my daughter. You two can burn in Hell holding homo-sex-u-al hands.”

Sister took Aunt Mary to Austin with her for the remainder of the two weeks and rescheduled the flights with but one two-hour layover.

I’m supposed to forgive my mother so that I can have better mental health. But it is a quite difficult task when she does things like this. When she keeps doing these things. In order for this to work for me, I will need to forgive everything Mother has already done and then forgive her for the things she will do. That’s difficult for me when I feel that what she did to Aunt Mary was unforgivable.

Fucking ugh!

Anyway, that’s my forgiveness update and poontang status for January 3, 2013. Now it’s time to pick up the turdsicles from out to the front porch. I don’t want to slip on a pile and and bust my ass.

Manana, y’all.

 

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8 Responses to “Forgiveness Update And Poontang Status; Mooner Still A Fucking Mess”

  1. Mel says:

    Damn. That is just shitty. I wish I had some words of wisdom for you, but after reading that and how you feel about things, I gotta say, I am the exact same way – I just never took the time to think about it I suppose. I don’t want to say I hold grudges, but…is there another term that doesn’t sound so bad? And is forgiveness really the only answer? I have a shitty (biological) father. I love and appreciate the fact that he assisted in bringing me into this world. I am sure I will be sad to some degree when his miserable life ends. Will I ever be able to forgive him for all of the crappy things he has done to me over the years? No. Do I think that makes me a bad person? No. Or maybe it does. I just don’t know. Again…I don’t think I’m helping here…

  2. Squatlo says:

    Mel, what’s that expression? “Anyone can be a father, but it takes a real man to be a daddy”…

    Mooner, you may be right about your mom. It’s impossible to forgive someone while they’re trespassing against us, regardless of the words in that prayer. I think some people just aren’t happy unless they’re miserable, and like they say, misery loves company. Sounds like your mom wants to do something nice (invite Aunt Mary over for a two week visit) but can’t bring herself to act decently while she’s there.

    You might be right to stay pissed at her.

    But… when she’s gone all of that bile is going to boil up in your throat like Mad-Dog 20/20 on its way to the floor of your high school prom. Maybe a little stab at forgiveness will make it less horrible to deal with once she’s moved on to that great hate group in the sky?

  3. Mooner Johnson needs sexing says:

    Mel. Thanks for your support. I have a good buddy with a similar daddy dealio. Be prepared for him to come around in his final days wanting to make things right. Facing death seems to bring out parenting skills in some deralict folks. That will make it easier on you because he will be asking for forgiveness and demonstrating how he can better behave. I keep hoping for that one moment of apollogy.

    Squat. Thanks for coming around, somewhat. Your Senior Prom visage hits way too fucking close to home. Except it was Boone Farms Apple and spew was Betty Boyette having tried to perform the Alligator to the Undertakers rendetion of “Louie-Louie”.

    I was already in the short hairs during the slow dance just before, and had recieved a whispered, “Tonight’s the night,” as I rubbed the hardened front of my green khaki pants against Betty’s dress.

    Wow, and ugh.

  4. Squatlo says:

    Boones Farm… Oh, what flavorful memories that brings up. Like the time a friend was leaning over a porch rail throwing up on his own shoes, and how he responded when I pointed this problem out to him at the time: “I don’t care about my fucking shoes! Leave me alone!”

    Good times!

    My own “tonight’s the night” high school moment was quickly (!) followed by a full blown premature ejacu-shot that nearly blinded a young lady… It’s funny how life treats us as we age. When we’re just starting out on our sexual adventures we can’t control ourselves long enough to get it pointed in the right direction. Later we find we can screw all night. Now it takes all night to screw.

    I’m thinking most of my problems are nookie related…

    You were wearing green khakis at a dance? And somehow you remember this detail?

  5. Cynthianne says:

    OK, Mooner,

    Since you offered me $20 for counseling, and you already got a nickel’s worth, you have a credit of $19.95.

    I didn’t tell you to forgive her, I said she didn’t deserve it. No argument from me… I read your book- your mom never seemed to be a very nice person, and these days she seems to be getting her enjoyment from sticking the knife in and twisting it. Whether it’s you, or your sister, or your aunt.

    There’s no way to forgive that, or avoid feeling hurt, or being resentful. All you can do is deal with it. And dealing isn’t easy, but here’s what eventually helped me:

    Realize (and keep telling yourself) that it’s NOT YOUR FAULT.

    You were (and are) a good son, and if she can’t accept that, there’s nothing you can do to change it.

    STOP with the forgiveness garbage already and work on just tolerating her and ignoring the hateful things she does.

    It’s OK to feel hurt and resentful- you’re not superhuman- but enjoy your life as best you can despite that. (You seem to be doing that already- keep it up.)

    You now have a credit of $19.90.

    No refunds.

  6. bj says:

    “What cannot be said ….. will get wept”

  7. Mooner Johnson needs sexing says:

    Squat. My brain is so full of useless shit, like what color pants I wore in high school, that I’ve no room for even semi-intelligent thoughts. Nookie is the great equalizer and I’m definately in need of a balancing and rotation.

    C’anne. What you mean I’m not superhuman? Put the answer on my next nickle.

    Beej. I love you brother, but stop saying that shit.

  8. Q says:

    I agree with Squat. Some people aren’t happy unless others are unhappy. I can’t figure that out for the life of me. No matter how nice you may be to them, they still act crappy towards you. Once you forgive someone, then that’s it. Forgiveness truly is for the forgiver. Once you do that, your conscious is clear. Whatever happens after that is her fault, in my opinion.

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