Daddy Issues....but a beyond perfect Daddy

My dad and I used to take showers together. 

 I'm sure we did until he decided I was too old.  

I'm guessing around 6 or 7. 

 I loved it.  He had soap on a rope, Old Spice, and a loofah.  There was a tiled seat in the shower and I would sit and fold the washcloth over and over again.  That is all I remember except that when I was small he would pick me up and soap me all over and occasionally drop me….on the tile. 

 It never stopped me from joining him.

We were close. I was his Peanut and he was the man who fed me sardines out of a roll top can and gave me sips of Budweiser.

My dad was a huge part of my life, even when he was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer's he was still there for me. Even as a punk rock teen he never said a derogatory word, he always built me up and felt pretty confident in my intelligence and abilities.

About the time I was 14 dad was at the pinnacle of the downside of Alzheimer's. He had to give up driving, he was often mean, and was also often found wondering the golf course in his underwear in the gated community we lived in.

None of it really bothered me, except for when he would be outside in his underwear , watering the driveway, smoking a camel unfiltered when I would arrive home from high school with my friends. Luckily my friends were pretty understanding...but it was still somewhat embarrassing to explain what was going on.  Once explained, it was pretty comical. 

Dad would offer my 15 year old friends beer and we would have to kindly decline, knowing we really weren't allowed. He would ask my guy friends how long we were married ( I was 15), and sometimes he would straight out say, " who the hell are you?" to my face as I was getting us a snack.... and I would turn and smile and say, "Dad, it's just me, Myssi/Melissa I live here, in that room over there." He would look at me, look at the door to my bedroom and say, " Where's your mother?" then walk away. 

It was tough at times, but at other times it was hysterical. Towards the end, he would sit in his old green corduroy  chair, watch TV, look at catalogues and talk to himself. One time I leaned over to give him a kiss on his cheek and noticed he was looking at a Victoria Secret's Catalogue. He pointed to some T&A and tapped his finger, gave a little catcall and shook his head. (At that point I promptly announced that he was faking Alzheimer's)

  He liked to eat and drink so we would sometimes water down a Gin and let him chew on a Camel unfiltered while he ate ice cream.He was easy going in those days, barely talked....just sat and looked like an empty shell. We would dress him for holiday parties, slap a Santa hat on him for Christmas and bunny ears for Easter....sick or not, he was in that chair part of the family, proudly propped in the living room. He was loved and respected....even with the bunny ears on.

 One time I came to visit from Atlanta,  I was about 20 and had just bought a little miniature pig, Daisy.  It didn't even phase my dad.  He would sit in his chair and call Daisy..."here puppy...puppy" and whistle....then give her a bit of whatever he was eating and she would sit next to him oinking like a stuffed pig.  He would slip his old slippers off and rub her belly with his foot and she would oink and grunt as happy as could be. We would all just sit and laugh....it's the little things.

here's the question....

Did this, growing up with a sick dad change my being?

Of course I have a great sense of humor and I'm pretty damn loving but my ability to be confident in myself is poor. 

could this be partially due to lack of father figure?   ahhhhhh

is always looking for approval from a man a direct result from no dad when I was in my formative years? It would explain a ton.

just for the record,,,,

my upbringing was great.  My mom and dad were pretty fucking awesome, we were wealthy, traveled and well respected ....even when my dad got sick, they had fun and loved each other.  They cocktailed, loved each other and my mom took care of my dad until he died.  She never locked him a home....he stayed at our home....slept in the same room with my mom....even when she had to put him in a hospital bed, they still slept in the same room.

So, I always saw love.

So how the hell is my idea of self love so screwy.?

If you forget ......... me

If you forget me ...

I want you to know

one thing. 

You know how this is: 

if I look 

at the crystal moon, at the red branch 

of the slow autumn at my window, 

if I touch 

near the fire 

the impalpable ash 

or the wrinkled body of the log, 

everything carries me to you, 

as if everything that exists, 

aromas, light, metals, 

were little boats 

that sail 

toward those isles of yours that wait for me. 

Well, now, 

if little by little you stop loving me 

I shall stop loving you little by little. 

If suddenly 

you forget me 

do not look for me, 

for I shall already have forgotten you. 

If you think it long and mad, 

the wind of banners 

that passes through my life, 

and you decide 

to leave me at the shore 

of the heart where I have roots, 

remember 

that on that day, 

at that hour, 

I shall lift my arms 

and my roots will set off 

to seek another land. 

But 

if each day, 

each hour, 

you feel that you are destined for me 

with implacable sweetness, 

if each day a flower 

climbs up to your lips to seek me, 

ah my love, ah my own, 

in me all that fire is repeated, 

in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten, 

my love feeds on your love, beloved, 

and as long as you live it will be in your arms 

without leaving mine

   ~~~P. Neruda

How to pick a therapist

I'm picking a therapist.

Would anyone care to help?

I'm all ready full of OCD and anxiety, now I have to choose a therapist from a list, suggested by distance from my home, acquired from my insurance company.  There was no asking what I might need counseled in or anything...I guess I get the generic form.

It's comical.

First I started with the names...

Do they sound like therapists?

Then I google.

I google the letters after their names, their names, and then judge everything about them by their website content. 

I mean, that seems logical, right?

how else do you do it?

Of the 6 choices, one was quickly eliminated because they had no website.

This led me to believe they either were ancient with no ability for online presence, or that they were attacked by one of the people they were counseling and decided to not be present in the manner that they would be easy to locate.  There were no pictures or addresses so I decided to scratch that one of the list...I didn't want to be murdered by accident....ya know just trying to get to and from the building. I watch crime TV....I'm not dumb. So, with that said.... One down.

This dreamboat was not on my list...

I would not pick him anyway, I couldn't imagine telling him about my issues and him looking at me like that....nope. Nothing would get solved, it would be worse, way, way worse.

The other five I sorted by navigating the reviews and lists of "therapies" they can entertain/cure me with.

First off: the name Jilab... I can't even, then her most respected therapy is dance and movement therapy. I'd have to be effin crazy to drag my anxiety ridden self into marriage counseling and be treated with 45 minutes of "dance / movement" therapy!  

Unless I am doing this :

I don't think I can entertain the thought of dance therapy, and to be honest, today in boxing class I couldn't even figure out my left hook from my right hook, so this is probably out.

 Oh wait she also has hypnotherapy and aroma therapy for the soul.

no, no and another no....

badd-a-boom

OFF THE LIST!!!

That left me with a therapist who looks like Pat, which is fine, but I could not imagine my other half telling Pat his problems without thinking of SNL, honestly, could you?  And regardless of how mad I may be at my significant other....I'm not that mad.

"Y'all gotta just love each other"

Sorry Pat...off the list.

The next was a young lady.  Quite attractive and well put together. 

I circled her name....

wrote down the number....

picked up the phone ....

Then decided she was too sexy.

Won't work. 

The last was the farthest distance from my house but his website was up to date, easy to navigate and his smiling face was like the friendly, bald science teacher from middle school.

He did not look threatening, he graduated from a real college, not online certification, and he was not wearing a bow tie. 

plus he had the balls to say he was "seasoned" 

I like it.

Now if I get there and he is this "seasoned" I may have to re-evaluate a few things, including my method of choosing a therapist.

I'll try to keep you semi posted about the funny stuff....Not the bullshit tears and stuff

If you have any other suggestions feel free to leave a comment. 

all free therapy is gladly accepted.

Write ya later,

m

not getting any younger

guess what happened today?  You will never guess....

give up?

......

Someone reminded me that I am old. 

Exact quote, 

"you are not getting any younger" 

then made a reference to menopause and how soon I won't even crave, need, or want sex anymore.

I'm going to be a whopping 50 years old in January. I will agree that I am older, but I am not as old as 

Christie Brinkley (64)

 Molly Ringwald (50) She is a month older!

 Sandra Bullock (54)

I am gonna throw it out there that they still are fairly viable women.  Not quite ready for pasture.

I get it.  We aren't 25, so we become OLD....

please refer to this post :

Why do their new girlfriends look like the old

My opinion on all of this is that once we become older women, we become more valuable as humans. 

Think of all the experiences we have. Many have lived a full life, birthed and cared for children, received an education, married and survived (joking), and bled for a quarter of their lives. It's a pretty amazing feat.  Then add the fact that many of us have raised little humans to grown, adulting humans all the while sacrificing fun, intelligent conversation, work, and our body shapes often without really complaining. Ok....we complain, but it is worth it. 

I am going to think ,and suggest, that we hit our prime around 44 -50 and probably our intellectual and our philanthropic prime ....well ,I bet that continues until we cannot empathize and help anymore = deathbed.

I would like to also think that getting old does not scare me at all. It does, but not the getting wrinkles kind of old....it's the getting sick kind of old. I want to be able to continue enjoying my prime with good health. Not bad knees and a shitty ticker.

Also, seniors still have sex....I looked it up, even though I am a nurse and I see Cialis on a lot of OOOOLLLDDDD men's medication list. ( Guess they could be having sex with younger women) 

Anyways I looked it up 

per Dr. Mark Stibich, "While the frequency of sex often declines with age, older adults can and do have sex. In fact, roughly 40 percent of men and women aged 65 to 80 are sexually active according to a recent survey, and women in their 70s often express more satisfaction with sex than women in their 40s."  

Encouraging, looks like I have my 70s to look forward to. 

After all....look at Betty White

I'm so gonna be a Betty White

Better yet, go watch Harold and Maude

There is no sweeter love movie

 xoxoxoxoxo

So, If I'm old....or not getting any younger, I'll take it

xoxox. write ya later, 

ps if you ever want to make me super happy....

Watch Harold and Maude, better yet watch it with me

Screw old:  2 months from 50....

m