Cruel and Unusual Punishment

Today I am praying for the strength to get me through what is yet to come.  My very soul is battered and weary of this never ending battle which makes me wonder if I will ever feel whole again.  As of late I have been brusque and short-tempered when it is not normal for me to be this way.  Actually that’s not entirely true since this is an accurate description of my temperament before I met Alberto.  I only have myself to blame for my pessimistic bender this past week, and I have only myself to count on to pull it together again.

Early in the week I was already beginning to get irritable, but I only noticed it on Friday.  Brian was supposed to go to the jail will me to visit Alberto to learn more about the night in question.  This was going to be the first time I had ever physically been in the same room as Alberto within touching distance in over a year.  I was looking forward to being able to actually hold my husband’s hand!  Then about an hour before I was to leave work, I received an email from Brian complaining about his throbbing headache and how we would be better off going on Sunday.  I don’t know how to describe the pain that this simple email inflicted on me, but I wrapped my disillusionment into a tight ball and somehow resisted the urge to be sarcastic or biting in my response.  I suggested that Brian go lie down in a dark quiet room and nap for an hour.  My own migraines, which feel like a rusty hacksaw rendering my brain into minuscule pieces, can only be cured by a complete and total mental shutdown.

May this night be uneventful

I’m hoping for a nice quiet night at this point.  Work today was frustrating to say the least and I need time to decompress and wallow in my 450 thread count sheets.  I am a firm believer that small luxuries are a worthwhile investment as long as you don’t spend beyond your means.  I have two sets of plain serviceable sheets that came as a package and on sale, and my wonderful sheets de lujo.  I change my sheets regularly because not doing so would be completely disgusting, but my deluxe sheets stay out of rotation until I have a particularly bad day.  I’m hoping this way they will last longer since I can’t afford to buy anything new for a while.  I need to get another job just to support my daughter’s diaper habit, since Ms. Ashley does not want to be potty trained.

Speaking of potty training, we have a sticker chart up on the bathroom wall and she gets mad when I don’t let her put stickers on it.  So far this has not done much to motivate Ashley to use the potty, so maybe I need to get some extra special stickers.  What else could I possibly do to motivate the girl?  I will not use food as a motivator because I do not want to lead her down my path to an unhealthy weight.  She already has a bunch of toys.  Maybe I should figure out a way to use coins since she liked my coin purse so much it became Ashley’s coin purse.  She likes to go around to everyone and show them her ‘monies’.  I guess this is something I need to keep thinking about, and I’m going to try pushing for potty training this weekend again.  The problem I have with Ashley is that she is so stubborn that anytime I try to get her to do something she’s not keen on, she shuts down.  I would say she learned this tactic from her father; however she has never been around him enough to pick up this behavior.

In the eye of the storm comes a moment of calm

I would say the official start of the day was at 1 am when Ashley had a coughing fit and started crying.  I look at the bright side of the situation and realize this gave me more cuddle time than I am usually allowed.  She becomes more independent every day.  Just yesterday I tried to give her a hug and she said, “Awwwww Mamí...” in a voice reminiscent of that whiney teenager tone.  I refuse to let her grow up that fast!  She was back in bed within a half an hour and which point I collapsed in my own.  I remember nothing and apparently did not move for the rest of the night.  At 6:45 am, Ashley came downstairs and climbed into bed with me, which I may not have noticed if she didn’t fall on me trying to get to her ‘spot’.  Another round of cartoons and a shower, I began to feel almost human.  This is the point where I usually tell whomever I happen to be talking to that I am not now nor will I ever be a ‘morning person’.  As a matter of fact I had to move my super loud alarm clock to the other side of the room just to facilitate getting my arse out of bed.  I also never shut my curtains so the sun streams in on my face.  Then there is the four different alarms programmed on my cell phone and a backup alarm clock in the opposite corner of my primary alarm.  There are still days that I barely get out the house on time even with all that precaution.

By that time I was reluctantly awake and beginning to feel nervous.  The butterflies in the pit of my stomach quashed my appetite down to nothing.  Since I was running late anyway, I didn’t pack a lunch and figured I would just grab something frozen at the gas station.  This is usually a good backup plan, however, I didn’t actually remember to go and buy something.  I had a Pop Tart for breakfast since there was a box of them in my desk drawer and a piece of cinnamon coffee cake that some dear soul in our office made to share.  I felt sick to my stomach all morning and afternoon.  I finally decided to get Jimmy Johns for lunch since their subs are too bland to offend the stomach, and ended up eating only half of my sandwich.  I hope the other half is still good so I can eat it for lunch tomorrow.  As 4 o’clock approached hobbling on crutches my nervousness progressed to nausea and I wasn’t sure I was going to make it.  For the love of frijoles this is my husband I was nervous about seeing!  It must be because so much time has passed since we last spoke face to face.

Preparation involves a trip to the past

Preparing for the support group meeting on Saturday has got me thinking about the journey that led us to where we are today.  It helps me to put thoughts and ideas in writing, so I’ll invite you along on this trip down memory lane.  My story begins with some old journal pages I found this evening which talk about events at McDonalds that I don’t even remember.  It’s interesting to read what I had written 10 years ago.  I realize now just how naïve I was at 16 when I thought I knew everything.

The Mexican crew at McDonalds was essentially composed of two families: the Mendez family and the Bahena family.  From the beginning I gravitated towards the Mendez family, particularly two sisters named Rosa and Yesica.  I was comfortable with them, as they made a sincere effort to teach me Spanish.  During the summer of my first year at McDonalds I started to work the closing shift which gave me more time to immerse myself in the language.  The cultural differences often caught me off guard during this period of time.  For example the Mendez women had a habit of grabbing my hand or arm whenever they walked by me.  I eventually got used to their concept of personal space, but it definitely took a while.

A fairy tale? Probably not...

Once upon a time, in the land of ten thousand lakes, there was a mostly unhappy teenage girl.  Although it is fairly common to be an unhappy teenager, this particular girl could not remember ever being mostly happy.  This girl had always felt alone, even when in the company of the few people she considered friends.  She was a target of school bullies for being overweight, socially awkward, and tall since the very beginning of middle school.  The worst part is that this mostly unhappy teenage girl was me.

In effort to get me out of the house during non-school hours, my mother suggested that I find a part-time job.  The options were limited near our house for someone my age; however I applied and was hired at McDonalds while I was in September of 2000.  I had no idea just how much that battered brick building was about to change my life.