Gutted

Dear Hearts,

Is it sinful to be happy and gleeful about material objects?

Barbie Club, of which I have been a member for maybe 20 or more years totally changed their whole MO this year. And not to the customer’s benefit. So I have this $30 reward I can use on an order of $100 or more—excluding discounted items, certain other items, and some other particular items. The first doll was Club came out with was…not for me for $100. Oh, and now we don’t even get our “free gift” and membership card until we place our first order. Free gift, while supplies last. WTF.

I saw this doll about a week ago and gut reaction—YES! I love her! I did not know she was Platinum—meaning only 1,000 made worldwide, or so they say.

Usually, Platinum dolls sell out in at least five minutes. And, there is all this bullshit with the site crashing and blah, blah. This year was supposed to be so much easier—well, it wasn’t necessarily. And I went into the hunt not necessarily expecting to find her.

I decided a few days ago…if I get her, great...if I don’t, I will not perish. Things will not ultimately bring me Peace and Joy. No thanks to Mattel, but thanks to other Club members I got to her through a Google link and then posted the Google link for others. Members are still having problems getting her. I can’t believe she’s not sold out. And usually, mercenaries buy like five dolls and then sell them on E-bay at a 700% mark up.  

But…

I got her! I got her! I got her!

Is that sinful to be excited so much by a material object?

Mom says I am just taking on Catholic Guilt.

I didn’t want her just because she was Platinum. I wanted her because is she gorgeous. Pink, fringe, and sparkles—may favorites! Yeah, her being Platinum makes her extra special. She looks like a pink waterfall or fountain!

Over a year ago I fell in love the Oscar de la Renta Wedding Dress Barbie.

I just gave her up as a pass because of the $175 price. Then a few weeks ago I just happened to be the Barbie Forums and heard she was on sale at Kmart for $135 less. Hell, yeah, I grabbed her up. She is one of the—and remember I have over 400—exquisite dolls I have ever seen.

I always said even on my tightest budget as long as I could responsibly pay the bills—I’d give up books, makeup, whatever—but not Barbie even if I had to charge her. My Barbie dolls make me happy.

Maybe it’s wrong. I don’t know. Really. I am so blessed. I will never be homeless. I will never have to choose between cigarettes and food. I will never want for the basics and beyond.

Why?

Because of family. God’s Grace. And, yes, my being responsible in certain ways. Like cutting WAY back on Barbie buying. Okay, so I did get two eyeliner sticks because I like the new Cat-Eye look.

I did not pray to this Barbie. That would have been wrong.

I’m in debt…but, I’m not giving up Barbie.

So, to be honest—sin or not—I am really glad I got her!

*****

Mom and I hit the wall hard yesterday. Like really fucking hard. We spent two nights at The House. Except for maybe a small box of odds and ends, everything in that house is packed. It’s all in boxes.

I am so fucking tired—bone weary tired. As much as I feel the weight of the House on my like an albatross, I feel gutted packing it up. The idea of really not having it creates a physical pain in me.

What coulda, shoulda, mighta…been.

When Mom and I got up the house Sunday—I forgot my fucking keys and I’d given the spare to Johnny and Gaia.

A friend?—she says she’s my friend—of mine with whom I taught at school had an extra set of my keys. She has for a long time—for safety, convenience, in case of an emergency. I was so ashamed to go to her house and see her—to ask for my keys.

Jed—he made me forget those keys.

A was so glad to see me. She gave me this big, sincere, genuine hug and told me how good it was to see me.

Mom, A, and I chatted for a while. Jed wanted me to hear was A had to say.

A fucking complimented me. She said the administration at school was not good to me. She said that I should be so proud of myself because my life could’ve gone the other way too. She said I pulled myself up and kept going and I didn’t give up. I was starting a new life for myself. A really believes that I am not a loser!

I don’t feel very deserving of laurels.

I could sleep right fucking now. I also just started my “Womanly Time.”

“Oh, look! Kate is going to therapy, taking her meds, and not giving up. Yay, Kate!”

Isn’t that, like, expected?

“Oh, he is such a good man. He takes care of his child.”

Yeah, he is supposed to.

Deep down I still think I am fucking whore loser. My inner monologue this morning. I was thinking back to high school. That is just the unchecked, unbidden inner voice, “stupid fucking bitch.”

Hearing A say what she did about me meant a lot--everything, because, well…I know she wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true. And her middle-class raised brother is going through the same bank deed-in-lieu shit as I am because of a nasty divorce.

I tried my best. ECT…a last resort. T...I wanted to be dead and he was showing me this lie, this illusion, he was the only life boat I get it. He promised to take care of me.  Even if he did call me a cunt and a whore—he was always sorry. Even though that night when he brought out his “unloaded” gun and he started in on me the way Arthur did—I just gave up. He was the first face I saw. Not Mother Mary’s. That was the plan.

T told me later that the cop who had been at the scene said to him, “Dump that broad as soon as you can.”

Was the cop from 1955?

T was a liar. They also tore a part his apartment to get to me and I flatlined, so he gave me deep compressions without so much as bruising my skin.

Being in that life boat with T…I couldn’t work because I was on unpaid leave. I had OD’ed. I was cognitively impaired when I was with him for at least the first month. He was just an extension of the abuse.

But I left him.

Why do I go over and over and over this again and again…A doesn’t hold this against me. She says I am brave and successful. Mom says I have quiet courage. Johnny says I am like 200% better than when he met (about six months before I left T.)

I go over and over this because…because…it don’t motherfucking matter who believes in or thinks highly of me until I do.

I cannot imagine ever feeling that. I haven’t felt like that, truly for 30 years.

Jed, I hear you. Mother Mary, Christ, God, Saint Jude…I hear you. I just don’t believe yet…don’t give up on me. Please. I won’t give up on You.

Smoke ‘em if ya’ got ‘em. God Bless

In the name of The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Mother Mary, Saint Brigid; Saint Jude; Saint Therese Lisieux; Saint Peter; Archangel Michael, and my Guardian Angel, Jed.

Grateful For:

The greatest scone ever

Chilled coffee

A break from packing

Health

Family

Chilled coffee

Cigarettes

So many blessings

So many, many blessings

Blush Fringe Barbie :-)

Mom is leaving for Saratoga for a few days with her friends—one of whom has long had a house up there. I am gonna miss her. I am so weary. I just feel sad. Or maybe too—not gutted. I just feel like I have naught to give anyone else or myself.

I've been tested, total wasted, in too deep

To the zone, I retreat." Meredith Brooks. "Shattered"