a week ago, more or less, I got it into my head that the shit poisoning could be helped by a tiny glass of sherry. Or whatever my father has. It was about 10 or 11 pm, my father was upstairs in bed.
I take alcoholic beverage almost never.
I poked through some cabinets to try to find the stuff but I couldnt find anything. I checked my mother’s cabinet and found some brandy she was obviously using for cooking. More than two years ago. It wasnt what I was looking for but I was desperate and poured a tiny glass. It was horrible! I left the bottle on the counter so that my father would know why I was down there. It was almost empty.
then i doubled back a few moments later to his stock in the spring room, but there was only beer and wine in there and it wasnt what I was looking for.
last night I noticed that the bottle was still there on the counter with some roast beef in a plastic bag resting against it.
I dont know what the roast beef is supposed to mean but the brandy was to make a liar of me.
I do not consume alcoholic beverages. I would love more than anyth8ng to have a Pina Colada or a Mai Tai again. But it’s just not in the cards. I don’t always know what to say because when someone pushes the panic button I freeze.
i realize that I do sometimes take my father’s offer of a little wine or sherry–not lately; the wine always makes me feel sick; I can tolerate a little sherry or port wine and it DOES enhance my well- being in a small quantity every so often. I have so few pleasures. Imagine: no sex ever. Do not even know what it is supposed to feel like. Old boyfriends did what they could.
my husband took me to a high and holy place. He was the only real man ever. I do not expect to find another man like him.
I do require a bit of sherry or portvwine every so often. I had forgottenv it becaue of being in the hospital for a year. Or more. But unfortunately with the Clozaril, you cant have any alcohol beverages at all. So sad.
in Ecclesiates in the Old Testament the wander in search of happiness finds in the end that what it’s all about is “to eat, drink, and be merry.”
I never understood about that. I pictured old men with long beards clanking their beer tankards together in Shakespeare’s day.
the merriment part is about SEX. I always blew it for everybody. Noone wants Organic Personality Disorder at their party.
eating? I’ve lost about 7 teeth and I can’t eat in public. Itsvworee but I won’t go there.
And drink. Honey mead wine back then in Shakespeare’s day. I can’t drink alcoholic beverages.
3 strikes and your out. There is so much else going on here with my health that I fear I might not live.
anyway, I was afraid my father was going to try to turn me in for drinking.
he enjoys quite the bit of libation with dinner and t.v. himself.
I do not.
today I am feeling wonderful all of a sudden. All the pain has gone out of my legs. This has been so scary. I could barely walk. I just got up easily and easily crossed the room to the arm chair without a bit of pain or hesitation.
I have checked in with Sister Claire and caught her dead in her tracks.
SHE is the one who perpetuates and aggravates this painful OCD which isn’t really OCD it is a broken nervous system that is masked by the appearance of OCD
in addition to and over and above this condition I live with, my sister bursts my pinata and pops my balloon any time I have a success and my mother and my father have always helped her to do it.
I am stuck in another confluct with h8m aright niw and havebtonQuik Publich!!!]hey are all liars. They ruined my marriage and my motherhood.
AT THE SAME TIME, they were doing things for Ian that I couldn’t because of my EXTREME physio-emotional condition (my expression) because of what they did to me at the state hospital in 1986 -8. Similarly, although it felt atrocious at the time the care i got at Wernersville State Hospital, they helped me with a situation that would have killed me. In one way or another. I had no place else to go.
it was a long time after that that I learned manners. I was a very ignorant person.
today I am better, with the help of a whole band of older male Florida psychotherapists. They are the salt of the earth.
I am no longer a child. It took time.
recently I am understanding to Honor my father and and my mother and it is making all the difference.
Un.Bon.Mot 