Hair therapy

I am a hair therapist . Too dark , too light, too long , too short, too heavy , too fine ; I am a master of uncovering childhood trauma; it seems to manifest itself in our hair. It’s amazing how that really bad haircut traumatizes us for life. My sister wouldn’t let me cut her hair for years because my mother butchered her hair …….trauma. A new client will arrive with hideous baby bangs and an ugly mullet and change is not an option……this is the look I must recreate ; my masterpiece ; my legacy! We are often abused ; forced to hear the long agonizing tales of hair trauma imposed on them by countless unnamed stylists; hair trauma! Then, magically after listening to their harrowing tales of disappointment we must fake enthusiasm , and begin our work as Michael Angelo and begin my masterpiece; victory will be mine! With a frown of discontentment plastered on my clients face ; I will need to contain my enthusiasm and harness whatever positivity I can muster to go about this daunting task; I am a soldier going into the battle with no ammunition ……death is close. My work completed, I wait for any signs of contentment. A shoulder shrug , furrowing brow , it doesn’t look good; will I be discarded into the pile of unhappiness? With low self esteem I wait patiently for any sign of hope……..Nope ; positive feedback is not available to this energy sucking vampire . Her mission now is to carry on and find that person who will make her happy. Don’t worry energy sucking vampire , I will say reassuringly, There are people out there that believe we are not alone and there is life on other planets; this might be a viable option for you! Now go out and spread you negativity elsewhere; you have work to do . There are happy content people living among us that have not experienced you yet ; your mission must continue. ! In the mean time I could recommend hats a paper bag Vicodin; don’t think she will be back ……………..the saga continues; another day in the life of a hairstylist.

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Sleeve

Midlife tales

To be a good daughter

To be a good wife

My sleeve needs adjusting

To fit into this life

My attitude adjusted

My eyesight refined

My memories erased

My attitude aligned

Bring me a Taylor ; to make this sleeve fit

A nip and a tuck

To shorten and taper

An acceptable color and pattern of favor

Maybe I’m just not right for this sleeve

Maybe perfection is hard to achieve

Maybe a Taylor is not what I need

Maybe I’m perfect

It’s not the right sleeve.

View original post

Sleeve

To be a good daughter

To be a good wife

My sleeve needs adjusting

To fit into this life

My attitude adjusted

My eyesight refined

My memories erased

My attitude aligned

Bring me a Taylor ; to make this sleeve fit

A nip and a tuck

To shorten and taper

An acceptable color and pattern of favor

Maybe I’m just not right for this sleeve

Maybe perfection is hard to achieve

Maybe a Taylor is not what I need

Maybe I’m perfect

It’s not the right sleeve.

Extended family dinner

Ativan; I need some! Tonight I am hosting my mother-in Laws 90th birthday. My husband and his visiting sister will battle it out for control over every detail of this soirée . Everything matters; roasted or mashed? She has to have mustard pickles; a specific kind. Listening to them battle for control is fucking exhausting. Decorations; ugly. Banners, balloons, signs; all i can think of is that I will be looking at this shit forever until i rip it down. Then other dysfunctional family will arrive; thank god for alcohol. My husbands family are serial avoiders so they will all try to out do each other ; the conversation will be riveting . My sister- InLaws troubled children and grandchildren ; my brother InLaws ego stroking ; oh my god more alcohol please. My mother InLaw will mention how tired her sons look; God help me ; I must never verbalize my real opinions .

Dads Drug Adventure

What happens to alcoholics and drug addicts later in life? They need to find new and ingenious ways to get their fix. Dads latest adventure is …….he drinks lots of alcohol and takes prescription meds; anybody’s will do , but he seems to have his favorites . When your a mixer your heart rate will drop ; then; chest pain; quick hospital ride to emerg ; front of the line unless there is a code orange or something. Blood tests ; they will all be fine but while your waiting ; here comes the drug cocktail ; he is probably salivating by this time . After hours of waiting; less than anybody else; because your front of the line ; he is released ; drugs in hand; taxi waiting……a trip to the beer store on the way home . This is my dads extracurricular activity; wasting tax payers money ; using up valuable expensive services; he needs yellow tape around him ; he’s a goddam hazard to himself and anyone around him. This high will last him a week or so then he will do it again.

A very tired adult child who dislikes my abusive parent.

Bringing up dad

Here I am almost 49 years old still raising dad. It has been a long road for me a journey some people can relate to and thankfully many people can not. What’s it like dealing with a life time alcoholic and prescription addict…….never a dull moment; I would love a dull moment. Dad is a master manipulator , a stubborn prick and basically a mean son of a bitch, and a now, bad liar. I guess these addicts start out as really good liars and cheats and when the addiction catches up with them, they are hard pressed to find a soul who has any faith in them. Now dad is an old ; in his seventies; we are so close I couldn’t even tell you his age…….just old mean fucker now with less power. It used to be much easier for dad to score good pharmaceutical drugs ; he is very smart and knowledgeable in the health care field so his style is to come up with some imaginary illness; over the last several months it has been cancer; sorry to all the actual cancer patients. He calls an ambulance; for the pain ; I’m sure there are addicts reading this that can relate to this imaginary illness. So once at the hospital ; I’m sure my dad is salivating ; the morphine is so close he can taste it. He has done this so many Times; he just needs to wrap this up ; crying , struggling , whining…….gotta look legit! Then he is out of there with his tasty prescription ; drug store; beer store and home for his trip to never never land. My dad is a senior Keith Richards; this last trip 8 morphine with beer in a 24 hour period; this high was so good that he had to do this two more times in a week and a half;It worked one of the two times.

Some people as there parents grow older are enjoying the special times they have together ; their parents are involved in senior activities, the grandkids, family time. I spend my time trying to stay ahead of the curve; what bullshit has my dad imagined doing and is presently working out the next devious plan.

I would kill for a normal parent.

Coffee

There is not many things I love as much as my morning coffee. I get excited just thinking about it the night before; It is the friend that never disappoints. I want nothing to interrupt or interfere with my most sacred relationship; just one cup of unconditional love, thats all i need to make it through my day. I will confess that everyday when i reach the bottom of that tall boy ……..I do feel sad; almost like I’ve lost a friend. Coffee is the silent therapy that gives me the courage to make it through…….the accepted addiction; God love it!

Fathers Day

It’s Father’s Day again ; every year the same Delema. I’ve just spent the last half hour looking at photos of strangers and people I know with there fathers; I would never dream of putting up a picture of Dad and I, I’m not even sure one exists. Finding a card for dad is a challenge; what to get for the the parent you have no relationship with; I can’t even pick a card. Who writes these cards ; I believe they are written by alcoholics who are using their drug induced states of euphoria to regurgitate the feelings they wished they had. I always end up picking the card thats funny; something about farting or belching ……..something that reminds me of dad , is genuine, without being truthful. This year I didn’t even get a card ; I talked to him on the phone this morning; always an accounting of some up and coming disaster…….today’s apocalypse , a storm is coming. In my mind I see the severe weather he speaks of moving from above his head to all areas around him; he loves a storm. I have one sister and we both avoid talking about dad ; usually a somber conversation where no happy feelings exist ; just a very good dark sense of humor. When we were growing up everyday was Father’s Day ; narsacists take everyday as theirs ; we were all invisible; the only people who have needs are themselves.  Father’s Day for me is about being free from being under his dark cloud and all the guilt and shame and sadness that goes with it; Happy Freedom Day!

Addicts Dream

Midlife tales

Today I’m working on my anger; unsuccessfully . My husband having just returned home from work in our home town informed me of the latest pharmaceuticals he uncovered in our home……dad’s latest score. I am almost forty-eight years old and thats as old as dads never ending hunger for alcohol and pills. In my younger days ; as the the child/parent to my parents ; when most kids were taking dance lessons and hanging out with friends ; my sister and I were parenting our parents. B ack then dads drugs of choice were Demerol and perks ; if you washed them down with six or seven beers ; it was enough to curb the inner prick. I guess some addicts get mean when they indulge mine became palatable. Dad was usually in the hospital for three months out of every year; I now refer to it as dads best…

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