Whatever comes to mind this Wed night 🌙-

I love you, mother, I always loved you. I did, in my clumsy, unskillful, unwise ways, everything in my power to transform your life from Misery to Happy.

I spent 5 decades in misery myself- because of your misery, seeing 👀 you as the most important (to me) person in the whole wide world 🌐 worthy, more than worthy of the sacrifice of me.

And then, on the 6th decade, I ended contact, trying to bring me, my life into consideration.

And now. I Love you still, always loved you.

Thing is, just as my love for you didn’t reach you for HALF A CENTURY, my love for you having made ZERO difference for you for 50 years, it’s not going to make a difference for you now, at 85.

I will not put myself through yet another “my love makes NO DIFFERENCE” experience with you, my mother.

Goodbye 👋 beloved mother. May love reach you somehow, somewhere, elsewhere.

I don’t blame you because of all the abuse you suffered before I even came into your life.

You have my forgiveness. May peace be with you, and may all my love be there within your heart now and forevermore. Amen.

🤍 Anita

Dear Alessa:

So, as I walk Bogart, the moment he starts pulling me (walking too fast, or at times, he gallops like a horse), stop, no moving forward.. until he stops pulling (if he does), then restart walking until he pulls again?

Coming to think about it, he often pulls, just that at times harder/ more forcefully than other times.

I need to check on “anti shock leads” and “harnesses designed to prevent pulling”. Bogart is certainly a Puller.

One more week of antibiotics for you?

I had too much 🍷 yesterday. I forgot about having a tattoo apt until you mentioned it in your reply, Alessa. How do I cancel it perhaps, as it was made while under the influence of alcohol???

Part of it is that I really like the tattoo artist, such a charming young woman, affectionate, vibrant.

The tattoo is supposed to be on my lower arm and contain 5 letters, that and nothing else, but my skin is SO THIN (it comes with aging), that it’s scary 😨

Yes, you got it, part of my difficulty in regard to talking to my sister is that she’s involved in her mother’s life and every time I talk with her, I’m afraid she’ll tell me something about the mother.

I would much rather get 10 tattoos on my paper-thin skin than hear about how the mother is doing irl these days.

I was wondering 🤔, Alessa: growing up, I was drowning in empathy for her. Do you remember feeling empathy for your bio-mom?

Mine used to go on endless “poor me” sessions, describing her terrible childhood and suffering. Your bio mom didn’t do that, did she?

I hope that it’s okay that I am asking these questions. If it’s not okay, please let me know and I won’t ask such questions any more. I want to respect 🙏 your boundaries.

Sounds like you made the right decision to not get in touch with your brother.

Thank you for saying that I’ve always been a person 🤍🙏. I wish I knew it, all those decades of feeling like a 2-D object.. and not a valued object 😢

I think that everyone has difficulties being alone for too long and we all rely on others for love. Bogart does, all social animals do.

The tattoo, it’s ALULA. This was what a child long ago, said when trying to tell me “I love you”, but couldn’t say it, being a toddler.

I’ll never forget it: a child’s sincere, honest, trustworthy expression of love, something that was new to me: being loved- simply, truly. I felt so undeserving of it, back then.

🤍 Anita

Dear Peter:

Thank you 😊 🙏 for your thoughts and for the poem✨️

🤍 Anita

Dear Alessa:

(Using the one surviving computers, so no emojis show up)

Reading your most recent 2 posts, Alessa: truly, I am impressed by your beauty as a person, a unique, exquisite beauty! And it’s not the unusually early glass of wine speaking, or the old music of my childhood that I’m listening to right now (the childhood I didn’t have; the one I am getting to have now).

The wine and music help me appreciate the truly amazing and beautiful person that you are!

I’m sorry you’re having a UTI. My sister has been having one for the longest time. It got better but kept going for a long time in lower intensity. I don’t often talk with her, mostly because I’m afraid to hear about her pains, physical and emotional. It hurts me to hear.

Having the highly-highly-highly-… highly disturbed mother has taken its heavy toll on both of us.

* Interesting that no one came up with big-boy/ big girl diapers?

I hope your dog’s cut heals.

It’s 3 pm here. Bogart is finally sleepy after his very active, call-of-the-wild walks. He’s the most adorable beagle though my shoulders hurt because of him pulling strongly and unexpectedly. I am learning how to walk him vs him walking me, calling the shots.

You asked: “Who is Anita?”. I don’t remember ever being asked that! (I need an emoji here)

Just got a bit more wine to facilitate an answer: Anita is a girl that wants to be a girl FREE from the relentless, oppressive oppression inflicted on me day after day, year after year, actively into my 20s, 30s and beyond. The oppression was intense, relentless, inexcusable, cruel, ongoing.

And no one saw, no one.

Wait, the question is Who-is-Anita?- Someone who wants to be seen, to be heard= to be, to exist as me (not as her extension/ a figment of her imagination).

When I wrote above “a girl that”, I noticed the word should be, grammatically, “who”, not “that”, as in “a girl who”, but in this case, grammatically accurate = emotionally inaccurate, because..

Did you hear of a book that came out decades ago, titled “A Child Called It”? This is what it was for me: growing up (in), I was an “it”, not a person, not at all a 3-D person, but a 2-D object.

So, who is me? A 3-D creature, person. My tics have always been about trying to break through the 2-D/ object limitation (“it”) and be/ become a person, a 3-D human.

* I just found out that I may be going to the taproom which would be strange because I normally go there sober. I won’t be driving though, of course!

(white heart emoji), Anita