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Let’s Get the Heck Outta Here

Once Voted Most Likely to OD on Prozac

Round Table Pizza, 2007

I have always been on my own. We moved around a lot, so I never really made any lasting friendships. I would envy people who had been friends since kindergarten, but I didn’t understand them. After we moved, I would just never call again. I thought that was normal. I once said to someone who tried to stay friends, “but I moved. Aren’t you supposed to stop calling?” I used to think my ability to cut ties was a strength, like it was a superpower. I was proud of my scars where people had once been. I can be very self righteous, especially if I think I am right about something. I vividly remember sharing a meme, triumphantly stating, “I will burn this bridge to the ground behind me and never look back.”

Never is a long time.

Eventually, you look back.

I guess we all turn to salt in the end.

Once upon a time, I was a 22ish College Student, working at a pizza chain. I had a big smile and warm welcome for anyone and everyone. I was happy to help and always genial. A no-nonsense, get the job done type, I was convinced it was a competition (I’m not wrong, but I can never see if I am), and that I had to be the best.

And I was. I am an Outlier, just outside the curve. I’m beyond the bell. It inspired me to push myself. I wanted to give my all. “If you love what you do,” and all that, so I was determined to have a passion for each of my jobs. I applied to places I actually wanted to work, and I was happy.

The happiness translated to attitude. My attitude was shining. Maybe I’m too shiny though, because my coworkers often felt that I pushed everyone else and made them look bad. I set the bar too high. These were just minimum wage jobs, why try? I was even voted “Most Likely to OD on Prozac” at the company Christmas Party. Reflecting back, its kind of ironic because I have OD’d, but that’s a story that I am not ready to share.

Management loved me because I worked my ass off. I’d be dead on my feet before I would give up. My grandfather instilled that in me. When he taught me to sweep the floor, my first time I missed a lot of dirt. He made me sweep it again. And again. And again.

Nothing worth doing is worth doing only half way. Don’t half-ass a job. It’s worth your WHOLE ASS, or it isn’t worth doing.

John Burger, grandfather

I was in tears by the time I was done, but I swept the floor. Then he taught me how to really sweep the floor for maximum efficiency and cleanness. My grandfather used to say “Nothing worth doing is worth doing only half way. Don’t half ass a job. It’s worth your WHOLE ASS, or it isn’t worth doing.” It was really inspirational. I idealized my grandfather and used to follow him around like his shadow. Then, my poor diet of fast and fried foods fed to me throughout my childhood caused me to become overweight. Even though my grandfather was overweight himself, he would still shame us for being fat.

Our entire family would come together for the holidays. Then one Christmas I saw the Brady Bunch family special where they all sing Christmas Carols. Families sang at Christmas? It was like my dreams were coming true. I thought that I could start a family Christmas carol, like in the movies. I got everyone’s attention that Christmas and started to sing a carol, but no one sang along. I stoped singing after a few bars, humiliated. Clearly, we weren’t that kind of family.

No singing, check.

That same Christmas, i was probably nine, I remember accidentally opening a present for the baby, and getting lectured. I remember my Uncle trying to take my cousin into his bedroom to “listen to music” and everyone getting mad. But most horrifically, I remember Grandpa’s home movie.

He had gotten himself the latest VHS recording camera for his birthday in August, and had filmed our family at Thanksgiving. For some reason, he decided to proudly insist that we all watch it that Christmas, without having watched it first himself. Much to our chagrin, he spent a good portion of the film zoomed in on his adult step-granddaughter’s milk engorged breasts.

Everyone left after that.

That was probably the first time that I saw people turn their backs on someone collectively. My aunts left and rarely ever collected together with my grandparents again. They could only tolerate brief visits. The isolation was palpable. My grandfather, who had always prided himself on buying the biggest turkey for the holidays, was now serving a nearly empty table.

As the Mad Hatter said in Disney’s Alice in Wonderland, “clean cup, clean cup, move down,” so too I am familiar with an empty table. Even though no one came, he still made the turkey, because it was worth his whole ass after all

We too became estranged eventually because of his ridicule. I wonder if he ever realized that he was responsible for his own lack of company.

After that my mom stopped talking to a cousin who borrowed money and didn’t pay it back. I recently reached out to her myself after 20 years. Time kept on keeping on. She was fine. Finally I stopped talking to my own mother, after years of abuse and trauma, because I just couldn’t take it anymore. I was isolated by my first husband’s abuse and I stayed isolated after I kicked him out because it takes too much energy to invest in others when I have three special needs kids and my own disability to manage. I have a lot on my plate.

I don’t like crowds. I am very private. I don’t enjoy small talk. I am wildly inappropriate. I have no boundaries. Don’t I sound fun to talk too? No? That’s okay, I’ve been told I’m exhausting.

I don’t mind not being anyone’s cup of tea though, because I like me. I may now be voted “Most Likely to Absquatulate to a Cheap South American Country,” but at least I am still alive. I’ve got new happy pills. They are good enough, though not Prozac, and closely regulated.

Life isn’t a solo player game, it takes a village to raise a child. Humans are herd animals, we need to be in groups with other humans. I am not better off on my own in a pile of ashes than with people. I have to correct this behavior. So, I have been working on changing some of my patterns. I have started incorporating learning into my daily routine, specifically in addition to lots of self-help books to manage my anxiety and personality issues, I am doing the word a day emails to become more verbose. I participate in online groups. I started a blog, and I have been actively posting to social media.

Look at me actively trying to participate. Good for me. Next I might try talking to a real live human other than my family. Probably not, but I might put it on a list. Maybe.

One step at a time.

Which brings me to Absquatulate. Isn’t it a lovely word? It means to leave abruptly.

I remember it with the joke: Why are Sasquatch’s friends always mad at him? They can never find him at parties. He always Absquatulates into the woods.

It’s a corny joke, but it helps me remember. I think Sasquatch would be the type to leave a party first. I can relate to that. I don’t even attend parties. I have become reclusive to the point of being placed on the endangered species list. I thought I was agoraphobic, but I like being in my garden, so that’s not it. I am not perfect, but no one is perfect.

Except my husband, well, he’s perfect for me. For more information on that you will have to read the book I wrote for him: Postcards from my Orgasms, available now on Amazon.com. Let me know what you think about it!

Enjoy the GLO!