Reply #135

I learned a really cool "grounding" exercise at therapy (yep, back in therapy for the last FOO I refused to do but who is determined to do me). Most grounding exercises have one look within, and I've never liked that because within is where the ghosts lie in wait. This one had me really focus on my surroundings and my anxiety by the end was much lower. It was a bit mind blowing.

Ah yes, the whipping, slapping, hair pulling reindeer games. Good times, good times (not). Did you ever get the one where they would lose something and you would be required to look for it and at preset times, return for the ritualized beating? They liked to run that one all night sometimes. Fucked up? You betcha.

And there wasn't a gun in site. By the end of my tenure in "Vietnam" as I "affectionately" called it, had there been a gun, I damn sure would have used it. What is it that the youngin's say these days, "I would have capped their asses." Instead, I resorted to throwing out my stepmother's favorite perfume and putting her precious dog's poop on their bed. Things for which I had plausible deniability. And no, the dog didn't get in trouble, if she had, I wouldn't have done that. I hated my parents. I've never hated any pet nor harmed any pet, accidentally or purposefully. I'm no dubya.