Dreams and Anger

Had a dream that I somehow inherited or won 21 mill. Wow. And why 21? Why not 20 or 50 or 100 mil? Wut up with the odd number?

My first action was to send Planned Parenthood and the ACLU big fat donations. Next, I sent money to Helen so she wouldn’t have to work while going to school full time. Celeste followed – I wanted her to have an extended sabbatical where she could focus on her health.

Huh. It’s interesting that, in my unconscious, sleeping state, my first to-dos were to care for others. HEY, maybe I’m NOT a terrible, selfish twatzilla after all! Coolio!

Now, why, oh why, would I have such a vile idea of myself? Could it be due to the two people who tried to take horrible financial advantage of me in the weeks after my beloved Amazing Bob's death. These two weasel brained dolts (who, combined, totally should’ve had at least one tiny shred of compassion), attempted to fleece me – the mega grieving widow. One played the innocent victim of my fictitious nasty behavior. The other, (who, by the by, is financially comfy) acted the pauper who was only trying to pick me clean so’s he could care for his family (*sniff*). In both cases, I was somehow, naturally, the villain.

Despite rightly defending and protecting myself there’s, I guess, a piece of lingering doubt. Did I do the right thing? Should I have just rolled over for these two piratical turds? Maybe my knee-jerk self protection was hardhearted and insensitive?

No, no and FUCK YES I did the right things! One person was staggeringly, out of the blue ghoulish. The other was so cluelessly self obsessed and compassion-free that I wonder if she can claim even one friend on this planet.

Grief stricken? YES. Helpless patsy? FUCK NO. Nice try kids but you sadly underestimated this particular pigeon.

Republican men who feel that health care shouldn't include maternity coverage.

I suppose one thing for which I can be thankful to these two rapacious asswipes – they allowed my monster sad levels to morph into anger. Rage is easier for me than heartbroken melancholia. Why? Anger gives me the impression that I can effect change – that I can fix shit. Anger puts me in the driver’s seat. Yes, it’s an illusion but it helps…for awhile.

It’s now time to let it go. I succeeded in protecting myself. I’m safe now – as safe as I’ll ever be. Letting go of big animosity is the smart thing to do.

Who knows, maybe the dream was, in part, triggered by this pic. Axing pregnancy care because, of course, we human wimmins are notoriously profligate and all parthenogenesis-y – SURE, makes sense. Right? Sheesh. There’s just no end of rage inspiring shit in the world.

Gotta work on this – constant anger is NOT healthy.