The Pastor, the Older Man, the Lion, and the Dog

Ok, I had a WEIRD dream last night and need all your skills at dream interpretation.

I dreamed I was at someone’s house. There were people of all ages there, none of whom I knew. I don’t know whose house it was, but I was there watching TV, having a party, or a combination of both. There were people laughing and sat on couches with large pillows and even some sat on the floor like a slumber party. Of all the weird things to remember, I remember the Weather Channel was on TV all the time. I also remember feeling safe there, as if I belonged there and I didn’t want to leave. Not sure of why we are there, I am surprised when my old pastor walks in. This woman and I have a not-to-friendly rivalry and she was the main reason I left the church. I am shocked and surprised that she showed up but I am friendly enough and she seems delighted to see me. She makes some friendly comments and even compliments me, I think.

And in the weird way dreams can shift for no reason, I remember being next to an older man. In my dreams, I always dream of men without faces. I rarely dream of men I know personally, only those I’ve never met or whom I haven’t seen in a very, very long time. In fact, I never see above these men’s shoulders, so that the only way I know who they are is HOW I sense them in the dream. Anyway, I sense an older man next to me. He is protective and loving, and there is an implication of flirting and sexuality on both our parts. It is sudden and immediate and I do not want to wake from this dream. I feel safe and loved and comforted and excited to be in this man’s presence. I don’t know who he is or what he is doing there but we are inseperable.

Again, my dream shifts and I see a lion chasing a dog in a forest and the lion is playing with the dog as a larger animal would with a smaller one. It is no match of course, but the dog does not seem afraid and neither do I. It all seems playful at first. The dog is a beautiful German Shepherd type dog or a Siberian Huskie. It has a fluffy tail. I only mention this detail because faster than you can read this, in the dream the lion opened its mouth and devoured the dog up to its lower haunches. All I could see were the dog’s hind feet and his tail sticking out of the lion’s mouth! The lion then sat there and faced me with the dog’s feet and tail hanging out of its mouth. And then I woke up.

I swear I had no alcohol the night before!

Melancholy Baby

I’ve been particularly touchy and pensive lately. Nothing interests me but reading books, watching television, or playing Bookworm. Well, other things have interested me, but that only takes 10 minutes max and even my husband is getting tired of it! I’ve finished the latest Stephen King novel. Ho-Hum. The only thing of interest is that I started the first Dresden Files novel by Jim Butcher called Storm Front. Now that’s gotten interesting! I foresee long nights ahead reading his novels. (clapping) Still, I’m feeling pretty underestimated at work and pretty disgusted at our political system and media. So what else is new? Rather than rant on and on about the latest bullshit coming out of election candidates or the latest “I hate America” crap we see constantly, I’ve turned them all off for the time being. And people wonder why we watch TV shows too much. DUH!

As I’ve said before, I work at a large (not huge) church. It’s no mega-church or anything but some prominent (i.e. rich) people go there. So as Administrative Assistant to a few pastors, I get paid a decent wage for what I do. Hell, if you worked for the state (the largest employer here) I wouldn’t be making as much and the atmosphere would be even worse. So why bitch about it? Because I feel dry on the vine, underestimated, and my self esteem is withering away. In academia, it’s pretty much standard that you will be called brilliant every time you submit a question, let alone a paper of some length. It’s pretty heady to work in a field where you can toss around ideas and hob-nob with professors. I miss writing, researching, and presenting papers at conferences. Yet, I couldn’t stand the politics and the lack of balance found there. Despite what people think, academia is pretty narrow in their political beliefs.

Where I work now, I have just as a high if not higher educational degree as anyone here but the head pastor (he has a doctorate) and it pretty much means nothing to anyone. Is it supposed to? Maybe. At least that’s what bill of goods we are sold when we sign on to get one. But I went mainly for the research and reading part of it, not the end product. At any rate, it’s from the pastor that I’m constantly running across problems. He’s a 70s Princeton Theological Seminary graduate whose wife typed all of his papers while in school and whose assistant (me) now does. He’s not good with computers and doesn’t know how to find things on the Internet. Simple stuff for me seems unreachable to him. Yet, he is a perfectionist who has to have EVERYTHING a certain way and after it’s been modified twenty times, there is still always something wrong with it which he has to tell me about even after it’s too late to fix it. Every year, my review is the same. I meet or exceed all expectations and he has no problem with any of my “work.” What’s also true every year is that he never says I’ve done a good job unless I find some tidbit on the Internet that he thinks is “unfindable.” My co-workers have the same attitude. For them, I’m nothing special. They might hate it that they’d have to do my job if I left, but I am not under the delusion that I can’t be replaced. ANYONE can be replaced pretty easily.

I’ve looked for other jobs, but there isn’t much out there right now. I’ve long been out of the academic world and trying to get back in isn’t quite so easy. Soon the contacts dry up and the networking needs reworked, but after a certain time, you’re forgotten. I suppose I’m wondering if perhaps I’ve missed my shot. Sure, I can stay here until I retire. It’s an easy job with an easy-going work environment. All I have to do is mindlessly go through the church cycle year after year for the next 18 years. Sure, I don’t hate my job. Sure, I have some lively conversations at work. But, lately, I’ve just been feeling blah. I don’t write anything interesting anymore and can’t drum up the energy to blog. I have nothing to say that isn’t a rant against something and, I suppose, like all women approaching 50, feel pretty much useless and past my expiration date. So, do I keep looking for another job or stay and count my blessings? Any cure for the doldrums out there?

Supporting Freedom of Choice is a Sin, But Abusing Children is Ok!

Ok, Roman Catholics are really beginning to piss me off big time. First we have a Pope who turns a blind eye to the sexual abuse of thousands of children and now we have bishops telling governors that supporting the right of others to do as they wish is a sin! Hmmmm. Pot meet kettle. So let me get this straight. The ACTUAL sexual abuse of children is ok and is not subject to excommunication (after all priests need their outlets don’t you know), but someone who hasn’t ACTUALLY had an abortion can be excommunicated for exercising their civil rights and being pro-choice. Is that correct? I mean really, correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t this the HEIGHT of hypocrisy and absurdity? It’s a known fact that all of the popes swept the abusive priest reports under the rug in order to keep their coveted positions. What I don’t understand is why people still worship morons like these. I’m not surprised really, just very, very pissed off and sickened that a pope and bishops and priests and all Catholic clergy are given a free pass by the laity to do whatever they wish and to whomever they wish. How dumb and blind is that?

For those not so gullible, there is help here and here. And for those who want to see the light, there’s help here.

Mommy and Daddy Issues on Mother’s Day

Ok, it’s Mother’s Day. Big Whoop!

Now that I got that out of my system, I must say that I got a cute little antique necklace from my daughter and my son in the Army called me this afternoon as well. The only one I haven’t heard from is my oldest son, who I went to Hungary with; he probably has seen enough of me already. So it’s been alright and I am blessed with grown children who I hope I haven’t harmed in a significant way. If I have, I’ve since apologized to all of them and they know my history and understand it. But you know I hate Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Valentine’s Day, or any day that capitalists cook up to make us all go shopping. I always have and always will hate them. I can barely stand Easter! But this Mother’s Day is interesting because I’ve de-parented myself recently. Let me explain.

Without going into a long boring abusive history, one that millions like me have endured, I’ll just say that my mother is psycho. It started when my real father, the Hungarian, left her with three children under 4. We never saw him again. She then married my psycho step-father who tortured all of us mentally and physically, and me sexually for the next 12 years. At one point, when we were barely into high school, mother checked herself into a mental hospital and left my sister and me at home with dear old step-dad to fend for ourselves (our other sister was put up for adoption at birth. We’ve since found her but have never met).  At 16, I decided I’d had enough beatings and kicked the old step-dad in the nuts one day after he’d been beating us for a while. Like all bastard cowards, that was all it took and he never bothered us again. Later, mother checked out of the hospital and tried to reclaim mother status. Nope, aint’ happening. I proceeded to do as I wished and parented myself until graduation. During our later teen years she never treated her depression and other paranoia problems. Since then she’s never owned up to her failures and never asked forgiveness from any of us. This hasn’t meant we never talked. My sister, my mother, and I talk as if nothing happened. We are civil, have family functions, and basically ignore anything that gets to close to being some kind of discussion about feelings, for good or ill.

Recently, she has regressed into her old psycho talk and rather than enjoy a family event with my daughter, retreated into her paranoia and said some choice things about my parenting skills and fantasized that I was doing all of it to “teach her a lesson.” Whaaaat? My daughter is 21! And frankly, I could care less about her mental health. I have and had only my own family to see to. Anyway, I wrote her a letter and told her I’m sick of her psycho talk and I don’t ever want to hear it again. I told her to deal with it as we had to deal with it; alone. Cold? Perhaps, but there’s far more to the story than just this tidbit. As usual she writes back using all her trigger words and acting all motherly, treating me once again as if I were a child. Did I say I was SICK OF IT? I haven’t spoken to her since our falling out, but I sent her a Mother’s Day card that said simply, “Happy Mother’s Day.” I still resent the fact that I feel like I have to follow meaningless ritual like that because a national holiday says so, especially with no reason to expect anything. In a way, it’s kind of like religion; playing on all the guilt and emotions associated with personal issue.

My daddy issues are obvious. I had one who disappeared and one who treated me like a sexual toy. What about this is hard to psychoanalyze? Obviously, I’m looking for the perfect father in a God that’s supposed to take care of us (never mind that this God never chose to take care of me when it counted). Yet, I still follow meaningless rituals and try to live the religious life, hoping against hope for some kind of “reward” or some kind of response. But none ever comes.  Who was it that said, “If you always do things the way you’ve always done them, why do you expect anything to change?” To further the hypocrisy, secretly I blog elsewhere as if I believe in God, hoping again that the practice of it rubs off somehow, hoping perhaps that if I do things this way, the faith will follow from it. That’s what we are told after all. But really, all I’m doing is begging Daddy for attention; begging Daddy to notice how subservient I am., begging Daddy in the sky to bless me somehow. I mean, COME ON! How obtuse can I be?

Nothing has ever happened in my life that I didn’t have to fight for on my own or that I didn’t have to work for on my own. At the worst times, God was never there, however my own sense of survival and determination was. Every time I sensed danger, my own inner voice, tuned from years of dangerous situations, kicked in and said “Go!” and I did. At other times it failed me. Some call this God. I call this life lessons learned from trial and error. So, this Mother’s Day, I sent the token card, but the only real mother I’ve ever had was myself. Fathers are just a non-issue for me too. Why should I cultivate relationships with either a real mother that never mothered or a faux father that never fathered?  What would be the point at this late stage of the game?

So I’m dubbing this

HAPPY SELF PRESERVATION DAY!