“I went to a party last Saturday night, I didn’t get laid, I got in a fight ah ha… it ain’t no big thing…
But I know what I like. I know I like dancing with you…. Ohhhh…. kiss me once. Kiss me twice…. Come on pretty baby kiss me deadly.” – Lita Ford
This song has been playing non-stop in my head for two days straight. Over and over — I sing along with Ms. Ford not even realizing it. OK, I realized it, but I didn’t put any thought into it. But let’s think about it. Let’s ask the questions: Why? Why, at any given time, do I have a song playing repeatedly in my head. Hmmmmmmm. Well maybe I play songs in my mind to drown out the noise of my thoughts. Just a thought — I’m no shrink or anything. But it make sense that I try to cover up my overly obnoxious anxious thoughts with 80s rock. I’m anxious all the time, and it seems my new meds are not helping as much as I’d hoped for. At least they don’t seem to be. I’m not eating, and I’m stressed that I will somehow ruin things with the guy I’m seeing; It’s driving me crazy. I know that my insecurities will be the cause of a break up if I can’t get my anxiety levels in check.
I fucking hate feeling like this, and I’m tired of going through life feeling sick to my stomach. Yesterday I wrote about how happy I am. I am happy. But only when I’m sure things are ok with the new man. If any doubt creeps in, I freak out and worry myself over nothing. I mentioned yesterday that I couldn’t write because of my anxieties over this new relationship. I had a comment from a reader telling me to just write what was in my head. At first, I thought “well no kidding.” I’d love to write about my thoughts, but that was the problem. I couldn’t hear my thoughts. Thanks Lita — Thanks a bunch. Today, however, I’ve pressed the pause button and let myself hear. The voice in my head is a bit sneaky, but I figured her out. SOOOOO
You want to know what is going on in my brain right now? Let me tell you. I am thinking about how much it will hurt me when RST (the man) breaks the news that we are over or that he is leaving. I have extreme fear of abandonment. I’m scared to love people because I can’t help but believe they will leave me. I’m afraid of making a mistake or doing something wrong. Where does this come from? I can only assume it comes from having my dad leave when I was a little girl. I remember the last time my dad lived in our family home. I was about seven years old, and we lived in a town called Aldergrove, BC. My memories are a bit scattered, but I remember seeing my dad at the top of the stairs playing a set of drums. The next thing I remember is him yelling at my mom to get us (kids) out of the house because we were being too loud and he couldn’t practice. My dad was always changing jobs and following his next dream. His dream at the time was to start up a country band and become some big famous country star. My dad had a vicious temper. When he yelled at us, the neighbourhood could hear him, and a spanking was more like a beating to the behind.
I can still feel the heat in my face and the tingling sensation I felt through my body that day. I know now that I was experiencing an anxiety attack. I had them a lot, but I didn’t understand back then what they were. I would get them anytime I did something wrong, or I should say, thought I did something wrong. I was always afraid of messing up.
That day, my mom piled me and my younger siblings in the car, and she drove us to a local man-made lake. It was a hot day, and she was crying. I don’t remember our time at the lake, but I remember coming home to find out my dad had left us. He left us, and it was my fault. I wasn’t good enough. He didn’t love me enough, so it was my fault my mom was hurting so bad.
My mom, of course, did not blame me. But as a kid, you see things through different eyes. My dad never accepted me. I was always too fat, not pretty enough, not smart enough, not talented enough… and if he was sad because he missed us – he blamed us. I don’t have anything to do with him now, but that doesn’t change the damage he caused. It’s hard to fix childhood trauma. I don’t hate or even blame my family for who I am. I accept it, and I do everything I can to be the best me. That doesn’t mean, however, that I don’t wish things had been different. That I had been born to a father who loved me unconditionally. But I wasn’t and there’s nothing I can do to change that. Them’s the breaks. This is my life, and all I can do is play the cards I’ve been dealt. I’m doing my best to let go in this relationship. I am who I am, and all I can do is hope for the best.
So there it is. The hidden message behind the music. Maybe now that I’ve let it be heard, I can let it go. And unlike Lita — I hope to get laid both Friday and Saturday night — cause I know what I like.