It seems I can’t write a word into this little text box unless I first put a photo here. I did want to post this photo of the tiny chapel where I attend daily mass. It is full to capacity every time I have been there. It is a beautiful thing. The photo was taken from the last row, so the photo shows the true size. Tiny.
I am now on vacation and don’t have to be back to work until next Tuesday. That is a good feeling. I told the staff in my department that if they need anyone they should call my boss, because I am not on call. I never do that, but I need to be really away. I still have lots to do at home before my sis gets here tomorrow. But I am starting to get into the fun things. Tomorrow I will cook, which is awesome. I have invited my family and a few friends to come over tomorrow night to meet my sister. That should be fun.
Yesterday I was remembering things from my youth and early adulthood. I am realizing that if I were a child today, there is no way I could make it in today’s world. First of all, as soon as I started school, I would have been diagnosed with something. And put on meds. Maybe ADD, maybe ADHD, maybe ODDO, maybe something on the autism spectrum. I was in no way “normal.” I’m still not. Earlier in my life I might have been considered quirky. Now I may be old enough to be considered “eccentric.”
And then there’s my alcoholism. When I hear about the things that kids get in trouble for these days, I think back and say “wow.” From the time I put booze into my system, I was doing crazy stuff. Drunken stuff. Going places and passing out. Getting falling down drunk in mid-day and walking around town, falling on the railroad tracks, still getting up with my stockings hanging – more holes than stockings. Yes, I got falling down drunk in skirts, a kilt if I recall in the falling on the railroad tracks incident. I would get picked up by the police and my parents would be called. I was the youngest of five, they didn’t get rattled about much. They did try to send me away to a boarding school in Wisconsin at one point, but the headmaster told them I would find the same trouble no matter where I went. Smart guy.
I drank my way through my last two years of high school. I kept a bottle of Southern Comfort (inspired by Janis Joplin, who was still alive) in my purse, which I drank pretty openly. I found that if I combined speed with the booze, I could drink all the live long day.
And yet, I was allowed to stay at home. I was able to finish high school. I was never sent to rehab. There weren’t any meds for these behaviors back in the day. You were just considered a “bad kid.” And you know what? I am grateful for that.
I drank until I was done drinking. And when I was done drinking, I was desperate for help and fell upon the doors of AA. Where I was grateful for anyone who would talk to me.
I didn’t think anyone was doing a hard-sell to get me sober. And I know that if I had it would have been a huge obstacle for me to overcome – if I ever did.
Perhaps people are born into the correct era. I don’t know. I just feel so sorry for kids now. Everything is considered pathological. Something to medicate. Something to analyze to death. Trying to find a magical way to control the world by controlling their reactions to it.
We grew up with clear lines between the bad guys and the good guys. Adolph Hitler was bad. Writing inventory about my reaction to him will not change the fact that he was just a bad m-f. We didn’t have this kind of magical thinking.
Coming to be grateful to be old. Definitely grateful I sobered up when I did in the way I did. Grateful I was considered a “weird” or “bad” kid and not a mentally ill kid.
And now I shall step down from my soap-box and get to work!