An Average Orphan

Generally, I’m content in my solitude. My mother’s ashes are nearby, but mainly disregarded in the discount crematory plastic box. One day, when I have the courage to fulfill her wish to be scattered at sea. I can’t let go yet.

It’s the overt stuff that reminds me I’m alone. My social worker, the most tactful woman on earth said, “Don’t you have any family? Your mother’s gone? Not even cousins?”

No. But it’s not entirely true. I have some second cousins, but they made it clear as my mother lay in the hospital morgue that they wanted nothing to do with me.

And then I made someone mad while he was drunk and he told me I wasn’t his bartender, his mother, and NOT HIS FAMILY. We aren’t even friends, but he knows more or less, an outline of my life. While I can’t be certain, I think he meant to cut me to the core. Perhaps he is trying for my own good to excise the unfortunate feelings that crept up on me. Were I beautiful, an uber socialist SJW, and maybe 12 years younger, maybe I would  have said something to him someday…if he didn’t think of me as an ugly, naive sow.

It’s almost my 42nd birthday, and I’ve found out a few things about myself within the past week. Though the consensus of people I casually meet is that I’ m an imbecile, the truth is I’m average. My psychological evaluation says I have a 96 IQ. When I picture a 96 IQ, I imagine me in a MAGA hat with a Q-anon T-shirt, waiting to get into a Trump rally with some of his more gnarly supporters. But at least I’m not mentally challenged. I probably do have a learning disability, which is super nifty to know now that I haven’t been in school in 20 something years. My vocabulary is high average, my processing speed is borderline MR. Ain’t life a bitch? I guess that neurologist when I was 11 was right about me having mild cerebral palsy.

Though the psychologist only put unspecified learning disability, looking around Dr. Google, I think I have “nonverbal learning disorder.” It’s a little bit like being autistic without actually being autistic.

Egads, I also have GAD. Not terribly surprised by this either. I don’t have to obsess on something to be anxious, so I have 2 anxiety disorders.

I don’t have a personality disorder, but I have characteristics of both dependent and avoidant personality disorders. Charming.

Other fun observations include that I’m slightly older looking than I am, that my hygiene is ‘fair,’ and that I’m a troubled and insecure woman. Oh, and a bit of a hypocondriac, I despise myself, and I’m disappointed in my looks. Beautiful, Lisa.

“….but I’m not stupid.” That will be my mantra from now on.

Meh

Some of my earliest memories are of rejection. I don’t recall a time in my life when I was fully accepted. What I don’t understand, however, is my inability to not care. You’d think after a lifetime of people thinking poorly of me and even being on guard for the inevitable, my emotions would scab over.

I want to be needed by someone. To be liked if I can’t be loved. To at least be tolerated if not cherished. To be wondered about if I fell off the earth. My body is too thick, however, and my mind too dense.

Ignorant Women

The truth is

Ignorant women feel,

with their bulbous bodies,

and their inarticulate words.

They feel love, but can’t express it.

Jeers is what they fear,

rejection the death knell

to what they call self-esteem.

Flea

I am a flea; just a minor annoyance

to be swatted away.

I hop around your ankles,

hoping to be noticed,

but you crush me dead.

Roses Discount Department Store Shoe Clearance Haul

Dollar Tree Nonfiction Book Haul

I’m Really Scared

I don’t know why they haven’t sent out a message to renew my lease. My lease expired October 4th, and I’ve read state law prevents landlords from not renewing leases without 30 days notice BEFORE the lease expires. I’m still scared though, and what if they hike it up since last year’s hurricane destroyed cheaper apartments in the region.

They’re rolling out a new form of Medicaid, and one wrong choice could ruin my special assistance I get from Medicaid. I’d call my social worker, but I can’t stand that woman. I called Medicaid and they’re going to send me a form to stay on “direct Medicaid,” because I have “behavioral health issues.” ‘Behavioral Health’ sounds twice as bad to me as ‘mental health, but what do I know?

Then what really upsets me is I get roped in to watching my ‘friend’s’ 4 dogs for 2 weeks while she goes to Nova Scotia.She never bothered to tell me it would be 2 weeks instead of one, how much bus money she’s leaving me, who do I contact in emergency. I doubt unless she gets an international plan, I could contact her, and she doesn’t want me to sully her Facebook with my presence. So yeah, I get 2 weeks of Diverticulitis Poppy shitting up my friend’s house with her loose excrement everywhere and Dudley the smelly shitzu who won’t stop licking my face no matter how many times I push him away. The two other dogs are fine, as is her cat.

OK kids, here’s a helpful hint: If someone used to be your mental health nurse wants to be your friend later, she may be planning on using you. I should have known years ago when this first happened that it’s never my charming personality.

I can’t handle all of this at once. The uncertainty of everything.

Pass

Now that she’s met someone, she’s asking Someone if he knows anyone for me. I told her no thanks. The thought of having to meet said Somebody if she had been successful is terrifying. I’m sure I would fuck everything up. I can’t pass for normal no matter how hard I try and my looks don’t help either. Imagine having to invite someone into my dilapidated apartment if we became that close, or putting up a conversation, or admitting I am on disability. What if he thought I was an idiot, or I thought he was an idiot? I can’t even imagine. While I don’t want to die alone or as a virgin, no. Just no.

Plot Twist

Still banned on Facebook. No one noticed. My friend messaged me after 7 days of quiet. I’ve been feeling gloomy, but didn’t realize how much until she messaged and I started shedding tears. I kept her on as long as I could.

I’m a bit concerned about life choices she seems to be making, but I should just let it happen. This is going to sound off, but she’s got a new someone to bother with and doesn’t need me. She’s almost a narcissist. I feel bad for this new friend. It’s starting similar to how she was with me, practically saving my life. I’m worried for her too, but…

Mom’s Deathversary Year 8

It’s the 8th anniversary of my mother’s death, it’s Friday the 13th, and I’m in Facebook Jail for calling someone a stupid cunt. At the tender age of 33, I became an orphan. I knew very little about adulting then, but look how mature I am now.

I’d done a few ‘social experiments’ on Facebook before to see what Herr Zuck would tolerate, since a bunch of the crazies got thrown off Facebook (I’d share Alex Jones and Paul Joseph Watson crap just to see if I’d get censored ). Zuck, however, knows my actual political affiliation better than I do.

I wasn’t even trying to get in trouble, but the cunt who I called a cunt snitched on me. My mother, who was the nicest person, wouldn’t have approved. I wish I could talk to my mom. I’d tell her about being forsaken by various people since her death, Trump, and I’d apologize for a lot.

My friend, who doesn’t want anything much to do with me, has told me more than once that I could’ve saved my mom. If I’d taken her temperature or insisted even harder that she go to the doctor. Friends, am I right?