I Vent in Color
By: Pamela J. Nikodem
Tags: Self Improvement, Recovery, Domestic Violence, Forgiveness, Growth

My encased arm wrapped in black plastic as I enter the shower, I thought of Dexter, briefly, and his corpses all wrapped with the black plastic. Quickly, washing the thought away. No more spit baths, as my mom would have called them.

The cast protector the hospital gave me was intended to fit a five-year-old, not me. My arm cannot squeeze into the tiny plastic hole they think expands like a cervix opening up for a newborn to enter the world. No. My arm and cast will not oblige.

My mental state is a bit loopy, thank you pain. I have gracefully taken Advil and Tylenol, saving oxycodone for bedtime and a half a pill at that.

I study addiction, I don’t plan to become a statistic, no, not today.

I am edgy today. I have excuses, I promise!

Let’s recap: Thursday my ratty passed away and I picked up my daughter early from school, to be told such sad news. I go to work, do an anger management assessment, listen to all the excuses and victim-blaming, leave to bring ratty to get cremated, then return to work, more victim-blaming.

Friday, I had surgery. They repaired the torn ligament in my wrist and I have trouble waking up from the anesthesia. When I come home, people are edgy and rude. I am coming off the anesthesia, mind you, so I am not exactly making mental backflips in concrete and clear communication. Then, the complaining starts. I can’t drive yet, so my daughters need rides to work.

Victim stance ensued, and victim-blaming in my home resumes. Rolling my eyes inside my skull, I know the drill. I have not had the time nor had help with getting my daughter ready for her driver's license, so we are facing some time issues.

Photo by David Marcu on Unsplash

As the crow flies, I’d like to kick dust and cause a tornado. I choose not to.

Yesterday, the washer died. I started the last, fatal load. Yes, me. So, more blaming in my own home. Rudeness surmounts, attitude builds, resentments flourish, and someone cannot see past their own bull — to extend forgiveness.

I wonder how I have been able to forgive abusive, mean, hurtful words, phrases, and lies and so forth without resentment? How do you forgive when someone yells in your face they wish they never met you and they are so disappointed in you because you voiced your fears? When they tell you I’ll let you know in two weeks what I am choosing. Why did I wait? Seriously, who says that to a partner they promised to love?

Maybe I know I am not perfect so forgiving is easier. Hurt is still there, forgiving happens by choice. You see if we don’t build a safe place to rebuild trust everything crumbles. I keep choosing to trust even when I have been hurt so DEEPLY. The words I have heard stay in my mind and I do all in my power to reduce them to a dull roar. I digress.

So, back to the story: my shower today went well, but the light in the shower went out. I looked up and just said, “Really?” Rains it pours they say. Our older poodle isn’t well, so she’s been having accidents on all the throw carpets.

— Now I know why they are called the term, ‘cause ya throw them away.

— Good times. No washer, no carpets, and no lights.

— My coffee machine works, though. Bonus!

So, today, with all the chaos of the past four days, I am writing because writing is my life. I can process, plan, and pray through my work.

I write because sometimes, the stupidity of life is too humorous not to write.

My life is ripe with experience, just not ripe in odors, thanks to my shower.

Today I’ll plan my next debut into the cascading waterfall, just as soon as I figure out how to change the encased light bulb with one hand.

~Just a thought by Pamela