Not Well

Sometimes I am still ashamed to admit when I am not well and need help. But I'm not well and I need help. I've been having flashbacks and it's been especially bad. My mother was here. Twice. I finally had to let her in to get it over with. Then I had to call my grandmother for the same reason. And it's so confusing. My grandmother is a sweet little old lady in her nineties. A retired Catholic school teacher, a tiny little thing, sharp as a tack, and I swear butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. And yet the terror of her house. So confusing. This is why I hate my birthday. And yet, I strongly suspect that if my father were alive, I would have let him in my house with no consciously discernible problem even though he abused me in ways that would have had him locked up in jail had it been reported at the time. My mother (I think) would not have warranted jail (???). My grandmother, either. Still...

You know, I think the dogs are part of this, too. They remind me of a time when I had a sweet spaniel who came to my bed and slept with me. She let me curl up with her on the living room floor like I was her pup. And she attacked my father when he tried to hurt me. The little girl is very active now that I have these beautiful dogs. She won't go away because she loves them and wants to be with them. And so she is here with her stuff. Frankly, I'm just trying not to die right now.