Thursday, May 11, 2023

Thursday, May 11, 2023

   Yesterday morning, I weighed 145.5 lbs. Then, I indulged in fifteen (15) Hersey milk chocolate nuggets with almonds. This morning, my scale registered a full pound increase; it was up to 146.5, and I gained half an inch on my waist.

     While I made up to the first fire hydrant on Kukuna for the first time since I fell and injured my foot, my right leg bothered me, and I didn't go further.   

      My right foot is just fine. It is even better for the fall. It wrenched all metatarsals. Since then, it hasn't hurt to walk. Also, my second toe feels a little less numb.

       I ate almost non-stop today. I couldn't stop. I started with my usual breakfast food, whole grain taco chips and hummus. Then I made a good-sized fruit salad. Then I indulged with more of the left-over tuna salad I bought at the health food store on Tuesday. Then, a stick of celery loaded with cream cheese and salt, yum. Then, I made my smoothie with Juice Plus. Then I had a small salmon steak broiled with salad and lemonade with one teaspoon of honey. Finally, I finished the day with eight Hershey's milk chocolate nuggets with almonds. The fifteen nuggets I had the day before triggered this binge.  

   I was supposed to have third-grade KPS today. I called her grandmother to talk about how she wanted the sessions to go. We had agreed to two sessions a week, one for academics and one for KPS to discuss personal issues. In our last session, she proposed an art contest between us. She was the judge and jury. This was not what I had in mind. She is seeing a certified child therapist in town. She may be doing play therapy with her. I have no idea. It's not my thing. If Grandma wants me to do that anyway, good enough.

       Good thing I called her. Grandma is an accountant and is slammed at this time of year. Once the tax submissions are done, then the auditing season starts. KPS would be with her mom today and Sunday for Mother's Day and would not meet with me. She also told me that KPS had a bad week. She wanted to move in with her mom and thought grandma prevented it. Her mom finally made it clear to her that it was her choice. She couldn't take care of her. It's not that she's a difficult child; it's that mom has trouble getting her act together. She had another child. Apparently, he's being taken care of by his maternal grandmother. Mom is not okay. Knowing it was her mom's choice because of her inadequacies, not KPS's, calmed her down.       

    Grandma is not a good communicator. She tries to say what is on her mind, but her communication skills are poor. She leaves out information and doesn't provide background information. I noticed early on that she was often agrammatic. Her English pronunciation is perfect. I suspect her problem is neurological rather than having learned English as a foreign language. 

      I worked on updates most of the day. I had one tutoring appointment with Adolescent D. He still needed to do something to complete his homework assignments independently. We completed a page of work- four questions. I thought that was it. No, he had to complete a book of questions. I envisioned a fifty-page book with many questions he should have been answering over the school year. No, it was a four-page booklet with four questions on three pages and a self-evaluation checklist on the last page. The checklist was supposed to be done with a partner, evaluating self and partner on work attitude and skills. I was willing to help him. He insisted that time was up.

      In one of the books I was reading on memory, the author talked about different types of memory. There's factual, I think of it as associative memory, like 6x6=36, or France gave the USA the Statue of Liberty. There's episodic memory. A storyline goes with that. We only develop our episodic memory once we're verbal, around four or five. Then, there are flashbulb memories, usually triggered by strong emotions.     

      I pulled up all the flashbulb moments I had when I first met Mike. I remember the first moment I saw him. It was my first day in that therapy group. Mike came in late. I immediately thought he was cute. He apologized for being late, explaining he just came from the hospital. His girlfriend just had a hysterectomy. I thought, "Oh, well. He's good and taken." The first time we hugged was as a part of the therapy group exercise. One of us had to go around and hug everyone. I felt the energy connection, but it didn't feel sexual. I thought," Oh, shit. He's going to think it's sexual and pursue me."  He did ask me out later that night. The group always went to a coffee shop on 7th Ave. afterward. He approached me as we were leaving. I only said yes because I had resolved to date anyone I didn't think would physically harm me. I found dating absolutely terrifying. I also resolved that I wouldn't date someone more than once a month. Someone could only call me once a week. I set firm boundaries. I would do what I wanted. I read a book on one date with another guy during dinner at a Chinese restaurant. Rude, I know. But I had decided to go all out. 

      Our first date was on November 8. I am trying to remember how I got to Manhattan from Brooklyn or where we met. I do remember getting out of a cab. I was sitting behind the driver and had to slide over to the other side of the car. I stretched my legs out on the seat, hooked my heels over the edge, and pulled myself over to the passage side by bending my knees and sliding over. I remember it because of the look on Mike's face. Hmm! Not so smooth.  

     I remember the restaurant, The Library, on the upper west side of NYC where Mike lived. I remember where we sat, toward the front of the restaurant, at a table for two pushed up against the partition between the tables and the bar. While we were looking at the menus, I said, "You know I'm very bright." I have no idea if I'm 'very bright,' but everyone knows I'm verbal and will stick up for myself. I'm not the shy retiring type. Without looking up from his menu, he said, "Yes, you're one of the smartest people I've ever met." Wow! 

   I wasn't concerned about how bright he thought I was; I noticed he wasn't afraid of me. That was a biggie. I also remember him talking about his accomplishments and not being as comfortable or secure as when he spoke of my intelligence. I marked that as a warning. Wherever we're insecure, we're a danger to others. (I consider overly controlling people insecure. Why else would they be controlling?) I don't remember much else about the rest of the date. I am trying to remember how I got home. Although it may have been the night he volunteered to drive me home, and his car had a flat tire.

      There's another flash-blub moment. Mike wrestled unsuccessfully with the jack. I offered to help. I'm good mechanically. He handed it to me with zero hesitation. "Be my guest."   

        Our second date was in a month. We went to see The Way We Were at an Upper Eastside Theater. I remember standing in line with him, not talking, and being comfortable. Wow! 

That was another moment. Huge. Someone I could be comfortable with in silence.     

      After the movie, we started walking west to return to where he had left his car. We stopped at a Baskin Robbins around the block from the movie theater. I remember sitting in seats that looked somewhat like student desks. He asked me when I would sleep with him. It was the 70s. I told him when I damn well felt like it. I also told him I thought having sex with him would be a lot of work. He received that with equanimity. Wow!  

      We left the ice cream shop and started to cross the street, Madison Ave (?), in the middle of the block. Traffic wasn't heavy at that time of night. We waited a minute for some cars to pass. While we stood there, Mike told me he was $2000 in debt. Well, that was a deal breaker. He might as well have told me he was an alcoholic. I thought, oh well. Money issues would have been huge for us. They weren't because we had enough for some wiggle room. Our different ways of relating to money did come up, but it was never a deal breaker.

     We walked across to the west side of 5th Avenue, looking in the closed shop windows as we went along. It was wonderful.

      On one occasion, Mike joined me and my sister at the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. I remember the three of us sitting on the grass in silence. Ah!

     I don't remember exactly when I was intimate with him for the first time. I remember there was an issue with my underpants. One night in a group therapy session, I reached into my dungaree overalls, which I wore at all times unless I was at work. I pulled a pair of underpants up around my ribs. They were an old stretched-out nylon pair. All my bikinis were dirty. Poor Mike steeled himself against the sight of me in those unattractive pants. I had on a pair of lavender bikinis. He was delighted. The sex was okay, good enough for a lifetime. That was the night I discovered his peculiar sleeping habits. He had to sleep at the far side of the bed without physical contact, and he wrapped a pillow over his eyes. The last one persisted.

    I think it was that night that I called my mom and told her I had met the man I would spend the rest of my life with. It was a good call.  

   I had one other flashbulb memory, but not of Mike, of Damon. We were in a grocery store shopping. Damon was about five. He announced we needed Uncle Ben's Perverted Rice. I had a good laugh. All those moments are good for a lifetime, especially since the others were pretty good, too. I was one lucky lady.