This one is not going to be a fun read

I know many of you read my blogs because they're fun and funny and I promise I'll get back to those at some point, but this one is not going be it.

This one is going to be dark.  It's going to be heavy.  It's going to be astoundingly personal.  It is going to be hard for me to write, but, I'm going to do it anyway.

You don't have to read it.  I will completely understand.  It may actually be a relief if you don't.

I wrote it last night and had to sleep on it before posting it.

Here goes...



Yesterday afternoon my mother called me to let me know my dad had died.

Now, before you rush to check in on me or express sympathy for my loss I'd like to clarify some very important things.

My mother left my father a long LONG time ago.

My father was an asshole.

I haven't suffered a great loss.

Or maybe I have, but it certainly wasn't the corporeal form of the man I grew up calling Dad. 

I have been carrying such a weird weighted feeling since she told me.  I just can't seem to sort out my emotions.  I feel grief and a sadness that is unexpected.

Don Ira Hirsch was a bastard.  He was mean. He was abusive.  He was a master of the mind fuck and the subtle bruise.

He would say awful shit to me.  Words I still hear in my head.  "You're worthless. Completely worthless." "Why can't you do anything right, EVER? You can't even wash the damn dishes!"  and my personal favorite. "Nobody will ever love you, you know. You're fat and stupid and nobody loves girls like that." Sometimes they would be stage whispered in my ear.  Sometimes screamed in my face.  Sometimes barked like an order while he made me suck in my stomach and push it out over and over again in some bizarre ritual that was supposed to help me lose weight while gaining shame.

Sometimes he would hit me. Sometimes he would grab my arms and shake me so hard he'd leave finger print bruises.  His favorite weapon of choice, though, was his belt.  Lord have mercy if you heard him undo his buckle or the "vvvvvvvwwwip" sound of it pulling through the belt loops.

As a kid, I didn't understand.  I couldn't wrap my mind around the idea that this man who was SUPPOSED to love me just... didn't.  I thought that someday he'd change and be my dad.  Someday I'd be good enough to warrant it.

I remember the moment I realized that was never going to happen.  A friends older brother hurt me.  He had jammed my head between the mattress and the headboard of his parent's bed and the pressure had made me pass out.  I told Don about it expecting... hoping... that he would be upset.  This was it!  A chance for him to dad-up and defend his little girl.  I knew, I just KNEW in my heart that this was the moment where he'd knight-in-shining armor and scoop me somewhere safe and rush over to the kid's parent's and they'd talk and whatever it is grownups do.  I'd have the dad that everybody on TV seemed to have.

Instead he asked me if I liked it and then smacked me when I sarcastically answered "Yeah, dad.  It was great."

I was pretty disappointed in his response.  But it was a lesson I needed to learn.

In retrospect, the worst was that he loved to try to make me hate my sister almost as much as he loved to make me hate myself.  He would do everything in his power to separate us. To divide us. To let me know JUST how much he loved her and JUST how little he cared about me.  He doted on her... she had a room, and dolls and books and a canopy bed (SO jelly).  I had a dusty couch, whatever I brought with me from moms, and a couple of trinkets that he had been forced to purchase.

I don't know how much my sister remembers.  She was so little and he hid his dark side from her.   I've never asked her and, Dudie... if you are reading this... I never will.  I don't want to compare notes.  All that matters is that I'm sorry we had to go through that.  I love you so much.  You are amazing and beautiful and wonderful and my heart would be lost without you.  He didn't win.  We did.  It took a while, but WE WON.

All of this is ancient history.  I'm not even sure why I'm writing about it. I haven't spoken to the man since I was in high school.  I carry his scars, but I've dealt with most of my anger.  I haven't even really thought about him in forever.

Yet... YEEEEET here I am.  Struggling with a case of the feels. 

I think if I hadn't passed the angry phase maybe I'd just feel happy.  Fuck him.  He's dead.  Burn and rot and piss on your grave and all that, you fucker.

But, I don't.  I don't feel happy he's dead. I feel vaguely sad.

My friend suggested today that I was sad because a spark of hope was now extinguished.  That I'd kept it locked up tight, but, now that it was taken away from me I was feeling its loss.

My friend is not without smarts.

The truth is there are many reasons I'm feeling weird about this.  I haven't had a chance to analyze all of them yet, and maybe I won't ever be able to.  But the one I can see clearly is this: I'm sad because I will never get a dad.  Not a real one.  Not the kind I deserved.  I'm sad because it's really truly over.  There will be no reunion.  He won't tell me he was wrong and that I AM amazing.  The little girl in me will never have the dad who hugs and protects and loves her. 

It's done.  It's really over now.

And... as I've been writing this I've started to realize that can be okay. 

My past shaped me.  I wouldn't be who I am without it and, frankly, my life today is full of amazing people that I wouldn't trade for the world.  The healing strength of the people who don't have to love me, but do far outweighs the pain of a man who was supposed to, but didn't. I am so grateful for that.

So, it's time to work on letting it (and him) go.

Sing me out, Elsa...

It's been a long time... I shouldn't have left you... left you...

... without a dope beat to step to... step to... step to... step to... step to... step to.... fricky-fricky-fricky.

Whew.  That totally had to happen.  It started with the thought that "It's been a long time" as I looked at the date of my last blog and it just tumbled into Aaliyah lyrics that had to come out.

Like some kind of lyrical face hugger.

Friends, I'm not going to lie... I have no idea how to make tonight's blog have any sort of form or substance.  I've been kind of all over the place lately and figure that's as authentic as it's gonna get, might as well write that shit down in whatever order it comes tumbling out. 

And if at first I don't succeed...first I don't succeed... (in adequately explaining something), I'll just dust myself off and try again - try again (with another blog at a later time). 

See what I did there?  BAM!  More Aaliyah.

Okay... back to business.  What's been going on with the Mamers?  I'm gonna start rambling and see where this goes.

I have been very busy doing almost nothing of any relevance.

I no longer have a job.  I have not heard anything from the jobs I've applied for.  I have no money because my previous company hasn't paid me out for, well, anything yet.  I lack energy at pretty much any time of the day, yet my brain is buzzing constantly.  I'm a bit sad, and a bit hopeless lately.  I may or may not have cried for no reason this afternoon.

**Whoa, that... this is a bit of a darker tone.  Didn't see it going here, but let's continue**


Folks, this feels an awful lot like a little bit of depression.  I think I heard a rumor that it's pretty common after this surgery to have an encounter with it.  In MY case,  this is a feeling I am quite familiar with as I have battled this douchebag most, if not all, of my adult life.


Mamy you don't SEEM depressed.  You're even making jokes in your blog!  Right now!!  This very second!

RIGHT YOU ARE!

It has always been the case with me that I can push it back and try for the smile.  For years and years I've been able to do that.  Because I honestly believe that the tiniest light chips away at it's roots and, man, isn't that the better option?  I would rather feel that then give up.  Also... my drug of choice has ALWAYS been people.  So when I see you my smile is genuine, my heart is happy and my hug is so very real. You light up my life and chase away all the sad, bad, stupid shit.  It is washed away in the glittering incandescence of you being you. If you ask, I'll probably tell you that I'm fine and, in that moment, I truly will be. 

Kinda makes it hard for you, my sweet friends and loves, to figure out where I am when I say things like "I might be depressed".  It's a big statement that has so much stigma and confusion around it, so I'll make you a promise.   I solemnly swear to tell you if I need you.  Cross my heart.

And, rest assured, I am fighting the urge to stop trying and just relax into it.

I'm mean... pretty sure I've heard from reliable sources that it hurts less if you just relax into it, but I'm not gonna do thaaa.... no... no wait... that's not what they were talking about... they were talking about anal.  Totally different conversation.  My bad.  ;)

I'll be okay.  I know I will.  The blues haven't beat me yet.  I just need to sort things out and come up with a game plan.  Lists.  I need lists.  I need to write down the things I need to do to get the things done that need to be done.   I'm no good without a game plan.

And good stuff IS happening!!  Evan is coming to town!  And I'm going to see Empire Records and Tyrone Wells!  And I've lost about 60 lbs and I have you!

I never planned on writing this particular blog and have been back and forth about posting it, oh, you know, eleventy-billion times.   I don't want it to seem like a whiny story or a cry for help or a guilt trip.


This blog is supposed to be an account of my year.  It is supposed to be a creative outlet for me to work with what I'm good at.  Just posting a highlight reel doesn't feel legit.  Besides, so many people have told me that the thing they love about my blog is its honesty.  I'd hate to lie through omission. 


I love you guys.
~ Mamy ~



P.S.  Aaliyah - Try Again.  BAM!

Life Bomb #2 - in which I volunteer for a lay off.

Hi Friends,

Today I'm gonna blog about something that's not related to my weight loss.  I never intended this blog to be specifically about that journey anyway, it has just been my major source of bloggy inspiration of late.

I guess I should say it's been the major source that I've felt the most comfortable talking about.  Which is a weird notion that probably deserves a blog of it's own at a later time. I'll just add that to my list of stuff to blog about... somewhere right after my blog about Pratt vs. Evans (Who makes a better Chris???).

Anyway... today I want to blog about work, or, more correctly, the fact that today was my last day.

You read that right.  Today was my very last day with Northrop Grumman.  I am no longer employed by them. Last November (I'm pretty sure it was the same day I found out I was approved for the surgery) I put in for a voluntary lay off. 

That week was the start of the year of me as far as I am concerned.  I did willfully and knowingly decide that I was going to blow my life apart at the start of this year.  I had this notion that I wanted 2015 to be a fresh start.  I wanted to burn everything to the ground because I truly felt like it was the only way I would rebuild a life the way I wanted it to be.  Healthy.  Happy.  In all aspects of my life.  I wanted to remove the stagnant and toxic and move forward.

It felt so right then.  I remember pushing the "send" button on the email and being so excited it felt like my blood was carbonated.  It still feels right now, but, along the way that feeling got mixed with this idea that I've done something very foolish.

This is, and always will be, one of my biggest weaknesses.  I hear too many voices.  My own voice gets lost in the cacophony of others and I doubt my decisions.

Fortunately (unfortunately??) my decision was made at the end of the year and after mid-December there was no going back.  I was strapped into the lay-off train and we were heading out of the station.

This morning I signed the final paperwork.  I said good-bye to some of the most lovely and wonderful people I have ever known.  I was gifted BEAUTIFUL flowers and sweet words on a card and I cried when I hugged my 40-hour-a-week-friends* adieu.

So here I am.   Sitting at my computer.  Unemployed.**  Terrified.  Excited.  Looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow and praying that the urge to leave the comfortable will lead to the good things I so hope it will.

Fingers crossed my voice was the right one to listen to.

Love you guys,
~ Mamy ~



* Please note: 40 hours a week is more than most people spend with their families.
** If anybody has any leads on great jobs for awesome people (coughMEcough) feel free to hit me up.  I have resumes!!  ;)
*** Cash has volunteered to start hunting for our food, should we need it. #gameplan