With a Little Help From my Sisters

My morning began with my alarm and an irritating email from my mom. I’ll save the diatribes on my mom for a later date when I have copious amounts of vodka and sedatives. I simply don’t think I can currently stomach getting into the feelings she brings up inside up. Needless to say though our relationship is less than copacetic.

So an hour later I get to therapy upon which I launch into the hour with utter anger of me just bitching nonstop about my mom and other things that have been building up inside me. My therapist commented that usually I’m rather humorous about my problems and pain and that the way I described things often makes here want to chuckle, but she knows better. This reminds me of my father and all of the ways of which this abusive, worthless bastard beat me down in every way you can think of and how I eventually learned to disappear within myself. Over time I learned that the only way I could possibly express any pain, or myself, was through sarcasm. Let’s just say that a lot of unplanned things came out in therapy today.

By the end of my session I felt like a balloon that had shrieked across the room loosing air along the way only to end up shriveled up on the floor completely sad and deflated. It hit me all at once and all I could do was cry. Then all I wanted to do was drink.

I left therapy, ran errands, got myself home to get ready for 5 year anniversary fundraiser for an organization (keeping the name anon  that I am a part of. The org trains and supports Democratic women who want to run for political office.

I finally left my place in an outfit that I wasn’t entirely happy with. I feel so much pressure to try to fit in with these women in politics. I have next to nothing in common with them other than the fact that we want more Democratic women in political office. I’m the only Native woman, probably the only bi woman, one of the few with chronic health issues, so and so forth. I just don’t feel like one of them. I try to talk to them and most of them are white, married, own homes, traditional living and what not. What on Earth do I have in common with them?! So yeah, I was stressed leaving my place because I knew no matter what I wore I wouldn’t fit in.

So I get to the building and get the run around from various people blah blah and finally get to where I’m supposed to be. I’m stressed out and in pain from standing and walking what would be nothing worth mentioning to a health bodied person, but for me was rather awful. I felt like turning around and going back home, but I couldn’t. I made a commitment. Part of me wanted to be there too. Sick, huh?

Being the ever giving good Samaritan I voluntered for part of the event…or at least that’s what I thought I was doing. It became quickly apparent though that it was somehow expected that I’d volunteer the entire event. I never agreed to this. I was bit aggravated by this, but whatever. I’d do my bit and once things had died down I’d enjoy myself. Ooooh except that the event didn’t have chairs. It was a standing room only event. Yes, that’s right, because every person is  totally able bodied and able to stand for two hours without any pain. It was also hot as freaking hell in that room. I spent perhaps 3o minutes in event, 15 of which were spent sitting on a window sill before another women from the org rather rudely tapped my arm and told me to get up, before I had to leave. I was in such excruciating pain that I became nausea and the room began to spin. I didn’t think I could make it out of the room with my dignity in tact. I’d had a glass of wine so of course if I feel of tripped or had the vapors or whatever the fuck you wanted to call it people would right it off as me being drunk. I was in utter agony. I couldn’t even stay and watch Sheriff Andrea Cabral-whom I adore-speak.

During this 30 minutes of ablistic inflicted torture from my progressive Dem women I listened to the speech from a fellow program graduate who currently holds office. She spoke of her fear of running for office and telling her story of having been a homeless, teen mom and survivor of domestic violence and how she still was able to make it into office with the help of her organization sisters. During her speech I kept thinking about how I should be able to run for office, and win, because if anyone understands the various issues of constituents it’s me, but no one supports me. What would my fellow “sisters” think if they all knew I”m one of those so called dirty bisexuals? Where is my advocacy org as a Native person? What about all the times in my life I’ve spoken openly about being a survivor of rape and having had an abortion? What about all of those other things that I just can’t speak openly about? Hell, my so called sisters can’t even provide goddamn chairs to sit in during our fucking fundraising event so I can participate! Who the fuck is going to support me to run for office?!

I hobbled my way out to the registration table where I originally was and there wasn’t a chair available for me to sit in. At this point it was all I could do to keep from sobbing. One of my fellow volunteers offered her chair, but of course didn’t bother to move the ridiculous amounts of crap out of the way from her chair. I was just deflated. I was out of fight.

Eventually I left the event with someone from my graduating class of ’08. We went to one of my favorite spots, the “Last Hurrah, and had a couple of drinks. We never had an opportunity to get to know each other well when we were in the program together, but I can see her being a great friend. I opened up a great deal about my feelings of alienation from the “progressive” world and irritation from the evening. I’m open about my thoughts which I believe often appear to people as my feelings, but I’m rather closed off when it comes to sharing my feelings. I’m guarded. I’ve learned I have to be guarded. I didn’t feel as on edge with her. Today/tonight may not have been stellar, but there was a surprisingly pleasant end.

Here’s a tip for you based on tonight:

Don’t sleep with people in your industry especially if it’s a rather small world. There were two people at the event tonight that I have suffered the misfortune of going to bed with. Neither of these scenarios ended well. Of course these both happened before I realized I’d be involved in politics in Boston, but I digress. Don’t have to spend an evening when you feel like utter shyte dodging two assholes in an room of a couple hundred people. There just isn’t enough vodka in the world for that.

*For that sake of drunken integrity no editting was performed on this blog entry.

**Alright alright I’ll come clean and admit that I did some editting when I woke up the next day. It was simply to protect the privacy of organization that I’m involved with though so any less than excellent grammar and such is still there.


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