Little Green Men

I'm pretty convinced I've been abducted by aliens.

Full on abducted, brought up to the Mothership, had some sort of probe and that my actual self is still floating somewhere in space as the shell of my former self, all altered and tampered with was sent back down to Earth.

I hardly recognize myself. Had I been able to see myself now a year ago, I would have likely punched myself in the face. Awash in my own cynicism and mockery. Who IS this freakishly mushy estrogen filled woman and what have you done with the callous and evil person who once stood proudly in her place?

It's like a car accident really. A big mess you can't help but watch. I can't bring myself to look away. In retrospect mind you.

I think back a year ago, to my scorn and rejection. To my continued failures time and time again. My innate closedoffedness to everything with a penis. Rat bastards the lot of them.

My mind full of cheating and lies and bad treatment. Years of it. Blocks of ice built up around myself like an igloo. Turning me into a Paula Abdul chorus..."Co Co Co Cold Hearted....Oooh ah ah"

Here I am a year later. 365 calendar days and I am hardly recognizable. Like a massive thaw after the ice age, I feel. FEEL! Me the uber bitter bitch who thought I would never let myself fall, too weary of the pain of hitting the ground below.

Here I am with thoughts of happiness, of love and dreams. WHAT THE DEUCE?!

I actually found myself crying last night. Not the normal tears of woe is me, but for another reason. More real, tender. Emotional.

An ad on TV for a local Boston hospital…strange premise I know, but it was the hospital my father had his artificial heart valve surgery. It was an ad for an older gentleman singing the praises of said hospital and thankful for his artificial heart. I lost it. Sad because of the loss of my father yes, since I miss him every day, but sadder that I am finally happy. Beyond happy and with someone I envision the duration of my ridiculous life with and he will never meet him. Never share silly stories with or shake his hand.

I have no doubt my father would love him. He’s a good man. A pain in the ass at times, but hell so was my dad. A perpetual goofball who adores me and moreover my son. Who is an amazing dad to his own kids. And it made me sad that they would never meet. Made me sad knowing that when he and I met it was right around the death of my father. Strange how life works.

And these thoughts are a constant now. Not a when-will-the-bottom-fall-out-of-my-life type of thought process, but a I-am-starting-to-see-the-light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel kind. And this time, it’s not a freaking train barreling down the tracks, honking its horn loudly as if to say “Ha Ha” right before it plows right into me.

I wonder if they were little green men...