Hoarding III
Think I'll start this round of psychopations with some positive affirmation. The proposed mechanic's bay feels more valid than ever. The only real improvement I've made in this old, ramshackle, 2 walled barn is a bit of clean-up and installing electricity, but it is, without even a close second, the best shade tree I've ever mechanicked under. Don't tell the macho boys or girlie girls, but I've mechanicked under ALLOT of shade trees. I don't really keep it a secret from anybody, but I most certainly don't want to listen to yet another round of the tedious, multi-generation debate. Especially not the macho boy and girlie girl take on ^it^.
I still don't know if the mechanic's bay vision will ever fullfill, but it really rocks as a galvanized metal shade tree. The open sides of the barn catch every breeze and a most excellant chill spot, even on a hot day. Sunrise is spectacular from here. The two walled sides offer protection the harsher weather elements. The parks which offered the distant second best shade trees I've mechanicked under have been hampered by the public exposure. The sight of a woman tinkering on a car draws far more controversy than this shade-tree mechanic can handle. Pro or con, please don't interrupt my work with another round of that peopleshit. I'm psycho enough already.
I'm beginning to feel like there is hope for Tiggy. The worst of the toxic accumulations have been scraped out of the interior and washing the grime off the exterior revealed more undamaged parts than damaged ones. Most of his exterior shined up to what I would expect from a 2 year old vehichle. The build-ups in the interior are just now scraped far enough to reach the stains beneath the clutter. We see how that goes.
The psychopations attached to this snot knot in the family dysfunction pile might be settling far enough that I can tackle them without triggering into flashback sequences. Maybe. Testing, one, two three. . .
Reports from GS's first week of kindergarten are scary. Breathing. . .
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I nearly created a new "Dumb Broad" entry for this psychopation, but my tool of compartmentalizing my psychoses(pl) wasnae ever considered a long term solution in my strictly personal psychotherapy. the theory is that separating the issues makes them easier to sort through. If I live that long, the ultimate goal is to re-integrate the broken pieces of myself into a healthier whole. I.F. I live that long. . . Child sex trafficking can break a psyche in more ways than psychology has had time to name, much less measure. Religion and gossip have had plenty of time to come up with a colorful array of names which are more problem than solution.
Of course the puppets of The Dumb Broad Show are clamoring for their place in the proposed mechanic's bay. The supporters who want to put their preferred words in my mouth way while acting as their politically correct poster child are every bit as noisy and destructively chaotic as the opponents who block my every move with harsh criticism, etc. Does a confused, beaten crazy bitch wolf really care which advancing army is the rightest of the rights? Triple howl yowl as I tuck my tail between my legs and run for the hills. Neither army will be helpful in fixing a carburetor. Keep your fucking warfare out of my mechanic's bay!!!
Dare I give myself another round of positive affirmation for how easily that cast of puppets in my head are falling silent during this round of psychopation? Nah. . . Nothing gets the cast of that show more riled than the idea of being disregarded, altogether. Better if I donae call the attention of either army to the fact that that is what I am attempting to do.
I have had some genuinely awesome mentors in my fractured and unaccredited engineering career. Some of them were so amazing that I wonder if they were angels masquerading as mechanics and engineers. Most of them were good fathers who noticed the scars of my childhood faster than I did, myself. They neither took advantage of those scars, nor tried to *fix* me. They were task-oriented men in my presence. When my cPTSD symptoms arose, including the acting out of sexual abuse, they responded like caring grown-ups. "Stop that, Child! Stay focused on the work at hand."
Am I beginning to respond the the "Dumb Broad" voices by listening for their quiet, gentle voices? How did that happen?
Leaving that mystery be, I find myself gaining gentle smiles by their opinions of those advancing armies. Did I get that image of advancing armies from one or more of them? For sure, many of them are combat veterans.
I really like your descriptions here Arfie. I think to a certain extent I’ve tried “compartmentalizing” my “history” into different small bites that are easier to digest and swallow (sort to speak). Sometimes it worked great & others it backfired.
Keep going, Arfie. I’m right beside you.
I love you mechanic garage BTW. Having lived your way, I remember well the heat, & having open air circulation going while working hard on summer days is a godsend. I’ve been cleaning up & restoring old pieces of furniture the past few days & my screened in porch is better than inside with A/C (less fume build up), I understand the logic & agree (as a teen I also used to help my uncle tinker with his Porsches in the garage in summers and it was miserable hot, sticky & sweaty. Would have loved your garage).
Best of luck to you as you continue working on “Tiggy” & processing along the way. Big hugs & support.
The mecanic's bay only takes half of the sheltered wall in this barn. It's a BIG barn.
A furniture finishing shop would fit nifty on the other end of that sheltered wall. The open walls would minimize fume build-up while still sheltering the wet varnishes, etc.
There is space reserved for a woodshop inside the proposed honey barn, but it isn't really big enough for furniture finishing. It is a comfortable space for building bee boxes, etc., but not much else.