The most mundane thing becomes a battle when you have DID

***Language warning: this post may (naw, will) contain language that may be considered inappropriate for children (inside or outside) under the age of 14. Or 17. Or whatever the frig.***

Took the kiddos and the dog for a walk today. Nice, normal thing, right? Like every other parent with kids who don't hate being around them and a dog that can lay a guilt trip by looking longingly at his leash. No. Big. Deal.

'Cept when you have DID it is a big deal. Or a Big Deal, as Shea likes to write, cuz she likes to use capitals in Weird Places. Ha.

So we're walkin maybe six blocks to a gas station, gettin a snack, and walkin back. Like a totally freakin normal person. In 90° weather, but hey, that's a whole 'nother issue.

Ok, so there's this one real busy street we have to cross. We got the crosswalk. We got cute kiddos tryin in their cute kid way to wave down traffic so we can cross the street. We got the dog, the master of guilt trips, tongue hangin out Odie-style. Y'know, it's state law that drivers have to stop for people waitin in a crosswalk. But no one cares. Unless you're the one tryin to cross.

Somethin like ten cars go by before there's a break, and we make a run for it. The car comin up, which was waaaay down the street but sped up as soon as we got in the crosswalk, whooshed by about a foot away from me in the freakin crosswalk.

I'm thinkin, hey fuckers, where the hell do you have to be so fast that you're gonna run down a mom and her kids and her dog? Can't you see the innocence (at least in the dog's eyes), the epitome of family values that has long been mourned? Can't you FUCKING SLOW DOWN???

Right, cos it's my job to protect the Family and I do it in my own charming way, but trust me on this: I get it done. No doubt. I get it done.

Well, this gets others inside all riled up, cos now I've apparently started either a party or a war and either way, they want in. The car's long gone, of course, sped off to almost-hit some other living icon of integrity and modesty.

We get our snacks and the dog waits mostly patiently, hooked up to a dog leash cable on the side of the building. I don't deal with the gettin the food part cos I'm pissed about the driver and I know my smile will look scary to the clerk. So Shea takes over. Ok, cool, no problem.

On the way home, this tiny is-it-really-a dog comes boundin out of its backyard to come play with our dog. 'S cool, cos we take our dog to dog parks and stuff so he gets socialized, and he ain't gonna bite another dog unless he gets attacked first. This little dog could maybe take on a dung beetle.Then the dog owners come out, a man maybe in his 40's and another guy looks like his father.

Father growls at the Bittydog, "You come her right now or I'm gonna beat your ass! Get over here! I swear I'll beat your goddamn fuckin ass." He finally grabs the dog and we're afraid he's gonna beat the dog in front of us. Or worse, start beating someone else.

"Yeah, that's right," the son says. "Threaten the dog in front of little kids. Important educational moment of the day." He turns to me and apologizes. Shea says something sweet, how it's no problem, how that's why we take the dog to the dog park so he can socialize with other dogs and stuff. We walk on, hearing the abusive language from the dad continue into the house.

The kids are kinda scared and say they don't like the way that man treated his dog. Yeah, we didn't like it either, but what can we do? That will not put us in danger? Remember, little kiddos, guilt-trip meister dog, dissociating mother... giving this man a lesson in animal respect seems like a Bad Idea, to use Shea's capitals.

We walk on. And now Angry Woman has made herself the life of the party. She thinks it'd be a really cool idea to follow the car driver and the dog owner beyond our encounter and see what they really thought of us. Kind of like a hidden camera, cept there's no camera and she could be makin it all up. But once she's started this movie, I can't really make it stop. All I can do is get the Little Ones into their rooms or with a responsible adult (hahaha) cos they're the ones who will hurt the most with these games. They always are.

Gift #1 she gives us the driver. Doesn't see us, doesn't see the cute kids, the goofy dog, the waving to slow him down until it's too late. "Wait for a fucking break in traffic!" he yells at us through his windshield. "Idiots! Don't you know you cross when the road is clear. Why the fuck in front of me? Well, I'll teach her a lesson." ===swooshes=== past me, takes a last look at the four of us running up onto the curb. "Fuckin bitch," he growls as he speeds off.

Gift #2 she gives us the dog-hating dad. Scared our ferocious guilt-inducing, tongue-lolling goofy dog will do harm to his babykins, he wants the dog back inside NOW. And he gets what he wants with threats of violence. Been that way all his life and it always works. He comes out, threatens the dog, gets him back inside, but no thanks to the fat bitch mother who's standing clueless on the sidewalk, or her two evil offspring who don't have an ounce of sense between the two of em. She tells one kid to keep walkin with the dog, like that's gonna help. Then she gets a clue and keeps walkin, best as her fat ugly body will keep up with her. Fat cow. She's probably poor, too. People like her shouldn't have kids or own dogs. Or houses. Or be allowed to walk on the sidewalk. Pfft. Good riddance.

I did a pretty good job of protection. We got through that mostly unscathed. Then a little later, we got an email with a glowing recommendation of our work that's just been published to the Internet. Just really really nice. Shea cried. And then Angry Woman stepped in again, with this gem of support:

"Those are some very nice things said about you, but don't let it go to your head. It's just one person's opinion. There's no guarantee this will help your business any. You can't rest on your laurels here. And remember you have a husband and children who depend on you , and you can't be there for them if you're off chasing your dreams. Better to have a more secure backup plan. Besides, probably no one will read that review, and if they do, they'll think the reviewer knows you. They're nice words, but that's all they are. You need to stop admiring yourself and take care of those around you."

The scary thing is that we all, internally, agreed that these very words had, in some permutation, indeed come from our mother's mouth.

We're fightin Angry Woman's words, but there's still a shred of truth buried in there, whether it's havin heard criticisms and knockdowns all our life, or natural self-doubt that, without her to amplify it, would be totally normal.

By the time we got home, the kiddos were hot, the dog was hot and sheddin hair all over Pig-Pen style, and we felt like if we didn't get it together and focus and do something productive, we were gonna internalize the fuckin fat cow bitch comments or the you have no right to feel good comments, and someone was gonna start wantin to cut or self-harm in some way.

So we updated a very old bank account, makin entries, reconciling many months, and before long, the walk was just a bad dream. Until the next thing comes up. And then I'll still be ready. Cos it's what I do.

Tracy