I Don't Wanna Talk (I Just Wanna Dance)--Glass Animals

Thank God that I only had to deal with this lady for about an hour and a half today. It’s a good thing that she didn’t stay the whole two hours because I don’t know that I could have sat here the whole time without eventually being like WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, LADY?!?!

We talked about fires. I am not sure why this lady keeps bringing it up but every time she comes here, I have added a new candle to the growing collection on the kitchen counter (besides some icing-crusted birthday candles there are a whopping four). The latest two have Jesus on them and I’m pretty sure they’re made for super religious people or something, but, they were on sale and it’s almost Zombie Jesus Day, so I found it pretty fitting and I can light each one and say a prayer for each child. It seemed right to me. I didn’t share any of this with the woman who comes to teach me about bad parenting. 

Well, anyway, today she tells me about her brother setting shredded paper in bags by the kindling on their back porch on fire with a lighter. TWICE. And both times he ran away and the mom put the fire out and the Dad “wore him out” when he got home from work. And I’m like ooooookkkkkkkk….and proceed to say that I guessed that we learned about how to deal with fires because our family goes camping every year and we were taught how to make a fire with a big ring of stones and when breaking camp, you separate all the remaining coals and pour water over everything until there is no more smoke at all so there aren’t forest fires. 

What I don’t understand about any of this is that—and let’s be clear: I was prepared to teach people how to teach other people English as a subject for higher education—what I understood about teaching is that making a connection is important to a degree, but coming to a basic understanding of what their knowledge is about whatever the subject is and then working from there is also pretty fucking important. So is having a lesson plan and being able to stick to it even when being distracted. I've tried it before. I didn't particularly like it but I know how it's supposed to be done. What am I to understand when every conversation with this lady has an ever increasing severity of alarming behavior related therein? That she is purely a psychopath? Or that she has no idea what she’s doing for her job and so is sharing really “relatable” stories to me in some kind of weird effort to get me to confess..what exactly? That I’ve yelled at my kids? I told her today, the kids act like they’re offended by yelling but we’re all yelling all the time just in a different sort of way. I told her about yelling at them the other morning for waking me up to tell me they were worried that they wouldn’t get enough sleep and I’m like uh…wake from a dead sleep and suddenly I’m like uh yeah, me too! Now I’m worried about it and when I woke up later that morning, instantly angry about it I got up and yelled at everyone about guess what guys!!! You weren’t very nice to me and woke me up and now I’m mad about it, it’s time to get up, then I turn on music and yell about being tired again before they get ready and go on to school. And over the weekend I yelled at Addison about her not pulling out to make a left turn during church traffic! How horrible! Yes, was I being overly dramatic? Could I have stifled myself and we all have been a little happier, maybe. But I didn't I yelled because I'm afraid to die while listening to someone else's playlist!

Part of what she said today was that her niece and her daughter would fight so much that she felt like she was just the referee and mimed pulling them apart. I don’t think I even bother to hide my horror at all anymore because what is the fucking point??? If you aren’t telling me this because you are trying to increase the shock value to eventually provoke some particular response—I’m not quite sure yet what that is—then what are you even doing? Are you actually a complete and utter psychopath or moron or both? What is happening here? 

What I wanted to say at this point is that I don’t even allow my kids to fight in the house. If they want to hit each other, they have to go outside in the front yard or the street or something [lol, like the hooligans they are *shaking my fist in the air while I tell the kids to get off the grass*]. How I wanted to respond to this tidbit here was not how things went. She wanted to leave, she kept looking at her phone. Her kid texts incessantly and calls her multiple times sometimes, which I can totally understand, so at least some of what she says may be true? Who really knows or cares? Once I’m done writing this, I’m done with that whole situation. BUT ANYWAY, back to my kids. They can fight, that’s fine, but it better not get beyond some quiet squabbling because if I hear anything more than that I’m intervening or yelling too and it gets really annoying if every one is yelling, “Mah-ooooooooooooom!!!!” like three different Quinns. Because, sometimes I will either join in at yelling for Mom or yell, “Kids!” Or, “I heard everything from in here and you are gonna have to settle that between yourselves! That’s kid’s stuff!!” Because it is! And I cannot always hear exactly what was said in the other rooms, but most of the time I can tell it’s not that serious. It never really is. Sometimes, if I am privy to the whole argument—usually a “joke” at the other’s expense that falls flat, then I will intervene and say, “Hey, that’s not very nice!” when necessary. 

During these...meetings I am quite reluctant to deem classes, it sometimes it feels like I barely get a word in edgewise. Today she had told me she wasn’t going to stay the whole time so it seemed even more rushed on her part, to tell me all these weird and differently shocking things. And unless I interrupt her (and even then she looks offended and STARTS BACK WHERE SHE LEFT OFF LIKE I HAD NEVER SAID ANYTHING IN THE FIRST PLACE) and anyway… She made a whole big deal about describing in detail what empathy is—putting yourself in someone else’s shoes—and then asks me about it and I’m like but of course, because that’s how I actually feel about everything. What if that was you? I wanted to ask her if she ever thought about that lady that in last week’s story whom she claimed to have thrown the marker at her head, but I didn’t because I figured it wasn’t very nice to point out other’s bad behavior. Not only are you a grown up motherfucker, but you should actually know more than I fucking do on this subject if it is your goddamn job to be able to teach other people to do it. I honestly don’t know what to make of it. 

Unusually preoccupied with fire, as always, she brings up her daughter has taught another small child how to light a lighter and that’s how that whole brother lighting the back porch on fire story started. And I had said that Steven had taught them at the 4th of July. But maybe it was really only Bella and maybe Addison who didn’t know? I’m not completely sure but that’s not the most important thing because, and she’s said this at least once before, if not multiple times as a passing comment, but she keeps saying that all kids are bad. And today I just couldn’t let that go. I did say something. I said that I don’t really believe that because I was the kid who didn’t want to ruffle feathers, cause problems, get into trouble, be the reason that there is unnecessary conflict. This lead to me saying that I would rather just avoid any sort of conflict or whatever with seeing the same MH provider as my children. (Why would I change something again if it's unnecessary?) I don’t get it, but anyway, I told her that I had stopped seeing the therapist here mainly because she would cancel a lot at the last minute and that me and one of the kids had the same therapist for a little bit but that I had to stop seeing them because I needed to be more consistent with when I was being seen. I never had a chance to tell the lady that my actual past therapist was always ill too, and I knew that, which is why I wasn’t angry about the situation, but I didn’t get to comment on any of that at all, of course. Not only that, but the fact that she immediately went on a whole rant about turning in someone (look it was confusing because she was talking about two different things and then she switched in the middle and I just don’t ask questions if I can help it BECAUSE IT’S QUICKER) to their staff manager or some shit like that because they had kept cancelling client’s appointments and she “wasn’t doing her job” and my comment, which I have said before and I will say it again, if you can’t be kind to the people that you are serving as part of your position, be it teacher, doctor, or literally any other profession where you interact with other people at any time, if you can’t have the decency to both be competent at your job and also be prepared to learn new things, ask for help, be humble when you don’t know something, let someone correct you while doing something incorrectly to show you the proper way…OR if, in any of those situations, or any other situation that has to do with your job you can’t NOT ACT LIKE A COMPLETELY DERANGED PSYCHO then WHY ON GOD’S FUCKING EARTH WOULD YOU TAKE SUCH AN IMPORTANT, PEOPLE-CENTRIC POSITION!?!?!?! 

[Side Note: Like, I don’t care how many times that you tell me that serial killers play in candles, I’m still gonna pour hot wax right out onto this table glass whenever I feel like it and make a little wax sculpture out of it JUST BECAUSE I WANT TO!!!]

And the truth of it is that a lot of there pressure to remain in a job that you're neither good at or qualified for is that we live in a capitalist society. Because what I am really hearing is that this lady is struggling. And not just in her personal life. It really seems like she is struggling to also understand what it takes to be a "professional" at work. (Believe me, I know exactly what it takes, I am just unwilling to do it for any amount of money--corporate ass-kissing will never be something that I secretly yearn for) I believe I said that in my other post (not the very last one, I was a little hangry, I will admit, while writing that last one), and that she, like me and everyone else, probably needs some therapy or a friend in which to confide. Probably a job or even--dare I say it--a CAREER change?!?! Possibly some more job training, education, and an etiquette lesson. I have a list. But that is neither here nor there. This is the job she has and she has to go to it every day so that she can raise her own children, however poorly she likes. I decided that I didn’t want to do that kind of thing as a job. No office, no boss, no quota, no baseline. People I meet and help in my life aren’t a quota to meet, a baseline to hit. When I commit myself to helping someone, I usually do it simply out of the goodness of my heart, because to NOT do it —whatever the sometimes small and simple kind task may be—would pain my heart so and weigh on my soul. 

I guess I just keep coming back to the help not being worth getting sometimes. The hoops that you have to jump through to receive the bare minimum help in a situation in which you haven’t ever lived before... Of course you’re going to trust that whoever has come claiming to be able to help you will be capable of doing so. But. Don’t sit in my tiny kitchen and tell me that all children are bad. A person who says that all children are bad must truly be a non-empathetic and especially non-clairvoyant asshole. All children are tiny clones of the people around them. The learn what they see, they say things that they hear, they do things that they see other people doing. They know what is ingrained in their genes from before they were born because of the trauma of their lineage. Pick up a journal article and read some cutting-edge science. Do anything to educate yourself on any of the things that you should not only already have an extensive knowledge of, but should also always be staying abreast of for the sake of always knowing the latest advancements in your field. But, please, for the love of God, do not blame these little children for their environments and do not label them all bad.

The post before last, I was very careful to say how can I sit in judgement of others and still learn? Now I am saying, you know what, “yeah, I don’t believe all kids are bad because I lived it. I never waned to be bad. I never wanted to get into trouble.” The truth is that the few times that I got into “trouble” it was because I didn’t understand either the rules of the society (like a fucking new human), because I was defending myself, or because I didn’t understand the rules of the environment, be it home, out in public, at church, at school, as a visitor in someone’s home, as a hostess in a home, or even at a job. I may not be able to say anything (can you imagine how long the conversations would be if I commented on everything that I wanted to!?!?!) or even do anything about all the other crazy fucking stories that I hear every time I see this lady, but I can come here and let you guys know all about it.

So just to wrap up, come back to the campfire circle with me and put a stick in the flames. We have rules around here, ya know. I’d tell you what they are, but then I’d have to make you ACTUALLY learn something USEFUL, and who has time for that? 

Don’t forget to tip your servers and tell people when they suck! Thanks for coming to my BethTalk.

3WW—alt-J

I changed my mind; you can do whatever you want with the following information, I no longer care….

I was supposed to be having a parenting class to help me with my teenager who hates going to school. I’m already disgruntled because his…ahem… father couldn’t parent himself out of a wet paper bag. BUT WHATEVER. 

So the first day she’s really late. Ok whatever. Move on, do the thing, put in the effort. Be polite, respond to questions, ask for clarification…

As the weeks go by, she is helplessly and relentlessly late, sometimes hours so, and her stories get more and more horrifying with each visit. 

First she tells me about leaving her toddler with cleaning supplies in reach and finding him mixing them together!?!?

Then she tells me that she taught her niece to ask the boys a the school dance to buy her snacks so she didn’t have to spend her money.

Ok yiiiiikkkkkeeeeessss….and all this time I am at a loss of how to respond, I just keep saying, “Wow,” and, “okay,” and praying to god the horror on my face is not as apparent as it feels. 

Last week she told me about throwing a marker at a woman at the social security office and wanting it to hit her but she ducked. (What. The. Fuck.) And then she laughed about it. I didn’t hide my shock and horror or bother trying. I said any time anyone in a position like that had been rude or unnecessarily mean to me I just cried, even if I was mad sad whatever, tears every time. Tears and just leave to avoid further abuse from the offending party. 

Week after week I relate all of this to my buddies at work in a lighthearted manner. I laugh about it a lot because if I didn’t laugh, I would be crying. 

One week she brought another lady and I am hoping that this is her replacement that she’s training, because she was much more suitable for the position, even if she didn’t remember my name. She seemed very sincere in wanting to help others. I don’t know how I feel about this other person anymore….

I want to be nice and try to be cordial but if this weren’t ending next week I’d be requesting to have a different teacher. I would genuinely like to learn things that I don’t yet know, BUT I NEED SOMEONE WISER THAN ME!!!!    

This week she tells me that her Dad made her rick all the wood as a kid but never her brother, which she didn’t understand. She said she had to throw it off the truck and then take it and rick it all up again. Still, I just said, “Wow.” I think that’s all I said. I didn’t know how to reply. All I know is that I can hardly ever get a word in edgewise before she’s on to the next, crazier story. What I wanted to say here was why on earth are you throwing all thsi wood around, why not just carry it directly from the truck to where it’s supposed to go!?!? but, AGAIN, not my place. What could I possibly know about doing anything!?! I’m in the position of needing help/assistance/being a dummo. :/

So then she tells me that she was getting called to the school all the time because they were trying to suspend her son or fail him or something anyway one story she told was getting called to the school because he used the words, “I’ll kill you!” Of course I was horrified but, hopefully kept my face from showing it (probably did not succeed but I thought about it anyway) and said that yeah you have to be careful about what you say even if it is just a “figure of speech” because children don’t know the difference. I gave the example of bleeping myself when my own children were young so that they wouldn’t continue to pick up on my propensity for such filthy language.

The story I shared was the only time that I have ever been called to go to the school that my kid wasnt sick or something and that’s when my eldest and most headstrong child decided to take a card that I had bought multiples of for all my sisters and gave it to a boy at school for valentines day. Now, a card is seemingly harmless but this one happened to have a guy wearing daisy duke jorts on it, the man posing in front of the Eiffel Tower. When I came in snickers had died down and when they asked me if I had ever seen this card I was like um yeah I bought like five the other day and lost one, OR SO I THOUGHT. And everyone thought it was hilarious, they all laughed, I laughed and apologized profusely and went on my way. Ha!

But this person’s stories??? I hope they are stories because it just kinda got worse? She talked about holding her niece down with her whole body, “to let her know everything was going to be alright.” Again, I say nothing, because what the fuck!?!? I don’t think it’s alright for anyone to hold a kid down like that against their will unless they’re in danger of actually thrashing about so much that they’re a danger to themselves—and that’s called a seizure. 

So. I just can’t. I have tried and tried with this person. I get it, I was late to everything for years and years!!! I get it…I get that lesson.,,but what about the rest of it!?!? Why did the people at your last job not like you? Why did you tell me that people have hunted you down because of your job? I kinda feel like if you were helping the people that you were supposed to be helping, maybe they wouldn’t want to hunt you down!?!? I don’t want to hunt this lady down for any reason whatsoever, and, in fact, I am hoping, after our last class, that I never have to gaze upon her visage ever again. Lord help me hold my tongue!!!

I’m supposed let things go. Dennis warned me a few years ago that I was gonna stroke out if I didn’t and today my sister reminded me of the sentiment. 

Soooooooo….FUCK IT. Come tell me how awful you are so I can go laugh about it later!!!! Simply because of how ridiculous your stories are—and I hope to fucking god that they’re stories and not the truth because BLESS ALL THEIR HEARTS!!!!

Im gonna go skateboard over to the store so I can keep us in a steady supply of pasta and sauce. 

Be real, guise. And if you can’t be real, at least stay over there!!! 

At Least I Have Nothing--Saint Motel

The first laptop computer that I ever owned I bought on credit at Office Depot and, long after it was paid off, and while I was using it every day, my ex husband put his fist to the screen in a fit of rage. It's probably written in a journal that I would have to dig around for a while to find, but I can't even recall now why we were arguing. At the time, I was devastated. I'm a writer and that was my primary way of not only doing my school work but also publishing my work to the internet on my blog. I could still use it if I plugged it up to an external monitor. That was how I worked on anything that was saved to the Toshiba after the fist smash happened. Of course, as amends for his terrible temper, violent and rash behavior, I almost immediately was allowed to order a cheap tiny shiny pink one for half the price and half the capabilities of my trusty old Toshiba. It's weird how the past sneaks up on you sometimes with an unpleasant memory of some shit that you'd rather just forget. Maybe I need to tell my story before my brain forgets, though. These things keep tugging at me like getting your belt loop caught on something suddenly when you're running for the door with your hands full. Too busy living life to slow down and take just a second. 

Sometimes being busy is a good distraction from the worries that would otherwise unnecessarily preoccupy one's mind. Sometimes being busy is an escape from thinking about the traumatic things that you lived through that you can't scrub from your memories. Unfortunately, being too busy can lead to being too distracted to both properly care for not only yourself but also others who may depend on you. 

Quiet days like today, when something unknown seems to be tugging at me, urging me to do something, something like come here to write, I find it impossible to concentrate on much else until this feeling inside me to communicate is sated, and so...

Now that I think about it, my ex husband took, traded, sold (or who knows what?!?!), or destroyed a lot of my favorite things over the years. From seemingly "insignificant" things like my favorite leather cd case, an old camera, my typewriter, gloves that belonged to my Aung Evelyn that I inherited. He was always apologizing and then attempting to replace my good-quality belongings with a shittier, cheaper version that was newer and shinier, even though it had usually cost half as much and was of poorer quality. Always dangling such things after a fight, as if the object of his apology were some kind of sick reward for sticking around. It's all just stuff, I know. Attachment leads to suffering and all...But some of the things were inherited. Some were things that could never be replaced. Some things were items of trivial value but the act of their destruction was traumatic. It makes me feel nauseous sometimes to think about all the things that I have endured at the hands of others just because I was too weak, meek, or polite to speak up, argue, or push back.

Just a few moments ago, while trying in vain to read a novel that I just am struggling to finish (it's due this week and will likely go back to the library unfinished by me), I started thinking about things that I could possibly do differently. I have been restless this morning thinking that I have something to do, or something to say. I suppose it is partly that I want to run around outside--literally--but it's suddenly too chilly for me to fool with all that this afternoon when I would be fighting against the cold of the relentless wind. So I was contemplating, unsatisfied with reading, not wanting to stare at my phone or play Minecraft, and I decided that I was ready to think about something a little different, try to gain a different perspective...

What keeps me from being a terrible person?

I KNOW, I KNOW!!! Some of you probably think that I AM ONE (ha!). But let's face it, I have never thrown something at someone while at an appointment in an office building with the intent to harm them, I haven't ever let toddlers in my care play with multiple potentially dangerous cleaning supplies while I just wasn't paying attention, I haven't ever taught my children/nieces/nephews to take advantage of the stupidity of others for their own monetary benefit, I haven't ever murdered anyone in cold blood (or hot or lukewarm blood either, for that matter), and I haven't ever kicked any puppies or old people.

I have done a shit-load of stuff that I am not proud of, said things that were hurtful to others that I will never forget and always regret, and I have abstained from action when I should have done something at all or simply taken action sooner. Those are some of the things that weigh the heaviest on me. The things that have and will affect my own children's mental health for the rest of their lives is what I worry about the most these days. I have had to come to terms that this constant worry stems from making what I think in my mind are major mistakes in the past. Does anyone else have this worry? Am I the only one concerned with what kind of people their children will grow up to be? I want to ensure that they will be strong and kind enough to not hurt other people when they are hurt! I can't be the only one concerned about these things. Surely.

Every single time I think about preparing my children for life beyond my own death, it takes me back to the conversation with Mom, all those years ago, that I always talk about here. I was just a teenager, we were in the darkened tv room, law & order playing in the background, and she had a book sliding from her her lap as she turned to grasp my arm and lean close, apologizing to me for bringing children into such a horrible world. It hurts so much because I'm here in my kitchen, typing away on a laptop that I saved up and bought just for this purpose, and, yet, at the same time, I am also in that darkened room with my Mother. Like so many of the other memories that I have and hold dear, I remember sitting there with her so close--I can still hear her words, feel the clutch of her hands upon my arm, the passion of her words. She loved us so much. I still love her so much! 

And I feel the same way about my own children as I watch news of the world around us. 

Our most recent work project has resulted in me perusing a bunch of our Aunt Evelyn's belongings--again--and finding a bunch of old pictures in a plastic bag. Along with tiny school pictures of me and my siblings and our cousins, there were also school pictures of her and her siblings. Seeing the pictures again, even knowing all the same information this time around as last, viewing them now hit me differently, for whatever reason. How thin my grandmother's arms were! She and her siblings were thinner in those school photographs during WWII than in any of the other photos. Maybe it is because I have matured enough to realize the same fears my own mother had expressed to me while she was approximately my current age. Maybe it is because my Grandmother is dead now too. Maybe it's because I am afraid of my children having to live in a future unknown to me. Oh! How I miss my Grandmothers. My Grandfathers. I miss my Mom. My bother. My cousins. I miss all of them!

So what keeps me from just doing whatever I want to do without any regard to what anyone else wants thinks or feels!?!? 

And the answer is: nothing. 

I am reminded of the words of Ram Dass:

"You're not beginning on the path, it's already over. You already are it, you're just busy thinking you aren't.  So just relax and stop being busy thinking you aren't and you will be. It's not like you got to do anything, you don't have to get anything. You already got it. How silly."

It makes perfect sense to me now. Perhaps not everyone is familiar with Ram Dass or will agree that any of this makes sense. And that's okay. You don't have to understand yet. This is for me. 

And how do I know that I will always be on the path? Because it's already over! I just have to keep reminding myself that I came back here for a reason. That I chose this. That I had more to learn. 

How do I know that my children will turn out as good people? Because I have faith that the things that I teach them will persist beyond my death. I pray that the mistakes that I have made, admitted to, learned from, and taught others about will persist as well. I hope that some day my children can all look back at my life and say that I may not have been the best at who to trust with my heart, but that I fought hard to show them that even big mistakes made over a long time can be part of the path that leads where you were always meant to go. I hope at the end of this life they can say that I never stopped trying to show them that they can be good people and need not live in fear of admitting to and correcting whatever mistakes that they make in life. 

I have lately been so bitter and angry toward certain people who have been instructing me on how I should be doing things in certain aspects of my life. I appreciate the concern, the efforts, and that they have a different perspective on how to go about living life. I say nothing to them at all about this bitter angst when there is ample opportunity, because, what would be the point? The longer I live, the more I realize that I cannot teach anyone anything if they aren't actually receptive to learning something. And the same goes for me. How can I learn anything from anyone if I do nothing but sit in judgment of them when we are trying to have a teaching moment, a dialogue, a debate, or a simple conversation?

In life, despite the words coming from people's mouths, you must also realize the position they are in and what they stand to gain from the words they are relating to their audience and, beyond that, what their ultimate goal is in communication with said audience. Observation of all of the verbal and nonverbal communication that you may receive, and taking a moment to form a response before you reply is pretty crucial to staying civil in many situations in personal and professional life that may be uncomfortable for whatever reason. I can lead by example and demonstrate that there is also another way to live life that those that I encounter may also not have considered before they met me, by responding in ways that are sometimes not common to them but that I have learned are appropriate, proportionate, and often expected. We are all given opportunities to learn things in life, and sometimes those things come in the form of receiving communication that is uncomfortable either in its delivery or reception. How you respond to those situations as you go through your life is very important. Despite whatever happened in the past, every future encounter with another person, obstacles to routines, significant life events, or shared experiences are opportunities to learn how things could go differently, if you make different choices both in how you respond and also how you interpret, process, and eventually accept what happens in life. We not only have choices about how we go about living our lives, but we also have choices about how we interpret how things happen in our lives. Are things happening around us, to us, despite us, because of us? What is the different interpretation of the situation depending on each of these viewpoints? How can that interpretation change our active or passive role in what is happening, or does it reveal that we play no role at all? 

Some people that you encounter simply have a job to do and a bottom line to meet. Some think of life like they are on a mission or are otherwise quite determined to reach a lofty goal. Some are looking for an opportunity. Most are just living their lives while worried about their own personal issues. It is important to understand that when interacting with other people. Good manners go a long way to smoothing over an uncomfortable situation when you experience something uncouth, unexpectedly startling, intentionally provocative, or just plain bizarre. Having good manners and being able to keep my fucking mouth shut when other people are being unnecessarily cruel or rude to me, when they're telling me a story about themselves that they should be embarrassed of, or even when I am just encountering someone who seems to be in a negative mood--stepping back from making a judgmental remark about any of the aforementioned scenarios and replying as politely possible has, (mostly) all my life, kept me from being in the position to embarrass myself beyond what I have already had the pleasure and displeasure of living through. I have always tried to take each moment that sticks with me in my mind as a lesson to be learned somehow. Why do I keep thinking about that? How can I change the way that I think about that memory so that I can interpret it and accept it differently than I have in the past? Can looking at it from another perspective help me feel better about what happened? Very often the answer is yes, I can change the way that I think about things and when I reach a moment of profundity regarding the subject of my reflection, I am often relieved of the burden of thinking about that memory in such a negative way again. The new thought persists and helps guide me to a different understanding of the memory. 

I have recently had the rather unfortunate experience of learning something the hard way again. You'd think that I would be getting used to that by now, AND YET, I'm occasionally surprised by how irritating it can be. Not nearly as irritating as trying to learn something from someone who you feel is not in the best personal position to be delivering such information. Normally, I wouldn't give two shits about the person educating me, as long as they can stay on task and actually teach me something. However, and it pains me to have to be so vague, believe me, I am absofuckinglutely at my wit's end with constantly being provided with help only to realize, once the help arrives, that I could have done better by watching youtube videos on the subject instead. A lot of the behaviors of the person that I am referring to remind me of some of the behaviors that I have had to work hard to try to overcome as a young adult, a mother, and even as far back as childhood. It's like I am getting a crash course on every bad behavior that I had to overcome to mature, all wrapped up in one human being who is supposed to be teaching me something very important. 

Even though it is really funny when I make my complaints about the situation, I find myself realizing that this really is just a whole bunch of lessons that have come full circle for me. I was given grace, empathy, and kindness at times in my life when I really needed it and the least I can do is give a little grace to someone who is clearly struggling with handling their own workload and life balance. I get it. I also know that The Lesson has multiple layers, and I have to wait until I finish them all to see the bigger picture. And it may be years before this very story comes full circle for another lesson that I have yet to learn. 

And so, rather than complaining further about my past or the current irritations of my life, I will leave you with the words of one of my favorite songs. Don't read too much into it. Remember, everything isn't about me. Most of it here is all about me, but sometimes, some of it is about YOU (a generalization not a specification!). Anyway, if you don't bother to listen to the song, I've included the words below. It's a good song and, like lessons and onions, it has layers:

"Finally

I can be true to a cause

I can be far from the money

I can be free from all jobs

And I know that sounds crazy

But everything does 

We're all gonna to die here

At least we could try

At least I have nothing 

Nothing to tie me down 

Not even someone

I've got no more family in this town

I had such high hopes for the minds of 

our generation

If we had some goals, we

could reach out and take them        

Finally I've got nothing called

home

I know the true joy of sorrow

Of which I'm sharing alone

And I probably messed up

Made a mistake

At least it was mine

At least I can say

At least I have nothing 

Nothing to tie me down

Not even someone

I've got no more family in this

town

I had such high hopes for the

minds of our generation 

If we had some goals, we

could reach out and take them

Instead we're apart, no

movement to follow

We are just stuck inside their

business model

I probably die here

I probably will

I say it again

I'll scream out from hell

At least I have nothing

Nothing to tie me down

Not even someone

I've got no more family in this

town

I had such high hopes for the

minds of our generation

If we had some goals, we

could reach out and take them

Instead we're apart, no 

movement to follow

We are just stuck inside their 

business model" -- Saint Motel, Alexander Jackson, Aaron Sharp, Greg Erwin

   

 

 

 

Leave Me Alone — I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

I have something that I should probably never admit to anyone, let alone all y'all. But here goes... 

Among the many, many other things that I have to do, I also have to write. It is no longer a want. It is a need. I have something to say. So many things to say.

If you're waiting around for me to do something extravagantly entertaining, just wait longer. I have no idea how long it's going to take to finish some of these projects! Sometimes, this need to create is overwhelming, I have to write it down now so that I don't forget! And, it is always very exciting. I'm telling a story that no one's ever told before. 

Aren't we all?

I have also been devouring as many books as I possibly can in my free time. That is how I want to spend a huge chunk of my time when the weather is cold and not conducive to skateboarding. I also have so many art projects going on that I never lack something that I could be doing on that front. Some of the things that I need to do require me to open the windows, and so I wait for nicer weather to work on things that need so many layers of paint and clear coat. Some things take extra space and needlepoint precision to detail--in other words, lots of time. 

But I didn't come here to tell you that I've been writing a bunch of stuff that you might never get to read. I came here to say, among other things, that I well and truly hate Facebook. I wish it weren't so. I keep it because it holds a lot of memories from the life that I had before. That's also why I hate it. I can look back through all the pictures and posts and trace the timeline back through the past, and it dredges up all the feelings that I had when I posted them. Some memories are priceless and, of course, cherished, while others are a grim reminder of what things were like behind the scenes at home during that time. Maybe that's the work that I need to do, though. Maybe that's why things are so difficult. I still have to be able to face these things and not be angry and resentful all over again. 

I don't like to talk about it here. I don't like to talk about it at all here, not only because I didn't want to somehow make things worse for myself, but also because this is a sacred place for me. It's my space. I have made it safe here, on this page, to share my feelings. As much as things have changed, some things, some people, will always be stuck in the past, slogging through the ruts of a muddy track that they cannot even conceive escaping. Am I also stuck in my own worn path? Has the yellow wallpaper been worn down by my incessant scraping along these walls?

I was once in the position where the only time I felt that I could really speak aloud on the telephone freely to a friend or family member was when I could escape to the grocery store, mall, outside for a long walk, or wandering the back yard, flitting from the roses to the tulips and back again, much like the bees. I was only allowed to call my one friend or my close relatives without it being a huge argument. Allowed is a funny word for it. It wasn't exactly explicitly stated outright, but the pattern of behavior over time revealed the unspoken rules. From the beginning, it was made known that I wasn't allowed to have friends who were boys. Talking to anyone who had a penis meant a huge argument, and one of the first scary fights had been because of this, and the look in his eyes that night has never left me. There's a hollow, unfocused look to the eyes, a tunneling darkness in the pupils that makes your heart race when you realize that the person that you were talking to, trying to reason with, isn't really there anymore. I had always read in books, the gripping thrillers that described that look in someone's eyes that they referred to as crazed, but I had never seen it for myself until that night. I would never forget it. I would come to know it well, and to expect the worst when I saw it.  

I eventually just gave up on maintaining any relationships with other friends. I had to show my phone to him when I got home from class. Heaven forbid American Express call me during class and I return the call straight away afterward; I got grilled when I got home when he didn't recognize the numbers on my call log. Somehow it was not okay for me to explain that the 800 number was not some guy I was cheating with while our kid was at daycare and I was in astronomy class. He had to call AmEx to see for himself. On top of those unnecessary stresses, I had to show receipts for all of the things that I bought. I got questioned about what was on the receipt--what was this item, why did you need it? Despite being given a weekly "allowance," I was not privy to the finances and had to make the three hundred dollars pay all the bills and buy the necessities. It was made clear to me that the rest of the money was none of my business because I hadn't worked twelve hours a day to earn it like he did. I had to make sure to wake him on time for work and be sure that all his clothes and food were ready to go for him. When he would come home he would wake the kids for school and then disappear to go "grocery shopping" sometimes for hours and hours, only to return home sometimes with nothing, telling me embarrassing stories like he had fallen asleep in the restroom at the grocery store. I guess only one person ever really knew where he was going and what he was doing all those hours and sometimes days in a row when he disappeared. One of the worst times was when he left me pregnant, with a toddler, no money, all the bills due, including rent, and disappeared for entire weekends at a time with no communication while I used my credit card to buy food for us, pay the rent, and pay the bills. I didn't even have a paying job. I was a full-time student about to finish my undergraduate degree while being pregnant and raising a toddler. I remember eating a lot of rice and vegetables and watching Monsters Inc. on an endless loop in those days. We would soon move to a nice, big house, where he would tell me that he could either pay for me to live there or he could continue to make the payments on my credit card. He told me to choose. 

I didn't always understand what she was trying to do but Mom was always trying to help me. She gave me a book titled, "Why Did I Ever?" when I first got married to him and moved off to go to college anyway. I was too hurt and upset by everything that had happened since we eloped that I didn't read the book, I put it away. I have carried it with me to every place that I have lived since, with my most prized books. The year we bought the house, Mom had tried to get me to take a semester in Miami, where I had originally planned to go to school, over the summer. I wish I had listened to my Mother more than I did. I wish I had understood what she was trying to teach me when she told me things that I didn't quite understand at the time. It was unfortunate that she had to die in order for me to come to understand that life is too short to be terribly unhappy with your choices the whole time. It's a good thing that you can always make different choices. 

It makes me so angry looking back on it now. It turns out, even though I don't even know (or want to know) the extent of it, people often accuse others of the very things that they do themselves. Where was he all the time when he left for hours and days on end? Where was all the money even though he made such a good living? Was I really so very naive that I couldn't see the truth right in front of my own fucking face? Even when I picked up the phone in the middle of the night, crying infant in my arms, to hear another woman's voice on the line? Or when I found him with his arm around yet another woman, (maybe the same?) after I had met his ex to pick up his son, who was waiting in the car with his baby sister? I had always thought that I would find someone and have a great love and a happy family like my Mom and Dad were so lucky to have together. Now I know that I will always have that, with my family, but never with him, and never with anyone who would treat me and our children that way.

Thank god we didn't have the technological advances that we do today. At least, they weren't as easily accessible to the average rube back in the day. Now any idiot with an iPhone, AirTag, Life360, or similar app, can stalk you with ease. I hadn't really had to worry a lot about that sort of thing after his life completely imploded and he went to jail. In a big city there's a certain amount of anonymity. At least there, I had so many people around that didn't know me, my family, or him and his. Unfortunately it's a lot easier to stalk someone when you're in a small town, I guess. I thought that moving back here would help me. Help the kids. Let me be close to more of my family members. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when he decided to use today's new technology to turn that controlling behavior toward our children, but that's exactly what happened. The whole reason I left him was to show them that they didn't have to be treated like that, that there are different choices to be made in life, and sometimes those choices are the toughest to make. And now he just does the same manipulative, controlling, stalker bullshit to his own flesh and blood. 

What do I think about it now? I think that I am geographically too close to the person who I divorced. There's not a lot I can do about that except be aware. I think that the dream that I had the other night--the one that I am reluctant to call a nightmare--was a turning point. In the dream, I was dropped into the middle of a foot chase. I was running from him and I knew that if he caught me, he would kill me with his bare hands. I was running up a hill toward a house that was dark and unfinished, maybe being demolished. I ran around the outside of it in the tall grass, then up onto the porch. But, in the dream, as I'm running, circling to the front of the house on the porch, I realize that I'm not actually afraid to die. That I don't want to be afraid of him anymore. I certainly don't want to die at the hands of this monster, but I'm not afraid of it any longer. And so, in my dream, I stopped running and turned to face my attacker. His hands were coming up to hit or choke me as he got closer, but then, as I turned to make my stand, fists up for a fight, and began to verbally insist that I was not afraid and that I would fight back, he stopped moving forward. His face changed and his hands dropped as I told him that I would fight back, to the death, if necessary, but that I would no longer let him hurt someone I love. Not me and not anyone else. And then I woke up.

Now, as I am writing this, I realize that what I meant when I told him that I wasn't afraid of him, afraid to die, afraid to fight back even if I died because of it, is that I'm really not afraid to fight back anymore. I will fight my personal emotional battles every day, like always, but I suspect that I am preparing for a different fight. There was a time in which I would just cower because my survival had to be ensured, especially since there were three other little people in the world who depended on me for their own survival. But now? Now I have to show them that it's more than okay to stand up for what you believe. So the lesson must be that I should not be afraid of whatever consequences that I may face by fighting for my own life or the lives of others.

Which brings me to the nazis. 

GOD, I'M SO FUCKING MAD!!!!!

Didn't we warn you? Didn't we say, the fascists are unmasking and they are unafraid? LOOK AT WHAT IS HAPPENING AROUND YOU!!!! Speak up!! Call out those racist motherfuckers to their faces!!! Call out the bigots!! Call out the billionaires!! Don't cower!! Don't be afraid to say, "hey, that's fucked up and you should stop!!" when you witness injustice with your own eyes and ears! 

I only say any of this because I am afraid that it might come down to physically fighting a bunch of fucking nazis. And I will. My grandfather and his brothers did. It's in our blood. We fight fascism. Every day. All day. 

What about all the kids who are crying themselves to sleep at night worrying about whether ICE agents are coming for their families....in our own very community!!! What will our community members say or do when even more fascist shit happens here? What will you do?? Will you conform just so you don't get into trouble yourself? 

I won't. I will never accept that we have to live with widespread fascism. 

What must we do to be free of such oppression!?!?!? 

What shall we do together???