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Found 5 results

  1. I saw my toxic friend recently. We’ll call him Austin. I hadn’t seen Austin in over two months. With everything else going on I didn’t need he’s comments oh how retarded or stupid I was. But one day we decided to get together and hang out. It was...pleasant. I couldn’t believe it. He didn’t make one backhanded or negative comment about me. We discussed work(we work for the same company but he works in the office I’m a janitor at a different job site. ) we also talked about our physical ailments. Turns out he has fibromyalgia as well. He said the medication he’s on also has anti depression effects as well as helping with the physical pain. I know I can’t fix him. Nor will I try. But while I’m trying to change and get things straight I have to wonder if keeping Austin as a friend is worth it anymore. I feel like his punching bag when he’s feeling low about himself. And I feel like my friendship to him is more out of him needing distractions from his own issues. Not because he thought I was a cool person or a wonderful friend. so why can’t I completely let him go? It seems so simple. “Austin your an asshole, this friendship is over” Maybe in that right I am stupid for keeping him as a friend. Just completely damn stupid. He doesn’t really want to change much because he’s convinced he’ll fail. I made the mistake of telling some of what’s going on and he makes light of it. Why. The. Hell. Can’t. I. Break. It.off? I keep him at a distance. Lean on my other true friends for support. Maybe part of the issue is I haven’t lost hope for him. But perhaps I’ll just continue to work on myself and think more on this in the meantime.
  2. Friends, The motivation for this entry has come from several different directions. There is much I've seen, heard, and felt in the past week. I debated whether this should be a motivational post or a blog entry, but it's possible it'll be both. I'm undecided for the moment, so figured I'd at least write it out, first. Most of us envision healing as a non-linear path we take on foot; a muddied, beaten, track that is not without obstacles and hinderances along the way. 'One foot in front of the other,' we hear all the time. I know. I SAY it all the time. It's something we all have to keep in mind when we embark upon that journey that is healing. Sometimes, though, (more than sometimes, if I'm being honest) we'll reach an impasse. It becomes evident that next step that one must take is gonna hurt. If not painful, it'll at the very least, be uncomfortable. Now, we can choose to do one of a few things at this point. We can pretend it's not there and plod on - it'll hurt and it'll sting and it'll SUCK. Eventually, you're going to wear yourself down, and potentially feel worse than you have to. This'll take an enormous toll on you in every which way - physically, emotionally, mentally. We can sit idle and hope the obstacle goes away on its own. We have time, right? Anything could happen. It's like sitting in highway traffic on Rt. 80 during the holiday season. You simply wait until the road ahead is cleared of whatever's in the way, and only then will we proceed. We can only begin to imagine what the problem might be with this option, as there are no guarantees on a time frame that we may be able to resume the process. We can kick that little obstacle a little bit further ahead, only to be faced with it again later. We can and we will and we have done that. Delaying the inevitable is still going to slow the process down, but sometimes it's what's needed in order to keep ourselves focused on what we CAN do while that underlying problem still remains intact. Those things that hinder our progress aren't always obvious. We know they're there, but we only understand being 'stuck.' There's something there, something in the goddamn way, and until it's identified, understood and removed, we're gonna be in that uncomfortable limbo position. It will literally be that pebble in our shoe that makes moving on less appealing. I know this is hardly the same, but a small, yet amusing example: Some of you may not know this about me, but I don't give a shit if it's 100 degrees outside - I have a very, VERY specific sleep pattern. I have TWO comforters, and in order to sleep, I must bury myself underneath both comforters, from my earlobes to my toes. I NEED to do the leg-out, covers-off, covers-back-on deal an indeterminate amount of times every night. Rationally, I know I'm going to be hot and sticky - but it's how I'm most comfortable, wrapped up like a burrito when I'm trying to fall asleep. I don't see this changing any, either, so I'll dare not try and modify my blanket set-up any. So, I've been wearing this amazingly comfortable, WAY-too-big pair of sweatpants to lounge around and then to sleep in. They're roomy, they're SO warm and I'm usually upset when I have to take them off because I can't wear them in public, at risk of tripping over the bottoms and face-planting at inconvenient moments. Anyway, these sweats + my two comforters + our heat usually running = sweat pouring off my body several times during the night, and being unable to fall and STAY asleep. I couldn't figure this out for the life of me - WHY I couldn't sleep...what's changed? Sure, I'm on a soon-ending hiatus from school, so I'm not yet in walking zombie mode...but I've been going to bed VERY late, too. I've been TRYING to get back into get-up-early mode, but failing miserably. I'm going to be paying the price on Tuesday morning, but it's likely going to have to happen. But what else has changed....remains the question. It's the damn pants, isn't it? I was sleeping FINE before the pants were discovered in an old bin of winter clothes! Damn the pants. But I LOVE the pants! I finally whipped the covers off, got up, and took them off this morning after only sleeping an hour and a half and replaced them with thinner-than-paper flannel bottoms - they're flannel, but they're still extremely thin in comparison to my favorite loungers...and I was able to sleep for the next four hours. I'll also test the pants theory later tonight when it's bedtime - if I'm wearing them, (and I probably will be) I will take them off and replace them with shorts or these skimpy flannels and see if it makes any difference in my ability to fall and stay asleep! Like I said, I know this is not a very good comparison to some of those other issues that many of us struggle with on a regular basis, but it IS somewhat of a demonstration of how to first, identify the problem, and then to get rid of it so that you can improve another aspect of your life. In my case, it'd be improving on sleep, which, I imagine, will set off a chain reaction and ultimately improve my overall mood and energy levels! These pebbles can be anything, too. They can be a toxic person, whether living or dead, whose voice you hear constantly, telling you that you're unworthy of happiness. They can be a thought or an idea. They can be a feeling. In my case, they can be those cackling, annoying skeletons that have been following me for over 20 years, clattering their bones as a persistent reminder that they still exist, and while life has gone on, they'll not entirely disappear. They aren't the bad kind of skeletons, either - I've done nothing terrible, so no worries. No, these are the guys who laugh whenever I say that I've got everything under control and that I've done all the healing I'm supposed to do. That's when the bag of bones is rattled, as to say, "we're here when you're ready!" I'm just as guilty as the rest of you on this, guys - I've been sort of hopping between #2 and #3 on the list of options mentioned above - I've done an enormous amount of healing, but there's definitely a pebble in my shoe. Or one of those round, spiky things that fall from trees....what the hell are those called, anyway? (Ahhhh....Sweet Gum Balls - I just Googled.) There's clearly an impasse, and while some of these pebbles (one looking a whole lot like the wasband's bald 'Mr. Clean' head) are beyond my control, there are indeed things that are manageable in the meantime, if only I'd just sit down, pull off my shoe, remove the pain-in-the-ass pebble, investigate it, and eventually be able to chuck it after I've determined that it's not going to be something I allow to impede my progress, anymore. The shoe goes back on and the journey resumes. It would seem that there's a whole lot that I haven't worked on, but we knew that, already. I've just got to decide on an option (#2? #3?) and stick with it. And it feels almost....I dunno....hypocritical to be a social worker who hasn't finished working on herself, first. I guess #3 seems to be the more appealing option, if I promise myself (and those fucking skeletons) that I'll pay attention to the other things, too. I know I owe it to myself and to whomever I come into contact with, to own those pebbles and to contribute to the growing collection of 'chucked' stones that no longer stand in the way of our personal growth. So, I'm interested in hearing what some of your pebbles might represent....and how you're going about the process of getting rid of them. What's holding you back from taking that next step? Can it be kicked ahead? Is it worth pausing over? Can it be something you carry along with you at risk of overwhelming yourselves? Something to think about, anyway. I'd love to hear from you, so feel free to hit up the comments. I'm also going to post excerpts from this blog in Healing Tips & Inspiration, so feel free to participate there, if you're more a board person than a blog person! We got this, guys. Let's get rid of some damn rocks! Sending all of you healing hugs and only the best of vibes. I'll be back next week, with resumed (although I'll try not to let it overtake) school-related blogs. I'm sure I'm going to have a lot of pebble accumulation in my new sneakers before I know it - because clearly, majoring in social work is something that is definitely going to open my eyes to a lot of shit. But, maybe it'll force me to confront some of those grinning skulls. Once and for all. Until next time - sending love! - Capulet
  3. Wow. I know I haven't been here in a while. I wish I could say that my OCD over posting my three installments in order, without a random blog in between that would 'interrupt the flow' was my sole reason for this blog-hiatus (or a 'bl-iatus') but I'd be lying through my fingers. I just haven't been feeling it. This summer has been a rough one - and I've only shared with a select few, the details that have kept me somewhat absent from my blog. While I've remained a constant presence here on the site, I HAVE been distracted and my work here has helped provide alternative focuses when they were needed. Those details will not be shared here, as they are still very personal and raise some hurt feelings that I've not entirely been able to bury, yet. I am chalking this up to being yet another hurdle that has been thrown into my path, and we know all too well that sometimes due process takes longer than we'd like. Patience is key - in healing from hurts both old and new. I know and understand this, and safe to say, my patience has been put to the challenge during the last couple of months. I did post three very 'heavy' installments to my story recently. Thank you to those of you who have read and commented on those installments. I've been at somewhat of a loss for words when it comes to returning responses on some of it, but that, along with many other things, ARE on my to-do list. On one hand, I can't believe that I actually wrote out some of the things I did - and on the other, I'm emotionally drained and I think that for a while, simply reading the kind, supportive comments posted by others, has been hugely helpful. In some ways, I'm still processing a lot of things, (particularly from installment three) and there is indeed a cacophony of words swirling around but the right ones aren't coming to me, yet - whether I need them to add to the installment, or to respond to others, or to make sense of them, myself. My uncle's passing hasn't really brought up any new feelings, thoughts, concerns, etc - and honestly, I did fully expect it to. Other stressors, I think, are defnitely contributing to this block (can't think of a better word), but for now, this is okay with me. I think that again, my patience with myself is going to be put to the test as I continuously remind myself that there is a time and place for things to be dealt or coped with. Sometimes, it's simply not up to me when these things happen. I am better, now, though, than I was before. Things have improved and I've re-familiarized myself with a level of optimism that I didn't have two months ago. So, that's something. I'm hopeful that things will continue to improve as now I've restarted therapy after a decade and am working on me, in hopes of coming out of it all with a significantly healthier outlook. I've not yet delved too far into my trauma history, but I'm pretty sure that's going to eventually become a focus as we proceed with weekly appointments. So, let's move along, now. While I cannot promise that I won't become scarce again, I'd still like to make an effort to catch you all up on a couple things that have been going on in recent weeks. I started school this past Monday! Right out of the gate, two professors emailed to let me know that they were delayed with family issues, one would not be there until Friday and the other won't be showing up until 9/9, but we should still attend because there would be a substitute there to teach in interim. The first professor, as promised, has returned and we're underway. My Diversity class, though, although the substitute is a very well-educated man, has been VERY hard to follow on account of his accent - it's Indian, I want to say, and I find myself often 'drifting.' Thankfully the discussions are power-point supplemented so I'm able to just take notes and not worry too much about missed verbal content. I really like the two introduction to Social Work classes I'm taking - one in particular taught by a practicing social worker who has an office and sees clients when she's not teaching classes! The other professor has almost every letter of the alphabet after HIS name....BSW, MSW, LCS, Ph.D among others that I'm sure means he's highly qualified to teach a bunch of entry-level social work majors. He was the giver of my first assignment, due in two days - a response paper detailing why I chose the social work field and what strengths I bring to the chosen area of practice. Had to describe two practices that I'd be interested in focusing in and I debated on whether to explain that my reasons were somewhat personal but figured this would validate the 'strengths' question. There was a third question that needed answering and it had to do with the basic guidelines of social work - code of ethics, etc. Why are they in place? I know, it seems to go without saying but I'm pleased to say that little by little, I'm learning more about the processes involved and I'm absolutely fascinated. I turned in that assignment a couple of nights ago in hopes of my first 'A,' but know that as I've been out of the 'school loop' for 20 years, I'm likely to be rusty in a few areas. I must also add that It's pretty neat seeing the Son on a daily basis. We'll likely drive in together a couple days per week - he has classes within the same department (the Criminal Justice and Social Work programs/buildings are within close proximity) so I will see my firstborn during hallway passings. The Daughter started 8th grade on Monday, too, and so far, so good. I'm sure that as the school year unravels, we'll be hearing about excitement and possibly drama on all three fronts. For now, though, I'm grateful for a successful first week. 11 more to go until winter break! So, in the interests of maintaining a successful balance with today's blog, I have a question for you all. WHY does shit happen on the weekends???? I mean, I know shit happens. Life has a way of showing us this, ALL the time. But seriously, it's WAY easier when shit decides to happen during the week. Preferably Monday through Thursday. Because, then, if the shit that happens is urgent shit, we can at least have Friday to make any and all necessary calls to try and rectify said shit. Still with me? So, Friday NIGHT - the daughter comes into my computer room and announces that we've got no running water. She was trying to refill her water bottle and 'nothing was coming out.' SHIT. Let it be known that we have well water and it's via pump that it comes into the house. Pump runs on electric. If there's a power outage, we're also not going to have running water until either we're hooked up to a generator or the power is restored. When we moved into our house 2 years ago, the pump quit within a month of us living there. Woke up one morning and none of the faucets were willing to produce any water. It was a $2000 fix; guys come and install a new pump. Underground pumps are SUPPOSED to last for 8-10 years and it's only been 2. Our last major power outage was in March of 2018, so that had been the last time, also, without running water. So, I went to bed on Friday night thinking, maybe it's not the pump, maybe it's an electrical issue, maybe it's a short, maybe it's something to do with the pressure tank, maybe it's this, maybe it's that, maybe it's something simple, and I'm losing precious sleep for no good reason... It's the fucking pump, isn't it? That's what my brain kept going back to. But it made no sense to wake my sleeping wife to alert her to the problem - who were we going to call at 2am? (Yes, as it wasn't a school night, I decided that staying awake past 1:30am was going to be an accepted challenge...happy to announce that slowly but surely, sleep is becoming harder to avoid on nights before having to get up for morning class!) But I slept like the shit mentioned above on Friday night, because my brain, very used to dealing with shit on a regular basis, was not allowing for sleep to take over. Instead of just resigning to the fact that there was nothing that could be done about this shit at least until the morning, I was now laying there in worry over how I was gonna catch up on the dishes and laundry that had accumulated during this first week of school... Trying to self-declare that it was ANY other issue than the pump, J and I spent a good portion of yesterday trying to get ahold of the gentlemen (or at least, the company) who installed the well pump in 2017. Let us now refer back to the statement of shit only seeming to happen on weekends, and now point out that it's not only a weekend - it's a HOLIDAY weekend, so any shit that decides to happen on Labor Day weekend, you can be SURE is going to be extra nasty to try and deal with. First, we were told that their technician was already out taking care of another emergency call - he'd call us back when he was finished. Three hours later, the same technician calls and says he's not actually 'the plumber' and that he'd reach out to their plumber and we'd hear back from HIM. 'Momentarily,' he said. When 'momentarily' never came, we called back and were told that we'd likely have to wait until Tuesday to speak with someone in their plumbing department. They proceeded in telling us that the warranty on the pump they'd installed two years ago was likely expired. Meanwhile, no one was calling back, we had no running water and we're both getting annoyed because we STILL don't know what the problem is. At this point, the shit was becoming BULLSHIT. J called another company, and got a very nice man on the phone. Apparently new water pumps SHOULD come with a five-year warranty. So, now, we know the first company was probably jerking us around and didn't intend to come help us. They probably KNEW that this pump was SUPPOSED to be under warranty, and didn't wish to honor that warranty - or to send any of their guys out on a weekend. We didn't want to have to wait until Tuesday to even get the issue looked at, so we decided to have this other company come out (at a higher weekend rate), and at least diagnose the problem. If it was a simple fix, we wouldn't have to worry about warranties, about dealing with the first company. But, alas - it IS the fucking pump. The guy showed up and took a look at the breakers, at the water heater, the electrical wiring. All of our fears were confirmed when he shook his head and said, "Yep. It's the pump." GREAT. (You may envision me swearing at this point because it's entirely accurate. I'll refrain from typing it all up, here.) So we pay him the weekend rate (double, I'm thinking) for coming out and checking things out. He left saying that should we go with his company, the money we paid for the initial visit would be applied toward the total price of the job of replacing our pump. Incentive and motivation indeed. But now, this leaves us with another dilemma. Do we want to wait until Tuesday to get ahold of the proper person at the company who first installed our pump in 2017 and see if the warranty could be honored - especially after they already indicated that it was 'expired'? Or did we want to go with these new guys who would be willing to come install a new pump first thing the next morning, and apply the three hundred bucks and change we'd just paid, toward the new pump they'd have to put in? Deciding that neither we, or our five cats, could stand being without water for the next three days, we decided to go with the first-thing-tomorrow-morning option and we're going to task the Oompa with dealing with the company who installed our first pump. They acted VERY unprofessionally when we needed their help and they're NOT going to be without responsibility. Even though the newer company referred to the death of THAT pump as simply being 'Mother Nature pressing the FU button,' and confirmed it was nothing we did nor was it caused by the workmanship of the previous company. Likely during one of our summer t-storms, there had been a power surge, and the pump had shorted. "It happens," he said, "but we do offer that five-year warranty!" Oompa, despite her many faults that we've come to recognize, has many talents. Dealing with difficult people is indeed one of them. She's a woman who makes shit happen and gets shit done. So, dealing with 2017's water pump company is going to be a mission that J and I will GLADLY pass onto her. Tomorrow morning arrived and has become tonight. The laundry that's been piling up on the bathroom floor has been relocated into the machine, that will remain unplugged until water flow is restored into the House of Capulet. I've already had to disappoint a certain orange feline of majestic size several times this morning in letting him know that his daily indulgence of drinking from the kitchen tap was unavailable. He's been giving me those sad amber-colored eyes ALL day - translation: "HUMAN. I want my water. WHY are you not turning on the tap!?" I apparently do not speak 'cat,' so I've given him extra doses of kisses and for now, he's been catching up on his sleep. Being pure royalty is such hard work, after all! He's been satisfied, though, with the pouring of a bottle of spring water into the bowl he shares with his sibling cats. The guys have been here since 11am and two trips 'back to the office because they forgot something' have been made. It is now nearly six in the evening and we've STILL not showered. There is enough grease in my hair to fry up a batch of chicken cutlets. I feel absolutely disgusting. MY HOUSE feels filthy! As there are only a couple hours remaining of daylight, I'm hoping the job will be completed soon enough and that the shower we both desperately need is on the horizon! Anyway - will be back later next week with another update. I have missed utilizing this space to talk about everything and nothing - and sharing with you all those things that aren't posted about in the forums. And I know that lately, I COULD have opted to put these things into a coherent blog entry, but - timing is everything! Perhaps as more clarity is gained, I will slowly be able to speak on some of the other things. Much in my life is beginning to change, and while some people 'pwn' these changes - I seem to take a longer time than necessary to adapt. I've still missed everyone and I'm here to stay. Even if my water pump isn't. (And hopefully this new one will last longer!). I'm also hopeful that you've all had a good summer! Sending you all love and light! (and let there be water!) - Capulet
  4. Greetings friends, Here's hoping that June is wrapping up nicely for you all! It has been an absolutely insane month between trying to get the back yard finished, my son's high school graduation, the end of the school year for all students, having yet another handyman/contractor show up to install a transfer switch for our new generator (our VERY early Christmas present from Oompa) as well as a ceiling fan in our family room so that we don't melt this summer. And I also got the ball rolling (with J's help) on making my first doctor's appointment in the state of Pennsylvania. Side note: I'm TERRIBLE with doctors, guys. TERRIBLE. I've been sick a small handful of times since we moved here eleven months ago. I've changed insurances two times but STILL have not gone to a single physician, primary care or otherwise. ('otherwise' is the reason for tomorrow's 10am appointment) I don't know if this is the norm for everyone. Yes, I am well aware that NO one likes the doctor or going to visit but I sadly admit that in the past several years, I've gone out of my way to avoid anyone with "M.D." after their names. Dentists, too. While my health is slowly improving due to diet and lifestyle changes that I've initiated without a doctor's recommendation, I've got other, separate issues that I've been ignoring because they're not an emergency and I'm not experiencing any discomfort that I can't live with. This won't do, though - I'm smart enough to know and realize that this is by no means a permanent solution. Over the past several months, I've had some uncomfortable and unfavorable side effects to the birth control medications I'd been taking for years, now - so it's time for a GYN exam/re-evaluation of whether or not this medication is still good for me or it's time to find something else. This will require a physical examination, I'm sure, as well as a breast exam, a pelvic...and to top all that off, this is a NEW doctor that I've never seen before, and even better (not really) - it's a male doctor. Honestly, aside from not being able to live with one, I have nothing against men. There are some fine, upstanding men in my life that I love very much. However, from a medical perspective, I don't care if my dentist is a male. I don't even care if my PCP is a male. I don't care if I go to the ER with a mysterious onset of symptoms, chances are you'll get whoever's able to handle your needs first. But if someone's going to be poking around in the nether regions, it'd damn well BETTER be a female! However, I'm not getting my way this time around. The situation I'm having right now with irregular spotting/bleeding needs to be handled NOW (I've had enough) and the female doctor in the office is not available until August. And so I'll suck it up and go visit the male doctor, but will INSIST upon having a female nurse present during the exam. There usually is one, though, so this helps me not to lose my shit over this and focus more on resolving this medication issue and for future appointments, I can always switch to the female as she'll be available for the next visit. Anyway - let's move on. (chorus: "Yes, please!") So...recently, I've had some things come up that have made me question how I come across to others. It's also made me question myself, in some ways. I don't blame myself for the REASONS I am who I am, but I wonder if, along the way, I should have made more of an effort to be a different TYPE of person, overall. A different version of me that others see. Yes, I know....you all have your "HUH?" faces on right about now? As I attempt to explain this, I don't want to get into extremes because in order to do so, I'd have to share personal background information about certain family members that I don't feel that should be put out there by me. So I will do the best I can whilst omitting incriminating details. There was a misunderstanding about three weeks ago, between myself and a few of my in-laws. I WILL say that two of these in-laws (J's parents) are NOT supportive nor do they approve of my long-lived relationship with J, but it is for religious reasons - as a person, they like me, or so they say...but as J's partner/lover, they do not. I have repeatedly felt that they hold J's decision to move away from them against me - for I, at this point, represent to them her choice to leave her family behind in pursuit of love as well as a better life for herself. I often wonder if this sits in the back of their head, even though J made this decision on her own...every time they see me, are they consumed with a level of hidden animosity toward me and this prevents them from truly liking me? Whether they do like me as a person is true or not, I really don't care at this point, but let's be real - who wants to be disliked or given the feeling that they're not accepted in EVERY aspect? I certainly don't, and I don't know if this stems from an early desire to people-please but deep down, the two-facedness of J's parents bothers me a GREAT deal and it has for years. Regardless, they are her parents and I respectfully keep a distance whenever they are around or we go visit them. I do not believe in their religion, but know that it truly makes them uncomfortable to see me slide a hand around J's waist or hold her hand, or peck her on the lips as I walk by...and so whenever in their company, I find it more effective to just sit across a room or excuse myself entirely so that they can feel comfortable visiting with their daughter without me around. It's not as if they attempt to engage me in conversation, either - when they do, it's simply small talk. They have made absolutely NO efforts to get to know me on a deeper level - I don't think they even know J as well as they would like to think - so I don't take it personally. I am comfortable just keeping that rift in place; although we are polite to one another and we engage in simple, meaningless chit-chat and kiss hello and goodbye, there is always going to be that unspoken understanding between her parents and I. It's unfortunate that it has to be this way, but it's something I simply don't know how to fix nor do I know if its within my capability to do so seeing as they're not only drinking the Kool-Aid, they're also SWIMMING in it. Now, one of J's sisters is another story. She has always been an ally to us, a very strong supporter of our relationship. She's always been the OPPOSITE of their parents. And before I came along, she was J's 'person.' J felt comfortable going to this sister for emotional support, for advice, for whatever at all she needed. And resultedly, they became EXTREMELY close. She, too, misses J a great deal, and even though she's been living away from the rest of her family for nine years, will sometimes comment on how she wishes that we lived closer to all of them - I'm sure J wouldn't mind cutting the trip back home by a few hours, but for me, that'd be a HUGE no-no based on the cold shoulder I'm used to receiving from the parents. And they currently live WITH her sister, so lately, I've felt myself detaching even MORE and allowing J to go visit them all (her parents and sister) and I'd stay home so that she would not have to hear me moan and groan about how uncomfortable I am and how much I want to go home - this usually starts about ten to fifteen minutes after we arrive. It's not fair to J to have to feel pressured or rushed while visiting her family, and so it's just better this way - it's better for me to stay behind so that she feels less pressure, less tension when she's in their company. I'm not sure if this is doing us any favors in the end, though. Here's a short summary of what happened. Recently, J underwent a medical procedure (no further details needed here other than that) - and there was a miscommunication between J and her family and somehow, her sister's claws came out and she lashed out at me because she felt that I wasn't handling the situation in a manner that was acceptable to her. She said some horrible things to me through Facebook messaging and came at me with some OTHER things that were nothing less than surprising to hear, coming from someone I thought was on our side. I'm not sure where THOSE comments came from, but basically, I'm wondering if her sister has also been two-faced all along...because yes, while a lot of things are said in anger that aren't necessarily true, there's always an element, no matter how small, of truth to it. People don't say things that they don't truly believe in the smallest way, so now I'm left with a lot of underlying, leftover stray, random thoughts that are strengthening this rift that was put into place by her parents. At the time when J's sister got nasty with me, I responded in kind. Actually, I wasn't nasty, nor was I rude - but I WAS firm and I defended myself - I simply told her MY perspective on the whole thing and she seemingly backed off - she ended her part of the conversation with "I'm sorry, I just love my sister so much and if I can't be there, I expect YOU to be." It was something along those lines, something indicative of her belief that I would actually allow the love of my life to be without ANYTHING that she needed as she underwent this treatment. And so, I shot back, "I've been loving and taking care of your sister for the last ten years, almost. I'm not stopping now." And it ended there...no resolution, no making nice, just a dropped conversation. I was SEETHING, though. I mean...what the fuck!? Never in my life have I mistreated someone, especially someone I've been in a relationship with. I've never cheated on a partner - having been repeatedly cheated on by the wasband, other partners in the past, I'd never dare to do that to someone I loved. I've never been abusive nor have I raised my hand to another person, except in dreams...and many of you will remember that I have trouble doing that even in my dreams. Sure, J and I have got our occasional moments where we bicker but it's NEVER been a full-on fight. We are soul mates in every sense of the word...I've never done a thing to deserve what was said to me, and I truly felt blindsided - I think that's really the gist of why I felt so frazzled afterwards. J had her medical procedure done, which lasted one week. During that week, I had many, MANY conversations with her. I really didn't want to share what was said to me by her sister/family before she had the procedure done as not to add any stress to her already overflowing plate, but she knew something was bothering me before the procedure and all plans to wait on discussing it went out the window. Honestly, it would have likely made things worse if we had saved these conversations for later. They couldn't be delayed without mounting anxiety in the meantime...and so I shared with her the messages, to include my responses. I was completely honest with her about everything that was said, as well as everything I was feeling. Her sister had made a lot of comments that had led me to believe that she'd been misunderstanding J for a long time, as well - I simply couldn't understand where some of these horrible things CAME from! Side note - J's parents and sister were invited to the Son's graduation party to be held at our house. Prior to this 'falling out,' they were planning to come. After all was said and hurt feelings and shit being slung from every corner, I wasn't sure they'd still come but they did tell J that they were still attending. Now, her parents, I knew from before, would never change. We're still going to have those uncomfortable, awkward moments - because that's what we've established at this point. It is what it is with them. But her sister was also coming and SHE's the one I am having the most issue with at the moment. My son's party was going to be the first time I'd seen or heard from her sister since this incident, and nothing had been resolved nor any apologies made, nor any attempts made to set things right. I wasn't approaching her - because I feel I did my part and what she did, she did unnecessarily and it was completely uncalled for. And so J had a conversation with her sister on the morning of the party. They called to let J know that they were on the road and asked if we'd like to meet them fro breakfast. I declined because I still had a lot of setting up to do and couldn't get away, but J got dressed and went to go meet them. She was also tasked with speaking with her sister beforehand and letting her know that this was NOT the time for continued awkwardness or an argument - it was my Son's graduation celebration and I wasn't going to be made to feel uncomfortable or angry by anyone. This was a day to marvel in the Son's accomplishments, enjoy the company of the people who came to share in it - there was much to be discussed but now wasn't the time nor place. When J's sister arrived, she came in first, ahead of J and their parents. Without a word, she took my hand and brought me into the bedroom. There, she apologized for what she said to me and explained that a lot of her behavior stems from her feelings of helplessness - being four hours' drive away from J was taking a toll. When J called to let them know that she had to get the procedure done, she had been upset and as a result, her sister's protective side took over - she didn't understand the full picture and so she prematurely lashed out, thinking I wasn't upholding my end of what needed to be done. I told her I, too, was sorry - not for what I said to defend myself, but if I'd somehow given her the impression that I was in any way abandoning J's needs or coming across as being selfish because that indeed is not the person I am. And I also said that while I expected that sort of comment to come from their MOTHER, it was extremely hurtful to even think she'd (her sister) think that low of me after knowing me for nine and a half years. Her sister looked me in the eyes and told me that I, too, was her sister. She loved me, she lost her mind momentarily and her claws would have come out for me too, if there ever were a situation where I needed defending. (And I think this is another 'issue' that needs addressing at a later time - J is a grown woman and can certainly defend herself if she felt the need to do so...and from our talks on this matter, J has never felt the need to do so with me - it looks more to be an internal issue that her sister is having...for the duty of being J's 'person' is no longer hers - perhaps she's having trouble with that and it has also caused her to lash out on me - because I didn't 'do' things the way she would have, etc...) J's sister ended this five-minute conversation apologizing once again and then saying that she would like for us to become closer. She'd like for us to talk once per week, through text or through FB. She'd like for us to truly get to know one another, beyond the hellos, goodbyes and small talk - which admittedly while I am more comfortable being affectionate toward J when her sister is around than her parents, I STILL don't feel I quite fit in there, either. What happened has certainly driven that wedge further, but we made 'nice' for the moment, which is what I needed to happen in order to start moving forward. There is still some work and reparations to be done/made as far as this relationship I have with J's sister, but it's made me think about OTHER relationships that exist in my life. Relationships with family members, with my parents, with my sisters, with my children, with the wasband, with friends, with people I've met here. The list goes on. A little statistic for those factoid-lovers out there - on average, us humans live for 78.3 years. Most of us remember people we meet after age 5. So, let's assume we interact with 3 new people daily in cities, 365 days in a year plus leap yeas days is 365.24. In total it will be (78.3 – 5) x 3 x 365.24 = 80,000 people we interact with in a lifetime. Let's also assume that at least 20% of these people are ones whose names we know, who we remember beyond that first meeting. That still comes out to be a pretty big number of people. It's made me think about myself a lot, too. About the walls I put up...(I think the POTUS would be proud.) These walls have been up for a long, long time, I'm guessing. I have such a hard time allowing people through...I am picturing this as I type...there's a HUGE wall, possibly two or three football fields' width, with a single door somewhere in the middle. Some people have made me aware that they've been running into, driving into, attempting to jump over it, even trying to dig underneath it...but can't seem to get through that tiny little doorway enough to say that they TRULY know me. And, you know...this isn't their fault - it's the way I've intended for it to be - all the while I've had the key and means to allow people in. Right now, after the events that have transpired recently, the only one who is behind this wall and has one hundred percent of my heart, soul and trust, is J. She's inside this wall, and she's sitting next to me and we're surrounded by this enormous amount of open space. I am imagining though that while I like that well enough, it's still a lonely place - because between the presence of this wall and the amount of time it's been up, I'm at risk of ending up alone later in life. Because as much as I don't want to imagine this ever happening - I have to be realistic and remember that ANYTHING can happen that could result in a break-up or separation. This is NOT to say this is something I am concerned with right now because J's and my love is a strong one, perhaps even stronger than these walls - but I have to repeatedly ask myself - hypothetically, what if someday, she wasn't there anymore? Then what? Where would that leave me, standing in the middle of this huge, empty space? I know that I have been able to scale J's walls but her sister has been behind her wall before me, so if something were to happen to me resulting in my death, I know that moving forward, J would be okay - she has another rock situated there for life. Me, though? She's it. I love her with everything I am and if life could guarantee that she's going to be there for the rest of my life, this wouldn't even be a thought. But it can't. And I've been working so hard and for so long to make sure she's the only one there. I'm not sure if this is more harmful than helpful, though. Not even my mother has breached this wall. She can't figure out why, and she's expressed many times a frustration over not being able to 'reach' me but, well...that's just too bad. She's too much of a pain in the ass to even WANT inside this wall. My two children are stationed at the imaginary doorway - if not sitting on top of this wall. I only say this because while I trust my children completely, there are still things they do not know about me and that I've not been able to share with them in regards to my life and my past. I still feel the need to shield them from these details because as their mother, my wish is to spare them some of the grisly details that may otherwise and unnecessarily upset them. Nothing can be done about these things right now, firstly - and secondly, even though the Son is about to turn 18, he's still in many ways a child. The daughter is just 11, she's not ready to see past the doorway just yet. And so they are granted access to the 'inside' by default because of them being 'permanent' fixtures in my life. Nothing short of death will eject them from my heart - and should they, one day, approach me and ask me about my past or for details, I'd be okay with sharing them - but they'd have to ask for them. I also feel the need to mention that with each time I've been burned by someone, a layer is added to this wall, to solidify it. I think it's all measured in invisible 'materials,' if that makes sense. For example, if someone were to lie to me or break my trust in a minor way that can be eventually moved past, and otherwise apologized for, I'll certainly forgive them but won't be able to help adding a 'dirt layer' in front of my wall that they'll have to spend some time cleaning up/digging to get through, but will eventually be able to find this doorway and try again. If someone were to cheat on me though? A wall made of steel will come crashing down in front of these people and they're not guaranteed to get through this one in this same lifetime. The wasband is currently behind THIS wall - I've forgiven him his infidelities, though - because without having burned me this way, I would not have found my true soulmate. And so, the only reason he remains behind this steel wall and I haven't banished him into an entirely different universe reserved for those I never want to associate with again, is because of the children we share, that love him very much. Between dirt and steel, we also have brick, glass, etc to measure the different strengths of wall required for that 20% of the 80,000 people I'll meet in my lifetime to pass. So, along with the idea of working with my sister-in-law in future weeks, months, years to come, I'm now wondering if I should further open this make-believe (solidified, of course) door, and see who's still trying to get in and who's given up by now. Do these persistent people deserve a chance? Do I need to work on making room (although I think it's a matter of FILLING space rather than making room) in my heart for others by opening up a little bit more and loosening some of these self-inflicted barriers? I've spent a fair amount of time collecting trust - I am told that I'm an easy person to trust - and I believe this because yes, this is a great deal of who I am. I'm loyal, I'm honest, I'm faithful, I do not break others' trust; I can't live with myself if I ever did, and if that did happen, it'd likely be accidentally or otherwise unintentional. And I always own up to my mistakes when they're made. I wonder though, if it is time for me to reciprocate and put some of my own trust in others? Even if I do it a little bit at a time (which I'm working on), it's still so, so hard to do enough to allow someone complete access. I imagine that'll take a while but it's another hurdle I'm finding myself facing these days. How does one even clear this type of hurdle? I'd love to hear, so if anyone has any input, please do comment! Until next time, folks. My dinner (pizza) and date (of course, J) have arrived. We're taking in a movie and we'll relax tonight. I'll be back later. , and all my best, - Capulet
  5. Can someone explain to me what the appeal is of a frozen breakfast sandwich? I'm not even talking Jimmy Dean. I'm talking the Walmart brand. Frozen. $3.89 for a box of four sandwiches. They're about a thousand calories each and are no bigger than a plum, plus the eggs are questionable as to whether they're real or just pretend eggs. There's a sausage patty, also questionable as to whether they're made of mystery meat or real pork, which would surprise me. My kids LOVE these things. And because getting them up in the mornings for school is a process that leaves very little time for healthy breakfasts, they'll usually grab one of these Walmart brand Sausage, Egg and Cheese Biscuits on their way out the door. Once in a while, when I shop at Walmart (yes, if you've seen weird people at Walmart recently, you may have seen me...especially perusing the holiday clearances)...I will seek out such quickie meals for the kids, so that they have something in their bellies before school. They will usually skip lunch (daughter more so than son, since he has half-day every day and will opt for lunch at home) simply because they don't find the school meals appetizing in any way. I suppose I can't blame them there; MY middle-school cafeteria cook used to serve us slop that looked akin to vomit on a styrofoam tray. THIS morning, though, my two were arguing over who was going to eat the last "fake" breakfast sandwich. She claims that he ate the last one on a day that there was only one left...(you do the math, two kids, four sandwiches in the box, two sandwiches per day = breakfast on Thursday and Friday mornings)...not sure how it got lopsided - perhaps because on occasion even the microwaveable breakfast didn't sound appeasing to one of them, but this particular morning, there was only one sandwich left in the freezer. And he, before she could go looking for it, ate it. In like, two big 17-year-old size chomps, it was gone. Swear to God, you would have thought he ate a filet mignon that she'd saved her allowance for months to buy....she lost her shit. She went on for about thirty minutes before school about how much she couldn't stand her brother. There might have been tears. Some foot-stomping. Some choice words screamed at his back when she thought I wasn't paying attention. I vaguely remember shaking my head mumbling something about how the sandwich was now down my son's gullet and there was NOTHING that could be done, so I was going to walk away and drop the issue. Along with making a mental note to buy more of those fucking sandwiches next time I went to Walmart. Fast-forward to last night - I was putting some groceries away and found the same thing I found that other morning. A LONE SANDWICH. A result of one morning when he'd come upstairs and fallen back asleep on the couch and hadn't eaten his breakfast. (There, that's how it got lopsided...) So...there's a sandwich, wrapped in the clear cellophane. I couldn't cover it with a package of chicken breasts fast enough. She doesn't pay attention to much, nowadays. She's 11. But she saw that sandwich, clear as day. "DIBS!" She screeches. "That's MY sandwich! He ate the last one!" Couldn't even tell her she was wrong about that, but I accepted that the sandwich was called for, and that I would guard that sandwich for her. Fast-forward to this morning. Snow day! No school. Both kids came out of their rooms at just about noon - well rested and hungry. She decided to have a can of Boyardee (another quickie meal that we really shouldn't keep buying) and when he finally came upstairs, he went straight to the freezer and lo and behold, spied the sandwich that his sister had called dibs on. He reached in, thinking he'd struck gold. It was like slo-mo. Her eyes got wide. MY eyes got wide. It was time to prevent a war. Because if he would have gotten as far as opening that cellophane wrapper, there WOULD have been bloodshed. "Yoursister'sbeensavingthat." I said to him, real quick. "Whut?" The clueless teenage look we all know so well. "Your. sister. has. been. saving. that," I say again, holding my hand out. "Surrender the sandwich." "Why can't I have it?" he wasn't seeing his sister about to scale the kitchen table and go ape-shit on him. And just picture this, her lips saturated in Boyardee sauce, hair wild, eyes wide. It wasn't pretty. "Because she's been saving it and she called dibs on it last night." He rolls his eyes. Sandwich lands into my outstretched palm. Crisis averted. For now. Time to go to Walmart. But I need the heat wave, first. 20's, I can deal with. Negative temps are NO BUENO! Hope y'all are staying warm. - Capulet
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