Randomness

I noticed something about a week ago, regarding my blog.  I do have followers (and I thank you for that).  I look at my followers’ blogs and I follow quite a few.  Very interesting stuff to read.  I appreciate the different ideas, opinions.  There are a lot of followers who are some type of…..fixer.  That is the only word I can come up with at the moment.  They are health/wellness bloggers, relationship bloggers, romance advisor’s – you get the drift.  My wondering mind wants to know if those followers are hoping to maybe, fix me?  Maybe get a new client?  I don’t know.  I am cynical, so I question everything.  I do not mean any offense at all – HONEST!  Or did they read my stuff and think “Holy Mother of God!  This person is fucked up!  Send help immediately!”  Maybe they can use me as an example?  

 

I think it would be cool to have a back and forth with people who follow me.  Ask me a question, make a comment.  It’s cool.  Let’s have a discussion.  Ya know?

 

So, I do have a question for the people in long term relationships. Do you talk to each other? What do you talk about? If you go out to a local watering hole. Do you sit and engage with others around you? Do you talk with your partner about anything? What do you talk about? Or do you sit in some type of comfortably uncomfortable silence? Is there a point and time where the talking just stops? Is that just the natural progression of a long-term relationship? I’m not a quiet person. What happens when the local watering hole doesn’t provide the same stimulation? Are you able to sit and talk endlessly with your partner? I’m totally serious. I want to hear what people have to say, what you think, what you do in your relationship. Cause when you boil it all down, what should be at the core of your long-term relationship? Love, communication, understanding, compatibility…………what is it? What do you think?

Food, please and thank you

So, it’s 10:00 AM.  I have been at work since about 7:30 AM.  I have checked my email.  Nothing there for me to do.  I put six bottles of water in the conference room refrigerator.  I took two letters to the mailbox and put the flag up.  There have been no phone calls to answer.  I have heard one of the “professionals” in the office being passive aggressive and complaining about the temperature of the office (that person has a thermostat in their office).  I know one female and two males have gone potty.  I have shuffled and reshuffled the same papers around my desk about four times.  I have organized the wheat thins that I am eating into pairs.  I have hated myself 127,568 times for my many faults.  I am currently considering getting more wheat thins to eat, because……………why not.  If I do get more wheat thins, I will be able to hate myself like 54,789 more times before noon.  At noon it’s lunch time.  I have fresh, local black raspberries (my favorite) and vanilla Greek yogurt.  Totally healthy and good for me.  And as I eat that, I will PROMISE myself that this is it.  This is the time I make the change.  The time is now.  Stop procrastinating and making excuses.  How do I know that will happen?  Because it happens every day, at least once a day.  And then the rest of the day I eat my feelings, I eat my mistakes, I eat my unhappiness, I eat my loneliness, I eat my excuses, I eat my fear, I eat my inadequacies.  I eat.  The way I see my current situation, there is no reason not to eat.  I find my comfort eating, I find a long-lost friend eating, I find my emotional support when I eat, I find everything I need when eat.  Food isn’t going to leave me. I can’t disappoint food, I can’t hurt food.  Food gives my fat suit.  I have and will continue to pay dearly for that fat suit.  It will help me shut people out, let people see what they want, let people think what they want.  With my fat suit on, no one is going to get close enough to see the real me, to see the truth no one wants to see.  And, so you are aware, I did not get more wheat thins to eat.  I got goldfish.  I ate them in pairs.  

 

What do you see?

 

What do you see when you look at me?  Can you tell me?  Will you tell me?

 

Who do you see when you look at me?  Can you tell me?  Will you tell me?

 

Tell me the good, the bad and the ugly.  Here I am.  No filter, no make-up.  Just me, raw and vulnerable.  Opening to you.  What will you do with this? 

 

I wonder if you see what I see. Do you only see what I want you to see?  Do you see me? ME!

 

There are so many words I want to hear, so many truths I want to hear.  The truth can be messy, hurtful, powerful.  It can open doors and it can close doors.

Who do you see when you look at me?  Can you tell me?  Will you tell me?

 

What do you see when you look at me?  Can you tell me?  Will you tell me?

 

What do you see?

Ramblings

 

Please excuse me, but these are the ramblings of an old, fat, scatterbrained, wannabe loved woman.

 

I can say those things about myself.  I am old.  I can’t say midlife anymore.  That would mean I have another 50+ years of living.  I’m fairly certain that isn’t the case.  I am fat.  Society and medicine tell me so.  Even when the people who say they love me don’t tell me the truth, I know I am fat.  Yes, I am scatterbrained.  How can’t I be?  Who isn’t these days?  A wannabe loved woman.  That is also me.  This is one of those catch 22’s and probably most of what my ramblings and deep dives will most likely lead back to.

 

Feels like so many things are just floating around “out there”.  My girl is in therapy.  At least I think she is.  She started May 18th.  It is from 8:30 AM to 3:30 PM, five days a week.  As far as I know she has gone every day.  No real way for me to check since she is over 18 and an “adult”.  The last three weekends she has basically been gone from the house starting Friday evening through late Sunday night.  I don’t like it.  She tells me she is with a friend and ends up spending the weekend.  Is she?  I don’t know.  Is she with drippy dick?  I don’t know.  Someone suggested putting a tracking device on her car.  I honestly did think about that.  But, I need to do my best to trust her until she gives me a reason not to trust her, right?  If, in the near future, I need to make a decision to kick her out of the house or cut her off, or whatever – it will be because she messed up.  I will not spy and/or trick her.  Don’t get me wrong.  I want to spy, I just feel like I can’t right now. I need to let her go and do her thing, whatever that is.  

 

A very dear friend recently lost her mother (as did my husband).  I haven’t talked to or seen my mom since Mother’s Day.  It’s such a messed-up relationship.  She won’t break down and call me, that would mean she is giving in.  And honestly, if/when I call her at this point I will be subjected to guilt.  I carry more than enough guilt around.  But, what if something happens to her and I haven’t talked to her in over a month?  The guilt would be tenfold and would stay with me forever.  I can’t understand why she doesn’t see or refuses to see that I do all I can for my family.  I work to continue to support my kids and grandkids in things they may need.  If I didn’t spend money on kids and grandkids, maybe I could stop working – at least fulltime.  She stopped working by now.  She stayed home.  I’m not 20 anymore.  I do get tired, I do have aches and pains, things aren’t always as easy as they used to be.  I would like her to understand that.  I have tried to tell her.  She says I’m just making excuses.  She actually sees her great-grandchildren, my grandchildren, more than me.  But she still plays the victim.  No one calls her, no one stops to see her, etc.  I want to be more sympathetic.  I just can’t be at this point.  As the saying goes, “too much water under the bridge”.  I shouldn’t live in the past, but the past made into this old, fat, scatterbrained, wannabe loved woman.

 

I found another arthritis lump on one of the knuckles of my right middle finger.  I found one about 6 months ago on my right pointer finger.  My hands now look like my great-grandmothers did.  At least what I remember her hands looking like when I was 15 and she was 76.  I don’t like it.  My face is getting droopy.  My neck is gross and hanging, along with every other body part a woman doesn’t want to have hanging.  I feel completely unattractive and gross.  That’s the plain and simple of it.  I like one thing.  I like my eyelashes, and those are fake.

 

Do you ever tire of people saying they wouldn’t know what to they would do without you, that they couldn’t live without you?  I do.  If you feel that way about me, let me ask you a question.  What are you doing with me?  What are you doing with me in YOUR life?  Where do I fit?  Are you more afraid that I would leave and you would have to figure out that I actually did a hell of a lot for you?  Are you afraid to lose the comfort and convenience of me being around?  Is that fair?  I am a comfort and convenience for some of the most important people in my life.  At least I feel that way.  Old, fat, scatterbrained, wannabe loved woman will always be here.  She always comes back, no matter what.  You don’t have to reciprocate, you don’t have to show love, you don’t have to talk to her, you don’t have to respect her.  Because the old, fat, scatterbrained, wannabe loved woman isn’t worthy of more or better.  The old, fat, scatterbrained, wannabe loved woman is reliable, convenient, easy, a doormat for everyone to wipe their dirt on and move on.  What happens when the doormat is taken away?  What do you do with your dirt?  Think about it.  The old, fat, scatterbrained, wannabe loved woman wants just that.  I wannabe loved for me.  Just me.  Not because I have become a comfort and a convenience to have around.  Show me that love, tell me about that love, tell me why I should stay, don’t make me feel like a doormat or an afterthought.

 

The old, fat, scatterbrained, wannabe loved woman says, “tag, you’re it.”

Maybe

Maybe if I was younger

Maybe if I was skinnier

Maybe if I was prettier

Maybe if I was blonde

Maybe if I had big boobs

Maybe if I had thin thighs

Maybe if I had a flat stomach

Maybe if I had no cellulite

Maybe if I cleaned more

Maybe if I cooked more

Maybe if I laughed more

Maybe if I cried more

Maybe if I cared more

Maybe if I made more money

Maybe if I loved more

Maybe if I talked less

Maybe if I complained less

Maybe if I spent less

Maybe if I laughed less

Maybe if I cried less

Maybe if I loved less

Maybe if I cared less

Maybe if I changed all of me

Maybe then…

My Girl – Another Chapter

I apologize I’m advance. I try to read and re-read to catch errors. For some reason this one was too hard to re-read.

It’s been a little over a week since the last major upheaval with my girl. I still don’t think I am fully comprehending what happened. What I saw, what I heard, what I had to do.

She went back to him after the last incident. You know, the one where he drug her with his car and beat her again. She signed a six-month lease with him for a shit hole apartment in an old house. First floor was my girl and drippy dick, second floor an old lady and the third floor was drippy’s uncle (shocking) and miscellaneous other derelicts. 


The last week of April I could tell she was struggling. The messages and texts she was sending were…..too happy. I wasn’tsure if she was trying to convince me or herself that she was happy.  Throughout that week she messaged that she was going to stop at some point during the week and also over the weekend.  She didn’t come during the week.  

On Sunday, May 1st, I was outside painting a piece of furniture. My other half was doing miscellaneous yard work. My phone rang, it was her. As usual the feeling of “what now” mixed with fear and angst shot through me.  I answered to hear my girl and drippy screaming at each other.  I had to scream at the top of my lungs to get her attention and get her to hear me.  She was pleading and begging me to come get her out.  He was yelling at her; she was yelling at him.  She found messages he sent to other girls, again.  That started the fight, but it always turns into much more.  She was completely out of control.  He kept threatening to call the cops because she was using “his phone”, the phone he got for her when he put her on his plan.  She was screaming at him to stop touching her stuff.  I asked her if she thought he would talk to me.  She asked him and I heard his response “of course I will talk to your mom”.  I can still hear his smug ass voice.  I said, “Hello, drippy dick (but actually used his name).  We are coming to get “my girl” and all her things.  This situation needs to end for your well-being and her well-being.”  He stopped me from continuing.  Drippy said to me, “please don’t pretend to care about my well-being, that is just disrespectful.”  I said, “Oh, I forgot you are all about respect.”  I couldn’t help it.  I asked if they could please stay away from each other until we get there.  He assured me that they wouldand hung up.

She called me back.  She was hysterical; dry heaving, crying, screaming.  I told her to stay on the phone with me.  We were getting ready to leave.  Just as a side note, it’s about a 35–40-minute drive to get to her.  I kept telling her to go to her car and get away from him.  Just sit in her car and ignore him.  She said she would.  I still heard them yelling and screaming.  

We are in the car headed to her. She is still on the phone, I have her on Bluetooth. She tells me she called the police.  I was actually shocked.  She was in her car waiting.  She was crying, wailing in emotional and physical pain.  Repeating over and over that she didn’t want to be alive, she can’t do this anymore.  This was the FIRST TIME my other half has had the experience of hearing her like this.  It’s not a fun thing to experience.  But part of me was glad, if I’m being honest. He needed to hear what I have heard for the last four years.  

She told us the cops were there.  I told her to stay in her car until they come and talk to her.  She is still hysterical.  I hear her talking to the cop.  She has her edge of ghetto girl in her voice and words.  I hate it.  The cop is trying to calm her.  It’s not helping.  There are two cops.  They go to talk to drippy.  She is screaming at drippy.  So much is being said and yelled it’s hard to hear everything.  At one point is sounded like drippy told the cops he didn’t want her there, and she quickly yelled back that she is on the lease and has every right to be there.  Good for her.  She was still yelling at drippy to stop touching her things and yelling at the cops to get him to stop.  I understood her side.  She wasn’t allowed to go into the apartment to keep things civil, but he could start removing her things.  

One cop stayed with her, one with.  I asked her if I could talk to the cop, he agreed.  I explained we were on our way and that I didn’t feel she would be safe if they left.  He asked when we would get there, at that point it was another 20 minutes.  I hear my girl yelling about one of drippy’s relatives now being there.  It was the uncle that lives on the third floor.  The yelling and screaming continue until we get there.  She was continually saying she wanted to die, she wanted to go to the hospital, she’snot going to make it, she can’t do it anymore.  Drippy was playing the victim card with the cops that were there, she felt completely defeated.  

We finally get there after what seemed like hours.  She was in the apartment getting things, there was a copy inside and one outside.  We talked to the cop outside, he was very nice and obviously saw through Drippy’s attempt to be the victim.  My girl had her car packed full, and there was more of her stuff in the yard.  We started loading up, the cop helped us.  While loading up Drippy’s mom showed up.  Just as cynical and condescending as her son.  She made sure the cop heard that she was at church and her son was just blowing up her phone and she had to leave church early.  I can only assume it is a church that allows illegal drug use, carrying weapons illegally and beating women.  We introduced ourselves, this is the first time we met or talked.  She went into the apartment to console her son.

Drippy tried numerous times to get me or my other half to engage with him.  We both refused and ignored him.  At one point my girl wanted me to come onto a porch area, which leads into the kitchen of the apartment.  There are a few steps up into the kitchen and a man door at the top of the steps.  I was standing on the top step, refused to go inside.  But I could hear her and would know if anything was happening.  Drippy walked by, noticed me and used his foot to slam the door on my face.  He made comments to my other half, all to antagonize him into a verbal or better yet a physical confrontation.  

We have basically everything in the cars.  The cat was the last thing.  My girl was maybe a 7 out of 10 in the hysterics.  My people are in the yard area, his people are in the porch area.  Cops are basically in the middle.  Conversations are being had about Drippy not being allowed at our home.  He wanted the same for my girl, but whoopsie! She’s on the lease fuckhead.  She can come anytime she wants.  I loved hearing the cop tell him that.  Drippy feels he is very smart in regards to civil and criminal laws.  Drippy didn’t like it.  So, he says to the cop that he would like to discuss a matter in private with him, because he wants my girl arrested for Domestic Violence because he has a scratch on his hand from her.  And BOOM.  She is set off.  So I said, if that’s the case then my girl will press charges for Domestic Violence as well.  That is when Drippy’s mom stepped in and told Drippy they will discuss it and if he feels strongly about it, he can contact the cop later.  But my girl is completely out of control at this point.  She is now screaming and yelling about $500 worth of dab shit that she just bought for him, and she wants it back, it’s in his car.  He refuses to go in his car – for obvious reasons.  She refuses to leave; I can’t do anything with her.  I can’t get through to her at all.  

At this point I have no choice but to manhandle her.  I basically have her in a bear hug, walking her out of the yard and to the car.  She broke free a few times, throwing things, yelling and screaming.  Drippy keeps asking about his phone.  She wipes the phone, restoring it to factory and I hand it to the cop to make sure it is returned to Drippy.  She still will not leave willingly.  Still screaming it’s not fair he gets to play the victim after all he has put her through.  I have her wrapped tight in my arms.  I tell my other half to open the passenger door and then start my car.  I get her into the seat, he has to get her the rest of the way in and shut the door.  I am in the driver seat and as soon as her door shuts, I put it in drive and fly out of the alley.  She is thrashing, pounding on the dash, the windows, throwing her body front and back.  I was terrified she was going to jump out of my car.  Oh, I should add that my other half drove her car.

I try extremely hard not to cry in front of her.  I couldn’t hold it back.  I was so done.  I reached my limit.  Nothing I said was right, so I just had to stop talking.  She eventually held my hand.  Slowly began to calm down.  I think her body was just done; her mind was done.  She was completely spent.  She has no more fight in her.  

I call her one brother on the way home.  He can relate well to her.  He tells her he will be at home when we get there and will stay as long as she needs him.  I also call a friend who is an officer and ask him to come to the house and talk to her about the domestic violence side of things.  He agrees to.

We get home.  No one really knows what to do or how to act.  We talk to her about going to the hospital to commit herself.  She just isn’t sure that’s what she wants.  Yes, we can commit her.  She will answer all the questions correctly and be released in about two hours.  And I take a chance of ruining her being safe with us at home.  

It’s eventually decided she will stay home.  She wants to be in her bed, in a safe place, with her cat.  I take Monday off to be home with her.  We talk quite a bit.  With her beside me I set her up for an outpatient day hospital program.  She agreed to this.  Five days a week, 7 hours a day.  She is scheduled for in-take on Monday, May 9th.  We have to help her make it 7 days.  

Throughout the day on Monday, I get her a new phone number.  I call the landlord for the lease; I have to leave a message.  I get no call back.  

Tuesday, I have to go to work, pulling out of the driveway is the hardest thing ever.  But she promises me she will not hurt herself.  Oh, shit.  I should mention that while my girl and drippy were fighting, before anyone got there, she was cutting herself with a scissors.  He actually told the officers that he “eventually” took it from her for her own safety.  E-V-E-N-T-U-A-L-L-Y.  

Anyway, I end up talking to the landlord, she is fine with releasing Hannah from the lease if Drippy agrees to sign a new lease in his name only.  She said she would talk to him.  My girl sends me a text, she forgot a motorcycle jacket and a picture of her cat that she took, edited and spent quite a bit of time on.  I get Drippy’s mom’s number from my girl and text her asking if I send a box with a prepaid label, would she send the items.  She said she would need to check with her son.  Before she responds about the items, she asks me if I am going to pay the rest of the lease or pay for the phone that he bought for her on installments.  WHAT? We had a back-and-forth text conversation for a bit.  Nothing was resolved.  

Called the landlord back on Tuesday. She answered.  Explained the situation.  She said she would talk to Drippy and see if he would be willing to sign a new lease in just his name.  This will shock you; he did not agree to this.  And he let the landlordknow if my girl didn’t pay her part, he would sue her civilly.  I fully believe that he would do this.  The last thing she needs is to be served with paperwork from him.  So, I am paying her half of the rent for the next three months.  Sent Drippy’s mom a text advising her, along with a picture of the letter and check I sent to the landlord.  Apparently, that isn’t enough for them.  Now Drippy also wants me to pay or the phone that HE bought, that is in HIS name and doesn’t have my girls name anywhere on the paperwork.  It just never ends.

I’m backtracking here a bit.  The evening of May 8th, my girl gets a call from the therapy group she is going into treatment with.  They are short staffed and cancelled her in-take for Monday, May 9th.  I did confirm this.  The next available in-take date being May 20th.  Awesome.  She got yet another call last week to cancel the May 20th appointment, again due to being short staffed. She actually stood up for herself and said no, she needs this, needs to get it started.  She had to settle for an in-take via zoom on May 18th.  My fingers are crossed this pans out and she follows through with it.  

I have no way of knowing if she is contacting him.  I check phone records and don’t see any of his numbers. But there are so many other ways.  I know that.  I ask her almost daily if she has talked to him, she says no.  There are days she wants to.  I can imagine after almost 5 years it would be difficult.  

I now have to figure out how to get my girl on disability.  I can’tkeep paying for everything.  Her car insurance is $280 a month, plus the rental payments, plus gas (which she needs to drive to her therapy and doctor appointments) and then there will be all the co-pays for the actual treatment and medication.  I have heard attempting to get disability take months, if not years.  I am still paying off her last commitment. And of all times, I decide to take a new job, and a 15k yearly pay cut.  

Anybody have any advice? I did contact a lawyer and got some basic information.  She has to apply, she will be rejected, she will have to appeal, will be rejected and then we have to get a lawyer.  We are now working on getting all her medical records to send along with the disability claim. This is not an easy task.

None of this is easy.

I don’t know

I just don’t know anymore. I don’t want to stress anymore. I don’t want to worry anymore. I don’t want to care anymore. I just don’t want to anymore.

My girl went to her therapy yesterday. It was the first in-person session with her therapist since the virus. She also had her first group therapy. I will admit I was very worried that she would not go. I will also admit I was very scared that if she did not go, I would have to do something about it. I’m not sure what, but something would have had to happen. While my logical brain tells me it’s time for her to leave, my emotional mom mind tells me that is the worst possible thing at this point. And there really is no in-between, at least as I see it.

Back to the therapy. We, me and my husband, were sitting outside when our girl got home. It was later in the evening and she was hungry so she went in the house to get some food. She came back out and I began asking about how things went. It is a very slow process to get her to talk at times and I know I’m not always getting “the full story” so to speak. She didn’t seem overly thrilled about either the individual or the group therapy. She told me she promised her therapist she would commit to three months of the individual/group therapy. She promised not to go ghost. One thing that seemed to especially annoy her about the group part, is that the participants are not allowed to engage in any personal contact. She said it could create drama in the group and what if two people in the group are in crisis mode at the same? I won’t pretend to completely understand all of it. I get that they don’t want or need additional drama in a therapy setting. I don’t completely understand not being able to talk with someone that has been in the group therapy for support. But I’m not a therapist, so what do I know.

As we were talking drippy came up in conversation many times; many, many, many times. The short version is she wants us (mom & dad) to try again to have some type of relationship with drippy. According to my girl, drippy also wants this. Now, she also said she knows that he is not “ready” to try again at this point. I wish I could have recorded the conversation so I could go back and replay what was said. There was no fighting or arguing. I have said before that I refuse to do that with her, but she did not get mean, nasty and she didn’t shut down. Conversation went from therapy to drippy, back to therapy, to life in general.

My girl has a thought in her mind that since she is now 20 she should be at a different point in life. She should be independent, not relying on mom & dad for everything, have money for a car and an apartment and living expenses. I talked again about looking into in-patient places. Like actually look at them, not just talk about them. She gave the typical reasons why she didn’t think she wanted to do that. Family and missing the babies that we have been blessed with, leaving therapy and still having nothing because she can’t work and make money (still not sure where this money thing is coming from – but I have my ideas). I countered each reason the best why I could. I just really want her to consider it.

The conversations that dealt with drippy were the hardest. She wants our approval to be with him, she wants him to be included, she wants to talk about him with us. I don’t know how to deal with that. HE BEAT HER. She defends him and she admitted she knows she does. She said we only know the bad about him and their relationship because that is all she has shared. She wants to talk to us about the good parts, how he treats her (?), how he is what she needs right now and she wants him in her life. She reiterated these thoughts and feelings quite a few times and I don’t know what the fuck to do about it. Right now drippy is holding the trump card, and it’s a red ace of hearts – he has my girls heart whether we like it or not. I don’t mean to make it sound like this is a game and my girl is the prize. It’s just the best way I can explain a really shitty situation. I am scared what this will mean for the future. I am scared choices will have to be made and none of the choices are good. I am scared that the immediate family will pull away from her, more than they already are.

And this is why I just don’t know anymore.