I hate hypocrites. I really do. Two faced, back stabbing, whatever is ok for me but not you. It basically boils down to dishonesty. Grr
My awesomely kind, caring, and generous boyfriend stopped by my work to lend me some money so I wouldn’t run out of gas before I get paid. When he got there I just put my hand over his. Now, mind you, I’d do the same with just anyone I’m fond of. Yes, he’s special, but I’m by nature a touchy feely sort and like to put a hand on the person I’m talking to if I’m particularly fond of them as a friend or whatever. The exceptions to this are the ones that have explicitly expressed wishes to NOT be touched or if I really don’t know them well enough to know how they feel about it.
Now, because he IS special, and I was extremely happy to see him, I did lean over the counter and give him a peck… twice. No tongue or prolonged contact going on. Hells, I’ve gotten similar kisses from family. Nooooot a big deal. Right? Right.
My boss then comes out after he leaves and tells me “No PDA at the counter. It’s not professional.”
I just say ok (I want to keep the job until I find a new one at least), apologize and go on about my business. Meanwhile my brain is SCREAMING! Royal Darth Bitch epic level hissy fits going on inside my skull.
The guy who was training me for audit spent the first half of his shift nodding off at the desk. The second half sleeping on the couch. And the one day I was already suppose to be there two hours by myself (after less than a week of training, when most people get at least two weeks) he turns around and bails out on me an hour early. So I was left alone for three hours. This is professional?
During my night audit shifts I’m being told I need to clean bathrooms, mop floors, and stock coolers… but I have to wear business casual clothes. This is professional?
Throughout my shift this very same manager makes crude comments about the guests checking in. About how they must be in a hurry to go “get some.” He made jokes about obnoxious drunk that wouldn’t leave me alone, and how I was supposedly going to go party with the cretin. This is professional?
I feel like I missed some important announcement in the world of professionalism as to what is and what is not acceptable.
Depression gets a lot of bad press. And understandably so. It’s an illness that most really can’t “get”. With things like pneumonia, cancer, heart disease, the flu, avian monkey SARS, whatever… those are things a doctor can physically pin-point and explain, and usually treat. The treatments may not always be effective, but the illness itself is something the general human mind can easily grasp.
Mental illness is not so easy. Continue reading
My new job is most definitely not what I thought it was.
Normally when one works the night audit at a hotel, there is some actual auditing involved. Here? Not so much. THERE IS NO PAPER TRAIL! The bookkeeper in me is cringing and screaming in agony at this. From the day I started my path into auditing and bookkeeping, I knew one of the most important things was to make sure there was a paper trail for everything. EVERYTHING. That is what keeps the tax man happy when your company is getting audited by the IRS. But no, just maybe a few papers and a stack of credit card receipts. That’s it.
So what does my job actually entail? Well, my first night of training consisted mostly of watching the guy who was suppose to be training me as he slept. Oh yeah. Drooling and snoring and everything. Fucking great. The rest of the time I was listening to the details of what all I’m expected to clean.
They expect me to clean the lobby public bathrooms.
Fuck. That. Noise.
The mere idea has me so fucking grossed out I want to puke.
I am, by design, a pencil pushing, button mashing, number cruncher. This is what I do. This is what I WANT to do. Why? Because I’m fucking good at it. I do NOT want to clean fucking toilets every night. I worked to hard so I wouldn’t have to do that kinda bullshit.
NO! Just NO!
I keep telling myself at least it’s a job until I find another one. Mom’s roommate told me to think of it as momentary. Not even temporary. Less than temporary. Momentary. I think I can handle that.
I have an interview with Home Depot on Wednesday. It’s a couple more miles, but it’s 50 cents more an hour, and no fucking toilet cleaning. Just hefting bags of dirt. I would rather do that than clean a public toilet.
I’m waiting to hear from someone else about a part time bookkeeping job. If that one goes well, it could lead to more jobs along the same line. I go in, handle the paperwork for the business a couple days, they pay me to make sure everything is properly accounted for. AND PAPER TRAILS!
Deep breaths. Must remember to take long, slow, deep breaths.
Recently a friend of mine posted something about wanting to defend the color pink and being girly. I find it rather annoying that any woman should feel the need to do this.
I like my pink fuzzy house slippers, thank you very much. I like wearing jewelry and makeup, and pretty dresses. Does this make me some fragile flower that a man needs to protect? Hell no. All it means is that when I’m kicking your ass, I will look amazingly beautiful while doing it. Well, ok, maybe not with the slippers. That’s more of a “cute” thing. Either way. Me looking good. You getting your ass handed to you on a silver platter.
I’ve had my femininity stripped away from me. It sucked.
Because I like to wear the frills and bells that makes me look more feminine does NOT make me weaker. It does NOT make me need someone to protect me from the big bad world. It does NOT mean I’m succumbing to society’s ideas of beauty. It does NOT mean you have the right to treat me as less of a human because of it.
What it DOES mean? It means I like the way I look and FEEL when I do these things. It means I look in the mirror and take some fucking pride in what I see looking back at me.
Does this mean women who choose not to do these things are not taking pride in their appearance? No. Definitely not. It just means they prefer to do other things that makes THEM feel good. And kudos to them!
So yes, I love my makeup, my jewelry, my pretty shoes. I also love my tattoos, my fishing pole, and my swords.
And if anyone laughs at my leather bracers because they have shiny purple butterflies on them, I am so pommel bashing their nose.
So last night my mom says “We’re going out.” Alrighty then. I have no idea what she’s dragging me into, but whatever. So we go to a sports bar to have dinner with one of her buddies who was having a birthday. Some guy was flirting with me and rubbing my arm. Mostly just to make mom tweak. And it worked. She was ready to punch him. I laughed it off.
Afterwards she hauls me to another bar that has a live band and dancing. Ok, sure. I like music, I like booze, and I like dancing. I get a few drinks, mom hauls me out on the dance floor… we had fun. I was able to relax and just enjoy myself without worrying about some anti-social jerk who could at any moment get pissy because I was drawing too much attention to us.
Mom had snapped some pictures throughout the evening and eventually posted them on her Facebook page. That’s what normal people do, right? Right. No big deal.
This morning she, my best friend Pat, and who knows who else, got messages from my soon-to-be ex. It was a note informing them that he just couldn’t deal with seeing me out partying and having fun after having abandoned my family. Therefore he was taking them off his friends list. Seriously?!?
Apparently I am not allowed to go out with my own mom and try to remember what it’s like to have a life again. I am suppose to just curl up and die quietly.
When I was with him I felt like I was dead already. I didn’t abandon my family. I got myself out of a situation that made me so fucking miserable I wanted to die. But he will never understand that. He believes he is perfect and therefore never wrong in any way. A friend suggested that I go and visit other mutual friends, take pictures with them, then have them post the pictures on their Facebook just to see what happens. I have awesome friends.
But THEN… oh then later today happened.
A friend of mine from Britain just recently realized that I had left him and was asking what happened. I hadn’t heard much from this guy in ages. I thought he was just busy having a life and such. Oh but NO! That’s not it at all. I found out that my ex had outright told this poor kid that he was to NEVER talk to me again. For what reason? I have no idea. The guy is 13 years younger than I am. He’s a kid to me. I adore him, but not in any way that one would consider… well whatever my ex thought it was.
I am furious.
So I contacted another young guy friend of mine from Australia that had also fallen out of steady contact. I asked him point blank if my ex had ever said such a thing to him. He told me no, but it had been certainly hinted at.
This infuriates me beyond words. I want to just totally flip my lid right now. Who knows how many others he’s done this to. Who the fuck does he think he is trying to decide who can and cannot talk to me? Where does he get off thinking it’s alright to chase people out of my life?
I swear to GODS I’m going to break something!
Now that I’m free to be me again, I have to remember who exactly me is. I gave up so much for the sake of everyone else, it’s hard to remember what all I gave up.
I remember giving up shaving my legs with nice razors and going to the ultra cheap ones. I stopped wearing makeup both because I didn’t ever feel like it, and because I didn’t want to spend money on it. I would go six months or more between dye jobs on my hair to save money. My clothes were constantly being taken by the teenager or destroyed by the kids, animals, or wherever they got tossed by the teen. But I rarely ever got to shop for new ones. Instead I wore his old clothes that he couldn’t fit into anymore. I stopped getting the good shampoo and conditioners. Instead I opted to get the Suave shampoo & conditioner mixed in one bottle. My hair is destroyed, by the way. I gave up eating healthy foods because I was the only one who would eat them and they cost more. Instead I got the cheap crap that they all ate too. Little wonder I now have a horrendous spare tire.
I slowly but surely gave up everything that made me feel like a woman.
He wanted a HD DVR. He got it. He wanted the wide-screen flat-panel TV when ours died. He got it. He wanted to go crazy with his e-cigarette mods. He got everything he wanted. Every flavor, every modification, every thingamagig whatchamacallit, whatever he wanted. He wanted a microphone and sound board to do some online radio show. He got it. He wanted new headphones to go with this show. He got it. Meanwhile I was not able to really listen to my music for the entire duration of our marriage. He would tell me to just wear headphones so I wouldn’t drown out his precious fucking tv. But as soon as I would put them on, he would try and talk to me. NEVER had a thing to say to me when I didn’t have them on. But the instant I was clearly trying to listen to something ELSE, he wanted my attention just like a fucking child. He wanted plywood and new tools to build something. He got it. Mind you, whatever he was planning never got built. Instead there was just a barely started project left in the garage for over a year. While I was spending my christmas to get myself necessities, he was blowing it on bullshit. While my things were being thrown away and destroyed every time we moved, we still had to carry around and take care of his boxes upon boxes of Simpsons toys. TOYS. I was giving up parts of my humanity and he was worried about his boxes of fucking toys.
Once Lex had gotten ahold of some plastic bottle of his and chewed it up. I had to listen to him rant and rave about how “he couldn’t ever have anything for himself.” I wanted to punch him in the face so hard. I wanted to scream at him and tell him what a selfish asshole he was. NOTHING I had was sacred. Not even my hair brush or my toothbrush.
I still want to scream. I want to yell. I want to rage at him and tell him all the reasons I left. I want to go somewhere and just beat the ever living FUCK out of something with a stick.
The depression is let up, but now the anger is setting in. I am so. very. angry.
I didn’t deserve to be treated the way he treated me. Nobody deserves to be treated like that. I did not deserve to be his emotional punching bag every time he got angry at work or whatever situation cropped up that made him upset. I did not deserve to have everything I liked being called “stupid” or “dumb” just because it wasn’t something he liked. I did not deserve to be with a man who only showed sexual interest in me if he was fucking stoned. I did not deserve to have every accomplishment or moment of pride ripped away from me with his need to one-up or belittle it.
I did not deserve being taken for granted.
I keep having to remind myself it’s ok to cry. That crying is normal and natural. I’ve always had a hard time with this.
I must remember that crying is not a weakness. I must remember that with everything I’ve gone through, I DESERVE to cry.
Easier said than done.
I remember all the times I would cry as a kid and being told “Shut up or I’ll give you something to cry about.” Or the times I was taunted to tears by the other kids because I wasn’t part of the “in” crowd. And then being called a crybaby because I broke down.
Truthfully I’ve cried more in the past seven years than I probably have the rest of my entire life. They were the only weapon I had left against him. Tears were the only way to make him see what kind of pain he was putting me through. Anger never worked. He would just get angry back. Screaming matches really don’t get anything accomplished. Logical and calm conversation never worked. He would just get angry and then twist things around so it was always my fault. But tears… he had no defense against tears. Crying was the only way I could ever get him to say “I’m sorry.”
Even then I felt weaker for crying. I felt like I was sacrificing some part of my strength just to survive.
It’s ok to cry. It’s ok to be upset over the changes in my life, even if they’re for the better. It’s ok to cry because I miss my kids.
But fuck all, I hate the headaches it gives me.
So I went upstairs to get some water. Just a normal part of my day. Been trying to flush my system after three years of drinking mostly sweet iced tea all day every day.
Water is obtained and I start to head back down the stairs. But out of the corner of my eye I see something moving across the street. Something BIG. So I backtrack a couple steps and take a good look outside to see what the hell it is.
Turkeys. A whole flock of wild turkeys was waddling their way along through the grass, heading toward the woods. So far since I’ve been here I’ve seen a bunch of squirrels, a herd of deer, and now turkeys. I wasn’t expecting turkeys. Skunks? Groundhogs? Rabbits? Sure! But turkeys? Fuck no.
I tried to get the dog to go get me one, but she wasn’t having any of it.
Speaking of turkeys, more people have defriended me on facebook. I can’t say I was particularly close to any of them, so I’m not exactly heartbroken. Just proves to me that some people take the word “friend” more lightly than I ever have. Pat is right. I’m better off without them. I don’t need fake friends in my life right now. I need people who will stand by me as much as I would stand by them.
We expect so much from others because of how much we would do for them.
I found one of my old blogs that I lost the password to ages ago. The very first entry was September 24, 2008. That was four years ago. I’m putting it here to show just how long I was in the pit I’m now climbing out of.
Have you ever found yourself not where you wanted to be, but had no idea how to fix it?
Imagine, if you will, being at a place in your life where you are happy. Really, down to the bone happy. But you give it up. Why? Because you decide to pick a road that’s probably not as enjoyable, but better for you.
A life that makes you happy, but not so good for you, versus a life that’s good for you, but won’t make you happy. Some choice, isn’t it?
You convince yourself you’ll still be happy. It’ll just be a different kind of happy. Right? Sure. And for awhile you are happy. You’re filled with the excitement of this new path laid out before you. And then reality checks in.
But how do you change this? You made the choice to be here. It was a choice you cannot take back.
So you go through the motions, thinking maybe if you do this thing or that thing it will all click into place and you’ll find that elusive happiness you’ve been seeking. But it doesn’t work, does it? No.
How long does it take before you begin to feel like a caged animal? Trapped in a prison without bars. You left everything behind for this new life, and now you can’t leave. Nowhere to go, and even if there was, you have no way to get there. You are stuck.
Perhaps it would be easier if it were a more cut and dry situation such as being abused. But it’s not one of those situations.
Have you ever?