I couldn’t sleep. I woke up at 1:00 am and my mind was racing. I’m not sure what to call him. I suppose after 7 years together there should be a more defined role or title except I don’t feel it. It would be a bold faced lie to say it’s my significant other. I have an engagement ring that lines my jewelery box. I’ve always been a free spirit. The ability to walk away from relationships and bad situations. Except for this nightmare.
In my 20’s I thought it was crazy for women to stay in bad situations. Especially when they had children. Then I had my daughter. Something become clear. The fact that my poor decision would now affect her entire life and I had to live with that. The weight of that was like atlas carrying the world on his shoulder. So I stayed. Knowing one day I’d take my passport and my shit let my daughter know I’m out. Catch me in Europe. I’d served my time. The irony between my plan and my own mothers disappearance does not elude me.
Last night I couldn’t sleep. My “partner” told me my dad fell out of the car when he was getting out for dialysis. He couldn’t get up. My stomach dropped. The stress has magnified. The pressure intensified. That coupled with a lunatic that you have to walk on egg shells with are the recipe for a stroke or a heart attack. I’ve never met a person I couldn’t speak with. I deal with difficult high strung professionals and even then, nasty or not I can communicate. I can peg them. I can asses who I’m dealing with and how to deal with them.
I’ve never been in a situation where I couldn’t express myself. Where it’s like North Korea. You can’t express anything outside of the designated permitted forms of expression. Trust me, I am expressive. The moral is that the anx I felt came from knowing my dad fell and he didn’t want me to know. My limited ability to be everywhere, and the argument that ensued with this so called partner. The partner proceeded to spout how this was his fucking apartment and he didn’t want a nurse here until it’s spic and span. The problem is he has shit all over the place. But in his eyes this is not a problem. When you deal with someone who’s issues are everyone else’s except his own, where everything is someone’s fault but their own, there is no winning.
I take great issue with people who have a need to try to exert their power. In my eyes, they’re weak. If you need to hold power over someone who can’t or just because, know that you are weak. A strong and powerful person doesn’t need to exert power over anyone. People will do your will because they respect you and you command so. Not out of force like a dictatorship where it’s done out of fear. Fear is the seed of resentment, after resentment anger grows. There’s a phrase I say all the time that I stand by. “Those who need to control are they themselves out of control.” That’s what I’m dealing with. A cyclone of a personality and my life.
I’m not complaining by any means. I’m simply acknowledging what I know and that’s the similarity between myself and my mothers decision to one day pack her shit and leave. Except one massive difference. My father was not a bad person in his entirety. He made poor decisions but I chalk that up to a lack of education. But he took care of us, made sure we lacked nothing. As strong as his personality was, I know he loved me. That his intent was never to hurt me. That’s the defining difference. The difference is that I’m genuine. This partner is selfish. He does everything for the added bonus. Oh here let me help you with this, so later I can hold it over your head. Sure if you need my help now you can’t say anything to me. Here’s a 100 bucks but when I need you there’s no out. And that to me is disgusting…
Okay I admit it, there’s always a battle between good and evil. 98% of the time my bad side wins. At work, I am known to prank people. I can’t help it, although I better help it or my bestie my disown me. I was having a rough rough day yesterday. However, by the end of the day I turned it around. My friend has been the source of scaring for some time. So at the end of the day as I turned the corner in the hall walking towards my desk. I stopped and turned back towards an empty cubicle that contains bozo. Bozo is the office mascot. He’s a big red punch clown. It occurred to me that I could sneak up to my friends cubicle hold the clown up and scream and scare her. All I can say is success. She almost caught wings. I don’t know where she was running to in her cubicle cell, but she slammed her chair into her file cabinet and screamed aye cono. She called me a fucking bitch. Priceless. She proceeded to tell my boss I almost killed her.
I was almost on the floor dying. So in those 5 minutes I came up with scaring one of our newer employees. He’s been on my radar to scare for a while. So I told my boss and the attorney to ask him for help with the water cooler. Meanwhile, I slinked silently into he closet where the water is kept and silently shut the door behind myself. I waited and heard them approaching. I watched through the crack in the door waiting to see the shadow of him approaching. He opened the door and I screamed rawr!!!! He jumped back and his eyes were like saucers.
It was epic to say the least. I know I’m going to soon become the office target to scare, but I’ve warned them. I’m two steps ahead. They may get me back and scare me, but I’ve already got at least two more pranks ready to go. Life is an attitude. I choose to laugh, I choose to be fun, funny and laugh. There’s too much sad shit going on to focus on being sad. It’s hard to be strong, but you find strength in the good times and the good things. They remind you that not all is bad in the world. So here’s to April fools.
My first inclination is to run. Break out into a full on sprint, music blasting while the sidewalk pounds the soles of my feet. I’m far from conventional by any means. People say that but I mean it. My emotionless state is what makes my life so easy to deal with. If I sat there and drowned myself in emotions, I would be a hot emotional mess. So I opt to shut it down reign it in and as I tell myself suck it up buttercup. I’ve had many challenges. I’ve always surpassed them.
My fathers health is ailing and a lot of it is a result of his own doing. This doesn’t make it any easier although my strength and resilience make it seem as though it is that simple.
What I didn’t know when I wrote the paragraph above is that my dad would flatline and come back. That I would realize a hospital to be a place of a lot of sadness for those who are ailing or passing, some hope for those who are saved and some joy for those that are born.
I couldn’t do what they do on a daily basis. I couldn’t stare death in the face every single day. It’s not that I fear death necessarily it’s that I want to live. In the face of mortality I pale. I pale at the thought of what I hope to do, what I want to do and what I haven’t done. I think of death like the times I’ve had surgery. Where they give you an anesthetic lights out.. not here nor there just out…
And I don’t want to be out..
I am like a hurricane. I can’t help it. I’m a 5’5 Walking hurricane. Take no prisoners I genuinely can’t help it. I’ve told you I have a personality issue. Denial is not one of my issues. When I wrote my blog, don’t think I’m just saying my kid is great because everyone thinks their kid is great. My daughter is an asshole sometimes. In fact sometimes she’s also manipulative. However, I know her and work with her like a drill seargent because I value education. I’ve often said I will fund her future life expeditions so long as she goes to college. If she wants to find herself I’ll play along just do what you have to do and I’ll kick the cash.
My 6 year old is now in a tizzy over the prospects of being held back and now I want everyone’s head on a stick. So I did what I do best and wrote a letter. There’s an inside joke about my letters. I’ve written to probably every agency you can think of and ripped people a new one. I’ve drafted unemployment appeal letters ripping people apart. It’s a gift I suppose. So now, I’m putting them on notice. It’s the first time I hear my kid isn’t doing well enough to the point of failure. That’s not funny to me at all. So knowing the kids abilities I outlined a letter:
Everyone has secrets. Mine are not the kind that you might think. I’ve spent my life trying to live my life in a way that would one day make my friends and kids proud. One of my secrets is singing. I love to sing. It’s been a source of release all of my life. There’s two parts to this secret.
I’m elementry school I was a soprano in my private school church choir. I was a dorky behind the scenes kid, smart but never really challenged enough. One day we were going to sing a song called Kyrie and they were looking for a soloist. Laura K. tried first. Then I went up. I’m not even sure why. What came out shocked not only me but father Peter. Father Peter made me redo it and I did. Laura threw a fit because I got two chances. This was my first experience with jealousy.
When the Sunday came for my solo, I was nervous even though my parents hadn’t come. If you’ve read anything about me or my blogs, it’s that I don’t give power to anyone or anything. In this regard my father has held me captive. I would sing when I was sad, hurt, upset and sometimes happy. It was a place of release where others could literally feel my pain. The more upset I was, the more soulful my voice.
My father would often tell me that if I thought I could sing, to go ahead and sing for him. My nerves would get the best of me and he would tell me I couldn’t sing. Even today I can’t face people when I sing. At karaoke with the few friends I let into my secret, I would let loose but it took a while. I never sought a career because of the fear. I was for all intents and purposes at one point an entertainer. I could dance, I could sing, I had brains and I wasn’t bad on the eyes.
This is something that I still battle with in my own ways because all I heard was you can’t sing my entire life from the person who was supposed to lift me up. He often told me I was an elementry school drop out because I chose to do a GED and go to college at 16. That didn’t bother me at all. I’m thriving otherwise. But the dig about something that was me, that made me, that I loved, was devastating.
I still sing in private or like last night after a few drinks in front of some new friends. All I can say is this: Words are powerful. Be wary of the implications of your words. I know the weight of my own towards others. I try to uplift others unless I have to drag them down and that’s only as a means of necessity. I don’t take that lightly because I understood very clearly that tearing someone down, doesn’t put you in a better place.
This morning I was filled with a mixed bag of emotions. I normally struggle to wake up in the mornings. At 6:30 a.m. my alarm went off, I jumped out of bed. I raced into the shower, threw on my jeans and raced out. Last year I attended a Women’s Leadership Conference. I felt so empowered, that I actually and finally registered to vote. Maybe you’re like me, where I felt like my vote didn’t matter, it’s corrupt, blah blah. However you may have felt, all I can say is its our right. I voted this year for the first time. In a presidency where I feel like so much is hanging in the balance, I couldn’t justify sitting on my hands talking shit on the sidelines on this one. How could I not elect to use my given right to send a message. Maybe I’m just one person, but even so how could I complain if I had done nothing. If you’ve never voted, it might be a little nerve wrecking. I was afraid I would pull a Florida and vote incorrectly. Take your time, look at the choices and options and read the directions. Its like taking a high school scantron test.
As I left my daughter this morning and kissed her goodbye, I felt relief. I have spent my life fighting for the wrongs, righting the rights. I have spent my life, challenging things that I didn’t agree with even when it could cost me so much personally. Today, I did the very same thing. We are blessed as a nation. We are imperfect, but find me a perfect nation. I am thankful for the right to be able to vote even as so many argue today that our options are shit. I’m glad I have a choice to choose, or to vote, or to even voice my dismay. Some people don’t get an option. We can thank the men and women who fight for our country. God Bless America.
Wherever the road leads us, I’m glad I woke up and voted.
Everyone has heard the term fight or flight. I’ve actually experienced first hand both fight and flight. I’m a strong advocate for listening to your intuition. I am convinced it will steer you always in the right direction. Many years ago during my years of pure drunkeness a great friend of mine opted to party on south beach. This was at a time when Mansion night club was the epitome of where to be and where to be seen. Long story short, imagine two very well dressed girls in 4″ heels. My friend is already about 5’7 at least sans heels. So here we are dressed to the nines and we’re walking about 5 establishments past Mansion when shots break out.
Now let me explain. I’m odd. I can assess situations in seconds. While your thinking I’ve already processed the entire situation. So after hearing shots my thought process was: this person just shot in front of a crowd of about 200 people. The sirens were getting closer. This person is the type of person that would likely engage in a stand off and not give two fucks because they just shot in front of two hundred people that saw them.
I turned in runners position to glance back and took off. This litterally happend in seconds. I didn’t say anything to my friend or the guy we were chatting with. In the time I turned around everyone had hit the floor. We sprinted about 3 blocks and 2 blocks over. My friend couldn’t even speak and it was hilarious. In fact, I died laughing when she stuttered through what was happening.
This is a prime example of when I just knew it better to choose flight vs. fight. The other day however at about 8 p.m. I came home after driving to Walmart and found about 3 males going through my bushes. My instinct was to fight. My adrenaline was pumping as I rolled down my window and proceeded to ask them in the pitch black darkness if I could help them. I had a die hard reaction to fight. I had my step daughter in my car so I felt the need to minimize my reaction. I was still firm in reaction but tamed it down a notch instead of coming outside with a bat in my hand.
The point is that your instinct will always guide you. That bad feeling on a lonely train and that one lonely person on that train with you, that’s instinct. Your alarms are blazing like the Wild West, heed that. When you’ve been lied to and deceived and your guts telling you your being lied to, those are the bells and whistles going off. But don’t confuse insecurity with instinct. Sometimes unintentionally we create scenarios out of pieces that look like a whole picture but sometimes we’ve made that shit up.
My instinct has never lead me wrong in fact I’ve done more harm than good by not listening. So after years of learning my intuition and its power I let it guide me. I allow my third eye to empower my judgement. Because if it feels bad it’s likely bad.