You’re legacy is whatever your decisions,choices and paths you decided to take. You can leave behind a great legacy or a disaster in your wake. The one thing I always wanted was to leave a trail of fire in my wake, not a blaze of destruction but a blaze of powerful influence. Like all things in life, you can use your gifts for good, or you can use your gifts for bad. Facing my own mortality and thinking about the future is both enlightening and frightening.
Right now, my fears in their own way have come out of their closet. I’m battling my own health issues and thing not to let them hold me down. I’ve decided to bask in my own sadness for a moment before I pick myself right back up. I never discourage people to not feel what they feel. Bask in your emotions good or bad because they are yours. There are no right feelings to feel when shit goes south, when you get bad news. The only bad reaction is to not bounce back. You have to. There’s no other choice but to stop crying eventually and keep fighting to see another day.
Today I got news that made me realize that the fire that I storm everything in my life with is fully ablaze. It was the most powerful news for me that I could get. You see, somewhere that I thought I was never appreciated, it turns out that my hard work and due dilligence paid off. I was used as an example. The fact is that I work damned hard to make sure I’m the best at everything that I do. If I plow shit for a living I’m going to be the best damned shit plowed that ever was.
The notification that I got today lifted my spirits from the depths of despair that I was living with fear and worry about my health. It made me once again remember that I’m going to law school. I’m going to ignite an even bigger blaze in my path before my candle blows out in the wind.
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…
I don’t think I’ve ever in my life had anxiety. After working in New York for about the past 8 years or so I can say I have anxiety. This morning is no exception. My heart is racing as I type, I keep willing for a reason not to come in or show up. Oh, my paper essay died I need a moment of silence. Oh, my shoe is wet I have to go back home before I melt. Anything.
Law firms in New York are nothing to what Florida firms are. Floridas atmosphere is laid back and calm. Here, it’s chaotic and vicious. It’s interesting that it’s not the internal factor that’s an issue necessarily. I think I just need a break. A break without the feeling of overwhelming anxiety that when I return I’m fucked. That when I return I’ll be drowning in more work than before I left.
My anxiety is so intense I’ve put off my last semester(s) of school. Just so I don’t have to decide on law school or grad school. Avoidance. That’s the term. I am avoiding making a decision. In essence I’m sitting here like a sitting duck wanting a decision to be made for me, because sometimes it’s easier that way.
When I was laid off because of the economy in Florida relieved. I didn’t have to make a decision to leave the place I had for months been staring out the glass doors to walk out of. In a matter of months the decision was made and sigh of relief. I’m free.
Somewhere along the road I’ve lost the basics. I lost the very essence that makes me shine. I’ve lost the light. I’ve battled in the dark for a long time. The darkness is a source of comfort. I like it there. Being in the light is difficult. Being empathetic is hard sometimes. Being tolerant of ignorance is hard sometimes. But most of all it’s harder to fake it till you make it. So this morning I sought out a photo I wanted one where through the windows of my soul I couldn’t see the torment. I wanted one photo where I could set my sights on simply going back to the basics.
I told a friend of mine the other day, that I don’t care what anyone says. Life chips at you. Eventually the pain, the trauma, the sadness cuts so deep that it changes you. Whether it jades your view, makes you tougher less sensitive to things, you change period. For myself I have changed. I’ve come to loathe people. I’ve become unsympathetic, insensitive and just cold and antisocial. I think these traits were always there. However, somehow I’ve become the poster child for ruthlessness. You can’t un-know things. You simply can’t. So if you’ve learned pain, you can’t take that back. You move on from it, you grow but it will always be there hidden in the corners, like a monster hiding from the light, straying into the shadowy corners.
I think this is what makes me read others fairly well. I recognize the broken, the wounded, the damaged, the evil. Because I’ve seen it facing the mirror myself. I don’t consider myself evil but I can be. I can be unrelentingly evil and vile and not feel remorse. I try to force myself to feel it and I can’t. I say it but the words are empty. Meaningless. I just want to try to get to the basics..
Casey Anthony is called the most hated woman in America since the disappearance and murder of her two year old child. I recently started reading the book authored by the prosecutor on the case Jeff Ashton. I never felt a doubt that she had committed this heinous act but reading the book solidified a few key things for me. For starters the book confirmed for me that Cindy and Casey were in a toxic co dependent relationship. I agree that Cindy wanted to be lied to and Casey obliged. The book discusses the example of Casey’s impending pregnancy. Cindy denied that Casey was preganant while attending her brothers wedding. Although everyone at the party was asking themselves, who’s the pregnant chick? The story was corroborated by Cindy’s own mother. So the lies about where she worked which were not only the Universal Studio story but went back even before that to her fake Sports Authority job. This evidences a pattern of systematic lying. Yes, I think she’s a compulsive liar or a pathological liar. I actually think she might believe her own horseshit. What I think bothered me at the core was that her family swapped stories or refused to answer. Specifically her mother.
Let’s be honest. Parenting is a crapshoot. You can instill the best values, morals, education and still wind up with a bad seed. That I don’t blame the parents for. You can’t control every outcome of your children. But. There’s always a but. But you can’t cover and enable your children even when you know you have a monster in the midst. Maybe I don’t love. MY daughter enough but I can’t fathom covering her behavior and especially something so heinous especially given the evidence. Cindy called the police about Casey taking her car and dropped the bombshell in the 911 call “it smells like there’s been a dead body.” The forensic evidence showed that the signs of decomposition were in line with a human decomposition not garbage as the defense would like to argue. What killed me was that even when talking to Dr. Phil after the verdict, Cindy was still in denial. For 31 days, Casey Anthony partied and lied and did nothing to report Caylee missing. The defense argues that everyone grieves differently. Here’s where I take issue.
If your child had drowned accidentally why go to the extra lengths. It never added up for me that you would drag the police to your fake job where you don’t work until you have no choice but to say they’ve got you. Then at the end of it all after taking the police in a wild goose chase saying there was an accidental drowning. This to me signaled the final emergence of some truth. The truth that Casey Anthony knew this entire time that her daughter was dead. Pat Brown Criminal Profilist has gone as far to say she’s a psychopath. I actually agree. An interesting thing about the lies during the case was that one of the co-workers Casey worked with at universal studios was Juliette Lewis. Does that name ring a bell? It did to me the second I saw it. As in Juliette Lewis the actress?
This case fascinated the nation. Although much of the limelight was focused on the accused, I think it’s important that no one forgets the victim. A 2 year old beautiful little girl named Caylee Marie Anthony.
All I do all day is fight. I literally spend at least 4 hours of my day responding to immigration conjuring arguments. By the time I’m done, I just want to concede. So my tactic for everyday life after work is to try and concede. That means, if I open my bill and it’s $400 I’m paying the shit. I don’t want to be bothered with a long drawn out battle of wits to see what the fuck is going on. I don’t care what’s going on. It’s not because I’m Rockefeller shitting gold bricks. It’s because I’m tired and resigned. When others who don’t do shit don’t understand this attitude it’s because exactly that you don’t do shit about shit.
Today I had a dispute at our property because they shut the water off. The bill was paid; $400 payment in January the $230 balance paid this month. Why my bill is outrageous I don’t know. This isn’t new. Somehow even though I pay this, the fact the water was off was somehow my fault. That is also equally as exausting. When you’re always the scapegoat. If I pay it, maybe it’s because I don’t want to hear or deal with my significant other. Because in my eyes paying the $400 or $500 is better than listening to him. A high price to pay for silence and peace if you ask me.
I admit it. I’ve pulled some things off that there has to be someone silently either rooting for me like an angel or maybe I’m evil and my minions help me like David Blaine. Yes, because I’m convinced that David has a pact with the devil. Don’t judge me, you probably thought it too after watching his new hand tricks.
Right now people are worried about the holidays. Right now, I’m worried about work deadlines. Trying to balance work, school and a kid while trying not to leave work late but still pulling off a saving grace or a Hail Mary as I call it when it comes to work.
When I succeed though I feel like I’m the Harvey Spector of law. By 10:00 a.m. I’m like fuck this shit and fuck Harvey I want to be a shrink and I need one while I’m at it. By the afternoon, a thank you from a client re-affirms the morning attitude that I will crush the legal game like Michael Jordan in basketball. This goes on all day long. Yes, it’s a very long and daunting day.
Today was no exception. Yesterday was a super bad day. But you take good with the bad’s and losses with every win. You can’t always win no matter how great you are. As I stared at my growing tower or rather the leaning tower of pisa of cases and emails from my clients, my anxiety hit peak. But, I know I have one objective. Get the 4 day deadline cases done now. Everything else must take a momentary back seat.
Sometimes I’m a glutton for punishment I must confess. I thrive in pressure. I’ve grown up in a pressure cooker. The problem is, that as I get older this presssure that I’m good at laughing at can get to me. I’m no longer bullet proof. Now I feel anxious. My stomach turns sometimes.
Whether I’ll live and be the female Harvey Spector (Tv show Suits) remains to be seen, maybe I’ll live my life in love with psychology and making a bigger difference that way. The only thing I’m certain of is that I’m as intense as my stomping stroll. My personality is as strong as my gait. A friend once joked I had an angry teacher stomp when I walk. For me, it’s just confidence, it’s endurance that leaks into my stomp. I equally take my wrath out on those who dare cross my clients and eat them for breakfast lunch and dinner.
At the end of the day, when you’re only given one option to sink or swim. Sinking is not even a consideration and your only choice is to swim. So in the words of Dory from finding memo, “Just Keep Swimming.”