This post brought to you by… Tequila.

Sexy Bitch Margarita

Sexy Bitch Margarita

I’ve always been one to have opinions. I believe everyone is entitled to theirs. I have found over time, however, that having an opinion is, for better or worse, frowned upon as a society. I wondered to myself the other day just when it was decided that being politically correct and nice (as in “I don’t want to hurt his/her feelings.”) became a higher standard than honesty?

I have met a LOT of people over my years and through that time, I have found people who are professional, those who are immature, those who are genius, and those who are just afraid. While there are more categories, I’m sure, I’m just making a point. Everyone is who they are. I’ve made friends. Great friends. People who will be there at any given moment I need them, no matter how far away they are or what they are involved in. I have also made “friends”. Those people who you think are decent friends until you are honest with them and suddenly, you’re their worst enemy. I tend to find that these are the individuals who are afraid to be themselves and when you are honest with them, they don’t want to face the reality. They would rather push away the great friend who would be there for them and live their life in their own little bubble.

It’s not any different in business. Business people are still just that…people. I’ve been told time and again I need to tighten my filter in a working environment. Why? I’m not passing judgment. I’m not telling you HOW to do your job. Why has society reached a point where they would rather play the business politics game rather than do what is common sense to make things better? I’ve struggled with this in job after job. You are told not to tell anyone what things in the business could be improved. In fact I’ve lost a few jobs because I tried to make things better.

Honesty has become something that is hidden away like the bastard step-child of King Henry VIII. It’s unfortunate that in a time when so many people are just trying to get by in their lives, that the ONE thing that could be their salvation in times of need is something that is deemed a negative influence. Business are ripped apart by judgments. People forget they are the sole conductor in the symphony that is their own life. Choose to live by your opinions, but don’t judge others for theirs. Don’t demean others for a different point of view. Embrace it and if you feel so strongly about a situation, rather than just complain about it verbally or, as many do so often now, post about it on social media, remember that the only way that things will be different is if YOU decide to make a change. Take a stand. Don’t be just another lemming following everyone else off the cliff. Stop. Stand up. Be counted. And above all else, be honest, if not to others, at least with yourself.

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The Demons Made Me Do It!

Well, my dearest reader, as you may already know, society and I don’t always see eye to eye. Today reminded me of just that. Many things have been going on, some of which I can control, others which need some help to change. Either way, I’m taking the initiative, but I’m finding that it is going to be a strenuous road ahead. Over the years I’ve dealt with some things that, no scratch that, I’ve been involved in some things that were not great experiences. I have yet to deal with them. Those demons are now rearing their ugly head. It’s because of everything that has happened over the years and the things that didn’t happen which has made me who I am today, and I don’t like it.

There’s usually only so much you tell people about a trauma in your life. If you’re like me, you tend to hide behind many walls. You conform to those around you and “play along”. It is difficult to find your own identity, and when you think you have, suddenly, one small thing can bring all those walls crashing down on you making it hard to breath and even harder to move on like you know you must. It doesn’t get any easier. 

I’m realizing that growing up in my family, things were not normal. I’m not even sure what the definition of normal really is at this point anymore or was back then for that matter, but what I do know is that I don’t ever really remember having good affections in my house. I remember a lot of yelling, a lot of being dragged throughout the house, dishes being thrown at me from across a room and lists of chores that needed to be done, or else. I remember feeling like the person who was only around to do all the work and if it was done wrong, there was hell to pay. I never realized how this could affect me in my 30’s. 

I was recently told that I could very well have a codependency problem. (For those of you who are unaware of what codependency is, it is defined as a psychological condition or a relationship in which a person is controlled or manipulated by another who is affected with a pathological condition (typically narcissism or drug addiction); and in broader terms, it refers to the dependence on the needs of, or control of, another. It also often involves placing a lower priority on one’s own needs, while being excessively preoccupied with the needs of others. Codependency can occur in any type of relationship, including family, work, friendship, and also romantic, peer or community relationships. Codependency may also be characterized by denial, low self-esteem, excessive compliance, or control patterns. – Wikipedia) I won’t lie to you, this scares the hell out of me. Knowing at this moment that all the things I’ve been doing for this long I have been doing to please others because it was how I was raised and the consequences it has led to over time, it is NOT pleasant to say the least.

I hate feeling like a victim. I don’t even like considering that I could be one, but the honest reality is that I am and I have been more than once. I still don’t fully understand why I do certain things, but I have been learning (unfortunately too late) what things are inherently wrong. I’m just not good at avoiding them…yet.

Growing up and going through school, I was bullied. It was the 80’s. It happened. In fact, it happened a lot, even through high school, but because I wasn’t being shown any type of love or affection or attention at home, I felt I needed to find it somewhere. I just wanted to feel needed. It didn’t work out the way I had planned. One of the first times a guy had ever shown me affection, I think I was maybe 16. Somehow I had convinced my parents to leave me with a friend of mine in another state. This “friend” was anything but a good influence. She invited over a boy who I can remember putting his hands in places where no one had ever touched me before. I didn’t know him, I didn’t know what he was doing and thankfully (from what I can remember), it stopped there. That was encounter one. Not something girls dream about, let me assure you.

Some time later, I found myself dating a guy who was a year ahead of me in high school. Looking back, I know I only dated him because he showed interest in me. I don’t remember how long we dated, I don’t remember what we used to do other than having him constantly pressure me to have sex with him. Finally one Sunday morning, around 11:30 am at my parents house to the song “Feel Like Making Love” by Bad Company, I gave in. (I wish I didn’t remember all those details.) He took my virginity from me basically because I wanted him to like me. I didn’t want to displease him. It’s what was ingrained into me. Please my mother so she doesn’t lose her temper. If I give in to him, he’ll want to stay with me. I was VERY wrong. 

This pressure to have sex continued throughout the whole time we dated. I remember my junior prom. I wish I didn’t. I hated everything about it. Feeling like the one who everyone disliked for whatever the reason, having a dress that my mother made because she refused to let me buy one, and to top it off, the only other thing I remember about my prom is being coerced into having sex in the back of his mom’s ’70 1/2 Camero. I wish I could forget. Just another unpleasant memory of things I “let happen”. 

This same guy also videotaped us having sex, which looking back on it now would be great evidence for statutory rape considering my age at the time, but, I was young and stupid as they say. I didn’t know any better. No one told me how things should have been in a healthy relationship. I only went by what I thought was right. Make him happy and he will stay. I couldn’t have been more wrong. 

That was the start of a LONG string of bad encounters, bad relationships and more bad memories I wish I could forget, along with a couple added STDs for good measure. Guy after guy that I met, I thought I had to please. I never did anything for myself. It was always in hopes of keeping the attention, the affection that I thought would be enough. It wasn’t. They always used me up and threw me away. It become more of a feeling of obligation than something that I wanted to do with someone I truly cared about and wanted to share something special with. 

There is no more intimacy in sex for me. I honestly don’t know if there ever was, but now I’m realizing how deep this need is for the affection and the attention that I can turn a blind eye to rape. I realize I’m going to piss a good number of people off on this one, but the realization is, that is what it was. Rape. I met the guy at a bar with a mutual friend. He tried to give me his number. I wouldn’t take it. A few nights later, another friend of mine and myself went back to the bar. He fed us drink after drink. She and I were both completely shitfaced. I remember her leaving with the guy that she was dating at the time and telling the bartender “Take my girl home and fuck her.” Apparently in his mind that was consent. I don’t remember leaving the bar. I vaguely remember stepping into a truck. I don’t remember the ride to his house. I remember walking up some stairs and getting partially undressed. The next thing I remember is a few seconds of having sex. I woke up the next morning in his bed, naked. I distinctly remember seeing a US Army certificate with his name on it and thinking “hmm, so that’s his last name”. I got dressed and he drove me back to my car which was still at the bar. I don’t think he said much of anything to me that morning. 

Now most people would probably not have the mindset I did after that incident. All I thought about was that this guy was going to go around and tell people how bad in bed I was and I couldn’t let him do that. I wouldn’t ever be able to find affection from another guy if he thought that. I see how wrong it is now, but then, it made sense to me. I told him he owed me redemption sex. I then also found out that he was sleeping with another one of the bartenders at that bar. He turned me down for a couple weeks and then we hooked up again….and again…and again, but we weren’t dating. We weren’t in a relationship. 

Somewhere along the line we became friends. I think it was the affection and attention. I always seem to NEED to have at least one friend to talk to daily to keep sane. I need to learn to be okay alone, but I’m not there yet. He and I hung out a LOT. We talked a LOT. Over the last few years, we slept together off and on and at some point, things got complicated. People would ask if we were together, and we’d always say no, but it kinda felt like we were. I got attached to him. I thought I may have even loved him. I was wrong. I don’t think I know what love is. Anyone who I thought I loved in my past has done nothing but hurt me. That’s not love. 

So skip forward to the recent past. His drinking got out of hand more than once. He hurt me. I told him I couldn’t do this anymore. We stopped talking for nearly 2 months and then at a mutual friends going away party, things seemed like they were coming around. I was wrong…again. He professed his love for me in front of the group, told me how much he missed me, told me he wanted more. I wanted to hear what he had to say. It made me feel good. I went home with him. I didn’t want to have sex. He tried, multiple times I grabbed his hand and moved it away telling him I couldn’t. I broke down telling him I didn’t want feel obligated anymore. That I didn’t want to feel violated. He told me it was never an obligation and he wanted to kill all the guys who had violated me in the past. He held me as I cried uncontrollably because I knew this couldn’t be good. He told me again and again how much he loved me.

The next morning, still half asleep, he started again. I let him. I participated. I wanted to make him happy. I thought he wanted to change. I was wrong. I let him do it again. I was SO wrong. He kissed me goodbye as I brought him back to his truck from the night before. We texted a bit during the day. That night, as I was leaving town, I wanted to show my own affection (something that I never instigated with him before because I was keeping my walls up). His door was unlocked. I could hear him talking and thought nothing of it. I opened his bedroom door to find him in bed with another girl. He’d slept with her multiple times. EVERYTHING he had told me was a lie. I had let my codependency get the better of me, again. I feel so ashamed, so stupid, so used.

I tell my friends what happened and the only responses I get are that “he’s always been that way. He’ll never change. You should have known better.” I don’t understand. I feel like I’m taking the blame for this. I didn’t want to have sex with him. I don’t know how to say no. I wish I could, but the words just don’t come out of my mouth. After so many years of feeling like I had to let them have their way, I don’t know how to change, but how is it MY fault? I NEVER said I wanted to have sex.

It took me nearly 2 and a half years to accept that the night I was blacked out and he slept with me, he raped me. Third degree sexual assault had I pressed charges, but in my mind, it was affection. It was still wrong. Saying he’s just that way and that he will never change without expressing that it is wrong to me essentially says that his friends (both male and female) condone his behavior. Their expression of the fact that he and I slept together more than once, regardless if those times were consensual or not, has them essentially blaming me for everything that has happened and how I feel. 

Our society has become such a rapist society it makes me sick. Literally. I sit dumbfounded at the ignorance of people that say “she deserved it”. How did sexually assaulting someone suddenly become okay? There should NEVER be a time in a person’s life when they feel obligated to have to have sex with someone else. It’s not always a physically abusive forceful event when someone is sexually abused and it’s not that grey of an area. If there wasn’t consent, then there should have been no sex, of any kind.

I’m sitting here in awe that throughout the day so many people have expressed to me that this guy is their friend, that “it’s bullshit, but it’s just the way he is”, “he won’t change”, “you went back after that so he’s not a rapist”, “he’s an ass but I don’t think I’d call him a rapist”. I don’t understand. I know there are a lot of people out there who have been through a lot of traumas of their own, but it only takes ONE time for someone to have sex without consent to be, by definition, considered a rapist. I don’t see how the argument can even be valid that he is not.

It’s a huge deal to be honest, especially with yourself. If the same things had happened to you regardless of the type of relationship you were in, if someone took advantage of you sexually without your consent, don’t you think you should be mad? Stop encouraging rapists as a society and stop blaming the victims. Next time it could be your sister, your daughter, even your little boy. Would you feel okay with it then? 

Please remember that condoning behavior is not any better than encouraging it. These sexual assailants will continue to do what they do because without their “friends” or society telling them it is wrong, they “will never change.”

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Policy of Truth…

As  you go through life, you tend to find that some things are black and white, but others, many others, are some shade of gray. One of these shades, or rather more likely many of these shades of gray are where I place my friendships. While most people have friends, best friends and acquaintances, I have those and then also my Bennies. For the first time however, I’m starting to question that area between Bennie and just a friend.

I have guy friends who are just guy friends and then I have guy friends whom I’ve slept with. (There are also guy friends who want to sleep with me, but I’ll get to those later.) While I am a person who greatly respects my friends, I question how much respect for me many of them have. It seems more often then not that when I do end up sleeping with a guy that he is just using me to get his rocks off and could really care less that I’m a friend.

I guess it always rather bugged me, but I never really did anything about it. I just wouldn’t sleep with them again, but with this constant thought in the back of my mind that nobody wants me, it’s far too easy to fall prey to someone who is giving me attention. Now don’t get me wrong, the skeevy guy who walks up to me in the bar and tells me I have cute feet is going no where but home by himself, however, if I’m mildly interested in someone, well, let’s just say it doesn’t always end well.

It strikes me as even more awkward when I have guy friends who I dated 10+ years ago that I haven’t heard from in a few years who are suddenly contacting me, professing their love and telling me that they were stupid for ever letting me go. (They dumped me by the way.) Now, or at least when they contacted me, they wanted to start over and try again. One even saying that he’d find a job near me and move just to be close to me.

Well, after 10 years – people change. I was married. I got divorced. I started a career, and some of the things I thought were important then aren’t for me any longer. I can’t change the past and we made the mistake enough times of trying to relive it.

When someone tells you things you want to hear when you’re not hearing it from the place you should be, well, you tend to lean more one direction than the other. Thankfully I realized what it actually was before it went too far. I still wouldn’t go back and change the things I did, but at least going forward I have something to look back and base some decisions on.

I do also agree with a very good friend of mine. I don’t think any one person gives their heart solely to one other individual. We aren’t that type of creature. If we were, when we found our “soul mate”, we would no longer have friends or care about our families. Love is something I feel is spread around and there are many types of love. (Yeah, I said it. I swore. I dropped the L bomb. I figure soon enough I’m going to have to again. So, what the hell, I might as well get used to it.)

So, these types of love. This is where my gray areas get really fuzzy, and not like in the cute, cuddly sense. I thought at one time that I loved my ex husband, and I think it was more the person he thought he was versus the person he really was. It wasn’t meant to go the long haul, but it’s okay. We’re still friends. After him, there was the asshole who took my heart, molded it in his hands to get it just he way he wanted it, and then threw it in the mud, stomped the shit out of it and then looked at his buddy and said, “Just keep going. Just walk away.” They may be right. If he ever makes you cry, you have no reason to stay with him. It’s hard to walk away when you feel like you can’t live without him. Again, lesson learned. (I think.)

That brings me to my current dilemma. Do I love my friend that is causing me so much stress? Yeah, I probably have to say I do, but not that kind of love. I have a deep respect for someone who has gotten me through a few tough times. He’s seen me cry (which I hate doing in front of people) and the night I was around to comfort him, I ended up a mess, thankful that he was there, but that still doesn’t mean that I love him in a way where I want to spend the rest of my life with him. Hell, by day six of a road trip I threatened to leave him somewhere in a ditch on the way home. The love I have for him is one in which I care for him, his well being and his happiness. I just need to reach a point where I can separate that from my own happiness.

I see things that, as a friend, I want him to see, but, it’s not who he is and I need to be able to let that go. To not care. And it sounds selfish, but it’s honest. He doesn’t need me to point him in every direction of his life. He’ll make mistakes, do stupid things, but it’s all his choice, his consequences. So, I need to just let it be. It will take time as I still need to reach the point that I don’t feel the need to help people. I just hope that at some point he can be there again to help me, as I know I can’t do this alone.

There is one other friend who tries to be there for me and some how, even for being a hermit, he seems to know just when I need a message from him, or even someone. There’s no good way to explain how much it means to get a message that just says “I’m thinking about you. I miss you.” Now if only I could find a guy who isn’t just looking for a physical encounter or isn’t married or seeing someone that would send me messages like that. *Sigh* Ah, well. Tomorrow’s another day. Maybe someone is still out there.


There’s No Place Like Home….Um…

I’m different. Not necessarily unique, but definitely different. I see the world from an altered viewpoint compared to most. No, this isn’t another rant about society or blinders, but something I noticed the other day as I was walking into work. It felt normal.

Now, I’ve only been working at this job, at this location, for about two and a half months, and I moved nearly two hours from my previous location to take this position (which I wouldn’t have done had I known what it would turn out to be, but that’s for another time). It should in some ways still feel new. New job, new home, new neighborhood. To some people this would be absolutely too much. They have a “home” and they don’t stray far from it. While I admit I have gone back to the place I grew up numerous times, I’ve never really felt “at home” there. Eventually I always get the urge to leave. And I have, many times.

The “trend” started in college. I attended a school close to home and hated it. I hardly attended classes. Then a friend took me on a tour of his school, three hours away from home and the price was right too. So, I transferred. I enjoyed my time there and after a while I stopped going back “home” on weekends. I made a lot of friends who I spent time with, but after four years there, I got the itch again and the timing was nearly perfect. I was offered an internship at a record company in New York City. I couldn’t say no to that!

I moved nearly all my belongings back to the place I grew up, packed a couple bags, shipped a box of stuff and set out by AmTrak for NYC. Naturally, we arrived in the city late as our train hit a car that tried to beat us to the crossing. They didn’t make it. I will tell you, though, being a passenger, traveling alone on a train the first few days in January, the dead of winter, feeling the train slowing in the middle of the night, suddenly smelling gas and seeing all the train employees racing for the back of the train really makes you question a few things (like if you should be following suit!).

So, upon arriving in New York, I got into a taxi to take me to my new “home”. I’d never taken the subway or a taxi before. The cab driver asked me how to get where I needed to go. How cute. (No, not really.) I’m pretty sure he ripped me off. Lesson learned.

The next day was my first day of my internship. Would have been great if I knew where the company was. I had to wait until the time I was supposed to arrive to call and ask where it was and how to get there. Queue my first subway ride. (I do miss the 1 train commute in the mornings.) I learned my way around, met a lot of great people, made some great contacts and still miss the city like crazy, even though I only lived there for about two months.

Now, most people I meet wouldn’t dream of doing that. They would be scared shitless to move to a place that big, where they’ve never been before, and don’t know anyone, but, I’m not anyone. I seem to do this a lot. My life is VERY fast paced. You either keep up or get out of the way. I’ve done this same thing moving to San Diego, St Louis and all over Wisconsin, most recently to my current location. So, maybe that’s why it feels normal to me. I don’t have any where that feels like home, so home is just where ever I am at.

That’s not the only thing that I think sets me apart from the majority. I’ve always found it a bit odd that other people didn’t just understand things. It’s hard to fathom that peoples’ manner of how they think, how they learn, is so varying. I just understand things. They just make sense. I rarely need explanation,  but when I do, be ready for a bunch of questions, because I want to understand.

I don’t remember reading ANY book as required for school. I didn’t even watch the movies. I just took the things I knew and deduced the rest. Apparently there are fewer of us out there that think this way than I thought. I have had people get angry with me because I told them I never studied in school and still managed to get pretty good grades. (Granted, you could tell which subjects I really didn’t care for.)

Maybe at some points people resented me for this. I don’t know, but I do know that some people used me for this skill and sometimes still will. When you put a lot of time and effort into something and someone else takes the credit, well, I hope most of you never have to experience that. Some of it is my own fault and I should honestly take my own advice. Don’t let your happiness rely on what others can give you. I’m horrible at this. I’m always helping more than I should, but feel guilty if I don’t, and I try too hard to keep people around me. I never said I was perfect. My friend was right. Today he posted as his Facebook status: “Desire is the underlying cause of dissatisfaction.  To the degree we have desire, to that degree we suffer.” (from Eight Mindful Steps to Happiness: Walking the Budda’s Path by Bhante Henepola Gunaratana).

It’s much more disappointing when I reach out to friends and don’t hear back than if I’d just not worry about it and find something else to occupy my mind. Maybe someday I’ll learn. It’s a work in progress. No promises, but I’m trying. Yes, yes, I know. There is no try.

I set some goals this year and I intend to accomplish a good many of them, if not all of them, but they will take time. So, I’ll take my time and do what needs to be done. I suggest you buckle up, I’m really not sure where this ride’s going to take me, but I’m ready for more changes, so, here we go.


A Life Like the Movies…..(I think I just puked in my mouth a little)

So, sometimes it takes watching someone else go through the same circumstances to make you realize where things seem to stand. In some ways it may seem to be a good realization and in other, it’s that other view in the mirror that no one likes to see in themselves. For me, right now, that ugly truth is that I’m at a moment in life where I’m feeling quite needy, and I hate being needy.

I’ve become quite accustomed to living on my own, taking care of myself (and my dog) and I don’t necessarily like to straight out ask for help. I put out signals, or at least I think I do, but everyone has so many issues of their own, they probably don’t take the time to notice.

This neediness in no way means that I want someone to provide for me or take care of me. I don’t want that at all. What I do want is someone who is there for me because they want to be. Not because they need my help, my understanding, my compassion. I can’t do it all. I need somebody too. I’m not strong enough to support us all.

Tonight I watched the movie Friends with Benefits. I wish someone would have told me not to. Had I known so many of the same scenarios were going to come up…well, let’s just say, the woman in the movie wanted her life to be like the life she was watching in the movies, and now that this movie was made, my life IS like the movies. So many similarities to things that I’ve been involved in lately, it almost made me want to puke. (Or maybe that’s this headache. Hard to be sure.) Either way, for us it was supposed to be just a couple of good friends who satisfied an urge from time to time. I don’t know when it seemed like it became more. I try to keep my distance, but this overwhelming feeling of being wanted takes over.

He does things that my other guys friends just don’t do, but yet other times he’s just an asshole. It’s like Jeckyl and Hyde. I don’t know which side to believe. I know it’s not right, yet continue on the same path anyway. The part that scares me a bit is that I’m not sure that it couldn’t be just anyone, as long as they were paying attention to me.

So, what do I want? Affection. Not over the top, not obsessive, but I want to know someone is thinking about me during the day, that I’m not alone. I want a hug once in a while, or even a kiss, someone to hold me so I know I’m still alive and haven’t just slipped into nothingness. I want someone to want to surprise me by showing up unexpectedly and making me dinner, maybe even staying to watch a movie on the couch together. I never knew this was so out of line to think it could happen.

I over think things. Constantly. But, I can’t stop. I don’t understand why someone who claims they don’t want a relationship (with me) is doing all sorts of things that someone in a relationship would do. He’s even gone so far as to keep my spare set of keys without being able to give some real reason behind why he doesn’t give them back. (We’re not talking in a stalkerish way here people.) He’s had plenty of opportunities to give them back even though he lives nearly 2 hours away, so his excuse that someone would have them if I lock myself out is completely invalid, especially since it is utterly impossible to lock myself out. But I digress.

I just want to understand. I don’t want to feel alone. I want true, genuine happiness without the worry in the background that there’s something wrong with me and that I need to fix everyone else. Apparently, that’s all too much to ask for all at once.


Remembering the greatest…

Life has a very distinct way of kicking you in the teeth. The things that seem to be a good idea at one point, may well be, but when there is also someone else involved, sometimes those same things can turn out very badly.

Now don’t get me wrong, you still have to take chances in life, for if you didn’t, well, you would be a very boring individual. Still there are risks that should be taken. A better job, a date with a new acquaintance, a trip to somewhere you’ve never been before.

I seem to be taking a lot of these risks lately. The biggest one not in that previous list. You know, dearest reader, that I will proclaim that my feelings are something which I keep locked away as they tend to only bring bad things for me, but through some soul searching as it were, I have reached something of a conclusion about said feelings. As much as I despise the L word, I can’t deny its existence.  There have been times in my past where it was easy to say, but I’ve also learned that the times in which it mattered were, or are the times when it is difficult to say.

My grandmother died in 2008. I treasured that woman. She meant a lot to me, and yet when she was dying, I couldn’t even then tell her how much I loved her, because I’m not even sure I really knew then. The last time I saw her alive, it was the night she died. She couldn’t speak, but when our eyes met and she saw my tears, her eyes welled up to match my own. I miss her dearly and it is because of her that I’ve been able to deal with some of the darker parts in my life, namely her daughter, my mother.

I have begun to realize things about myself, as well as things about her, that will probably never change and I accept that. I don’t have to like it, but I accept it. Now I just need to learn the best way, for both of us, to deal with it. It will take time, but if I don’t start now, somewhere, nothing will ever change, and quite frankly, my grandmother wouldn’t have wanted that.

I think of my grandmother more than I probably realize in a lot of the decisions I make. Case in point, if she were still alive, what would she say of a new guy I date? Would she tell me he’s not good enough? She might, but that’s where that woman earned a lot of respect from me. She was always honest. Maybe that’s where I get it from. It sure as hell wasn’t my mother. (Though truth be told, there are other mannerisms I have picked up from that woman.)

So, now I live my life the best I can, and when karma decides to kick me while I’m down, I get back up, brush myself off and go on, because there’s either that, or give up and I’m not ready to give up yet. Grandma was nearly 90. I’ve got quite a few years till then, and with any luck, I’ll make it beyond that. Here’s hoping! Cheers!


Some things I’ve learned this year…

People are wired to think differently, and more than the obvious.

  • For years I couldn’t understand why people couldn’t learn things like I did. I didn’t study. I didn’t read the books. I just knew the answers. This isn’t the same for everyone. Still strikes me how few others see things in this light. It has also made me realize the importance of patience in explaining some things to people.

A brain hemorrhage can make someone crazy.

  • It used to be an excuse or joke that my mother didn’t know what she was talking about after her brain hemorrhage when I was younger. I didn’t really truly believe it, but now that I’m older, and have experienced more in this world, I’ve taken in a great deal of knowledge to believe it to be true. I believe that as her brain healed from the trauma, it needed to wire itself in a different way. I think she lost some emotion in that event, that any compassion she may have felt was lost. There has to be some rational, logical explanation as to why she would want to harm her own child, right?

I’m good.

  • Not like better than others, but in general. I’ve reached a point in my life where my values have changed a bit and I’m happy. I look at the things and people around me and it’s not bad. I have friends, who like myself, get it. They know they can be honest with me and they know I will be honest with them. That I will point out things to them that they may not like about themselves, but I’ve found that telling them in such a way as to let them truly think about it for themselves, they see where I’m coming from. I also have a career that, even though I’m not always sure I’m on the right path, I know I’m on a path that has led me to meet a LOT of great individuals and through the jobs and organizations I’ve been involved in, I’ve earned a lot of respect. It’s very humbling to have people come to you that you would normally see as mentors and they ask for your help. Through this I’ve learned that I’m doing things right. Maybe in a bit of an unorthodox way, but at the end of it all, right nonetheless.

I’ve learned who true friends can be.

  • And that these friends change over time. The ones that really matter to me are the ones who are there.

A conscience decision to change things in your life can take you a long way, and probably not in ways you expect.

  • I used to feel very unspecial. Always the outsider, and learned to accept and like that, but at the same time, I found a way to use that to my advantage. If everyone did the same things it would be a very boring world. Having watched my mother and grandmother constantly worry about every little thing and having many people die over the last few years, I decided I didn’t want to waste my life worrying. Life is too short for that. I want to die with no regrets. And honestly, right now I could say that would be true. I see people talk about how miserable they are, but they don’t realize they have the power to change the things that they are unhappy about.

I’m starting over…again.

  • New place, new job, new friends (to add to the old ones), new experiences and who know what else. Sometimes you need a fresh start and while many might be afraid to leave much of what they know, there’s something in that struggle to survive that always pushes me forward. I’m not leaving it all behind, but I’m adding a new chapter, which leads me to…

Yes, I’m a good writer.

  • I write well. Maybe not always grammatically correct (inside joke), but it’s something that I’ve found as an outlet many, many times over the years. Just recently have I started letting others read it. I have had many the person who has told me I should write a book about my life, and I can’t say I’ve not thought about it, numerous times. In a way I view this as a start to that project. And with all the recent events, I’m starting to believe now is the time for me to potentially pursue that thought. So, I’ve decided to do a few things:
  1. After I get moved, I plan to find myself a counselor. There have been a LOT of changes for me and I want to make sure I process them all in a healthy way.
  2. I’m going to meet new people and not hole up in my new home.
  3. I’m going to find a writer, editor or publisher to talk about organizing my thoughts for this book.

I’ll keep you updated.