Search This Blog

Saturday, November 6, 2010



I've never denied blowing off steam here. I'm NOT a kid and as I've grown into my ever expanding middle age I find I don't want to be. I don't relate to them. I'm at a pathetic point in life where, having lost damn near everything, I look to my peers for support. Barring that, I take refuge in a blog that is read by few as a means to pretty much bitch about life in general, and my ever changing life in specific.

It's not meant to stroke any egos except my own.

I make nothing from it. I've pretty much let you few into my own, private, self-therapy sessions. You didn't HAVE to read it. I appreciate those of you who understood what it was. Several readers decided to use it as a weapon. I've been hurt by it and frankly, I'm just too fucking OLD to deal with that anymore.

What's it done now is make me an intensely private person, and likely to stay that way. I was an open book. Them days are OVER, sistahs.

You guys over at MousePlanet? Your hatred and hostility towards yourselves and pretty much everyone else has served no one. Judgmental, hateful and controlling, you poison everything you touch. You're despicable and the damage you've caused it far reaching, and irreversible. You took what had been a safe harbor for me when I desperately needed one and viciously attacked people who had the audacity to offer me comfort. You should be ashamed of yourselves. You aren't, but you should be.

To you two or three who looked for a laugh here, well, things just aren't very funny anymore. I opened up in places I should not have.

My life, my weight, my autistic kid complete with the occasional and still terrifying seizures, my crumbling marriage and my non-existent self esteem are going back into the box I took them out of.

See...this wasn't all about YOU.

It was about me.
It's been, in it's way, about what it's like to hand my wedding rings and my mother's weddings rings and the beautiful gold necklace my father gave for Christmas five years ago and the topaz ring I bought in St. Thomas 30 years ago over to a pawn broker. It's about what it's like to wake up at 2am to the sound of someone pounding your door down, screaming you're going to be arrested because you can't give him the car you don't have because you can't drive it and you left it in the locked office parking lot and you can't get it at 2am and it's about having to call your company's emergency security to meet you there at 2:15 and get it out for you. It's been about the insecurities of being evicted from your own home because the bank sold it and didn't have the common decency to tell you - or work with you for that matter. It's about night terrors and pounding stress headaches and worry and constant, pervasive fear. It's wondering how long your heart can pound in your chest like that every time you hear footsteps on the staircase before it actually explodes.

And if I get pissy because someone paid absolutely NO attention to any of this and used my obvious weaknesses to bolster their own ego by attacking, well, I actually have nothing to say. It's low, it's lame, and it's simple meanness.

As the hubster says..."your hangnail is always worse than my broken arm." We're together, in a way, we're healthy, which is a damn good thing since we have no health insurance. But we'll never, ever be the same. So much has been destroyed, things that aren't visible. Bonds have been broken. I'm broken, and I admit that.

And it's over.

Some of it's been grand. But it's increasingly become a burden. I wasn't amusing you as much as I was writing on your side...making veiled references to things that you all enjoyed, understood, and supported. But I'm tired.

It was a wise man who said "you have to pick your fights." And yes, I originally picked this one.

Maybe later I'll be back. As of now there's way too much emotional pain to worry about what other people think I really meant and decided to act upon.

I stand by my mis-trust of rude people. I stand by my frustration of pushy people. I stand by my distaste for the Los Angeles Metropolitan Transit District too, I spent a LOT of time on buses today. It was quite an experience.

But, for the last time, I digress.


  1. You are my friend. I hope I am your friend, too.

    It wasn't just for laughs. It is for real.


  2. To quote another friend, "Ditto!"


  3. Friend from the PastNovember 11, 2010 at 10:52 PM

    I don't really know what to say except for "hang in there" ... My thoughts and prayers are with you.

    I'm so sorry for what life is throwing at you these days, it sounds plenty rough.

    You are an amazing writer. Remember that always. But first things first: do what you need to do.

    And when all else fails: invite Miley over, ask her to take off her shirt, and read under her left boob before she hits her forties.

    It says "Just Breathe" :-)

    Love ya.