1.  I have always had somewhat of a minor crush on you.  You simply amaze me in every way.

2.  I love the way that we laugh and laugh whenever we’re together and that I’m still laughing about our little jokes months after you’re gone.

3.  I hope you’ll one day see that you are not a victim and that you’re strong enough to shed that label you’ve given yourself.

4.  When I’m with you, your lover, your two dogs, two birds, one snake and “footnote”…I feel like I’m with family.

5.  I wish you wouldn’t compare your beauty to others’ ever again because sweetie?  You’re a sex machine.

6.  I know it’s not a role men ask for but for some reason, you’re starting to feel a lot like a big brother to me, except uh…you are younger than I am.

7.  I’m intimidated by what I perceive as your perfection yet strive to attain it all the same.

8.  I used to turn my nose up at the thought of being friends with you but I was wrong, so very wrong.  You are a strong woman.

9.  Without your wisdom and love, I’m not sure that I’d be this emotionally grounded and ready to move forward.

10. Even though I said some shitty things in hurt and anger, I’ve always loved and cared about you.

11. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel uncomfortable or that I don’t like you.  You’re a good person caught in a bad crossfire.

12.  The pure and honest love that you show other people, regardless of how shitty they are to you, floors me.

13.  If I could, then I would, go wherever you will go….mostly because you always make me feel better about myself.

14. I promise you that I really do like you and will start acknowledging you more.  I didn’t realize that my depresso-isolation made it look as if I wanted nothing to do with you.

15.  I know all of your fears, insecurities, ooeys and gooeys but sister, you are the strongest woman I know.  I aspire.

16.  I know what it’s like to have people leave and “disown” you because you made a huge mistake and I’m here to tell you that I’m not that girl.

17. You’re the person that I want to meet most in October.  I’m making a paper chain as soon as this post is done.

18. I want time to freeze whenever we’re together.

19.  Thanks for the memories, even though they weren’t so great.  You may have screwed me in the end but I honestly look at the whole thing as a learning experience in my life and a way to step up and be my own better person.

20. I’m honored that you share all of your secrets with me and even more honored that you actually keep mine.

Now then, I am going to kick it up a notch! If you feel like replying, telling me one thing that you like/love about me?  I will reply with the same!  Yes, it’s a bit needy to be asking people to tell me what they like about me but honestly, I’m not coming from a needy place at all.  I want to have a humdinger of a “love-in”. Hell, I will tell you what…even if you DON’T want to say something nice about me but just comment?  I will STILL say something nice about you!

Twenty Kisses,
Me

With that said, I had pretty lengthy discussions with quite a few people last week about my anger issues regarding my divorce.  There are so many daggers that I feel like throwing out there right now but I won’t.  The thing about anger is that it never helps any situation whatsoever.  And you know, no matter what I say to my ex husband or no matter which of his faults I point out to him?  He’s not going to see them and he’s not going to change for me, that’s for damned sure.  So the anger rolls in with the daily thunderstorms…then rolls back out…then rolls back in…then rolls back out.  I’m sure you get the drift, though.

One amazing wind of change that has recently occurred?  I’m kind of over it.  The other day I was thinking back to when I first moved here and was worried because I hadn’t cried about my divorce, not one little drop.  I believe I was riding the wave of empowerment and felt amazingly free from the sad vestige of the last year of my marriage.  It was all fresh because I knew I was doing the right thing and nothing could have convinced me otherwise.  Shawn called me and text messaged me almost every day back then and I remember wishing that he would just leave me alone so I could forget him.  Wow, slide forward a few months and, as you’ve all witnessed, I could do nothing *but* cry and Shawn?  Not that fucking interested in me or anything that I have to say.

I’ve spent a good month or so really mourning the loss of him and wondering why it felt so hard to breathe, especially over a man who has now turned into the callous guy that he can be with people he doesn’t vow to love and protect.  I’ve done nothing but listen to sad music and wonder why I missed him so very much and how I was ever going to move forward again.  And then the most amazing set of events happened, leading me to a place where I can comfortably say that I’m really totally over the fucking crying now.  Some things are private and I don’t quite feel like sharing them yet but they totally aided in me making decisions to love my life that I have now just a little bit more.  I made the decision last week to be more Christ-like and develop a more honest approach to people both in and out of my life.  I tried to make amends to those I had wronged and I also said some final goodbyes to people who have wronged me in ways that make them lucky that I decided to give up the revenge business.  I talked to several different people about the whole schmegeggie while I was working on my own internal stuff and between two conversations (one with FooDiddy and another with my sister), the truth jumped out at me like a fucking beacon of light.

I don’t necessarily think that all this sadness has been about Shawn.  I mean sure, I would have liked for our marriage to have worked out.  I would have loved for us to actually try harder and I’m sorry, but I call total and complete bullshit whenever he says that we did try everything or “at least he did”.  But you know what?  The truth is that none of that matters now.  I think I’ve finally moved past this being all about “missing my husband” and wishing he’d act like a damned Phil Collins song and “take a look at me nowowow”.  Talking with my sister, I came to realize that my main problem is the whole “failure and what now?” thing.  In fact, after talking with her the other night, she sent this email, which pretty much hits the nail on the head:

“…sure, you guys could have probably tried harder — you could not have each escaped to your separate vices to ignore each other, but rather had forced more time together to work on things. But it is what it is now — time to move on.

But yes, it is hard and really, if you find yourself missing the lifestyle more than anything else — like I did — well then, you’re not really missing that person at all. Your missing the safety-net and mourning the change. And feeling like you failed at something — you were headed one direction and now it’s like, where to now?

So just start taking care of yourself — it sounds to me like Shawn is.  He’s going to Vegas, doing his thing, playing games — whatever works for him to ignore the issue or feel better about it.   But still, he’s just doing it it seems.  Don’t let him get the best of you.  Maybe the real reason it hurts when you talk to him, is that you know it sounds like he’s moving on and you feel like you are on the “losing” end because you’re still crying about it.   Remember, it was your idea to be divorced as well.  I just think moving far away made it harder on you, and I hope you do come back some day soon… because I love you!“

The thing is…she’s so fucking right!  Hello, I wanted to be divorced too!  I wanted this.  I wanted to wake up in a house that was as clean as I left it when I went to bed.  I wanted to watch television at night without worrying about being interrupted with the next big discussion about how I was a failure as a wife.  I wanted to breathe easy when I walked in my own door.  I no longer wanted to live with someone who looked at me as if he hated me.  I wanted my stomach to stop churning and the number on the scale to stop going up.  Yes yes, if I couldn’t fix my marriage?  I wanted to find some peace.

And you know what?  I have.  Peace flows abundantly throughout my home, my friendships, my heart, my life and my self-worth.  I no longer see myself though someone else’s eyes….eyes that once looked at me adoringly then looked at me as if I were dead.  No no!  Now I get to look at myself through my own eyes and wow, I am amazing.  I’m this imperfect little creature who made a huge mistake which the man couldn’t forgive, not really.  That doesn’t mean I’m damaged goods and doesn’t mean I need to beg someone who thinks I *am* damaged goods to love me again.  I’m beautiful inside and out and I’ve got so much love to give to so many people.  I’m a good friend and a great daughter.  I’m an awesome sister and a trustworthy confidant.  When I’m sick or my toothache rages out of control, I may no longer have that one person who will take care of me no matter what, but now I have many people that will look after me in whatever way they know how.  I’m loving and deserving of nothing but the best love in return.  I’m smart and I’m sexy and I’m ougoing and I’m funnier than shit and I’m loyal and I’m the person that would do anything for you, if only you’d ask.

I am worthy.

I am done crying.

I am looking forward and there’s nothing standing between me and a really great life.  I mean, I pretty much have a really great life now and the only way any of this can go is up up up.

Seriously, I’ll love Shawn forever and ever and ever in some way but if he was a balloon, I’d be letting him go into the cold night sky, coming back inside, snuggling up with my blanket and my cat, then smiling at just how good and amazing my life is going to be.

Happy Crying Kisses,
Me

Your tendency to martyr yourself?  Check.

In attempting to make yourself look like the victim once again, you lashed out at both of us, using such cruelty that I don’t even fathom how you can wonder why we don’t come around.  If you are indeed destitute, homeless, sick, sad and want to have some reconciliation with us, how about not berating us in the process?  Wouldn’t it just have been easier to hold out your hand and say, “I’m sorry and I really need help. I really need to feel loved?”.  Instead you tore down each of us in your own way, my favorites being:

•  “I even attend AA meetings to try to understand why you and your Dad feel the need to live off the bottle”
•  “I don’t take mental health drugs because I’m too depressed or anxious to deal with the world”

Your need to utilize guilt trips as your weapon of choice? Check check.

For a second, as split as it was, I felt sorry for you.  I was ready to get your information from Sij, track you down and offer to help you in any way possible…giving you money, letting you stay at my home, or other stupid humanitarian acts that would be best given to much more deserving and thankful people.   Our whole lives, you told us that we were “broke” yet we lived the life of luxury.  Come to find out, that’s because you stole and spent our inheritance (that was supposed to be used for us to go to college, worry free).  You lived off of money that wasn’t yours and not only that, you lived beyond your means.  When confronted with this, you batted your eyes like a shocked little Bambi and acted genuinely hurt that we’d think such a thing.   Tsk Tsk, Mom…by then your act was old and translucent.

Your raw cruelty? Check check check.

If you want to know why *I* have cut you out of my life, it’s quite simple.  You may be my blood.  You may have given birth to me.  You may have raised me to a point (when it wasn’t the nanny or Dad doing it) but you have never acted like a mother.   I don’t hate you.  I don’t wish you any harm.  However, we get to choose what we will and won’t put up with in this life and your abuse, both mental and physical?  I don’t think so.

You’ve made me hate parts of myself because I sometimes see your reflection when I look in the mirror.  The manipulation, the lies, the self-destruction, the ability to hurt people with little words, the way I’m somewhat cold and distant with men who get too close.  All of that stuff?  I have to fight that off every single day of my life because I watched you do it for years and years without even a second thought.  Granted, you gave me a quick wit, a great sense of humor and my pretty face but those aren’t enough, Mom.

•  You sat us down once a week, yellow legal pad in hand, and you made us listen as you and your second husband detailed every single thing we’d done “wrong” that week, including the aspects of our personalities that “sickened you”.

•  You used deadbolts to lock us inside of bedrooms or bathrooms when you felt we were “out of control”.

•  You let your second husband hold me down while you beat the shit out of me.  That’s the day I wised up and called Dad to live with him.

•  You told Sij that she couldn’t come back home from being with Dad and I for the summer because “you were done being a parent and you’d had enough”.  Who the fuck tells their child that she can’t come home because being a Mom is too tiring?  No really, who does that to a young girl who doesn’t know any better?  Do you know what insecurities that ignites in someone?

•  When I tried to come back and live with you as an adult, you went all “single white female” on me by copying everything that I wore.   You’d get mad that I wasn’t hanging out with you enough and call me things like “slut” when I’d go out on dates.  Your own daughter.  You called me a slut and a whore.  You slowly pilfered all of my cute articles of clothing and hid them in the bottom of your closet.  When I asked you about them repeatedly, you did that doe-eyed thing again and acted appalled that I was asking.  When I had the balls to go into your room and dig my clothes out of the bottom of your closet, where you’d hid them?   You then put a deadbolt padlock on your bedroom door as if *I* was the fucking crazy one.

You talk about Christ and spend so much time at the Christian retreat house in Marin County that I’m genuinely surprised at how dark and evil your soul truly is.  You’ve got those people fooled into thinking that you’re a victim and that your daughters are evil.  Seriously, you should not call yourself a Christian while doing the things that you do.  You’re mean, spiteful and I’m pretty sure that you *should* look into getting some crazy meds. I ‘m not saying that to be mean but really, get a mirror.

It boils down to this…you don’t deserve a daughter.  You don’t get the right to send a letter making me feel bad for not being there to take care of you when you are down on your luck.  Through all of my trials and tribulations, every time I turned to you, you were emotionally unavailable and “taking some time away from dealing with drama”.   You told me time after time how “it was all too much for you” and how it would be too hard to talk truthfully and make reparations.  There are people out there in this world who aren’t even that particularly fond of me and I bet you a million dollars that they’d extend a hand if I was drowning.  As my mother, you couldn’t even do that.

Sij and I think you are reading my blog and if so?  Wow, just wow.  You’ve had plenty of opportunities to reach out and be a fucking mother.  You’ve watched my heart break and have said nothing.  You’ve seen me be strong and have said nothing.  You’ve known that there were moments that I could not breathe and yet, you remained silent.  The only thing you’ve managed to do is send a letter that starts with, “If you think your life is so terrible, maybe you should walk in my shoes“.

Once again, it’s all about you. I can guarantee you that Sij and I have tried over and over to walk a mile in your shoes.  We wanted to understand how a mother could be the way you are.  We tried to be forgiving.  We tried getting inside of your head.  We made every excuse for you that we could.  What *I* have come up with is this: you are selfish.

You had me. You raised me. But you don’t love me.

Saying and knowing that used to make me sad.  But Mom?  I dug right down to the bottom of my soul and I tried…but I felt nothing.

Still Wishing Your Life Some Happiness Kisses,
Hilary

Which got me thinking about....

WHAT’S THE BIGGEST “FLAW” AT YOUR RESIDENCE?

Is it something small and annoying like a leaky faucet or perhaps a bathroom sink with a knob that takes Hercules in order to turn it on?  Is it a structural crapshackness that only allows you to open one of your kitchen cupboards at a time?  Is it useless closet space where it is not needed?  What exactly is it?  Even the best of dream houses have that one thing that makes you ticked off now and again!

Mine?  Well you see, this window…

Is the same as this window…

Yes!  The bathroom is at the front of my house so when anxious people start peeking through windows to see if anyone is home?  They’re looking either into my kitchen or my freaking bathroom, where yanno, I am usually naked and stuff.  It never even occurred to me that this may become an issue until well, it became an issue, haha.

Your turn!  What’s your problem area?

Buggaboo Kisses,
Me

Over the last week or so, there’s been a wind of change inside of me and I’m starting to finally understand from where it blows.  Animosities that I’ve held onto for so long are seeming to melt away like butter on hot corn and each time that happens, a little bit of the anger inside of me dies.  Yes it’s very true that I’m still extremely cynical, jaded and completely wary but at the same time, I’ve spent too much time hardening my heart for the wrong reasons.  Earlier today, I wrote a couple of emails, attempting to close gaps and mend fences and all of that good stuff and one of my main sentences that showed up again and again was, “There is nothing that cannot be forgiven”.

I know that some would argue that there are things too heinous to be forgiven but I’m fully of the opinion that forgiveness is not about the other person.  Forgiveness is about ourselves.  Now then, I am a little weird in the fact that I don’t necessarily like it when people say, “Oh I forgive but I never forget!”.  I’m not sure how you can truly forgive someone if you are not willing to at least TRY to  forget.  In my personal life, forgetting isn’t about being naive enough to stand in front of the man who raped me, willing him to do it again.  No, forgetting is about putting something hurtful behind you in order to move forward, especially when that one thing is the obstacle standing between you and a million other little good things.

I know, I know…it’s idealistic and many of you won’t agree.  However, this is how I choose to live my life.  This is who I choose to be.  I’m tired of holding on to things that mean absolutely nothing yet darken corners of my heart and soul.  I’m done letting fragments of time that include bad judgments and harsh words to become the focus of my whole relationship with someone.  I’m not saying that I won’t still look out for number one and protect myself from the harshness some others always tend to bring but you know, I’m letting a lot of stuff go before I turn into this bitter person who gives up everything good in her life over principal.

With that said, I’ve talked to Dave a little bit about being “right-acting” and “right-speaking” and I think this is a path that I’ll eventually follow.  Now then, here is where you may laugh at me but I really don’t care.  Not only do I want to follow the principles above, but I also want to be more Christ-like.  Saying that doesn’t mean that I want to start being the Queen of the Holly Roll, it just means that I want to start doing things in a more kind manner.  I want to treat people better.  I want to have an open heart that is full of the forgiveness that it used to be.

In the last few years of my life, I got lost.  I’ve been acting as far from Christian as possible and it’s eating away at me in a way that I never thought it could.  Doing the right thing is hard.  I mean, wow.  I will tell you what though…just by changing the littlest reactions to others this week, I feel lighter.  Burdens are lifting from  my soul one by one and it’s an amazing feeling.  I’ve been reaching out to people who I’ve wronged, trying to make amends.  Some of them will aceept and we’ll hug and kiss and be friends forever.  Others will walk away from my extended hand because well…just because that is who they are.  At the end of the day though, it doesn’t matter…as long as I try.

Um, for the record though?  I’m still too smart and savvy to let you walk all over me so uh yeah, there’s that.

Peace Out Kisses,
Me

With that said, here’s how I’ve spent my evening…looking for a new hairstyle.  InStyle Magazine Online has this cool little thingiemacbobber where you plug in a picture of yourself then basically go through hundreds of celebrity hairstyles to find one that is right for you!  Now then, I already knew what I was looking for going in, which was to see if an a-line bob would look good on me or maybe even a layered bob.  The verdict is in and yes, it will look great!

While I was there though, I couldn’t help but play around.  I mean, come on…when am I ever going to have LONG hair or BLOND hair for that matter?  Phew man, I’ll tell you one thing that’s for sure…the darker my hair gets, the less noticeable those dark circles under my eyes get.  Holy crap, I need a new concealer, eh?  Anyway, this is just for fun…I like all of these hairstyles too, actually!  Oh and for those of you that *don’t* know?  My current color and hairdo look like this.

Now then, run to the site and make some of your own!  I look forward to seeing other people blog about this cause yanno, we’re all joiners!

Gutter Slutty Kisses,
Me

The dichotomy rages inside of me, sometimes subtle but sometimes eating away at the core of me until I don’t know whether I am coming or going.  I’ve made and continue to make these decisions that are supposedly healthy for me, mentally that is.  With swift “justice”, I cut people out of my life right and left, all the while convinced that it’s best for me and my continued search for self-preservation.  People that once meant everything to me now lay bloodied on the floor as I walk past their bodies. I tightly close  my eyes and refuse to notice the destruction that I may have caused while fighting my own battles.  Others reach up to me, calling my name but I can’t hear them because it’s all I can do to survive.  Clear eyes, full heart, can’t lose.  I keep moving forward.  I keep making the “right” decisions for myself at all costs.  All that matters is that when my head hits the pillow at the end of the day, my conscience is clear and I am able to sleep.

“I pray the Lord my soul to keep”…

Despite the wasteland of time forgotten, my dreams sometimes speak to me of a peace I’ve not yet known.  They come to me, willing to forgive me for whatever transgressions, be they large or small.  A snarky word gets tossed into a recycle bin as easily as my role in destroying my ex-husband gets tossed like a soccer ball into Niagra Falls, never to be seen again.  The good dreams are filled with forgiveness and love like I’ve never known.  You see, I don’t think that anyone in my entire life has ever forgiven me for the worst actions I’ve taken or the deepest hurts I’ve caused.  Not really.  If anyone comes close, it’s my Dad because he gets me and I think that once upon a time his heart felt as destructive as mine does, you know…before he figured it all out.  It’s an incredibly hurtful burden to carry, in case you don’t know that.  Not ever having been forgiven by anyone, not truly.  It makes you feel as if you’re damaged from the inside out and that absolutely nothing you do to try and change yourself will ever bring  a true sense of love or peace because clearly, your imperfections are so terrible that they can’t be forgotten.  Not forgiven…forgotten.  When people ask me why I believe in Jesus, this is what I tell them…”Someone died for my sins.  When the pain is too unbearable and I can’t even forgive myself?  There he is and I pray to him every night to make it all better tomorrow, even if just a little bit.”  I’m sure that people with different faiths can even understand that.

“If I should die before I wake”…

But what of all this self-preservation and steps taken in order to shield myself from the deepest pains that I know?  What the hell kind of legacy do I want to leave when I go?  Do I want to have missed out on the love of my life because I couldn’t fight against my self-destructive ways enough to convince him that we really did belong together?  Do I want to leave this world with all of these unsaid things that cling to my heart like barnacles hardened on the bottom of a boat?  Were I to fall asleep tonight and never wake up, how many people would know how I actually felt about them? Moreover, how much would I know about how others felt about me?   How often do I run from conversations because I hate talking on the phone?  How many nights do I sit thinking of things that I should say to you…in my head?  How can I reconcile all those things I do every day that give me that illusion of finding perfect sleep when really, it takes an army of anti-anxiety medications to even slightly move me towards slumber’s direction?  Would you know that I loved you with every single fiber of my soul?  Would you know that you meant the world to me or that you made me smile or that you broke my heart and even though I walked away, I missed you every second of every day?  You wouldn’t know because these are things we’re taught not to say.  We are taught to be strong and look forward.  We’re supposed to look towards the future and create new feelings and new friendships, lovers, husbands, wives, and everything is supposed to move on as if we didn’t just leave something behind us standing still, waving from the shore as we sailed off somewhere new.

“I pray the Lord my soul to take”…

I don’t know how to do it but fucking shit, I want people to know.  I want to cry this out and ask…no BEG God to please show me how to stop my drowning heart.  I can’t cry anymore without knowing what to do in order to fix it.  To you…I want to say I’m sorry, but I’m scared of looking weak in others’ eyes.  And to precious you…I want to tell you that I’d be anything to be the same girl you married or at least to help  you open your eyes to the fact that we all change, for better or for worse.  To my sister…I want to run to  your house and tell you that I wish I’d moved back home so I could see you and Jacob more.  To my Dad…I want to give you a better daughter.  To you…I want you to know that you’re my best friend no matter how little we see each other and that will never change.  To you…I want you to know that no matter how much I talk about “home”, you’ve done so much to make this feel like my home as well.  To the girls on the Internet who have either annoyed me to death or broken my heart, I forgive you.  To the boys who have played me like a fiddle when they thought I wasn’t looking therefore also breaking my heart, I forgive you too.

And to you, Dear Hilary (yes, that’s me)…I forgive you too.  I forgive you for your weaknesses, your mistakes, your lies, your venom, your imperfections, your extra weight, your need to be nosy, your inability to let go of a man who has made it clear that he’ll not love you again, your penchant for pushing people away and the fact that you’ve made more mistakes in one year than some do in one lifetime.  I truly forgive you.  Maybe one day, someone else will and they’ll honest to God mean it but until then, I pray the Lord my soul to take.  And to forgive.  And to mold.  And whatever else comes.

Life’s A Twisted Road That We Unwind Together Kisses,
Me

*crickets*

Rather than dwell inside of myself today, I decided to get some things done that would actually fix the problem.  So, my uninsured ass called around half of the Orlando area to find a reasonably priced “private pay” physician that specializes (or at least is knowledgeable) in anxiety, depression and the related insomnia.  Oh yeah hey, have I mentioned that I hardly sleep these days but when I do get some rest, I pretty much always dream that Shawn is fucking some new chick right in front of me and laughing at me?  Good times.  I mean, that’s not even in his character so I have no idea where that’s coming from…except I guess I do, but I really don’t want to dive into my psyche today.  Nay nay, I want to tell you a quick little story about lube and WalMart…

You see, I have never owned or operated a sex toy before.  Never ever.

While trying to find ways to alleviate some of my anger, I decided that more (and possibly better) masturbation would  help me out of this funk.  Yes, it is totally scientific so you just shush!  Anyway, I remembered that I had won this Lily “personal vibrator” from Buy-Her ages and ages ago, like before I even moved.  Once I thought of it, I quickly ran to my nightstand to open the box and see what I would need to make it work.  Did it need batteries?  No!  It has a charger!  As I read further down, I realized that I needed lube.  Me.  Needing to go buy lube.  Just dandy.  I’d also never bought lube before in my life.

Yes, I know…for such a dirty girl, I’ve been pretty sheltered.

I decided to suck it up and run to Walgreen’s for some lube and saline solution.  In fact, once I realized that I only wanted to go to the drugstore once this week, I started making a list of things I needed. And what do you suppose was on that list (besides the aforementioned items)???  Batteries.  That’s right, I needed AA and AAA batteries and actually an A2 battery if I could find one.  Fucking great, Adam had made a joke on Friday night about buying lube and batteries and here I was living in the middle of it!  Once I realized that I had a somewhat embarrassing pairing, I decided to go to WalMart.  Why?  Because WalMart has a Self Checkout line, of course!  Hey, I’m not really easily phased usually but this is Small Town Florida, not San Francisco or New York City.  I really wasn’t in the mood to be eyeballed by Mavis as she clucked disapprovingly.

Anyway, zoom zoom zoom…I got in my car and just as I was approaching the WalMart, there was a fucking rainstorm.  At that point in time, it would have been easier to go to Walgreen’s to avoid getting soaked but no, I waited.  That’s right, I sat in my car and waited for the storm to pass so that I could go into the WalMart with the Self Checkout aisle and get my damned lube and batteries!  After finally making my way inside and dashing around the store adding odds and ends to my basket, I went up to the Self Checkout line to do my business.

“Swipe.  Beep.  Swipe.  Beep.  Swipe.  Beep.  Swipe. Swipe.  Swipe.  No Beep.  Swipe swipe swipe”.

Ladies and Gentlemen, everything that I swiped worked out smoothly except the fucking lube!  I was like, “are you fucking kidding me?”.  The WalMart helper came up to see what the problem was and loudly said, “Oh your Astroglide isn’t swiping?” Fucking Mavis.  Seriously, bitch?  You had to call it by name?  As she tried to get it to work, I frantically dug through my purse for my credit card so that I could pay and get the fuck out of dodge.  The lady in line behind me smirked and said, “It’s always the juicy stuff that won’t swipe, isn’t it?”.  Ugh, ugh, ugh…I did not want to be talking to this lady about my juicy anything even though, judging by the fact that she had a lifetime supply of Depends in her basket, she probably really did understand.

Once I was finally out of the store and headed home, I had to shake my  head and laugh.  Every little action that I took to avoid people knowing that I was buying lube and batteries?  Futile.  Trying to control a situation that would have happened the way it was destined to happened?  Silly.  No matter how hard I tried to control my lube purchase, the fates wanted to giggle, apparently.  I hope they had a good time because it was just another thing that could have made me angry.

Yanno, if it hadn’t been so well worth it once I got home and….

The End Kisses,
Me

That got me thinking about....

WHAT IS YOUR ANIMAL OF CHOICE?

ARE YOU A “DOG PERSON” OR A “CAT PERSON” OR A “BIRD PERSON” OR A “REPTILE PERSON”  OR AN ANIMAL HATER OR SOME OTHER THING I HAVEN’T THOUGHT OF?

Me? First and foremost, I am probably a cat person but I also love dogs.  Since I’ve been renting pretty much almost all of my life, it’s just easier to have a cat than a dog.  If I could, I would probably have both, truth be told.  I cannot handle birds or reptiles.  First of all, birds are all chirpy and noisy all of the time…bleh.  Secondly, reptiles give me the wiggins big time.  So yeah, I will stick with my furry little feline for now, thanks.

Better Late Than Never Kisses,
Me

In other words, I made assumptions.

I’m not going to beat myself up over it because it’s not like we all don’t do it from time to time.  We read little snippets here and there or overhear parts of conversations and immediately we are sure that we know exactly what is going on.  People don’t tell us everything all of the time so we do our own little crazy jobs of filling in the blanks, sometimes with good information but mostly with bad.  It’s one of those things that tends to happen no matter how hard we try not to let it.  Sometimes it seems like the only way to gain some composure and jump the hell off of the crazy train is to walk away and not look back.  You know, give each other some space and hope that once time heals the deep wounds that the little things won’t matter so much anymore.

In general, I don’t always tell people exactly how I am feeling the same way that I used to.  This seems to be making my life a bundle of nerves lately and I’m not sure that I actually like it that much.  Um, duh.  Sitting on the cusp of having so many things to say to so many people isn’t easy, especially when I’m not sure which way I want to go with it.  I’ve been picking my battles, well aware that the raw divorce emotions probably magnify everything else to a point that molehills are mountain ranges.  I’ve been trying things differently by keeping my mouth shut as best I can.  Sometimes when things get to be too much and my insides feel like they are going to explode from a nervous little bomb, I cryptically allude to things that bother me either here on on Twitter.  Lately, I’ve been trying my hardest not to even do that because when I do, I have to deal with people thinking that I am talking about them.

In other words, they make assumptions.

A fine mixture of ego and paranoia resides deeply inside of me so trust me, I am not being judgy when I say this but uh….before you assume someone is talking about you, think about how much importance you actually have in their every day lives.  Seriously, I mean…that’s not just advice that I am giving to you in order to be a bitch but it’s something that I too have to struggle to remember almost all of the time.  It’s extremely easy to take another person’s cryptically snide remarks and associate them with your own life.  I mean hell, half of the things people say under the guise of allusion make my tummy turn just a bit because I’m sure, if only for a split second, that they are so totally talking about me.  Except you know what?  Usually they’re not.  Not at all.  Also, if they are?  Well then that’s their problem because if they have something to say to me, they should just say it.  Otherwise, I’m not going to spend my life wondering who holds issues with me and when they may say something.

Honesty doesn’t come with a layaway plan.

Part of me has been struggling with tying this post all together but I think the general gist of my stream of consciousness here is this:  if something online makes you feel squiffy whenever you read it, you probably should stop reading it.  If there are people in your everyday real lives that have you questioning what they are doing because you only get glimpses and phrases?  Perhaps you should stop paying attention to that mess and start focusing on other things.  When it comes right down to it, even though I miss knowing what Shawn is up to and being able to have “one-line conversations” with him on Facebook, it was a good decision to walk away from a situation that caused much more hurt and drama than it should have.  Getting part of the story sucks, especially when your emotions are so tied up in something that you overanalyze every word.  Assuming that you know what someone is thinking or doing sucks even more.  Even still, don’t beat yourself up for being human.  I know that I don’t.

Rambly Twisty Kookaburra Kisses,
Me