Time For War

Time for a new flag to fly over this house.

My mom is so far gone, that she no longer even mentions that something it has done, is inconvenient for her and myself. She is so afraid of its tantrums, that she keeps her mouth shut. That is, until I challenge whatever is going on. Then she gets angry, and yells that she doesn’t want to be in the middle. So... you’ll take the side of the overly-controlling jackass, just to avoid its wrath, but you’re fine taking it out on me? Remind me why I fight for you, again...

This most recent battle is because of the ever-increasing laziness of the jackass. It is too lazy to open the cupboard, reach up, grab what it needs, and close the cupboard, so it has to have a special bowl of these things on the counter. The counter which it continually screams "MUST BE KEPT CLEAR!!!!!" But that only applies to jackasses. One day, very soon, it will learn what I will do to fight back.

As I’ve mentioned before, if you indulge someone’s personality disorder, it does so much more damage than you could imagine. You cannot tolerate even the tiniest behaviors, or you wind up in emotional prison. Every single time you think, “It’s not that bad”, is one more step towards total domination. You’ve heard “A journey of a thousand miles, begins with a single step”? It’s the same with personality disorders. For every concession you make, the other gets a step ahead. This goes for all personality disorders.

What happens when you make a single sympathetic comment to an overreaction voiced by a person with Borderline Personality Disorder? You feed the fire, and they will soon expect sympathy for a lost eyelash.

What happens when you allow a hoarder to leave something in the corner “for now”? That person will gradually leave more and more things in places “for now”, until you can’t breathe inside your home.

What happens when you give allowance to a narcissistic demand? All hell breaks loose. Narcissists are far from subtle, and far from capable of compromising. It will take over in less than a week, and it will dig its claws into you so deep, and so fast, that you won’t even notice until someone points it out. I know, you’re thinking, “If it’s that fast, how can someone not notice?” Welp, allow me to use an example... When you get a paper cut on the pad of your finger, you usually notice, but it won’t hurt immediately. Once that hand sanitizer hits it, it’s all you think about. However, no bandaid on earth will release you from the pain and control inflicted by a narcissist.

I will continue to pray for the quick, and extremely painful, death of this sad excuse of a human. That day, I will laugh, and dance, and party. However, I won’t give it a single thought for the rest of my life. It’ll be like having a cancerous tumor removed. Or, for all my Doctor Who nerds, the Narc is like a Silence. 

That’s all. 

Gross

People who do this, absolutely disgust me.

So, her highness (sometimes referred to as a sibling) has been out of a job, because 2020. Long story short, mom found out that princess has been trying to apply for jobs, just using her phone. As we all know, filling out forms on a phone, simply doesn’t work. It takes too long, and hitting one tiny thing wrong, will make you lose everything. So, because of this, my mom offered to buy her a laptop.

Here’s where it gets gross...

My brother-in-law, whom I typically like, came to mom with the laptop they'd chosen. $1,900. For a laptop! Why? Because “It’ll last, and it won’t need updates so soon”. 

Here’s my thoughts: So, instead of buying a cheap-o laptop which, while not fancy, would still connect to the internet, and allow you to create and store a resumé, then, once employed again, buy your own unnecessarily extravagant machine... you choose one that you wouldn’t be able to afford, even with both of you employed? And you think that’s ok? You’d damn well better pay her back every single penny. With 100% interest.

These two are blatantly taking advantage of my mom’s kindness. Beyond taking advantage. It’s disgusting. And they have exactly zero shame. The sad part is, this is far from unusual. They take and take and take, and never give anything in return. It’s happened way too many times, but this is the worst. My mom is finally retiring, next month, so every penny counts. To expect her to pay nearly two thousand dollars is the epitome of exploitation.

This is just one more reason that princess and I will never get along. She’s always been a taker, and I’m a fed-up giver. It’s been this way my entire life, and it’ll never stop. 

When the inevitable happens, and my mom is gone, I want exactly nothing to do with either princess or her adoring subject. I’m done pretending these two humans are any kind of respectable people. 

Beyond inexcusable.

Jerk

People suck.

So, as some of you may know, I started a new job. I’ve been here for almost three weeks. I’ve learned some of the more basic functions, but with as much as there is to know, it’s going to take, like, a year to learn it all. Most people are understanding, but there are those people...

Some jerk just came in, and I could do most of what he wanted, but when it came to something more complicated, he went off, telling me how I don’t know how to do my job. Well, duh! Did you know every tiny thing at your job after just three weeks?!

Then there are the ones who can’t handle dealing with someone who has hearing loss. Oh, the impatience of some people! You think you’re frustrated? I’m a million times more frustrated than you!

Especially during the Christmas season, there are loads of people learning new jobs. There’s not a single working person who hasn’t had to learn a job, and believe me when I tell you that, each job is entirely different from the last. Even if you keep the same title, your new company does things differently. But you already knew that...

Basically, the most simple of human kindnesses doesn’t seem to exist, anymore. If you can’t be kind to those you’ve chosen to do something for you— a cashier, a bank teller, a postal worker— you shouldn’t be going out in public.

To all the absolute jerks in the world, I hope you’re happy with the knowledge that employees do, in fact, talk about you after you’ve left. Not because you’re special, or particularly valuable to our companies, but so we learn. We make fun of you, we make hand gestures that you can’t see, and we all learn to avoid you, so your experience at our companies keeps getting worse and worse. 

Customer service does not mean customer slave.

Stop Begging

We’ve all done it, but we shouldn’t.

When I started this blog, I lost so many “friends”, because they didn’t want to deal with my behavior when it had a name like Bipolar Disorder. They seemed to be alright with it before the diagnosis, though. I guess they fell in with the morons who fear the label...

Welp, a few years ago, I wrote a blog post, directed at some of these people, practically begging them to come back into my life. It was absolutely disgusting. If I could find it, without having to read every single post, I’d delete it. Nobody, and I mean nobody should lower themselves down to the ground, and kiss the feet of people who obviously don’t want to be in their lives.

I know that this is so much easier said than done, but believe me when I tell you that you are worth so much more! For every person who is shallow enough to not want to deal with your illness, there is someone dealing with their own illness, just waiting to meet you! Your kindred spirits will be some of your best friends. People who willfully don’t understand these things, and refuse to stand strong through each of your storms, are not your friends. Those people are beyond shallow— liking you for very few reasons. More often than not, those people are actually using you, and aren’t friends, at all. 

Please understand your worth! You are an absolutely incredible human, who deserves love and real friends! Fighting your own brain, on a daily basis, has proven exactly how strong you are! You’re still here, so your success rate is 100%! Those who refuse to stand by you, well, those are the weakest people in the world. Everything and everyone in their world, has to be puppies and sunshine, because they simply can’t handle darkness and struggle. 

You are strong!

You are worth it!

You are succeeding!

KEEP FIGHTING 

Fighting Back

Will this cause problems? Yes. Will it get the point across? Probably not.

Ok, this post was going to be about fighting a narcissist, but as I wrote the intro, I had other thoughts.

Narcissists will walk all over you, unless you start defending yourself, early on. Don’t get me wrong, they’ll do it, no matter what, but there’s a possibility that they’ll see that you’ve got boundaries. Yes, they’ll push those boundaries, but if you hold strong, you can keep them. The problem comes when it’s a constant, “I don’t mind” from the beginning.

There are loads of things that my mom “doesn’t mind”, which has made it so the jackass doesn’t just walk all over her, it actually twists things into being her fault. Yes, mom will put her foot down, sometimes, but it will then retaliate with some childish tit-for-tat. The best day of my life was when she got so angry with it, that she called it a jackass. Not to its face, of course, but oh... it was glorious!

Ok, so my original idea has now fused with the opening line to make something entirely different, and much more mature. I was going to fight everything it did, but that would make my mom’s life a living hell, because let’s face it, that’s not the best idea, on my part. Don’t get me wrong, I will fight it, and I will win, but maybe just on the important things. 

Example: Today, while I was at work, the jackass used my very expensive, very irreplaceable music stand, as its own personal coaster. Yeah, really. It has been told, thousands of times, that things, like my stand and the piano, are not to have drinks or food on them. Add on its ever-decreasing memory, and we find its crap everywhere. So, I threw it in the trash. I gave it one warning, and one only. From now on, any time I see something on my stand or the piano, it gets chucked.

Because of that piece of excrement, our house wouldn’t even pass for Section 8. There’s more mold than there is wall (in the basement, anyhow...), we’ve only ever painted three rooms, and only two have been done in the last twenty years, and so many other things that would take a year to type out. The jackass is so afraid of change, that it had a panic attack when mom finally put her foot down, and replaced our twenty-five-year-old couch (no actual padding, anymore... just fabric and springs).

Anyhow, should you find yourself trapped by a narcissist, make your boundaries clear, and do not, under any circumstances, allow those to be crossed. 

Crap

Today, I’d like to talk about butts.

As we all know, there are two things that come from butts— wind and crap. The wind may stink, but it doesn’t cause as big a problem as the crap. The wind dissipates fairly quickly, and there’s no need for cleanup, except an air freshener. Crap, on the other hand, is messy, and as some children love to do, it gets smeared, causing major problems.

Why am I talking about bodily functions? Short answer: I’m not. These unattractive things are more than literal— they’re metaphorical. This, readers, is narcissism.

A narcissist is capable of exactly two things when it speaks. It can blow hot air, which stinks, but is fairly tolerable, and is over relatively quickly. This hot air is often aimed at defending its own behaviors, telling someone how great it is, and can usually be ignored. Sometimes, leaving the room, and getting a clean breath, helps to keep going. The hard part is the crap.

Crap can be flushed down the toilet, but only by those who are professional-level when dealing with a narcissist. For those of us who have been emotionally abused by these sad excuses for humans, often find the crap smeared all over. It gets on the walls, in the carpet, but the hardest to clean, is the crap that gets on us. It has become such a part of our identities that, we’re not sure how to get it off, or what to do once it’s finally gone.

This metaphorical crap are things like, feeling like we’re the problem, thinking that their anger is our fault, and backing down to their commands, so as to not incur their wrath. Unfortunately, these feelings aren’t associated with just the narcissist; we continue these patterns within other relationships. Whether it be friendships, romantic relationships, or how we deal with job-related stress, we have been conditioned to think and act the way the narcissist taught us to.

Don’t look in this blog for a way to overcome that, because I have no idea. The farthest I’ve gone in healing is, understanding that, I am a person, I do deserve happiness and love, and I am not what the narcissist taught me to believe I am. If you can get these three thought patterns in your conscious mind, you can start your journey to freedom. 

Healing from narcissistic abuse is not ever going to be complete. It leaves a scar that rivals one from an open heart surgery. And, let’s face it, it really is heart surgery. You have to learn that you are capable, worthy, and not a verbal punching bag.

One piece of advice... Don’t try to speak to, argue with, or attempt to negotiate with a narcissist. They’re called “assholes” for a reason. An ass has no ears, and won’t listen. All it will know is that it feels attacked, and then comes the crap...

Thanks-Getting

Well, this is fun...

Thanksgiving is (usually) a time to gather with family, and share stories, thankfulness, and general happiness. Not in my house.

Today, I’m locked in a house with two of the most insufferable narcissists in history. Her royal highness, often referred to as Know-It-All, hasn’t even looked at me, let alone said so much as a “hello”. She’s going on, and on, and on about how much she knows about this and that. And the reigning narcissist is soaking up every word, despite never listening to, let alone believing, a single work any woman has ever said. Oh, and it keeps going back to the same topics, well after the subject has ended. 

I like maybe ten whole people in my so-called family. Cousins, aunts and uncles... I avoid the vast majority of them. I’ll spare you the reasons, because today is all about the narcissists (or so they’d like to think).

Literally everything is about them. The only reason King Narc said any word of thanks, was so that he got acknowledgment. And Princess Narc won’t shut up long enough to let my mom or me say anything. 

When these two get together, it’s intolerable. Mouths moving, competing for most words said in ten seconds, as well as those two stroking each other’s ego, so as to get it in return.

Princess Narc has been out of work because, well, 2020. Mom asked her about any new leads, and it was “Not many new jobs are posted.” So, I come back with how there are hundreds of new jobs on the sites I use. Her response was to go on about “junk jobs”, insinuating that jobs like mine are below her. I mean, how could I possibly have a “good” job, when I have the audacity to wear jeans?!?! I’ll say this one more time: No, my job isn’t glamorous, regular, or going to make me rich, but I love my job. I don’t care what she, or anyone else, thinks. I’m happy, for the first time in a decade, and nobody is going to make me feel like a lesser being. How many times have we heard the old, “If you like what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life”? Learn that quote, and live it, because it’s true.

I’m writing this, during dinner, counting the seconds until I can lock myself in my room, and be alone. 

But... As this is a day to express our thankfulness, I’m going to make a list. Feel free to share yours, in the comments. I’d love to read them!

- I’m thankful for my mom. She’s always been there, and rarely complains.

- I’m thankful for my aunt Ria, whose sassy-pants attitude is exactly what an aunt should be.

- I’m thankful for the time I got to spend with my dear Uncle Dick before he left us for a much better place.

- I’m thankful for music, and my ability to make it.

- I’m thankful for the job I get to be at. 

- I’m thankful for all my wonderful friends, near and far.

- I’m thankful for my ability to express myself through writing.

- I’m thankful for those family members who support each other, despite differing opinions and beliefs.

- I’m thankful for each experience, good and bad, that allow me to learn.

How’s about you?

Realization And Addition

Sometimes, what I want to say, isn’t what comes out.

My last post was dedicated to my amazing friends; one of whom was not properly described, and many were left out, completely. So, today, I’ll fix that.

Ms K, I am so sorry that I didn’t elaborate on who you are, and why you are amazing! This wonderful woman, who has been by my side for over twenty-five years, is the biggest contradiction. She is the kindest, most soft-spoken woman... until she needs to kick some major tush. She can go from screaming at a bully, to comforting her friend, in a millisecond. She is most definitely not afraid to face any roadblock she comes to. Moving family, home, and life with each military transfer? Conquered. Fighting literally anything? Grand champion! Basically, Wonder Woman in disguise. No lie.

I have quite a few other people I am lucky enough to call friends. No, I’m not best friends with them all, but we all know we’re all there for each other.

I’ve got a friend in Ogden, Utah, who is freaking amazing. Beautiful, inside and out, and one of the strongest wills I’ve seen. Empath, mother, friend. 

I have a friend who frankly makes me wicked jealous. In high school, she was a beautiful dancer, and could do anything choreography asked! Now, she’s a computer whiz, kicking butt and taking names!

There’s an awesome woman in a small town, whose husband became a doctor. While he was doing his doctor... training... stuff, she was raising a houseful of boys. They have all boys, still. I’m sure some of you can understand how young boys can be. The way this woman finds humor in absolute disasters... Wow! That’s an incredible trait!

There’s one lady, in particular, who never ceases to amaze me. She can’t have the one thing she wants, but the way she gives back to those who can... I’m in constant awe. We only went to school together for one year, but we still talk.

I have a friend, whom I have been talking with since the days of MySpace, but I’ve never gotten a chance to meet her. The funny part about that is, she even lived right near me for a bit. Anyhow, this mini powerhouse went through a sudden event in her life that she kept standing through. To give you an idea, this woman has over 1,500 Facebook friends. She has affected each one, and thanks to her being a first responder (at least, used to be), has affected thousands more.

Sorry if I didn’t get you in this post. Just know that, even though we don’t talk all the time, I am so blessed to have you as my friend. 

Thank you, all. Thank you for being you.

Great Friends

Good friends aren’t always great friends.

Most of my life, I envied TV and movie characters who have their best friend right there with them, know each other better than they know themselves, and do everything together. No, I don’t have that kind of friends. I’ve got better friends.

There are three amazing women whom I call my closest friends. Not one of them lives in my state, and haven’t for quite some time, but we have never lost contact. That, dear readers, is a great friend.

In chronological order, these amazing examples of true friendship are:

Ms K (sorry, not using names). This beautiful woman came into my life when we were just seven years old. That’s second grade, for my American readers. We had a period of time where we lost contact, but once we found each other again, you wouldn’t have been able to tell that we’d been apart. Not long after we reconnected, she joined the United States Army. There, she met an incredible man (who is career Army, to boot!). Their adorable little family lived in different countries, but we still kept in contact. We’ve held on, despite distances. I’ve only actually been able to be with her, to actually see her, just a handful of times in the last fifteen years, but we’re still besties.

Captain B was in one of my classes in seventh grade. Pretty sure we were both thirteen when we met. Maybe twelve...? Anyhow... After (give or take) twenty-one years, she still surprises me with the absolutely hilarious things that come out of her mouth. This very driven woman has such a way with words. She doesn’t say things the way most people do. She has her own flair that can’t really be described. She’s always known what she wanted, and she worked her tush off to get it. The hardest-working person I know, and I get to call her my friend.

Ms A was in band during our sophomore year of high school. She has got to be the wisest person I know. I mean, when I’m complaining about something, she can see it from an outside viewpoint, and completely change how I look at it. She also has a knack for research, which I probably abuse. Got a question? She’s got the answer. Whether it’s medical, philosophical, or theoretical, she’s up for the challenge. She’s been through a lot, but rarely do I hear her complain. She’s always there, even if just in spirit.

I have known these brave, kind, intelligent women for decades. We don’t finish each other’s sentences, we’ve never shared a wardrobe, but I am tied to each of them with a bond stronger than blood.

I have many other awesome friends, and I hope they know how amazing they are. Each and every person I call my friend, has their own amazing talent, style, and story. No, I will never have TV friendships, but that’s ok, because I’ve got real friends.

Bout Time

Sad, but seriously relieved!

The narc has a 1970 Pontiac GTO. It died in October 2001, and has been sitting in the driveway, ever since. Nineteen years. In those years, a lovely community of moss grew, countless wasps have made a home in mystery spots, and we made a game of finding rusted pieces that had fallen off. The vinyl roof was gone long ago.

Mom and I have been trying to convince it to sell the thing, but always got the response of, “It’s a dream”. Yeah... a dream. Not ever going to be a reality. Ever.

Very suddenly, it decided to sell it. I suck at keeping track of time, but it’s been maybe a month. Today, the classic was taken away. It was sold to a nice guy who is going to fix it up. He even said he’d let us come look at it, and keep track of the renovations! 

This is the car I spent my childhood in. It drove me to and from school, dance classes/performances/competitions, and is what I took my first clarinet home in. Ah... memories. 

Enjoy some pictures of our dear rust-bucket...

And the moss I mentioned...

Double Standards

Do I really need to say what this post is about?

Narcissists are full of double standards. They can do something horrible, but do it to them, and you’re in for it. To clarify, nobody likes having something mean they do, done back to them. Narcissists take this to an extreme.

The most annoying double standard it has, is the way it talks to my mom. It is condescending, rude, and can get as angry as it likes, but mom has to be peaches and cream, or gets a “Don't get so upset”.

Example: Tonight, it put itself in a stressful situation, which would not have happened if a narcissist had any honor to begin with. Mom simply asked if it was coming to eat dinner. Upset, and loud enough for me to hear, it uses the most condescending tone, and words, I’d heard in a while. It was throwing a tantrum because of the situation it put itself in.

Now, let’s turn this around...

A narcissist will needle you, until you give it the response it wants. Not the actual truth, its own truth. So, when asked the exact same question, five straight times, mom will give in, and give it what it wants. Mind you, all she does is sigh. Its response? “Don’t get so upset”.

Bonus that the thing is continuing to lose its memory, making it even angrier if it is told it is being reminded. It won’t go to a doctor, because, well, narcissism keeps it from seeing anything wrong with itself.

Counting the days...

Just Something Fun

Laugh a little!

So, I’ve been doing something that I have found amusing. I go onto Google Street View, and find people. Most of the time, these people look great, but there are a a few gems. Some have some funny looks, others get butchered, stretched, and even find themselves multiple times in one shot.

To these unfortunate souls, thank you for being at the right place, at the wrong time.

I present with no further comments.

**Talk about getting ahead of yourself 😂😂**

Fake Is Fake

“Fake it till you make it”

We’ve all heard the line. It’s overused, and frankly, it’s tired. We’ve heard it from so many people, who all seem to have a PhD in psychology, based on their survival of a hard day. Well, I’m here to tell you that it’s 100% crap.

Do you know what happens when you fake it? You wind up doing far more damage, and not helping yourself, at all. Think of it this way: You’re driving, out in the middle of nowhere. No towns, no other traffic, just you. Suddenly, your car breaks down. What now? Can you fake it till you make it? No. You need both the tools and the knowledge, or you’re just gonna break it further.

I’ve been having a particular difficult time, lately, and I have exactly zero idea why. Literally everything is irritating. No, I’m not manic. I have no other symptoms of mania. I just feel completely done with things.

Today, it seemed as if everything I touched, I dropped. Every time I moved, I smacked some body part into something much harder than I am. I have bruises all over my body, just from today. 

Oh! The best part of today was when I screwed up, not once, but twice. And these screw-ups weren’t minor, no... I went all out for these mistakes. I told my manager what I’d done, and he was entirely unconcerned, except when it came to how I was. I had to laugh when he said I looked like I was going to cry. Yeah... That’s literally how I look all... the... time... 

Anyhow, don’t let people tell you to “fake it till you make it”, because it can, and most definitely will, blow up in your face. If you have a problem, ask a licensed professional for tips and tricks that can help you. Apply those tools every chance you get. I can promise you, though it may take years, with practice, and unfailing willpower, anything is possible. I mean, three years ago, I couldn’t step out on my front porch without someone going with me. Now, I’m working, running my own errands, and actually enjoying life! 

It may take you longer, or it may take you less time. Don’t be in a rush. Healing takes its own sweet time, and your journey is purely your own. Don’t judge your progress based on someone else’s. Do you, your way.

It Sure Is A Day

Can I crawl under the blankets, now?

Today is one of those days where nothing goes right, and everything goes wrong. There’s no middle ground. It’s an extreme. Here I am, on my lunch break at work, and I’m back to contemplating quitting. 

I keep doing this. Something goes wrong, my brain freaks out, and I wind up screwing myself over. Someone says something rude, and my brain goes into overdrive with “Everything sucks”, instead of “Look at all this amazing stuff, compared to the one bad thing”.

This feeling has cost me no less than ten jobs in as many years. Thanks to all the ridicule and useless criticism I got growing up, I don’t take even constructive criticism well. At all. Suddenly, it’s all, “I’m horrible. I do nothing right. Nobody likes me”. 

This is my reality.

I like this job, I really do, but I can’t get my conscious mind to speak to my subconscious mind. Rational thought has no power against irrationality with me. The worst part is not knowing how to fix this. 

I read too much into the negative, blocking out the overwhelming positives.

Awesome...

For Now

This isn’t goodbye, it’s “see you later”.

In my post “Tot Ziens”, I told you about the absolutely incredible man I was blessed enough to call my uncle. The world lost a great light on October 22, 2020. Today, we came together to share memories, stories, and the cheesiest jokes he’d ever used (which, let’s face it, most of them were).

My amazing uncle was finally laid to rest. He battled cancer, Parkinson’s, even COVID. Now, he’s free.

Being who I am, I have to take pictures, even at funerals. Here are some of my favorites...

Disgusting

Gross. Just... ew.

So, the reigning narcissist has a tendency to exercise, then sit and eat something, in the dining room, which then stinks up the whole room. In turn, it stinks up the house. Anyway, it gets angry when told of the smell, and even angrier when told to shower. Then come the rants about how I won’t eat in there when it stinks.

Friends, readers, sane people, lend me your opinions! Would you like to eat in a room that reeks of body odor? Imagine this: Take your lunch into the football team’s locker room, right after practice. Can you do it, or would the smell affect the flavor of your food? Fun fact: Smells are a BIG factor in enjoying food. It smells good, it tastes good. It smells bad, it tastes bad.

My life, ladies and gents... It gets upset because I react to a problem that it created. It is the victim, and I just have a problem. That is a narcissist.

Short post. Fin.

Tot Ziens

Perfect in ev-er-y way.

My uncle— the funniest, kindest person you’ll ever meet— was sent home, this morning.

I don’t have a ton of memories with him, since he lived a couple states away, but I have three very vivid memories. When I was in my early teens, he and my aunt were at our house, along with another uncle and aunt, and a couple cousins. My aunt Cathy played the accordion, while Uncle Dick sang. He always got demands for one particular song, that is so perfectly him. It says, “Oh, Lord, it’s hard to be humble, when you’re perfect in ev-er-y way”. I don’t remember the whole thing, but I remember his goofy look, dance, and the pure joy of everyone around.

Then there was the time, after my aunt passed, when Uncle Dick came over, and brought us all some legit Mardi Gras beads. I still have them. I have a picture of him from that day, with his usual goofy pose. I love that picture.

Then there was another aunt’s birthday party. So many members of our family gathered together for that one, and of course, there were cheers for the ever humble Uncle Dick. 

My mom and I were able to go down to visit him last year. We were told, then, that he had about two weeks left. Yeah... that was eleven months ago. This man was the most stubborn person ever to grace this planet. He started with nothing, and built himself, and his family, an amazing life. 

He was in his teens when the family came to America, leaving his home, his friends, and his life an ocean away. He married young, and never gave up. He learned English to a point where he had exactly zero accent. He learned a trade, and became a master. He travelled the country. There’s not a whole lot he couldn’t do.

Uncle Dick, you have been a spot brighter than the sun. Thank you for the memories, and the stories (especially when your as broke). You affected more people than you realize, and you are, and will always be, so dearly missed.

Until we meet again...

One Of Those Days

Sit. Open book. Read for three hours. Sleep.

Today was a trial. I got a great job as an in-store shopper at Sprouts, which I started two weeks ago. To be perfectly honest, I love it! I work with some absolutely awesome people, I’m almost always kept busy doing something or another, and I finally feel like I fit in somewhere. No, I’m not vegan, vegetarian, or organic, but neither are most of my coworkers. Everyone gets along, as far as I can tell. It’s nice.

Anyhow, remember that disorder I have? Tardive  Dyskinesia. It mostly affects my left foot (because, why not?), but also affects my left hand and my jaw. It’s been mostly ok for a while, but it acts up every now and then. Today was that day.

When it’s acting up, my foot turns itself inward, forcing other muscles to work harder. This, as you can imagine, results in searing pain, and, subsequently, my left leg being twice the size of my right (looks awesome...). I have no control over it, and if I try to force my foot forward, I literally trip over my own feet. 

Since my job is split between standing, walking, and almost running, you can imagine the effect it has on my foot on days like today. The pain was unbearable, causing me to be less chipper than I have been while working. Unfortunately, a few of my lovely coworkers picked up on my mood. I felt like I was bringing everyone down, so I hid in the corner, as often as I could.

I’ve been home for near two hours, now. I’ve been sitting almost the whole two hours. My foot is still twitching. I swear, my foot acts up more than my mood does, lately. I’ve been properly medicated for almost two years now, making my life a gazillion times better! But that stupid foot... 

Anyhow, I’m off tomorrow, giving my foot time to think about what it has done. A nice time-out should do it some good.

Pressure Building

And now, we sit back, and enjoy the show.

My mom is a very patient person. To a point, anyhow. I remember just one time where she blew a gasket. The other child and I were fighting, as usual, so mom pulls into a parking lot, gets out, slams the door, and took a breather. That’s the only time I really remember her reaching her limit. Now, that limit is slowly creeping up, again, and I’ll only say this: Vesuvius will be down to second place after mom blows.

As I’ve mentioned many times, her husband is both a narcissist and a hoarder. The basement is a nightmare that stinks beyond words, but that’s just half of it. 

Here’s a list of what’s upstairs:

The Living Room:

- Eight seriously heavy boxes of flooring he swore he’d use to redo the kitchen about fifteen years ago.

- A Lay-Z-Boy recliner (circa 1984, but still looks good) that he broke on May 6, 2020, and hasn’t fixed.

- Six (yes, six) bath-size towels he has stuffed between the couch and the piano.

- A statue of The Last Supper, with a decapitated apostle, that has been sitting there for eleven months.

The Dining Room:

- No less than six bottles of various outdoor poisons that have been used maybe four times this year.

- Another box of the flooring that he swore to use in the kitchen.

- Various actual garbage items he’s shoved between the shredder and the wall next to it.

- Other cans of who-knows-what in front of the shredder.

- A massive piece of cardboard from the box of our 65-inch TV.

- Garden clippers.

- Wood water-sealant, along with the brushes and rollers used (those smell real good...).

- A camp stool.

On The Table:

- Dead batteries of varying sizes.

- A pack of toothpicks, “just in case”.

- A napkin so dirty that a toddler wouldn’t even touch it.

- A can of mandarin oranges (just... why?).

On Top Of The Fridge (yes, really):

- A plate.

- A bowl.

- Two spoons.

- Two forks.

- A straw.

- A knife.

- Empty containers (fruit, soda bottles, etc.).

- Three cups.

- A food storage container.

- Two soda cozy things.

Back to my point...

Every time mom or I leave something on the counter, it gets a “What do you want done with this?” Or a “Can we find a box to put these things in?” Or my personal favorite, “We need to keep this space clear.”

He had some stuff in the kitchen drawers that didn’t belong there, and hadn’t been used in ten years, or more. I took it out about a month ago, and he just noticed tonight. Mom gave him the bag of all the crap that I’d taken out, and told him that, no, he can’t put it back in the drawer. His response was to find room in the pantry. Here’s the kicker... He wanted mom to move her cookbooks because they’re “in the way”. 

Moral of the story: A narcissist never does anything wrong. They can do whatever they damn well please, and you have to compromise what you need or want to accommodate their demands. He sees nothing wrong with leaving his crap around, but mom and I have to chuck stuff we want, simply because he needs more space for actual garbage.

I’m going to love the day mom finally blows up at him. It should have come decades ago, but at least it’s coming to a boiling point, now. I just hope I have time to make popcorn, first.

Hear Ye

Good things happen!

I suddenly lost my hearing in June. Today, that changed.

As I was driving, this morning, my ear popped. Painfully. And gross stuff I won’t tell you...

So, freaked, I went to the urgent care. Doctor said, yes, my ear burst, but the hole isn’t big enough to worry about. Best part: When the pain and ringing went down, I actually heard things! 

I heard my music (and am now aware why people looked annoyed), I heard my phone, I even heard my car! I may have cried a little. It was seriously emotionally overwhelming. Still not ever it.

Anyhow... Today is gonna be a great day!

Butt Out

Buh-bye!

So, there’s a woman who likes to put her opinions into everything. I mean, she’s a nice lady, but she has exactly zero right to butt in where she does.

I got a new car last month, right? When she found out, her response was a snooty “I thought she just got a new car”. Yeah... not your business. Are you paying for it? No. So, butt out.

Then there’s the...

Ok, backstory, first:

As some may remember, I recently lost most of my hearing in my right ear. There’s now a 95% loss in the right, and a 60% loss in the left. I was finally able to get in to see the specialist, who wanted to do an evaluation for a cochlear implant. I thought it over, did some research, and decided that it wasn’t a path I wanted to take. Not right now, anyway.

Back to the woman...

She just about blew a fuse when she found out I didn’t want one. “Well, it’s worked so well for my (whatever relation she was)!” Ok... great for her. She was born deaf, and hasn’t heard any other way. To someone who spent thirty-three years as a hearing person, I’ve read that it sounds like a talking doll whose batteries are dying. No. Not happening. Butt out.

You can have your opinions. You can voice your opinions. You can’t, however, judge someone so harshly for not agreeing with your opinions (good tip for this election year, too).

I love my new car, and I’m 110% happy with my choice to not get the CI. These things affect nobody but me, so, no... you have no right to get upset, judgy, or tell me I’m wrong because I don’t agree with you. 

Autumn

Can’t you just smell it?

October is both my favorite, and not. On the one hand, I lost a friend at the end of October, all the way back in 1997. On the other hand, I love the leaves, the weather cooling down, the smell in the air, and the beautiful way the world changes. 

Yesterday, I took a trip around the cemetery. I didn’t stop at Bryan’s grave, but I caught some pictures of decorated graves. 

Enjoy!

Seester Dearest

Come again?

I was informed, today, that my “sister” is now trying to convince my mom that our relationship problems are, in fact, my fault! Allow me to rebut...

I am by no means a perfect person. I admit that I am a difficult person to get along with. Close quarters make that difficulty an almost impossibility. I’ve flown off any handle there may have been, for stupid stuff; or worse, no apparent reason, at all! Having been entirely unmedicated for twenty-six years, then not properly medicated for nearly thirty-two years, has made it difficult for people to stick with me. However, it’s not impossible (e.g. Kierstin— 26 years, Berkeley— 21 years, and Anna— 18 years). 

All I got was, “She says she’d like to hang out with you, but you always... I can’t remember”. So true, it’s that memorable! 

So, what do I always do? Half the time, I don’t even know what I do! My life has been one giant inconsistency. There’s not a whole lot that I always do. Do I always sleep? No. Do I always get angry when you say that? No. Am I always going to agree with you, and be exactly who you want me to be? To quote “She’s All That”(1999)... That’s a hell no. 

But seester, dearest, here’s what you have always done...

1- Put me down for not being 100% like you. Most notably for liking the music that I do.

2- Roll your eyes when I talk about mental illness. Fun fact: It’s not something I can “learn to get over”, like you like to tell me. Just like your pain can’t.

3- So, this one isn't an always thing, but I remember four times (yes, four), when you flat-out told me that I’m not as classy as you are. Why? Because I have the audacity to wear jeans! Oh! The humanity!

4- Last on this list, but definitely not last in reality: You’ll decide to be a friend for anywhere from an hour to a month, then just drop me like a Large Hadron Collider (it’s a thing, look it up).

You, dear seester, are consistent, predictable, and intolerable. I may have Bipolar Disorder, but the way you go back-and-forth is as steady as a pendulum.

Ask yourself these questions:

-Has she ever told me that who I am isn’t good enough?

-Has she mocked me for something I like (even when Backstreet was life)?

-Which one of us blocked the other out when we were kids?

-Have I ever told her she’s good enough, without emphasizing the word “enough”?

-When was the last time I actually listened to what she had to say, instead of running my mouth like the speedometer on a Lamborghini?

Answer Sheet: (Read in first person, for ya.)

No, but I did that to her, like, a lot. 

No, but I’d pick at everything I could.

Me. Unless I was bored. 

No, but I did that to her. Still do.

Never. Didn’t even know she had a blog.

So, go ahead, make up these stories that make you the victim. If they make you feel like a good person, go for it, because I simply don’t care. You can lie like a public defender, but the one person you’ll never convince is the person you have put through hell for over thirty years.

We can still make holidays pleasant, but we will never be friends, let alone sisters.

Southern New Hampshire University

**This issue has since been solved. SNHU did right by me, by actually approving it as a one-time correction. But let this still be a warning.**

Basically... run!

As some of you may remember, I tried starting back at college in May of this year. I applied at, and was accepted into, Southern New Hampshire University (SNHU), taking online courses. This is my nightmare...

When you apply for college, in America, you fill out an application, send it to whichever college or university, and after a bit, you’ll get a letter or email with either an acceptance or rejection. Not with SNHU. No... You fill out a form to express your interest, then they call you, and they fill out the application, with you on the phone. Weird, but not totally unacceptable.

Then you go through the typical financial aid crap. Miracle of miracles, you’re in, and are approved for federal loans!

Then there are the classes...

The absolutely useless professors are, well, useless. Ask a question, get a vague response. Ask an and/or question, and get a yes/no response. “You can reach me anytime! Here’s my email, phone number, and available minute.” Yeah... right.

This crap hole has less than 50% graduation rate. Those who do graduate, even with a BA in English, can’t figure out the difference between “apart” and “a part”, let alone “farther” and “further”! Great education they got...

Now for the worst of it...

Should you need to drop a class, or drop out altogether, here’s a helpful hint: Let the semester go by, even if you have to fail the class. They don’t tell you about the drop process and fees, so reading ahead, and making copies of the current process is a must. 

I had to drop out about four or five weeks into the term, because of my mental state, and the rapid decline of that state. When I called, I was told that I’d have to pay back the federal loan I used. Totally makes sense. When I was on the phone with one of their representatives, I was told, no less than three times, that I wouldn’t have to pay back any grant money that was disbursed. 

Here we are, almost four months later, and I get an email, telling me I owed SNHU over $400! I called the financial office, told them what I was told, and got, “I’m sorry for any misinformation, but the balance still stands”... ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!?!

This joke of an institution won’t stand by their word. Anything you’re told can, and will, be countered by some rule that they hide on their website so well, that it would take a freaking programmer to find! 

Do not, under any circumstances, use this money-sucking factory! It’s not an educational institution, it’s nothing more than a nationwide shark, betting on your failure.

Rolaids Spells Relief

Yes, I’m talking about a specific person. No, I won’t tell you her name. She’s a good person, but she needs major help.

I met her in, like, 2009. She was odd, but good odd. She danced to music like nobody was watching, her sense of fashion was purely her own (and she rocked it!).  She talked, she listened, she cared. We were good friends! Then things started changing...

She got married to a guy I didn’t think was good for her, but that was her choice. When she had her first kid, things really started showing. Her tone, her body language, and her behaviors started seeking attention and validation, instead of giving it.

Things started getting bad for my mental health about three years ago. She’d post dozens of pictures of her kids in the comments of posts that had nothing to do with kids or pictures. On pretty much every post, I could expect no less than five responses. She’d respond with things out of left field. I’d say something about, say, cleaning out my closet, and I’d get a paragraph about what her kids did that day. Then she turned to pictures and descriptions of her kids on public posts of pages she followed, where anyone and everyone could see. Fun fact: Pedophiles go around social media to find pictures of your kids, and we all know what they do with those pictures.

The more attention she got, the more she needed. Same with validation and, yes, pity. She turned into a perma-victim. Any tiny thing she could get pity for, she’d blow it way out of proportion. Example: The last time I saw her, we went out for dinner. When I was driving her home, literally every pebble we hit, somehow hurt. And it had to be expressed with moans, groans, and detailed descriptions.

It got to a point where, every time I’d see her name pop up on my notifications, I’d get stressed. What’s her latest attention-getting tactic? How far from relevant is her comment? It was stressful, and frankly, it was irritating.

I had to unfollow her on all social media, and I actually blocked her phone number. I simply couldn’t deal with her, anymore. She wasn’t doing anything to help her disorder (Borderline Personality Disorder), because the reactions she gets from family, friends, and strangers, are too satisfying for her. Fun fact: Feeding into someone’s personality disorder, is counterproductive. It hurts them, not helps them. 

I’ve talked to my own therapist about this woman. I said, “She’s a good person, but she drives me nuts. I can’t deal with her.” My therapist’s response? “That’s ok! Borderline is a difficult disorder to be around.”

She recently removed me completely from Facebook, and holy cannoli... the stress is gone! 

Like I said, she’s a good person, and the last thing I wanted to do was hurt her, but not having any contact with her, well, that’s just for the best.

You will always bring a smile to my face when I listen to Soolaimon. I wish you well, and I pray you find your happy place. 

Too Full

I’ve never been through this, and I gotta say... I really don’t care for it.

Ok, I have this weird reaction when I eat, which,  everyone who has ever seen it, has to laugh. Normal people get the sensation of, “I’m almost full. Maybe a bite or two more”, right? Not me. I feel hungry while I’m eating... until I don’t. Like, I’m going along, enjoying my taco, then very suddenly, I’ll literally gag because I’m too full. Most of the time, I wind up not being able to even swallow that bite. It gets gross, if you have to watch this.

Anyhow, I’ve never felt the feeling I’ve heard about when someone is too full. Tonight, that changed, and it’s just... no.

I’m not a fan of new things that I can’t control. New pants? Great. New car? Fun! New feeling? No. Yes, this falls under the OCPD tab in my ever-growing owner’s manual for my brain. I’m a major control freak, especially when it comes to myself. I can’t handle when I feel “off”, because it’s not what I want for myself. 

For the last couple weeks, I’ve been fighting certain things that annoy me to the point of irritation, or even anger. I’ve managed to keep my thoughts to myself when reading something with grammar vying for first place in the “I read it in the comments” awards, which is a massive step for me. But, I mean, come on! What kind of kindergarten drop-out spells “Abviously”?!?! 

Anyway, my point is: Trying to deal with something new, has always been difficult for me. Anything about my mind or body, that suddenly changes, is just not ok with me. I’m nearing thirty-four years old, and I still can’t handle these things. Working on it, but not holding my breath.

I’m Amused

Ok, this is fun.

If you’re not in the know, there’s a scam going round with online sales. They find an item you’ve listed online for sale, offer a cashier check for more than the asking price, say they’ll arrange a pickup (since they’re conveniently out of the state for a while) after the check has cleared, and ask for personal information that seems innocent (name, address to mail the check, phone number, etc.). 

When you cash the check, all is great... for around six weeks. That’s when the bank finds out that the account it came from is empty. Then the bank comes after you for reimbursement, plus fees. Scammer gets the money and what you’re selling, and you’re out hundreds, or even thousands of dollars.

I’ve gotten so many of these. Thankfully, I have a smart friend named Taylor, who knows about this kind of thing. I’ve usually just left the scammers hanging, but today, I had some fun...

The following conversation is one such scam. The address and phone number are easily Googled to reach the Salt Lake City field office for the FBI. 

And now, we wait... 😈 

Check out the phone number these texts came from, and have a little fun, yourself. Maybe something to the effect of...

Hey! My friend sold you (insert something expensive), and I was wondering if you’d be interested in my (something similar to expensive item).

Then, feel free to send it to your local police office or fraud department, or go all out with your nearest FBI field office.

Go forth and spam the scammers!

End Of My Rope

I damn well better get this job...

Every time the jackass narcissist is around, his flying monkey treats me like crap. Anything I say gets an eye roll, a glare, or an answer with a seriously annoyed tone. I can do no right, narc can do no wrong.

The term “flying monkey” for a narcissist’s enabler, comes from The Wizard of Oz. The wicked witch’s flying monkeys do her bidding. The narcissist’s enabler does their bidding. Get it? And since the jackass narcissist’s goal in life is to tear me down to suicidal levels, the monkey picks up on it when the narc is around.

Tonight, I posed the question, “Are you aware of how you treat me when he’s around?” As you can imagine, this went over about as well as throwing an egg off the roof. 

“I either get the eye roll, a glare, or a bite.”

“No...”

“Yeah, ya do.”

“When you put dad down, yeah.”

“Not just then. I asked for help, and you glared at me, and said ‘just a minute’ like you were annoyed.”

Then... in the least apologetic tone I’ve ever heard in an attempt at an apology...

“Well, I’m sorry I did that tonight.”

🙄🙄🙄

I interviewed for a fabulous job, last Tuesday. People love working there, it’s got great benefits... Just sounds like a great place. However, the best benefit of this would be: I could get my own place! Away from the jackass, away from the back-and-forth enabler... 

I’m just done. It’s time to make time for myself— Time to find out if I’m worth more than my family thinks I am, time to choose who I have to be around, and time to be me. 

I won’t give my family the satisfaction of my death. Instead,  I’ll shove my happiness in their faces. Repeatedly.

Complications

Oh, the irony...

All Americans will understand HIPPA. It’s the overboard privacy law that prevents anyone from knowing anything about you or your medical history. It’s absolutely ridiculous that, if I was in a horrible car accident, my mom wouldn’t be able to know anything about where I am, what’s wrong, or if I’m on life support, simply because I’m an adult. Yes, if I list her as an emergency contact, she would have slightly more power, but still.

Welp, thanks to COVID causing an ever-increasing number of people suffering from paranoia, HIPPA is taking a blow, and medical offices could face a hilarious fine.

I’m at a doctor office, and they have a taped line on the floor, with a big, bright sign telling us to STAY BEHIND THE LINE! Because of this, I now know that Mr. L has an overdue balance of nearly ninety-four dollars. I know his name, phone number, and address, because he had to say it loud enough that the receptionist could hear. Keep in mind my level of hearing loss, and this is even funnier. 

Jennifer needs a referral for physical therapy, April needs a refill on her heart meds, and Kevin got an STD.

It has been proven, multiple times, that one person wearing a mask, lowers the chance of getting sick to just one percent. Put two people, still standing two or three feet apart, wearing masks, and there’s zero chance you’re going to get sick.

So, what’s more important? Would you prefer the zero percent chance of getting a cold, or your private information being out there for everyone to hear? 

The people who believe the high COVID numbers, need to do some investigating. Here, in Utah, they have hundreds of COVID deaths reported. Fun fact: Many of these deaths were car accidents, and many died of other, major causes (old age, liver/kidney failure, cancer, etc.). They haven’t even reported five actual, legitimate deaths. The deceased are tested during the autopsy, just to make the numbers higher, and increase mass paranoia. Over 90% of people who test positive, have no symptoms. Less than 5% end up in the hospital for any amount of time. Less than 1% are hit hard. 

Think about this.

Why?

Today, I went through something I haven’t been through in almost two years.

Anyone who has experienced mania, true mania, can understand. I don’t know where it came from, I haven’t been able to put my finger on a trigger, but nevertheless, it showed up.

I got angry, irritated, and took it out on a dear friend. I was able to ignore my phone, and watch a movie, alone, to decompress. It took over an hour to rid these thoughts and feelings from my mind. All things considered, that’s no time at all. This used to last for days— weeks, really— so under two hours is amazing.

I hate that feeling. I have no control over my thoughts (of which there are a million), so everything comes out with no filter. It feels like I’m in fifty-million pieces, clinging to any part of me I can find. I’m not me. The last time I felt this way was back in 2018, in England (sorry, again, B, J and L!). 

A long time ago, I promised God and myself that I would find at least one good thing in every day. I do this to remind myself that my life isn’t 100% bad. This keeps me alive. If I can find just one little reason to keep going, I can survive. 

So, today, I got a call from the car salesman I’ve been working with, who told me my new (kind of used) car will be ready tomorrow! Yes, I bought a new car! I wanted an Outback three years ago when I bought my Legacy, but couldn’t afford it. Now, I can! It’s a 2020, but they’re calling it “used” because it has 2,400 miles on it. I’m calling it new. I was joking with friends that I was going to get a license plate frame with “Mijn Tomaat” on it, because it’s red and kind of round on top 😂 And now, it has stuck, so I officially dub it “De Tomaat”! 

**Dutch words, by the way. “My Tomato” and “The Tomato”

Go Stick Your Hand In A Blender

That’s what I told it to do.

So, the narc has the usual trait of “I need this, so you must move heaven and earth to get it for me”. Our kitchen was designed by a moron. The counter hooks a corner, then sits right in front of the fridge. So, if someone is looking in the fridge, another can’t get past. And heaven forbid you need to be in that spot when the jackass comes in. 

It gives a disingenuous “excuse me”, then will either pin you to the fridge, or simply knock you over, so it can get through. Today, I’m beyond irritated. When it gave the obligatory and meaningless ask for excusal, I said, “You push through, I push back, and you will fall”. I’m done with this sad piece of crap. 

A narcissist isn’t a real human; it’s a construct of its own superiority complex. 

I hate it. It’s 74 years old. It’ll die soon. Not soon enough, but the end is in sight. Then my life can begin.

Overreact Much?

I laugh to keep from punching.

So, as I’m sure you’re aware by now, my father is a full-blown narcissist. Its “me, first and always” attitude is irritating to no end. The “my way, no highway” demands are intolerable. One thing that I can laugh at, however, are its overly juvenile overreactions.

Many years ago, mom had gone to bed, I was sitting in the dark living room, and the thing was downstairs (as usual). Welp, I turned off the dining room light, setting it off. It comes storming into the living room, yelling so loud that I’m sure the neighbors heard... “DON’T TURN THE LIGHT OFF! HOW WOULD YOU LIKE IT IF I TOOK THE LIGHT OUT OF THE BATHROOM?!?!” Yes, really. Because heaven forbid it simply turn the light on when it enters the room...?

Things like this have happened throughout my life, and I seem to be the only one who can incur the wrath of three-year-old Satan.

Today, like every other day, it proved, once again, that it is nothing more than a spoiled toddler.

It has one of those hospital mugs that it keeps on the table. For years, it simply drank from it, directly. Not sure when, exactly, but at some point, it started keeping a straw in said mug. No big deal, right? Not always. It refuses to let me through, thus forcing me to reach over its precious mug. Guess where my wrist will inevitably land. Every. Single. Time. I finally had enough, and warned that I’d start throwing away the straws if the mug wasn’t at the edge of the table, and perfectly out of my way. I did this once. Tonight, it did it itself, and decides to blame me. Narcissists can’t take responsibility for their own actions. They will always blame the nearest person. This particular event gets even more hilarious. It replaced the straw, and literally taped it in place! I know elementary students with more maturity!

If you’re wondering... no, it didn’t apologize. It never apologizes. Unless it can make itself out to be the victim.

Please enjoy the picture of what immaturity looks like.

Job Hunting Is Hard Work

Rant in 3... 2... 1...

If you’ve applied for jobs recently, you know how frustrating those online assessments are. “There are no wrong answers. Just answer what you think” is total bull. There are wrong answers, or you wouldn’t get the “We regret to inform you...” email thirty seconds after submitting it. They take, like, twenty minutes to fill out, and twenty seconds to get a response. Tonight, I’d had it.

I applied at Ross, did the assessment, and got the denial. So, I wrote this to them:

I know the thing these days is using internet assessments in job applications, but they only tell you the very narrow views the computer tells you. You don’t get to know the applicant as a person. Clicks on a screen tell you exactly zero about who that person really is. Asking someone how they’d react to a situation, and only giving 4 pre-determined responses, simply doesn’t work. The way a person talks, moves, and engages, cannot be explained in an internet assessment. That is only something that an actual, live person can determine. You, along with far too many other companies, are losing out on some absolutely awesome employees, and making it harder for people to get good jobs that they would rock at. I did your assessment, and less than 2 minutes later, received an email, reading, “After careful consideration, we regret to inform you...” The computer didn’t think I can rock this job, but I guarantee, if I’m allowed to meet with the manager of the location, I’d wow them! I’m a person, not a score on a computer.

Thank you.

I’m done with these stupid things. What happened to the days of going into the business, filling out a paper application, and meeting the manager? That’s how I got my first three jobs. It’s a good system! People don’t matter anymore. They don’t want to mold someone into the perfect employee, no... they want the perfect employee already gift wrapped.

If you’re tired of this, feel free to copy that message, and send it to the company you know you’d rock with.

Slow, Not Stupid

Are you lucky enough to know a special needs person?

I’ve worked most of my career with special needs. I spent four amazing years with a self-contained high school class, I’ve worked with elementary specials, and for a week (yes, one week) with a day center for special adults. These people will test you until your very last hair has been ripped out, but they will also love you without limits.

I’m watching Burn Notice, and this episode had a higher functioning special needs man. When it came down to a fight between his longtime “friend”, and the good guy he’d met a couple times, he chose the good guy. This made me think about all my former kids.

If you’ve ever had the pleasure of getting to know one of these amazing humans, feel blessed. Parents of special kids, you know what I’m talking about. 

After watching this episode, I was thinking back on the kids I’ve worked with, and noticed that Hollywood finally got one thing right. These very special people have a gift— they can spot the good person in any situation. It’s almost like they have a sixth sense that can identify someone’s heart. If you’re good to them just once, they’ve got your face tattooed on their heart forever. 

There’s one former student of mine, in particular, who will always bring a smile to my face, every time I think of him. I believe everyone needs to meet someone like him. I may have taught him how to count, but he taught me so much more.

Every person who comes into your life has something to teach you, and needs to learn something from you. You never know what that will be, and it’s never anything you might expect. 

Not my usual post. Was just on my mind. 

An Unusual Post

I’ve been trying to figure out how to write this post, but decided that a professional is needed.

Every day in this house is basically the same. Narcissist wants something, flying monkey gives in. The narc doesn’t care if it inconveniences anyone else, as long as “it works for me”. Insinuating he’s done something “wrong” is grounds for a tantrum. He’ll run away if I raise my voice at him, yet gets pleasure yelling at me. In every situation, he is always the victim. He views his first child as superior, based on the fact that she’s married, lives on her own, and has been able to hold a steady job. I, therefore, am useless. He has exactly zero sympathy for anyone, especially his family. He pretends to be sympathetic towards his church congregation, but that’s because they worship him in return. He does nothing, unless he gets something out of it. 

The best day of my life will be the day he dies.

I found an article on growing up with a narcissistic father. Click the link to read about what I’ve had to deal with.

How to Survive a Narcissistic Father

Foodie

I tried finding gluten memes, but all the pictures were grainy.

Long story short, I’ve had digestive problems my whole life. I’ve heard about the FODMAP diet from a few doctors, but I’ve never had the desire to have that level of self-control. I like food, but I’m ridiculously picky, and the list of foods allowed just doesn’t work for me. I went back to the doctor, who told me something interesting... Since I don’t eat many of the forbidden foods on a regular basis, the foods most likely causing me issues are lactose or gluten.

Fast forward to today...

Day one without lactose and gluten. I picked out some gluten-free waffles at the store last weekend, based solely on the fact that, A- I could reach them, and B- they were blueberry. Now, every single gluten-free thing I’ve ever put in my mouth, has come right back out. It’s vile, and really shouldn’t be called “food”. Welp, I tried these waffles at lunch (judge me), and they were the best waffles I’ve ever had! Forget Eggo... get Van’s! 

Ok, now for the mental ramifications of excluding beloved foods...

I’m one of those women who mindlessly shove food in their mouth, then complain they’re fat. Having to tell myself I can’t eat something is rather stressful. You’ve probably been through the same; you get a craving for something, but can’t have it (enter: Nando’s), and that’s the only thing you can think of the rest of the day. I don’t know about you, but when I can’t have something, the craving moves me on to other, similar things. Stress leads to agitation, agitation leads to annoyance, annoyance leads to three candy bars, two Mountain Dew cans, and a night of feeling like a failure.

Today is only day one. Not bad, so far... but I have to do this for a solid three weeks. Twenty-one days. Yes, there are alternatives for these foods, but they’re simply not the same. Some are better (like my waffles), some should be removed via HAZMAT (like every gluten-free bread available).

Anyhow, this is my life for the next little while. If you know of good lactose or gluten alternatives, please share!

Learning

Ik leer veel dingen. 

Rwy’n dysgu llawer o bethau. 

🎼🎹

So, not having a job (or being able to even keep one) has opened up a ton of time for me. This has created boredom. 

I can’t stand doing nothing all day, so I’ve turned to, well, probably too many things.

About a year ago, I started learning Dutch. It was my mom’s first language, and is half my heritage, so I thought I’d give it a go. I’m still learning words, and word forms, and starting to use them in sentences I’ve not memorised from the apps I’m using. But I’m doing OK with it.

Maybe eight or nine months ago, I added Welsh into the language learning path. The only experience I have with Welsh is the episode of The Crown where Prince Charles goes to Wales and learns the language, and I’m actually picking up on it faster than I am Dutch. I’ve heard Dutch throughout my life, but nooo...

Then I added in exercise. Getting off my morbidly obese butt, and actually working out. Aerobics, walking (indoor and outdoor), and I joined a gym. I’ve been doing the elliptical, which is kicking my morbidly obese tush, but I’m doing it!

Now I’ve added in learning to play piano. It’s been a lifelong dream, so I bought a do-it-yourself lesson book, and I’m surprised at how fast I’m picking up on it!

This is all super fun, but I’d still rather be stressing about finding time to run errands because of my work schedule. My main goal is still substantial, gainful employment (it’s a thing, look it up). Being able to work full-time, and not have to rely on the good taxpayers of America to pay my income, rent, food, and medical. It’s my job, and mine alone, to take care of me, and it irritates the ever living crap out of me that I can’t do the one thing that defines adulthood.

Anyhoo... that’s that.

This

It’s time to separate the adults from the brats...

This is the era of offense. People getting their knickers in a twist over words. “Don’t say this, cant say that” stuff, because people are all about feelings. If someone hurts your feelings, they must be fired, cancelled, and have their name dragged through the mud. 

Welp, I had someone get all offended because I pointed out that saying “I love you” after every sentence is inappropriate, since they’re not a super close friend. Boo-freaking-hoo. Get over it. This person has now unfollowed me on FB. Fun fact: I don’t care. You want to be so childish as to cut me out over that, I frankly don’t need you, or  your drama, in my life. 

So, I posted this, but since they’re no longer following me, they obviously didn’t see it. I’ll post it here...

“Ok, folks. Wanna know what happens if you’re offended by one of my blog posts? Nothing. That is, if you’re a functioning adult who can get past it. You do and say things that offend me, but I move on, like said functioning adult. Those who cannot move past WORDS, are what we call “immature”. I’ve had 2 “friends” cut me out, in the last 6 months, because they couldn’t accept someone with a different viewpoint. That’s ok with me. ADULTS understand that your friends, close or not, don’t have to agree 100% with you. ADULTS also understand that you annoy them just as much as they annoy you. ADULTS move past it when these annoyances are pointed out. So... are you an adult?”

This goes for everyone. I don’t follow the current narrative, and I frankly don’t care if you don’t want to be a friend. Quality over quantity any day. I’m way too old to play these high school level games with over-the-top drama. 

If you’re over 23 years old, your drama is no longer a game. It’s now an attention-grabbing tactic that needs therapy and, probably meds, to fix.

Did this post offend you? Ask me if I care.

Little Sister

I’ll never understand why I got screwed in the family department.

I’ve told you about the sad excuse for a father I was cursed with, but I haven’t said much about the sad excuse for a sister I was cursed with.

Growing up, I watched my friends around their older sisters, and they were all best friends. They hung out, they hugged, and they smiled when they saw each other. Mine did none of that. In fact, she did the exact opposite. She shut me out, yelled at me if I tried to hug her, and glared if I was even in the same room as she was. Everything I did was wrong. Everything. My existence, alone, irritated her.

About four or five years ago, she shows up at the house, no notice, and starts talking to mom. I had paused the movie mom and I were watching, but the blu-ray player was new, and I didn’t know that it shut itself off after 30 minutes. This, obviously, turned the TV back to live shows. When it did that, with zero help from me, she gave me a look, like I’d just done her a great injustice. Oh... I’m a horrible person for not knowing in advance that this would happen. I should be in jail!

Now, let’s go back seven or eight years...

Something had happened, yet again, with the (insert profanity of choice) at home. I had to get out. I wound up driving the solid forty-five minutes to where she was living in her in-law’s basement. One of their daughters let me inside, and I went downstairs. I knocked on the door, and she started yelling at me for not calling before coming. Up and down, yelling, because I was inconveniencing her. She was watching TV. Oh... the horror. I’m no better than Dahmer.

Since she and her husband moved out twelve or so years ago, not once has she called before coming here. Not. Once. But do it to her, and she blows a gasket. How do you say “hypocrite”?

Family, especially me, has never meant a single thing to her. On occasion, she’ll contact my mom. Usually when she needs something (food, money, or most commonly, a sympathetic ear to listen to her rants). Despite mom sending her a text every morning, her responses are few and far between.

It took me far too long to decide not to care about her or anything she does. Believe me when I say it was difficult. I’ve always been the good sister. Anything she wanted or needed, I was on top of. She exploited my generosity and devotion as much as she could. 

**Example: I worked at Barnes & Noble for a while, and we had a Starbucks café. She’d call and ask me to get her coffee no less than once a week. I did, without complaint. The next Thanksgiving, she wanted to go get coffee, and I asked her if I could join her. She asks, “Do you have money?” Are you serious? You can’t afford $2 after I spent no less than $50 for you?**

Even still, every day, not caring is a conscious action. But I’ll tell you what... keeping her out of my life and thoughts has made my self esteem get to a somewhat normal level. 

The way she bullied me my whole life will take the rest of my life to recover from. (Profanity) was my first bully, paving the way for her to follow suit, which then allowed me to make myself available for Britch and everyone else.

I’ve been able to work through a lot of the abuse that went on at school, but what happened at home will be a constant shadow out the side of my eye.

I have no dad, and I have no siblings. I have bullies. Sad, empty inside, bullies.

Lights

There’s so much darkness going on. Finding the light can be difficult.

Every time I open social media, turn on the TV, or drive down the street, I’m punched in the face with hateful politics. The Marxist movement, fueled by domestic terrorists who think destruction and murder are justified based on political differences, is absolutely insane. But that’s all I’ll say about that...

With all the dark, I’ve been trying harder and harder

To find the light. Sometimes, it’s harder than others. Sometimes, it’s easier. But every day, I try to find something bright. Here’s some of my favorite things...

- First and foremost, my faith keeps me going, no matter what.

- I’ve been reading more. I’m currently reading The Scam by Janet Evanovich, A Gathering of Shadows by V. E. Schwab, and The Hobbit by the legendary J.R.R. Tolkien.

- We recently had to get a new TV, since our faulty-from-the-start one died. The new one is a Samsung. If you have a Samsung, you probably have Samsung Plus TV. Welp... I’ve discovered Drybar Comedy. Funniest channel ever! 1334, if you’re wondering.

- There’s also videos of puppers and cattos on Instagram. I watch those way too much, sometimes.

- I’ve been blessed with some very good friends. We may all be in different states, and sometimes, we’re in different countries... But we still talk, regularly. 

Find your escape, your light, your feel-goods. 

An Introduction

Ladies and gents, my father:

**These are actual things it has said and done. Sadly, no exaggeration is needed.**

"I can only eat half a taco." Well, if you hadn’t binged all morning on brownies, popcorn, crackers, and other junk food, you might have been able to eat the whole thing.

“I’m gaining weight, and I don’t know why.” Refer to previous statement.

“I’ll nibble on it.” This means it’ll sit in the fridge until it’s so moldy and gross that it’s unrecognizable.

“How do I know you’re talking to me if you don’t say my name?” Oh, I don’t know... Could be that you’re the only other person in the room. Moron.

“Well, today I watched a couple John Wayne movies, read the news, and watched Nova.” That’s nice. I vacuumed the entire upstairs, scrubbed YOUR bathroom, cleaned up YOUR mess, and made YOUR food. Wanna trade tomorrow?

“Our neighbors are great people.” 40 minutes pass, several other topics are discussed. “They’re really good people.”

“All the tups (Tupperware) without lids, I WANT!” Literally because he has a panic attack when I throw anything out. Even actual garbage.

“I need the fan (over the stove) on.” So, you can’t stand the smell of bacon, but your thoroughly burnt popcorn, choking the entire upstairs, is fine?

“It smells fine to me.” Said the man with no sense of smell, about the 3-week-old leftovers...

“Is the stove top hot?” No. We cooked an entire dinner without heating the stove.

“My program starts in 120 minutes.” That’s like saying you’re 893 months old. 2. It’s 2 hours away.

“Are you going to sit and talk, or go watch something?” Then... mom says something to me, incurring the childish, tantrum-motivated manipulation. “Well, if you’re not going to talk, go watch something.” Manipulation level 💯 

**Nobody was physically punched in the making of this blog post**

Pet Peeves

We all have ‘em, so let’s taco bout ‘em... 🌮 

I’m typically one of those people who let things slide. Well... some things, anyhow. Like when the woman at 7-eleven called me “sweetheart” six times in our thirty-second transaction. People that say things like that, bug me to no end. “Hey, hon!”, or “Hello, sweetheart!” are like nails on a chalkboard, only worse. I’m not your child, or a child in general, so stop talking to me like you’d talk to a toddler. Exclusions apply when a friend greets me as “hon”. That, I don’t mind.

Then there’s people who eat so loudly, that eve I can hear it. The sucking and smacking... no. Even the sucking noises when someone’s making out. Ew. If it’s on TV, I mute it. It’s gross.

Grammar is something that needs to be a pet peeve of more people. There is exactly zero excuse to be typing things like, “Your welcome”, “I'll call there office”, or “We should of went their” (a 3X for you). We all graduated sixth grade, most of us graduated high school. The worst are people who are high up in their company, and still can’t figure out the most basic grammar and spelling. While we’re at it, let’s stamp out “finna”. It’s not a word, and the spelling doesn’t make a lick of sense for the current definition.

Oh! And let’s not forget the “love you” at the end of every sentence texted, messaged, or posted to me. No. You are not family, you are not one of the three people I consider my closest friends, and I’m most certainly not in a romantic relationship with you. Even at that, those three closest friends don’t say it. To me, when someone says “love you”, it means one of two things: they have no idea what the word “love” actually means, so they throw it around at everything, or they’re trying to get attention. It will, in fact, ensure that I ignore whatever it is, and possibly get you blocked. 

I get that people are all different, and have different ways of talking, but some of these are beyond inappropriate. If you aren’t best friends, don’t call that person “sweetheart”, and don’t keep saying  “I love you”. And if you insist on being a loud, obnoxious eater, eat alone. Also, if you simply don’t care about appearing as an educated, functioning adult, be prepared for the educated population to correct your comments and posts online. 

These things are not just irritating to me. I’ve heard so many people complain about the exact same things.

If you are one of the people who do these things, stop and think about how it affects others. You may think that everyone thinks you’re just a super nice person when you greet them with a “Hello, sweetheart!”, but I can guarantee that at least fifty percent of those people don’t like it. Same as telling everyone that you love them. It makes people uncomfortable.

And this concludes my rant on pet peeves. This round, anyhow.