Friday, June 21, 2013

Severely Delusional People & Why Unconditional Love is a Myth

I'm amazed at the completely delusional nature of some people. For some reason, the last people I'd expect to want to deal with me have been sending me LinkedIn connection requests. One came from someone I filed a lawsuit against in small claims court. In fact, I could have appeared on TV if I'd kept that case going & not gotten my money; I did get a call from The People's Court over it.

Yesterday's was a doozy, though. It came from someone who headed an enterprise I later learned was illegal to engage in in one of the states where I have a law license.

I told the grievance committee of that state the owner's name & offered to give them whatever they wanted to keep this guy from getting another attorney there to violate ethics rules. Why on earth would he want to have me as a LinkedIn connection?

Who does this to people? What would possess you to be a LinkedIn connection with someone who disapproves of you, sued you, or did something heinous to you or your business? I refuse all these since there's that saying "Birds of a feather flock together." Why would I let you be my connection & fuck up MY reputation with your general fuckery?

I'm sure people get these requests on Facebook as well. Again, I ask why. Plus, I'm pretty direct when I don't want to deal with someone. I don't leave that stuff in the air or make you think things could be cool between us someday after the tempest has passed. If you've done something truly awful to me, I'll tell you. I will also tell you that you're dead to me or not to bother contacting me ever again. It takes real effort to make me feel that way but once you do, there's no turning back. My dislike & general hatred on someone who's wronged me is legendary: you can ask around. In fact, I'm so direct with people on that stuff precisely so I don't have to get their Facebook friend request or their LinkedIn connection request. LinkedIn really needs a block button, I swear. Situations like this are why we need block buttons; there are some severely delusional people on this planet.

Today, I actually went to my first 2 social events since my father died. Something told me to go to the second one even though I found out about it hours before the other one. The subway schedule told me to go to that one first so I did. Turned out to be a good move on my part. Did have some good conversations & hopefully will have new contacts from it. Got home really late & I'm sure to be fucking up my sleep before going to the doctor who handles girly parts tomorrow.

I've not had a check-up in years since my last one dropped off the face of the earth, literally. His number was disconnected, his website vanished, all trace of him was gone (which sucked). A childfree person like me doesn't have an easy time getting one & even though I already had a tubal, I don't need anyone foisting the Church of Baby on me. Spare me! I've got a total of 6 nieces & nephews. More kids is the last thing my family needs; I also have zero patience so maybe not such a good idea to tell me about the joys of motherhood & how I'm incomplete as a person unless I breed. I only look at providers in Manhattan since the jerks in my area kept telling me they were going to talk me out of getting a tubal like I was 15 years old; it's weird that there are people in Queens who act like they live in rural Kentucky or something. That bothers me on multiple levels & makes me feel isolated from it.

The office I called was able to see me tomorrow so I was like "Okay." I also got my assurance I wouldn't be getting harassed on that issue. I think if I did, I would have to point out the latest attempts to turn women into barefoot, pregnant baby factories with no brains or ambitions of their own. Sorry but I'd have to kill myself in that world or become a prostitute/comfort girl. I'm sure those who know me could totally see me being a hooker in that society. Maybe I'd become the hooker who killed the biggest offenders of sexism in her off time using creative methods.

So, why is unconditional love a myth? I was telling this to a friend of mine today in describing something personal about me I was pretty sure he didn't know. Not sure if he agreed with me on it but if you disagree, I'm going to break it down for you if you hear me out.

I was telling him of my long established policy of telling any guy who wanted to be serious with me that I wasn't going to relive my childhood of living with an alcoholic & that it would be unfair to ask me to do so. Selfish, cruel, those words could fit as well. If you lived through things in your childhood or a prior relationship, there's no way you'd regress to that experience if you'd fully made it out.

"Unconditional" means you take someone regardless, no matter what. But most of us wouldn't say that means you have to stay with a domestic abuser. Well, living with an alcoholic or a drug dealer would be for me the equivalent of suffering domestic violence except you're living that mentally & emotionally. If you haven't lived it, you can't really grasp what it's like.

To avoid worrying about anyone I cared about becoming an alcoholic, my policy was not to marry a drinker. My mom even told us not to do that & used her own story as proof of what happens if you do. She didn't marry him as an asshole drunk who had blackouts, damaged her property & made her fear for her personal safety. He progressed to that. I live my life with passion & if you're my friend, I care a lot about you. Imagine how I feel about my husband. Luckily, he's not given me that fear.

I think everyone's got a breaking point, an area where they'd say "Enough is enough! I'm out of here." To love unconditionally would be irrational in my book since that means you're taking the domestic abuser for life, you're giving up everything for someone (including your identity, your friends, your interests, anything you hold dear) & you become a doormat. Maybe I'm just not as good a person or am more selfish but I think people shouldn't be condemned or punished for refusing to give up who they are or let their "love" abuse them, whether it's physically, mentally, sexually, whatever. For me, that's not love. It wouldn't be love for me if my husband ignored me on that whole alcohol thing & started acting just like my father did when I was younger.

I tolerated much more from guys I simply dated than anyone I wanted a future with. Drinking wasn't a big deal to me from dates since I didn't have to live with them or deal with shared finances. I also avoided asshole drunks & only went out with social drinkers. A big difference but when you go through something like that, you feel like you've survived a long battle. I definitely did and freedom was (and still is) a huge thing for me. When you haven't had it, you cherish it when you get it.

Find me someone who's got unconditional love for someone & I'll show you how it isn't unconditional. I'd definitely put you in the severely delusional category if you in fact had unconditional love for someone; it would mean you have no personal identity or only have it at your spouse's leisure.

Sunday, June 9, 2013

Why My Autobiography Just Begs to Be Written Someday

Among the other things I've done in my life, I learned more information amidst the death of my father that just screams "writing inspiration."

First off, my former friend who showed her ass at my sister's wedding chose the day after my father collapsed & was in the hospital to try apologizing for it and shoving her way back into my life. Real fucking nice there, huh? My husband went to his Other inbox to find the date on this little message. She told my sister she'd sent it weeks before; ha!

Doesn't that sound ghoulish to you? I really think it does. While I was in town, she kept calling my sister & trying to come over. Christ, what the fuck is that about? She probably figured I was staying there or spending time there. Exactly what would she hope to accomplish by talking to someone whose father has just died? That sounds to me like trying to prey on someone's vulnerability. I made it crystal clear that I didn't want to deal with her so injecting herself where I don't want her is the emotional equivalent of punching me in the face.

What sane person would do that to someone? If you're so hellbent on talking to someone, send a Sympathy card. Talk to the people who want to talk to you! Don't inject yourself into someone else's grieving experience!

I had to play "dodge the ex-friend" at the wake since I figured she'd have zero respect or regard even if my mother & sister told her not to speak to me. Though I think she could firebomb a church & my sister would still be friends with her. Meanwhile, had I pulled the shit this ex-friend did at my sister's wedding my sister would have cut me off completely & I'd have never seen my niece or nephews again.

My husband thinks I did this to get my mind off the whole wake experience. Looking at my father in the casket, he didn't look the same. He was chalk white & looked old. Even in the hospital he had more color though that wasn't him either. I have a nasty Yelp review to write very soon about the doctor who tried to deprive me of saying goodbye.

Before that wake, I did get in a fight with my mother over the same old clothing battle again. Even in death, she felt she had the right to tell me what to wear & had all this objection over my shirt that says "Good Girls Go to Heaven, Bad Girls Go to New York." She thought that the pastor they had doing the service would get a laugh from it but claimed "that's not appropriate to wear." I refused to budge on that issue & opted to stay home. At least one friend agreed with me on this; I couldn't see her ever letting anyone censor her style so I figured I shouldn't do it either. Gee, I don't live there, don't go to that church, am not even in that religion & am a grown woman!

Sooner or later you have to say "Enough is enough." Just because my sister asks my mother's approval on clothing doesn't mean I should have to. Plus, I'm a model & live in NYC; I know more about fashion than they do. Nor should they get any right to try shaming me into being a frump. I knew my father wouldn't care & was never obsessed with trying to infantalize me. Maybe to piss my mom off if she dies before me, I should really wear a stripper like outfit to the funeral (in black, of course)!

On Wednesday, the funeral, I opted not to wear makeup. While I was soaking my eyes, my father's cat Layla jumped onto the bed. My mom was saying she missed her Daddy; it made me cry since I knew this cat wasn't going to get the same affection from anyone that she got from him. I thought about how my cats would feel if my husband or I died, especially my Russian Blue since his breed gets super attached to their humans. Considering I was barely able to get my contacts in from drying out my eyes with tears, I figured eye makeup would be a bad idea. Plus if I'm wearing it I get very conscientious about not messing it up.

I got to wear my black silk dress that I'd gotten ages ago & felt would be the perfect funeral dress. It was sporadically raining outside & I was worried I'd be getting it soaked i.e. ruining it. I was assured I looked gorgeous in it; if you saw it & already think I am even in my worst times, you'd have probably thought so as well.

We got a family car from the funeral home at my sister's request so I rode in that with even the driver holding an umbrella to protect my dress while I traipsed the muddy driveway to the limo. In so many ways it was a tight squeeze and as someone who both isn't a "believer" + is childfree, it was not pleasant for me. I couldn't help but cry at parts of the service & when they played "Taps" as part of the military portion of the funeral. My father really didn't know a stranger; as part of his being gone, I'm trying to be less closed off on the unpleasant stuff.

I've still felt compelled to cry at times. Sometimes little things triggered it like seeing Layla and petting her. For some reason, she wasn't nearly as skittish as she was in the past. I sure don't want to hear about Father's Day shit; in fact, I'd rather not celebrate it at all. Can't even imagine how Thanksgiving or Christmas will be; they feel a million miles away right now.

I did write a letter to say the things I never got to say. Writing that also made me teary eyed. I'm sure it had to be fun for my seatmate on Amtrak but at least he was respectful & didn't pry into my private affairs.

Death makes you see who your real friends are & who they aren't. Some haven't even mustered a "That sucks" & I do know one thing for certain: my future isn't going to be with City Bar's Entertainment Committee. I've seen all kinds of things about their loved one's funerals but no one's bothered posting about my father's. Out of state or not, that's still an immediate family member of mine & I know if it was certain people's parents, they'd get an announcement & information on it. I did my part by alerting the Committee President on it. If I can't even get that, I shouldn't have to announce it myself. This isn't an IndieGoGo campaign or my modeling debut. I feel quite betrayed & insulted here.

Nor should a woman ever have to tell her husband she needs comforting. My husband ticked me off a few times by not getting that & just hanging out with my nephew or brother in law instead of doing the very thing he was supposed to be in NC doing in the first place: comforting me. Is this a guy thing? Do we women actually have to tell our romantic partners "Hey, I'm upset here! I'd like a hug (or grief nookie or whatever.)"

I got back home Friday night amidst pouring rain. It rained in NC much more than I expected during the week so it was a good thing I took my hoodie & waterproof jacket. Made sure to wear them on Friday since they called for rain from NC to where I had to go. My train was delayed by 2 hours but I still beat my husband back to NY state. He flew since he opted to fly later & couldn't cancel the return trip without paying a ton of money for the cancellation fee. I refuse to fly for various reasons, particularly the whole being treated like a criminal thing & the sexism against women with baggage policies (yes, it's totally sexist to women considering we usually have to pack more & are expected by conventional society to care more about our appearance). I figured I didn't need more bullshit when it's already a pain in the ass to get to NC from where I live & vice versa. Unless you drive yourself (which has its own hassles & challenge), it's literally a pain to deal with transit to get to the area. I also expected delays & wasn't sure my husband would be able to fly out, especially since he was flying US Airways (one of the worst airlines in existence).

Only since I've gotten home do I feel that I've gotten any respite from this. We had no rental car or privacy from all of it. No grief nookie or even grief making out, no feeling I was at home or real way to feel comfortable. I feel like a prisoner when I'm in NC, at least when I'm not hanging out with people like those I associate with on my own in NYC. After that sweaty, rain soaked walk home, I hugged my babies (the cats), made the calls I needed to including some to friends & contemplated what I was going to do at 10:40 at night when I woke up at 5:15 that morning. I don't sleep outside of a bed or couch at where I'm supposed to be staying for the night unless I'm really out of it. That takes a lot from me since I'm paranoid about theft while I sleep.

I also learned a few other revealing facts on this trip: my parents did have sex after having my sister & Psycho Boy, the guy I lost my virginity to, now has a boyfriend.

The Psycho Boy thing is interesting for a few reasons. First off, if I were a size queen I'd have just let him move to Marietta & planned a future with him. Let me tell you right now that size is nothing when it's attached to a guy who is mentally unstable & has an unhealthy obsession with you. Not to mention someone who loudly announces the nudity in artwork & raves about how hot your boss is at your work study job (while she's in earshot, by the way).

Second, I'm not sure I had major clues on this one since he just seemed to me to be the type who really wasn't ready for sex at the time while I was. Everyone around me had done it & I didn't want my first time to be with a rapist. I wanted to choose my experience & start living as an adult having those college experiences. Perhaps I was trying to break from the puritanical chains I got stuck in from childhood & embrace my new life. He made some peculiar requests later on but to me, it seemed to come from the lens of "This is new for me & I'm going to jump right in."

Third, he was the kind of guy to sway more into homophobia than tolerance. He didn't seem to be particularly sympathetic to gay issues; in fact, he wasn't the type to even know enough about politics or social issues to have an opinion much less debate me on them. In short, there was not that intellectual satisfaction that I thought I didn't need but in fact a person does need. My mother intimated this with her remark about our relationship not being sustainable since he didn't even have a GED & I was going into my second year of college.

After hearing this, I'm wondering what his father said or did. Psycho Boy told me about his father finding a sex toy of ours & assuming his son was gay instead of going to where most of us might logically go first: he's using it on this girlfriend he's been spending all this time with recently. Needless to say, his father was angry & perhaps a tad paranoid about the possibility of his son deviating from the Christian holy roller tradition of marrying a girl, having babies with her & all that noise. Psycho Boy told me about how pissed his parents were at his older brother for getting a girl pregnant outside of marriage.

I think I get a pass on not marrying this guy or staying in a long term relationship like my family would have wanted, don't you? My mother & sister were always sympathetic to him; even my sister made cracks about how I messed him up by being the first girl he slept with & broke his heart. I think I'd have been really pissed about being in a sham marriage & would demand a divorce.

These days, you can go to my home state or a few others in this country & marry your homosexual lover if you want to. You can get insurance & all sorts of stuff you couldn't in the past; all you have to do is go to one of those states and not live in the crappy redneck parts of this country where people love to impose their way of life onto everyone else instead of actually LIVING a life of their own. From what I hear, this would have been a relationship entered into under false pretenses. You have to at least inform someone if you want them to be in a sham marriage & give them permission to have an open relationship so they can get their sexual needs met elsewhere. I wouldn't do a sexless marriage, as should be obvious.

It was something of a shock but also a relief for me. Psycho Boy finding happiness with the other team means he's no longer obsessed with me or someone I have to worry about becoming obsessed with me again (at least if he's full on gay & not just bi). This was a guy who'd hated natural redheads before dating me & hasn't been the first to react in some strong way towards me that made me feel claustrophobic or trapped. It means I could see him at some event & not have to worry that he's going to do something to make me uncomfortable or prompt my husband's attention.

Maybe I also helped him get to that point or made him presentable to gay men; I would consider it a point of pride to have inspired someone to have the courage to be themselves without worrying about what anyone else thought. Apparently I was the one who motivated him to get his driver's license and work on getting that GED. The girl after me was apparently abusive but you never know: the being yourself without worrying about what other people think sounds a lot like me. I can say for sure there aren't many people like that in my hometown; more of them worry about what other people think instead of doing what they want to do. That's probably one reason I had to get the hell out of there.

It's interesting to note that according to studies, gay men are bigger. I thought maybe this was anecdotal but my husband looked it up & it wasn't. This whole thing with Psycho Boy would definitely support this since he was the biggest I had.

The smallest guy, however, wasn't a super massive horndog who jumped on anything with a pulse. I call him Corona Boy & he was definitely not the sort of guy with women falling all over him. That is something I couldn't speculate on since I was never the type to be interested in those guys (sharing wasn't my thing & probably isn't for most natural redheads) or really get anyplace with them (referring to the high school crush there). Maybe other women can tell us if the guys who jump on anything are the smallest & worst in bed.

It would be true justice if that were the case, don't you think? No woman would have to worry about not sleeping with that guy in high school or college since she'd have been disappointed there too. I couldn't say about women since I've not met any truly non-selective women that men would want to compete with each other to sleep with.

This has to explain things about me but I'm not sure exactly what. In the meantime, I'm seeing friends who care, taking it easy & waiting for the day I'll not worry about crying at random. I'm not sure you ever get over it & I'm still pissed by the unfairness of it all. Religion doesn't provide me comfort on it. The only comfort I have is that I'm going to make money from what I do or die trying. I won't have anyone belittle or undermine my career or use lack of money to claim it's not valid. I owe it to my deceased family to keep living to the fullest and taking every viable opportunity I can. Those not with that program will just have to get out of my way.

I've also got a treasure trove of inspiration for writing.

Saturday, June 1, 2013

So More Death Comes to My Immediate Family

Over the years, I've had a lot of relatives die. Some were people I'd never met, some died when I was too little to remember or only have a few memories & one was someone I actually knew well. Now comes another death, the one I didn't expect in the manner it happened: my father. I still can't bring myself to call him "Dad" but I can call him "George" as my mother referred to him (no part of his name is "George" by the way; my mom's just eccentric--part of the mystery is solved, I know).

I've lost aunts, uncles, my grandmother & the most recent big one was my brother in law weeks before I was accepted to law school. That one was particularly bad since he & my sister had only been married a few months, she'd just had their first child (who was 3 weeks old & had bonded to his father in the womb) and he would have been eligible for health insurance in a few months.

My parents just got out of bankruptcy & my mom was happy he was getting a full paycheck. He'd just recovered from a knee injury & to talk to him, you'd never think of him as "old" or "boring." He hated the slow drivers on the road just like everyone else. He wasn't even 60 years old & this happened. The doctor said apparently this kind of thing happens often; people just drop for mysterious reasons, slip into comas & don't recover. If it happened to my father, I wonder, what's to stop it from happening to anyone else? Me, you, the guy down the block? We're not promised tomorrow. He's now been declared brain dead & they're only leaving him on life support until I can get there to say goodbye.

I already learned about the fleeting nature of life after my brother in law (my sister's first husband) died. I just wonder why the fuck God is pissing on my family. It's been that way forever for them; what the fuck?!?!?! Since when is my mother Job? She and my sister are totally devastated over this. I've been emotional over it but not sure if it's just the tragedy of the whole thing or actually caring. I definitely know it's not making life easy on my mom. Father's Day & major holidays are going to be a total bitch, even for me not living there. At least we had last Thanksgiving, I keep telling myself.

This "praying" stuff also bothers me. God is the one who decides it's your time, right? It's infallible & set in stone. So what good does praying do? You can hope, you can try to be optimistic but there's the element of realism to consider. If your number is up, isn't prayer just a waste of time or is it like getting clemency from the governor or something? Guess I'm also getting crotchety about it like the hard core atheists. I've known people are just saying it to be nice but I'd rather you just say you're thinking of me or sending good vibes my way.

A few things about my grief process:

1. I don't eat much. I wouldn't be shocked if I lost a bunch of weight if my mom or sister died. Really, I wondered why people kept giving us food when my brother in law died since I had no appetite? I figured drugs would be better: something to make you want to eat or not feel depressed would be the ticket. Note I didn't say illegal drugs since there are legal drugs that can do this stuff.
2. I won't want to cry but when it hits me, it hits in a huge way. Last night, it hit hard when I was telling people I was now going down there to say goodbye. It also hit hard when I saw my cat Oswald (we thought he was a girl but when the vet said he was a neutered male, Ortensia became Oswald). George will never get to meet him. When my brother in law died, it hit me when I was in my supervisor's office & realized that my oldest nephew would never know his dad. At least he's got my sister's second husband now & he's been a good Daddy to him.
3. I can't be surrounded by it 24/7. I need respite from time to time, hanging out & interacting with people who have nothing to do with it i.e. not related to the person who died & suffering the same sense of grief or worse than me.
4. I need human contact. Ideally, someone to hold me who won't let me go before I say so. Now that I have him, my husband is ideal for this but a guy friend who won't try taking advantage will do in a pinch. I'm upset my husband can't be with me until the funeral. That will be tough. Yes, I did get laid the night my brother in law died (with an ex I happened to run into that evening; it lead to a brief reconciliation) & that's one reason I need my husband with me now. I don't dislike sex anyway but in grief, I crave that human contact & that connection. You need something to counteract the pall that comes over you. It's in your stomach, your throat, your face, your movements; it's like you're wearing a heavy cloak you have no clue how to remove.
5. Don't pray for me. Say you're thinking of me or sending me good wishes but don't try to convert me or tell me about how great Jesus or God are. Spare me the sermons. You aren't going to convince me to go back to the puritanical Baptist faith I ran from.

Yeah, I'm damn upset right now. I'm not in a good mood & crossing me is bad enough on a normal day. This is rage times a trillion. I'm also not very happy with people who've been told about it who've said not a word to me. No "I'm sorry" or "Hope you feel better" or even "That sucks." I think I'll be cleaning some house when I get back to town. You don't get to be a "friend" in my life when you can't even acknowledge that my situation sucks.

I've reached out to people more on things, remembering what my mom says about how if you want friends you have to show yourself friendly. Well, I figure you can't call someone a friend if you never give them the opportunity to actually BE a friend to you. Me talking about this is most definitely the opportunity to show me what you're made of in that sense. Are you a friend or are you worse than a stranger on the street? Most strangers have at least enough compassion to feel bad for you if an immediate family member is dying or dead. The hospital is also apparently damn anxious to pull the plug before I get there. I told my mom to ask them why they needed to do it this second when I wasn't going to be there at 3 a.m. If they want to get on my bad side, I said they can go right ahead & see where that gets them. I think I deserve my goodbye time considering I never got that with my brother in law.

Not sure which is worse: instant death or this waiting around stuff. I think waiting around seems worse since it's false hope & all this build up only to get disappointment in the end. At least I know the things to ask my husband about & tell others of in case he goes first. I also worry this will kill my mom from depression. Studies show that dead people's spouses usually die not long after the dead person died. We're just too young for this.

I warned my husband my family lives to their 60s & my father didn't even get to 60. No one will live long enough to be a burden but still. It just sucks all around.

I know I'll be shitty company for a while but frankly, I don't give a damn about that. Talk to me when it happens to you if you've got a problem with it.