Strange Things Are Happening to Me

I have the best therapist in the world. You may think I'm exaggerating  but I'm not. I think that everyone should have a counselor as wonderful as mine. She listens and engages in real conversation with me. She never makes me feel like I'm crazy or invalid. Her ideas and solutions are relevant to my life and situation and she's as honest with me as I would want anyone to be.

So, when she tells me something, I listen. Intently. And I rarely hesitate to put her ideas and suggestions into action. She always applauds me for it. I can't tell you when the last time I felt like someone was truly proud of me. She makes me feel proud of myself. For who I am. Just the way I am.

It's like she gets me. So can you see why I was completely confused when she asked me why I continue to use her services? I...I...well, I laughed. And laughed and laughed and laughed. Until, I looked up and she was not laughing along with me. She was dead serious. My therapist asked me outright why I continue to come see her and spend money when I have two people in my life giving me the exact same advice.

She said that they are wise and noble and love me. They love me. Just the way I am.

That's why C always gives me the lectures when I'm going to do something stupid. That's why C laughs when I dribble water out of my mouth and down the front of my shirt. Or is the only person who can hear my gimp when I walk in heels. C listens to me cry and whine and tell the same stories. She believes me when I tell her something new. Because she knows that for all my gossip, I keep some things close to my chest. C understands that just because I didn't mention it doesn't mean it didn't hurt and just because it hurts doesn't mean I won't forgive you. She'll ask me to say something nice about myself and when I come up with nothing, she'll ask me to name 20 things about her. When I'm done, my eyes glowing with pride and worship, C simply says, "You and I are a lot alike." I want to tell her how much she's touched me but I know that she can see past the grin on my face to the shock and sadness in my eyes. For all that I am, I am not self-assured.

E is the man I want to marry but know I never will. If it weren't for the distance and the fact that we don't want to see each other naked, it might be a possibility. Even my therapist thinks we should date. But, if we did, I would risk losing a wonderful friend. When I was racing head-on towards a cliff (and after C had given me three days worth of reasons not to do it), he wrote me an email that included: four thumbs down, a metaphor about a cliff, a confession that he had once been a cliff, a threat to shake me by the shoulders, and the reassurance that he was giving me all the credit in the world and that's why he knew that I deserved so much more than I was allowing myself to settle for. He tells me to get up and run when I just want to eat ice cream and weep. He tells me I'm worthy when I can't imagine that anyone could love me. E tells me that I'm funny when I'm just giving him a hard time. And whenever I try to thank him for something that he's done, he makes sure to razz me on how long it took to show my appreciation. For someone that's never even held my hand, E is one of my biggest cheerleaders and I wouldn't want it any other way.

When I think about C & E and how well they know me, I want to weep. I'm weeping now. Because they know me. The know happy me, sad me, lonely me, open me, angry me, scared me, me. And they love me anyway. C & E have never wanted anything except to be my friend and I've never felt required to do anything to make either of them stay. I'd never known that feeling until now.

To compare the other people in my life to them would be unfair. Because no one could ever give what they've given me. No one could ever come close. And that makes all the difference.

Ten Years Ago Today

I had been a high school graduate for all of three months and was still fighting with my parents about why I hadn't joined the armed services. They, after all, both served in the Army. My brother had chosen to enlist. Recruiters were calling me everyday.

April had just turned three on September 10th. Mom was making breakfast and I was rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I turned on the t.v. to get the weather. But there was breaking news. A plane hit a building in New York City. There weren't a lot of details so I turned to CNN.

They saw it differently. They didn't think it was an accident.

I yelled to my mom, "A plane crashed in New York!". She said a quick prayer and said this would probably be like the Kennedy assassination. People glued to the television all day but the news never changing.

And then, from the right side of the screen, looking like a home movie of a little boy playing with his toys, another plane hit the second tower.

This wasn't an accident. Someone was killing Americans. In droves.

America was on lock down. Every major city was being put on high alert. Armed Forces went on Operation Delta. Schools were locked down. And I just sat. And stared. And cried.

I cried as I watched people with no hope jump eighty stories to their deaths. I cried as I watched Tower Two fall like a house made of sand. I cried when Flight 77 crashed into the Pentagon. And I cried when Flight 93 crashed into a field.

I prayed for it to be over. My mind couldn't stand anymore shock. My heart was cloaked in fear. It's hard now to think that it all only lasted ninety minutes. Because those were the longest minutes of my life.

Not knowing what city would be next. What metropolis was unfortunate enough to be the next target.

I was at home on September 11, 2001. I spent the entire morning standing in our living room glued to the television wondering what else could happen. Who else would die that day. Had anyone gotten a chance to say "I love you" one last time?

Never forget where you were in September 11, 2001. Never forget the feeling of oneness and comraderie that you felt that day. Never forget what a privilege it is to be an American. Never forget that freedom has a price.

God Bless America.

Truth Be Told

It's not everyday that I lose my cool and air all my business online. Yes, I know that I currently maintain four blogs and you should totally stop judging. But the reality of it is that I tell all my business to you. The chosen few who have decided that I can, at times, be entertaining.

I try to keep my internet and real lives from bleeding into each other too much. Which should explain why I was surprised that she knew my name. The Scropio's girlfriend, I mean. She knew my name.

I've been angry with him for months. Not because I can't trust him;  I already knew that. I've been angry because of all the lies. I'm naive enough to believe that if I give you license to sow your wild oats you should have no cause to spew falseness. Because even though I agreed to having string-less encounters, I never expected to be lied to. I should have known better.

Her name is Abrielle. And the 25th would have been their one-year anniversary. Would have. It's such a sad phrase. She came to me because in a fit of anger I blasted The Scorpio for being the "lying, cheating son of a bitch with no respect for anyone including [himself]" that he is. And I did it on Twitter. She saw it and wondered what would make another woman, a simple friend from high school, so angry.

So she messaged me and asked if we could talk. I'll be honest with you. Based on our brief encounter months ago, I was expecting to be yelled at by a gold-tooth-sporting, bra-less, God-less cretin . What I got instead was a kindhearted, soft-spoken, wounded, professional woman in search of the truth.

I told her that how he and I dated four years ago and that he cheated on me throughout our relationship. I never told any of you this, but none of his friends knew we were dating. They thought I was just another harlot in his harem. And if you ask him when he and I broke up, he'll give you the wrong story.

I told her how he tweeted me in February, how we had an easy-going dinner where he swore he'd never done any of the horrible things to me that he was admitting having done to past lovers. Then we started sleeping together in March and it continued through late May.

I told her how he called me by her name.  How that inspired an even bigger fight between us. I told her about being at his football game because he asked me to. She remembers the bet. He was smart enough to tweet about it.

I told her how I asked why he was still worrying with her. After all, she was just an ex that wouldn't let go. Someone that he had tried to block on Twitter but one of her suitors was feeding her information from his time line. I told her that he painted her as a wild woman who showed up at his job and attacked me online for no reason.

I told her how he would be in my house, on my couch with me while texting her. I told her how I asked him outright if he was sleeping with her while sleeping with me. I told her that he said yes.

At first, I'm sure she didn't believe me. Or at least, didn't want to. What woman wants to be on the phone with their boyfriend's lover? But it's hard not to believe someone with a vivid memory of the 13 weeks that they allowed your boyfriend into their bed. It also helps that I put a good bit of it on the internet for the whole world to peruse and explore.

I knew that every truth that spilled from my lips was a knife to her heart. But I couldn't stop. Not because I wanted to hurt her but because I wanted her to choose for herself. Abrielle has a right to know the truth and to make her decisions from that knowledge. No woman, no human being, deserves to be manipulated for another person's gain. Whether that gain be financial, romantic, or, simply, time.

There were some things that I kept from her because I was ashamed. I didn't tell her that I was jealous of her because I wanted to be validated in my righteous indignation. I wanted to be the wounded one and instead I was inflicting the pain. I didn't tell her how I cried the night I finally accepted that he'd been lying to me and that even the things he said then were more lies. I didn't tell her how he spoke softly and said that he was only trying to protect me. That he had hoped that one day I could find it in my heart to forgive him. (That's a quote.)

I didn't tell her about his half-birthday dinner where we talked about love and life and future. I didn't tell her that, at times, I thought that maybe he and I could start again. I didn't tell her that he swore that once upon a time, he had tried to show me that he loved me everyday.

I've been cheated on before. And I've been used in another man's scheme. Neither feels better than the other. They are both equal villains. I'm not ashamed of the role I've played in Abrielle's life and I'm not proud either. I'm sad that I was used to hurt her so deeply. I'm sad that it took me four years to see what I should have realized in three months.

I'm not going to 'thank' The Scorpio for being a douche canoe because he doesn't deserve it. This isn't something he should be proud of. But I will say that this time the  bridge has been doused in kerosene and set ablaze. And that's finally the truth.

I'm A Quitter

I've started smoking again. That's how far out of control I feel my life is.

And I've stopped my meds. I can feel the crazy creep up on me every so often.

I am pulling away from my therapist. I just decided one day that she didnt know what she was talking about and couldnt be trusted.

I'm making simple (yet expensive) mistakes at work. I tallied up over a thousand dollars in the past two weeks.

This isn't who I am. I'm not the girl who cries every night after work. I'm not that girl who blogs on her cell phone from a bathroom stall.

Yet, that's what I'm doing. This is who I've become. I recently decided to put in another two and a half years at this job if they'll have me. Meaning I've got to get my head back in the game.

I'm going back to school in the winter.

I'm going to see my doctor in a few weeks.

I'm going back to kickboxing and cardiovascular workouts next week.

I'm taking my life back.

I'm quitting failure.

You are my witness.

Things HG Has Taught Me

1. I don't miss having a roommate. - I never knew how much I valued my privacy until I lost 60% of it.

2. I miss having a roommate. - Knowing that someone is in the other room makes the quiet much more bearable. Plus there's someone to talk to, watch TV with, and make big meals for.

3. I am super controlling. - He pretty much tells me this everyday. And I show it in a variety of ways like... rewashing dishes and adjusting the vents on the room freshener.

4. I receive love through actions. - I came home and he had washed the dishes *and* walked the dog. I literally cried with relief.

5. I have had a lot more experiences than the average person. - HG's never been further west than Vegas, didn't know about 'eat-in' taxes, and is living his hardest life right now.

6. I am blessed. - If only to be a blessing.

7. I have a lot of shit I don't need. - Everything he needs to sustain himself can fit into his car. I want to be more like that.

8. Boys. Eat. A. Lot. - I always think I remember that fact until I watch one eat a large fry, half of my hot dog, and wash it down with a chocolate shake. Seriously, I was awe- stricken.

9. Boys will eat anything. - Including turkey burgers they cook in the microwave. (Blech!)

10. Even the most forward people can be passve-aggressive. - HG: I think I'll head home to Pittsburgh.
Me: *furrowed brows*
HG: I don't wanna assume I can just keep staying here.
Me: *head tilt*
HG: Just wanna throw that out there.
Me: I said you can stay for 30 days. Its been 6.
HG: Oh.

11. Boys observe what needs to be done and ignore it. Men observe what needs to be done and do it. - He washed the dishes, cleaned the bathroom and regularly takes out the trash.

12. I'm not used to feeling loved and appreciated. - This sounds crazy because I always say that I don't do stuff for people expecting to get something in return. But God, its nice to get something in return. Without asking or nagging or bitching.

13. God has a very strong, very patient man in store for me. - As HG put it, "You're kind of whiny and controlling".

14. Watching the same movie three times in one weekend will make me crazy. - NO MORE 'COUPLES RETREAT'.

15. Boys don't notice when things are getting worse but they can readily identify when something is better. -

Me: What's that smell?
HG: What?
Me: That smell. Smell it?
HG: *deep inhale through nostrils* No.
Me: My house is supposed to smell like apples and cinnamon. It doesn't smell like apples and cinnamon.
HG: *totally disinterested* Hmmm...
Me:(mentally) I have to fix this!
********** 4 hours later HG comes back **********
HG: It smells good in here.
Me: Really?
HG: Yeah, better than before.
Me: *content and proud* Its Angel Whispers (by Glade, y'all!).
HG: *still disinterested* Hmmm...

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Saosin Said It Best

I let a homeless man use my shower.

I'm the only person who didn't freak out about it.

My mom wanted a copy of his driver's license. Nat quickly stalked him on Facebook. My dad didn't find out until the next day (I already knew how he'd feel about it).

I saw him while K-Dubs and I were out for our walk. I walked slowly toward the car and asked him if he was living in it. He sad that it was only temporary. That his girlfriend's parents were in town & didn't know that he had been living there. I could smell the BO from where I was standing. This wasn't temporary. I offered him a shower & a sofa bed. He accepted.

I told him that I needed time to clean the shower out and I'd be ready for him in about 10 minutes. He showed up with his own towel and was skeptical that I genuinely wanted nothing in return. When he felt fresh and clean, he drilled me on why I would help him. Did I pity him? Did I want payment?

I told Homeless George that I knew all too well about the things we take for granted. Feeling clean is at the top.

I promised him that there will always be people like me who just want the best for him. People who are willing to help him be his best and to live his best life everyday. His job right now? To seek them out. His job when he's back on his feet? Pay it forward.

Almost 20 years ago, when Nat and I were younger, we slept in a U-Haul truck. We washed in McDonald's bathrooms. We ate a plain bagel as a meal. Because we couldn't afford more. Then, when we were 3/4 of the way to my grandma's house the truck broke down and we were stranded. Until someone offered us a place to stay. This would not be the last time we needed help. This wouldn't be the last time any of us were homeless.

Homeless George opened up to me. His girl is just a friend. His heart belongs to someone back home. His degree has never been useful. His head is clouded with confusion. His spirit is proud.

He said he wants to be independent but he asked to move in with me. He said he wants to get his career in line but he hasn't sent out his resume'. We live 200 yards from the headquarters for a Fortune 500 company and he's never been across the street. He won't ask his parents for money but he's not getting enough to eat.

I bought him some beers, listened to him talk, and then put him to bed. I told him that the sofa was his at night for the next 30 days. I promised him a hot meal at te end of each day and that I'd give his resume' to my mom's recruiter. I'll do whatever I can to help George be independent of me, his parents, and his pride.

Nobody understands why I let him in my home. Its only 600 sq ft and I regularly trip over the dog.

But I've given $20 bills to panhandling veterans. I've given away the food in my hands when my stomach is growling. I've put gas in the tank of a young mother's car. I make blankets for orphaned babies.

I do it because I hope that this one kindness will make them feel less alone.

"You're not alone

There is more to this, I know

You will make it out

You will live to tell"

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Little Family

Sometimes, the last thing you want in life is to spend time with someone who seems to have everything you want in life.

I spent five whole days with Averi and her little family - husband E and toddler Claire - and I thought it would break me. That seeing her in her tank tops and pedal pushers lounging in the backyard with peach daiquiri in hand and Claire running through the Elmo sprinkler on a Friday afternoon would leave me in tears.

I worried that watching her interact with the man who knew he loved her before he ever held her hand, the man who got up every morning and worked hard to make their ends meet, the man who told her that what he needed most was for her to be home taking care of him, their house, and their daughter would fill me with rage.

I was afraid that being around that much love and trust and respect would make my life feel empty. But I didn't feel that way at all. I felt hopeful, confident, and encouraged that I could have that too. And that's nice to think about.