Reawakening.

So, it's been awhile.  Lots has transpired since last time I updated.  Obviously.  The way of the universe is, life goes on, whether you're ready for it or you want it to or not.  The shop is doing well.  I took a 2 1/2 week trip to California to visit friends, which did wonders for body and soul.  I didn't get to see everyone I wanted to see, but I guess that just means I have to go back next year.  I kept a (paper!) journal through the whole trip, and I plan on writing some posts based on those journal entries, very soon.  And you all know that for me, "very soon" can mean tomorrow or next month.

Yesterday, I made amends with a friend I'd been fighting with for the better part of two months.  We got the yuck out of our systems, talked about things like grown-ups, then spent the evening hanging out like no time had passed.  That's the mark of a good friend, dears.  You get the hell over it.  Forgiveness is hard, and forgetting?  Well, forget it.  But moving on is truly where grace lies.

So it's that time of year where enough of it has passed to look back and make broad, sweeping judgments about it.  This was a bad year for friendship, sadly.  A good year for personal growth, but a horrific year for friendship.  I can't hold myself blameless.  My fault mostly lies in the "not just saying what you feel, when you feel it" department, vis a vis my proclivity to befriend people, then help them, and not speak up when the first signs of my good nature being shat upon appear.

That's what it always boils down to in my life, folks taking enormous dumps on my good nature.  It's always the people I try to give a hand up that suddenly decide I'm a heinous bitch for whatever reason.  I don't think I want anyone besides my husband to live with me ever again.  Those are the worst slaps in the face.  I've got two rooms in my home trashed right now because clearly, asking for rent after MONTHS of saying we're having financial issues is just rude, and expecting to use one's own living room before midnight when there's no less than 3 other places in the house to sleep and clearly, headphones do not exist is downright unreasonable. The really shitty thing is, I don't merit talking to about these things.  Nope.  Let's just leave our shit all willy-nilly and fuck off and shit talk the only person who was willing to help in your hour of need.

I'm done with shitty people, y'all.  Just done.  I'm up to something like 6? 8? people that crested the top of my shit list and rolled off the other side in 2011.  Folks I thought were good friends and good people.  Is it just me?  Does this happen to anyone else when you lend someone a hand?  Maybe it's just misdirected stress and anger.  I'm here, and thus, an easy target.  Makes sense, but it doesn't make it right.  I'm kind, and thus, a mark.  THAT is fucked up.

And, to make up for all the shittyness of this post, here is Scotti-cat in a hoodie.

Onwards and upwards. Bigger and better. Good things are coming to me. I can already feel it.

On yelling.

Contrary to popular belief, I hate yelling.  More specifically, I hate being the one that has to do the yelling.  I used to be a big fan of yelling, back when I drank like a fish and couldn't see what a fucking train wreck I was turning into.  But now, thanks to quitting drinking, therapy, and medication, I just...don't yell.

But goddammit if two people haven't pushed me to the point of yelling this month.  And not even a shouted sentence or two, a full-on, lung-bending, blood-boiling, black-out RANT.  I don't even know what the fuck is going on with the universe right now.  This month alone, I've had to cut four people out of my life.  I'm not as into astrology as I used to be.  Are we under the star of douchebaggery or something right now?

Only one of these losses truly makes me sad.  That would be my surrogate mother-in-law, who reacted to my olive branch by alienating me in cliche form.  Yeah, the same one I wrote a love letter about a couple weeks ago.  Chosen family is only family until you're under the influence of a lie, then they're disposable family.  Oh well.  A new alpha fag has been chosen, and a new surrogate mother-in-law will come in time.

I hate that I feel such a strong need to have that sort of a relationship with someone in my life at all times.  At 30, I still don't feel like much of a grown-up.  Adult matters make me feel like Bambi on wobbly legs.  I don't need someone to baby me or to do things for me, I just want someone who's been doing this grown-up thing for awhile to be my friend and well...I guess a mentor, of sorts.

But back to yelling.  It sucks.  It makes my head hurt.  The adrenaline rush usually renders me useless for 5-10 minutes, then once it dies down, thus begins the withdrawal migraine.  I yelled last night and actually woke up with a sore throat today.  WTF?  But physical shit aside, it's just so unseemly.  It shouldn't be necessary, ever, but sadly, it is. 

I guess I should just be grateful that I've ceased being a doormat, and that I'll actually stand up for myself now.  That's major progress.  I suppose this is the inevitable backlash, though--after spending so many years of running from conflict or just trying to smooth things over, I suppose it's only natural that upon waking up, I come out roaring.



p.s.  I have a new fatkini!  Springs trip tomorrow--hopefully I'll have some pics then!

Self-care of a different sort.

This is still not my OMG SQUEE AWESOME WEEKEND post, but bear with me.  I'd rather go ahead and purge the negativity so I can be in an appropriately pleasant mindset to describe what was one of the best "reunions" I've ever had.

As everyone learns throughout the years, some friendships and some people are toxic.  You love them dearly, and you try to help them see and understand their issues.  Where they're going wrong.  Why they're offending you and others.  You tolerate and forgive because you see the person's heart and know it's good.  You explain until you're blue in the face.  You forgive and forgive because it's hard to imagine your life without the person in question.  Personally, I've wound up staying in too many toxic situations just because I believe so firmly in the goodness of the person in question.  My persistence has been both punished and rewarded.  Such is life.

But at what point do you decide you're done?  Empathy and forgiveness are components of any successful relationship, friendship or otherwise.  But there have to be limits.  Everyone has a breaking point.  There's only so much aggression and negativity that can be accepted and forgiven before the whole situation becomes hideously codependent and unhealthy.  The longer the timeline, the more difficult it becomes to cut ties and to know where that invisible line between "good friend with problems" and "sociopath" lies.

As for me, I have my own problems, mental and physical, both of which I'm taking an active role in understanding and treating.  Frankly, it's exhausting, because I'm not the sort of person to just kick back and let the pills do the work.  Thinking that medication is a panacea, especially for mental issues, is the acme of foolishness.  There has to be actual real-life work done to succeed.  For me, this includes making myself actually talk to people (or the internets.  Hai, Internets!)  rather than stewing in my own juices, confronting my phobias, being aware of my mood, being mindful (and honest with myself) about what may have triggered my current state, and eliminating as many triggers as possible.  Toxic people and the drama and stress they bring are most definitely triggers.

So this begs the question, exactly how much should a person tolerate in hopes that the person they once had faith in will get it together, stop projecting their issues, stop creating drama, and deal with conflict in a mature way?  There's no easy answer, and every situation is going to be a case-by-case basis.  Whereas one friend may have committed such morally despicable actions that you decide, without speaking to them, to simply cut off contact (did this with a confirmed sociopath on my wedding day--happy marriage to me!), another may deserve a warning.  And another warning.  And another chance.  Enter the slippery slope of faith and false promises.  Faith that no, really, there's a good person under there somewhere, and maybe this was one last outburst, one slip into lashing out at you when they're really angry with someone or something else.  But how long do you operate under that mindset?  How long do you tolerate the abuse, not to mention live with the constant specter of this person's eventual explosion into unjustified rage?  I don't feel it's possible to have a functional, healthy friendship if you're just waiting for the next time your "friend" is going to take a (figurative) swing at you when you've done little to nothing wrong.  And woe be unto you if your false friend loves to make a spectacle of personal drama on the internet.  Please, someone tell me why in the hell anyone should accept treatment like that from anyone.  At some point, you have to make good on your word.  You have to drop the hammer and be DONE.

Do it for your health.

Foolishness.

I had a fantastic weekend, which I'll post about later when I'm in a better headspace.

I got home without being jinxed or cursed or murdered by my car, so that was cool.  Then today, a steaming pile of drama hit, completely undoing my weekend zen.  RUDE.

After so many abuses of my good nature, though, all I can do is cut ties and walk away, for now at least.  I sincerely hope this isn't a permanent thing, but I'm not holding my breath.

Hope for the best, prepare for the worst, and never, ever mistake kindness for weakness.

Ugh.  I'm cried out.  I need sleep.

Love Letters: Surrogates.

I've lived my life with a long succession of surrogates.  My sister-in-law came into my life when I was three years old and has always been my surrogate sister and a damn fine friend.  I claimed an older couple at church as my "grandparents" since I grew up 500 miles away from my extended family.  I several brothers from other mothers and sisters from other misters. I even have a surrogate dog who comes to visit a couple times a week.

My desire for and inclusion of surrogates in my life probably stems from the aforementioned 500 miles separating me from grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, not to mention being the youngest of two by 13 years.  But never mind the reasons, I have a really awesome hand-picked family of some of the finest people I know.

Well, I have a new surrogate.  Steve's mom, Jeanette, and I have decided to be each others' surrogate mother-in-law/daughter-in-law.  Jeanette was best friends with Sue, my mother-in-law.  The fatal wreck that took Sue happened while she and Jeanette were out farting around one afternoon.  I'd met Jeanette before that day, but keeping in touch with her seemed like the thing to do at the time.  She was dealing with survivor's guilt plus injuries from the accident.  I guess I just wanted her to know that B and I did not hold her responsible (the other driver took responsibility at the scene) or hold any resentment towards her.  She's been sort of...on the periphery of my life ever since. 

Back in October, her father, who was in his 80's, passed away.  She and Steve don't have any family in town, so from the moment Grandpa's health took a turn for the worse, I glued myself to Steve's side, like it or not.  When he passed, I told Steve to get in the car and take me to their house so we could get it ready to receive guests.  We cleaned and cleaned all day.  Steve's best mentally when he's busy.  By the time his folks came home with a bucket of KFC, we had that place fully in order and ready to deal with whatever the next few days threw at them.  And I stuck by Steve's side every day, right up through the funeral, until the pictures, flowers, and mementos were taken from the church and unloaded into the house.  Jeanette thanked me for taking care of Steve and keeping him level and mellow, and for all the help.  Without even thinking, I said "That's what family does."

In the days following the funeral, Jeanette asked Steve if she could trade in her current daughter in law (her other son's now-ex wife) for me.  That I was the kind of woman she wants as a daughter-in-law.  Steve told me about this, and it really made me think.

Here I am, 30 years old, with all my older-wiser female figures hours away.  And I miss my mother-in-law like mad.  We acted more like friends than in-laws.  We had cross words exactly once in the three years B and I were together before she passed away.  She was my homegirl, my co-conspirator, a culinary inspiration, and a Jill-of-all-trades with an amazing wealth of life experience.  There hasn't been a day to go by that I haven't thought about her or wished I could call and ask her advice on so many things.

And here's a woman who I love and respect who has many of the same things to offer who wants someone to have that kind of relationship with.  And me?  Well...I really wanted that, too.  So, the other night, I told her (very awkwardly, of course) via text message that I was adopting her as my mother-in-law.  She was delighted.

Since then, we've chatted via text nearly every day.  We've formed a tradition of a weekly lunch and stitch-n-bitch.  She taught my how to knit (and I'm doing it very, very badly, I'll have you know), and I'm teaching her the basics of crochet this week.  I really enjoy our time together.  She has so many stories and a wicked sense of humor.  I feel like something has really fallen into place for me.

Nobody can or will ever replace the one and only Sue, but I think Sue would be really pleased to see that her daughter-in-law and her best friend have found such an awesome friendship with each other.