Tuesday, July 02, 2019

I Could Never Be a Gamer

Don't get me wrong - I have nothing at all against games or gamers. I admire them, actually.  They have a talent and intelligence that eludes me.  I'm not good at games and have never been.  It doesn't even matter what kind of game. It could be cards, board games, video games...I'm no good at them.

This is also why I don't want to be upper-level management.  I'm dreadful at political games.  My brain just does not work that way.  I want people to be who they are and say what they think.  I do that and expect no less from others.  I do not have a poker face.  My thoughts are obvious.  My countenance has betrayed me many times.  Subterfuge, plotting, scheming...I just have no aptitude in these arenas.

That includes mind games, as well.

I've come to realize that I live with a manipulative person. For as much as she says she hates when people try to manipulate her, she does the same thing. She has become intensely negative and wallows in self-pity, quite often. The worst part is the martyr syndrome, though.

The thing is that I fell for it again this morning.  I let her manipulate me and provoke me, and I played right into what she wanted.  Honestly, she could have just said what she wanted, but that would not have accomplished the entire picture.

I'm partly blind, but it's been necessary for me to drive myself places more and more often.  I can pass all of the state tests, so I have a license, but it can be scary for me sometimes.  Still, I can't always have a ride, so there it is.

It started out as, "Do you think you can do this?" We'd discuss it for days and do trial runs.  We'd monitor the forecast because I have a lot of trouble seeing when it rains.

Then, it became, "You will need to drive on these days."

Now, it's an assumption.  It's "I'm going out of town," and I just need to figure it out. See ya and good luck with it!

Today was a day when we were going to ride together.  I'd paid her for gas ahead of time.  But I knew something was up today, when she came into my area and wasn't even speaking to me.  Total silence.

When she spoke, it was, "I'm so tired today."

"You need to be using your C-PAP," I said. It is true. There's an issue with it, and she's not getting it fixed, but it's been a real problem lately.

I accidentally dropped one of the dogs' treats. She dropped to the ground and started crawling around for it.  Here we go, i thought.  This is an action that she physically can't do, and it did not need to be done.  This would take care of itself.  So, that she was doing that meant it was a "throwing myself on the sword" thing, as a good martyr would.

We get in the car, and she sighs heavily.  "I'm just so tired."

"Why don't I drive today?"

She turns a pitiful look to me.  "I'd like that but I just couldn't ask that of you."

WTF?? She doesn't even bother to ask it anymore!

I said, "But you ask me to do that all the time."

That was the opening. And she walked through it with all indignation. "ALL the time? I ask ALL the time?"

And we're off!  I handed her the thing she can pick on to be "hurt" that I would say something so inaccurate.  If I'd thought ahead, I'd have known this would be the gift she was waiting for.  See, to me, "all the time" means the thing is commonplace. To her, "all the time" is literal; it means that she spends 100% of her waking time asking me the question, "Can you drive today?" Extremely literal.  And she pounced on it.

The situation degraded from there. I knew I'd been set up to feed the self-pity, and I said so.  "I guess I'm not allowed to feel tired," she added. Her need to make me the villain and her the victim was pretty thick.

"You are NOT allowed to pick on me," I said.  There was no escape from the manipulative behavior, until I literally escaped from the car and entered my own.

I wasn't too far away when I realized I'd forgotten my parking pass for work.  I had to call to let her know I was coming back.  How did she sound?  Pleased as punch.

I'd handed her exactly what she wanted.  Dammit.  I'm so bad at handling these games.

This is my life.  I'm so tired.  I have to make a change.  Before it's too late.

Monday, June 24, 2019

To Dream the Impossible Dream

I have this feeling of time moving too fast, and I don't seem to have enough of it left.  I'm feeling my mortality, I suppose. I have fewer days ahead than behind, and I'm none too happy with how I've used my time so far.

Stress is obliterating my health lately.  I need to get that under control, in a way I've never been able to before.  Why is it that I feel strong and committed and ready to tackle it all when I'm in the shower, then it all falls apart when someone says, "Want a bagel?"  Which is super bad for me, by the way.  I would actually be better off eating a donut, if that says anything.  But yes, I stress eat.  That's BAD.

Last week, I learned that I now have high blood pressure.  I've never had high blood pressure. If anything, it goes low.  But I also have an insulin pump, a continuous glucose monitor, and pain.  You know what's hilarious?  The joint of my middle finger gets stuck. Overuse, maybe?

You know what all of this adds up to?  A decidedly hideously unattractive person.  As funny and nice as people think I am, I'm in no way considered a romantic partner.  I have a coworker who everyone is convinced should be dating me. I've bene told, and he's been told.  He calls me damn near every day.  And what do we talk about?  Among other things, his dating life.  The one that never, ever includes me.

God, what I wouldn't give to have that moment again, where you know someone really wants to kiss you. You know?  I honestly suspect that I will never have that again.  Only in memories. Or fantasies.

So, I'm not at all living the life that I want.  I feel the pressure to get ON with it.  To salvage what time I have left finding my joy, if that's even possible.  The pages are flying off of the calendar, and I feel desperate about it.

Before anything else, I have to - HAVE TO - get my health under control.  I've recently watched my ex-husband get gastric bypass surgery, but the aftermath was horrible. Constantly being sick.  I have too much of an aversion to vomiting.  He's dropped a bunch of weight - but he's still an asshole.  And he looks so old. I seriously doubt I could do that without wanting to just walk into the ocean and end it all.

Maybe if I was an attractive person things would go better.  There, I said it.  I see things go ridiculously well for the attractive people of the world, often just because someone takes a shine to them.

Then, I have to get my work sorted out.  How can I make it happen?

All the while, I need to find my center again.  I need to find tranquility. Peace.  I think it's asking too much to find happiness, but just calm my mind.

My pie in the sky dream would be to spend an extended amount of time in Yorkshire.  I feel like I belong there.  It draws me, all day and all night.  Le sigh. Do I dare hope?

Friday, June 14, 2019

I AM The Actual Worst

I am actually the worst.  I vow to blog, and I don't blog.

But I'm back.  No, really.  You can believe me this time.  I think.

To be honest, I need you, dear Diary.  I need someone to talk to. Someone I can just spill it to, who will be free of judgment, free of agenda. Somewhere I can just say the ugly things. I mean, the things that just might make me seem awful. Those inexpressible thoughts.

Sometimes, I might sound self-pitying.  I'm actually not, just so you know.  These are things I just need to SAY.  To get them out of my head.  And no, I am not currently suicidal. I'll just get that out of the way.  I'm too much afraid of The End to hasten it.

Where to begin....  In short, it's been a bad time. For years now.  I've become convinced that, yes, God loves his children, in that innate way parents do.  I believe he exists.  I have faith that he exists. But life on this earth has taught me that he just doesn't like some of us.  He doesn't really have an interest in seeing us at his side again.  He has his favorites.  And I am not one of them.

I see a lot of "Jesus loves you!" around here.  I'm convinced of that.  But you have to understand my faith; I believe God/Heavenly Father/whatever-name-you-have-for-him and Jesus are separate beings. Divine entities who are The Father and The Son, separately.  Jesus is my brother, and he loves me. He sees what our father does to me, and I imagine him shrugging and saying, "Wow, that was uncalled for.  I don't know why he did that to you.  I'm sorry.  There, there. Want a hug?"

Okay, so there. I said it.  God does not like me. He doesn't want me. He jerks me around and plays with my happiness.  It is sport to him.  Tease me with the happy thing, then yank it out from under me.  I can about hear him laughing when I'm picking myself up off the floor, too.

That is a little of where I'm coming from.  This post isn't going to put it all out there.  I have too much to say and to work out.  I need to think. A LOT.  I think best when I can express it and think while I talk. So, here I am.  Aren't you the lucky one, Diary?  Ha.

A quick synopsis of where my life is, at the moment:

I've been on the East Coast over three years now.  I share a home with my mother, my grown son, and apparently, with his pal who has gradually moved in with us.  Daughter got married last year and is deliriously happy.  Her husband is wonderful.  They live and go to school on the other side of the state.  I have two dogs who mean the world to me, and it pains me that one of them is getting old.

I am partly blind for nearly five years now, and I work full time at a job that sucks  You'll hear about that.  What I actually do is pretty cool, but the context of where I am and what the management does makes it all so difficult.

And finally...romance.  None. Zilch. Zero.  No relationship in my life, and none on the horizon.  I'm looking at the very real possibility of spending the remainder of my life alone.  As this blog attests, I've had a terrible history with relationships. I have more thoughts on that, but it will take awhile to sort out.

So, dear Diary, I'm back.  Buckle up.  I honestly don't know how this ride will go.

Saturday, August 11, 2018

The Non-Saturday

It's Saturday, and I'm at work. I should maybe point out that I work a regular Monday to Friday, 8-5 job, so being here is unusual. For most people. But not for me and this job. The workload they give us is one that's impossible to do (by the deadlines) if you just work the normal hours.  So, being here, in my office is not that unusual.

Sad, but not unusual.

It's particularly sad when the rest of my family is off doing the thing that I've been wanting to do.  It's hard to hear them say, "You know that thing you've been wanting to do, but we keep putting it off?  We're going to go do it without you."

So many things make me sad lately.

I used to think that God hates me, but now I've been shown that it's absolutely true.  "God loves all of his children," they like to say.  He does not.  He has favorites. And He has those that just get kicked around.  I'm among the kicked around ones.  Sometimes, people ask if I believe in God.  Yes, I do. I know He exists.  But I also know that the promises of His love do not include me.

I'm on my own.

For the longest time - my whole life -  I have wished for my great love story.  Part of me is trying to wrap my head around the idea that it will never exist for me.  The rest of me keeps looking and wondering.  And I wonder if it's something that I really want in the here and now?  Because I have this inkling of an idea that is getting stronger.

I only feel at home when I am in England. Yorkshire, specifically.  It could be a generational memory.  I've done the research, and the roots are there.  Ancestors born in Yorkshire.  Their DNA is in me and perhaps their love of it is what I feel, too.  I can't be sure of the why and the how, but the what is definitely there.

So, if I am going to make a plan to relocate my life, or even most of it, overseas, then do I need or want a love here, who might not want to go?  Or want me to go?

Ah, the ways I can complicate my life!

But I do miss that little thrill of hearing the phone ding, and seeing a special someone's name.  And I miss being kissed. Such a long time.,,,

Friday, June 22, 2018

I've missed you, dear Diary.

Two years? It's really been two years since I posted here?  So much has changed.

Why have I been absent? Because my life is in a constant state of insanity. Work is intense. Two years ago, I had no idea the kind of stress and pressure I'd walked into here.  Now, it's all stress and pressure.

Recently, I have seriously considered moving to England. No, really!  To be with BB, you ask, dear Diary?  No...not to be with BB. A few months ago, we decided to just be friends again. Yes, we still have love for one another, but we were each spending a lot of time feeling sad and lonely, being apart.  I told him that I'd rather he be happy than waiting around for us to be geographically together.

I missed my trip to see him in 2016, having surgery at the exact date and time that I was supposed to be stepping on a plane to Manchester.  I surprised him last year, but couldn't stay as long as usual.  I guess we weren't meant to be romantically together.

Other things that are new (I'll try to be brief).....

We lost my dad's brother and his wife to injuries sustained in a car accident, last year. That has been rough on the family, to lose both brothers so close together.

I've seen SO MANY historical sites and seriously cool things while living here.  I'll revisit some for you :)  This is a great area, and a good move for us.

Son has a Real Job.  Benefits and all!  I feel a little better about his future...if he'd only get a place of his own, now!  Time to launch, birdie.

A couple of months ago, a very difficult event happened.  Our home burned.

Ten days later.... Daughter got married!  Her husband is amazing. They are two sides of the same coin. I couldn't have chosen better for her.

And me? Things are not what I thought they'd be at almost-50.

Right now, my life is...I'm not sure what it is.  I have a lot of thoughts.  A lot of things to express in a space where my family isn't watching.  I have thoughts they wouldn't like.  And I have many topics to talk about.

I've missed you, dear Diary.  But now I'm back.

Friday, May 20, 2016

The People That You Meet

I'm finding all the good geeks. My people!  I need my people in this sea of strangers.

There's this guy we'll call Frank.  Why Frank?  Because he keeps introducing himself to me as Frank, knowing full well that I know his name is not Frank.

He works in the studio. Ther's a full studio/control room setup here for making videos (as you do in a studio).    My first day there went something like this:

Director: "Have you met Blogget?" (The answer is yes, several times.  But he says,,,,)

"Hi!  The name is Frank. And you're Susie, right?"

"Good memory," I say, shaking hands.

Director: "Everything you need is out here in the studio. Excet props. You have to bring any props you want."

Frank: "Except rubber chickens. We have the rubber chickens."

Me: "Of course you do!  What would a video be without rubber chickens?"

Frank: "Right?"

Director: "...ok... I'll be in the control room."

Frank: "That's where all the fun happens."

Me: "How so? They don't have the rubber chickens in there."

Frank stops. Gives me a raised brow. "I'm so glad you're on board with this!"

We have a lot in common, Frank and I. A love of Star Wars, Doctor Who, and Firefly. ("Hello. My name is Frank. And I have a model of the Serenity.")  We also have British significant others.  His wife is from Kent.  And BB is from Yorkshire.  We have a lot to talk about. ("How about that brown sauce?")

My geekdom has caught the notice of several technology people.  Woo hoo!

My mom said something when we were coming out here that has made me pause, though.  She said, "I have a feeling this move will be good for you.  I hope you meet the love of your life because I don't think you have yet.  And I want that for you."

It's true.  I've been in love a few times.  But I have not had The Love of My Life yet.  That makes me sad.  It's what I want now, more than almost anything, and I hve this dread that I will meet the end of my days before I meet that person.  Before I have that Big Love.

What about BB, you say?  He could be that person.  We just don't get to spend a lot of time around each other to find out if that's how our lives will entwine. But I long to find out.

Oh how I long.  This makes my heart exceptionally heavy.  It pains me.  I've never had a "This is the Love of my Life" moment.  Experiencing love is so important to me, and I've never had that.

It makes me a little angry, too.  I know people who have it and don't appreciate having it.  I've given my all, and I don't have the opportunity to explore it and find it for myself.

What have I done so wrong to be so forsaken?

As I've said, maybe BB is that person for me.  I need time with him, for us to know each other as best we can and discover what we are together. But that's not being given to me.  I wait. And wait.  And it's making me tired.

I feel the clock ticking.  I feel my mortality, and it is devoid of that enveloping, encompassing love that I long so much to share.

Oh, nah-fuck.

Wednesday, May 18, 2016

It's pronounced Nah-Fuck

Really.  It is.  Quit giggling!

And here I am. Things have happened so quickly!  I'm at my new job now, wrapping up the fourth week.  Can you believe it?  We've moved into a house.  The truck arrived just over a week ago, and we've still living with oh so many boxes!  Can't find anything.

I made the Big Drive with my mom and my dogs.  That was an adventure!  Four days on the road with the pups!  They traveled well, thank God!

When I left Colorado, I got ris of a lot of stuff.  I mean, a LOT.  Had to make some bold decisions about what to take and what to leave.  I decided that I'm done with heels.  I'm not comfortable in them anymore. With my vision challenges, I'm not stable in them anymore.  Doughter won't be home again for another year, so she can't take them from me.  So...I called Jacob.  Who is now living full time as a transgender woman.  I will now use the proper pronoun for...her.  She came and got the shoes from me.  It was actually good to visit with her again.  I wish I'd had more time that day, and I was a terrible mess.  not so presentable with all the packing and cleaning, but that's the best I cojuld do at the time.  I'm sure I was a shock to see and left a poor impression, but I suppose it's too late for worrying about such things.

I had to fly out here and start work well before the truck was ready to arrive at home.  That meant spending a few days on my own.  I picked a hotel across from my office so that transportation wouldn't be a problem.  I found a new eye specialist here and got my monthly injection in the "good" eye, to keep it as good as it can be. When the first day of the new job came, I got up early and had my outfit all picked out.  I was nervous, but ready to face the day and start the process of proving myself all over again.

Then, that morning, I had a moment of pure brilliance. Is the sarcasm coming through?  I decided I needed to trim my toenails.  Great idea. Pure genius.

Because I'm not blind at all....

And I'm not diabetic with a touch of neuropathy in my toes....

I sat down on the bed with my super-sharp clippers.  I felt the edge of the nail and lined up the blade.

And nothing. It felt like I missed.  I tried again.

And my hand felt wet.  So I pulled it away to check.

Blood.  Lots of it.

I Nah-fucked it up good!

My neuropathy proved worse than I thought.  I felt nothing, but a chunk of my toe was missing.  I'd cut into it, deep.

On the first day of work.  Blood.  Everywhere.  I mean, I made a real mess.  It was a warzone.  Blood stains on the carpet.with each step I took.  On the bedding.  On the towels. Oh so many towels.

I tried applying pressure.  No good.  I washed it because hotel carpets can't be the most sanitary of surfaces.  The bleeding slowed an hour later, but didn't stop.

I called my mom.  I sent her a picture because I couldn't see it clearly.  "Yeah, you cut it deep," she said.

"You probably need stitches."

"But it's the first day of my job!"

"You sure can't walk on it."

Shit.  I'd have to call my new boss and have her pick me up.  I did, and made up some story about stepping on broken glass.  I bandaged the hell out of that toe.  The stitches would have to wait.

As I went by the front desk of the hotel, I stopped the clerk for a word.

"I want to give housekeeping a heads up," I said.  "When they see my room, they're in for a shock and a mess.  I'm so sorry.  I'm okay, and there are no bodies to find.  But I bloodied the place up pretty good, and I'm so sorry."

She appreciated the warning.

That night, a friend of my sister's took me to an ER near where our new house is.  The place was bare and spartan and what was there was bolted down. Crime much?  The PA who saw me decided no stitches, just skin glue.  He put that on, bandaged it up, and sent me on my way.  No antibiotics to keep infection away, or any some such. It was probably obvious that I didn't need pain meds.  I can't feel the wound, still.

When I changed the bandage the next day, the glue came off with it.  Great.

It's been healing nicely, though, over the last almost-four weeks.  It still bleeds a tiny bit, but no redness and infection.  I'm religious with the bandages.

I'll leave this for now.  I have more to tell, but that's another story!