New Attitude
Perhaps smack in the middle of a very unpleasant cold is not the best place to be making decisions, but nobody ever said I was the sharpest knife in the drawer.
But something clicked in me this morning.
I need to bump the negative out of my life. The sour grapes. The whiners. The complainers. The chronic malcontents, who, no matter what are always determined to find the dark side of everything.
I’m not saying life is all sunshine and rainbows. I know it’s not. I’ve done my fair share of twitter bitching, for sure. But you ever notice that for some folks, that is ALL you hear? Nothing is ever good enough.
Well. ENOUGH.
I’m done with it.
I’m going to focus on the positive. The people who are kind, loving and helpful. The people who engage and participate in give and take, and not just take.
I’m going to say a kind word when I see someone who is having a genuinely hard time. Instead of skipping over it like I am all too often apt to do.
It’s time to encourage and lift up my fellow man. Even just a simple “I’m sorry you’re having a rough time” can mean so much to someone who is having a crappy day.
So, who is with me? Let’s start supporting and encouraging each other.
My Tale of Insanity
You might not realize this about me, but I’m a curmudgeon about Halloween. Fall in general really. I hate that summer is over and I despise the dark coming so early in the day. I cringe at the thought of the upcoming SIX MONTHS OF RAIN RAIN NOTHING BUT RAIN. All my favorite food bloggers are obsessed with pumpkin bread, pumpkin pies, pumpkin soup, pumpkin donuts, pumpkin, pumpkin everywhere. Oh yeah, and I think pumpkin must have come from Satan’s anus, because that shit is nasty.
As for Halloween itself, meh. After working 8 hours and dealing with people all day long, the last thing I want to do is open my door 80 million times and toss candy at strange children. Most of whom won’t even have the good manners to utter a thank you as they trample across your newly planted fall pansies. I normally spend the evening holed up in the back of my house with all the lights off, hoping none of them will even sense movement inside, and thus, pounce on me.
See? Curmudgeon. Get off my lawn.
Ahem.
So it came as a huge shock to me to find myself purchasing Halloween lights, fake spider webs, pumpkin lights, cardboard cut outs of bats, spider, owls and vampires last night, and spending an hour decorating the front of my house. I strung lights, ran fake “crime tape”, put stickers on windows and taped decorations to even more windows. And? While it might not look like I give a shit about it, my three year old came home from dinner with her dad to a house that was all lit up and squealed “It’s Halloween!” and “I love dese pumpkins!”
And that my friends, is why I went bat shit insane last night and turned my house orange.
P.S. Yes, we are taking her trick or treating. She’s going to be Strawberry Shortcake. Stay tuned for adorableness of that costume.
Imagine
Imagine a world in which your children only were tucked into beds under your roof two weeks out of every month.
Imagine a world in which mornings did not always include a sweet sleepy face saying “Good morning Mommy”.
Imagine a world, in which your baby did, said and tried new things for the first time and you hear about it afterwards.
Imagine not being able to see or touch the soft hair of the person you gave birth to, because the court says it’s not your day.
Imagine walking out of a house, hearing your child screaming for you, sobbing, and having to just keep walking. Because your parenting time has ended for the week.
Imagine having to give up all your carefully laid plans on raising your girl, because now you only have control over her environment on pre-planned out days.
Imagine worrying that her parents living in two separate places and no longer functioning as a family will harm her in ways you can’t even envision yet.
Imagine you go days without physical touch of another human.
Unless you’ve been there. You cannot imagine. You cannot know the heartbreak. You cannot know the tears that are shed, the sobs that echo off walls. You cannot know the longing for the feel of her little hand tucked into mine. You cannot know the twisting of my heart as I smile for her, never letting her know my sadness.
When I say I cry, when I say I shed tears over something, don’t tell me I’m silly. Don’t trivialize my pain.
You don’t know my heart. You’ve no right to judge my heart.
Be grateful for your life. If it’s as good as you say, you don’t need to tear down my already battered emotions with your superiority.
Imagine that small words, tucked into sentences, have the power to hurt.
I hope all you ever have to do is imagine.
The One In Which I Whine. Again.
In the grand scheme of things, my life is pretty good. I have a nice house, a nice car. I have a beautiful daughter, who is healthy (other than a rash caused by her Pampers, thanks a lot for that, P&G), a husband, a good job. From the outside, one might look in and think I have it pretty good.
However.
Ahem.
I have had a serious case of super bitch going on this week. I’m tired. I’ve been battling some kind of creeping crud that just flattened me for a day or two. Flattened being a relative term, seeing as how I had to work anyway.
Work. I’m stressed about work, which is about to have a major change after 8 years of constant. 8 years of routine. At the heart of my worry – I don’t know exactly how things are going to change. It’s the uncertainty that I am having a hard time living with. I can’t do anything about it. All of it is out of my control. I do not like this. Being out of control is terrifying for me. I like my feet on the ground, my hands on the wheel. To know where I am going, confident because I am in charge of the route, is what is comforting for me. This? Is not comforting. This is free-falling from a plane, bobbing up and down in the wind, swirling round and round. I know soon enough, I will land. The problem right now is that I can’t see where it ends. Will it be soft? Will it be hard and unyielding? Only time will tell.
I find myself feeling useless. My close friends are going through things far more difficult than my petty problems. But they are so far away and I feel helpless to comfort them. Words on a computer, a text, an occasional gift, that must be delivered by a stranger. This is all I can offer them. It feels very inadequate. And then I feel terrible for feeling terrible about it. It’s not about me. It’s about them.
I find myself getting overwhelmed very easily these days. I thrive on order. Lately my life has seemed filled with anything but. I struggle to make dinner because the kitchen is still in a mild state of disorder from the night before. I snap at my husband in the car because the stereo is too loud and it’s one more noise filling up the already too-crowded space in my head. I start to clean dishes and have to struggle to keep my feet planted and not just run away. Again, I bark at Darin to put away some of the clean ones already. I know my tone is too sharp. I hear the words coming out and I just can’t stop them.
I don’t know where to go from here. I have some idea, but it’s a huge step, and one I’m not sure I’m ready for. One I’m not really ready to talk about..at least here.
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On a semi-related note -
When I write posts like this, I get lots of wonderful, supportive comments. I appreciate every single one. So much you cannot imagine. I read them all. I know I don’t usually reply to them, because I just don’t know what to say. I get tongue tied. Just know that I am grateful for all of you.
GTT Was Hacked, So I Took This Opportunity To Bitch Instead
I was planning to participate in Girl Talk Thursday this week, but it seems that the site has been hit by the Word Press Apocolypse that’s going on so, instead I bring you this random collection of rants.
It’s been almost a week since I’ve posted here. I’m having a hard time coming up with things to say.
Actually, that’s bullshit. I have lots to say, I’ve just been too lazy to deal with it. I wanted to write a birthday posts for Issa and Liz, but I never managed to get it done. Hell, I barely got their birthday presents to them in time. This from the woman who overthinks and overplans EVERYTHING. I leave work on Friday, and I mentally map out the entire weekend on the drive home. On Monday, as I’m headed back to work, I look back at the weekend and think to myself “Just what DID I get done?” Ususally the answer is nothing.
In general, I’m pissed off at the human race in general at the moment. From the jackass who almost hit me this morning, because when merging lanes, even though I was the last car in the line up, she HAD to be in front of me and not behind me. To the dumbass kids in my neighborhood who play ball in the middle of the street and then refuse to move out of the way when anyone drives down the street. Seriously, they wait until the last possible second before moving off to the side. I swear it’s like they have a death wish. But then again, they are kids, with no real sense of mortality yet. I pray they don’t learn the hard way. Some of our neighbors drive well over the 25 MPH speed limit down our road. One day…..
I’m sick of Facebook Pages that are full of hate and violence. I’m horrified when I see someone I know join them. I’m in the middle of a cull of friends there because of it. I’m all for freedom of speech. I believe in civil rights. I don’t believe in calling for someone’s death simply because their political beliefs are opposite of yours. On his worst day, I never wished for the death of G.W. Bush. At many, many times I wished he wasn’t the president. I never wished him harm. I guess what I don’t understand is how all these people calling themselves Christians, the ones who are anti-abortion, but yet pro-death penalty, the ones who claim to love God, how you can stand on this earth and spew violence and hate toward your fellow man. Whether that man be white, black, gay, straight, Democrat or Republican. All of you with those “WWJD” bumper stickers on your cars. Do you think Jesus would approve of death threats? Do you think Jesus would turn his back on a man in need of help, simply because he was gay? Mother of Pearl. And people wonder why I left the Church.
I’m irritated that my housekeeper just up and quit on me. So now I’m back to cleaning my own damn house. And yeah, I know most of you are rolling your eyes right now, thinking “Oh, the poor wittle princess has to scrub a toilet”. It’ s not that I think I’m too good to do it. Hell, for 5 years, I cleaned OTHER people’s toilets. I would much rather pay someone to do it, while I spend that time, oh, pushing my daughter on a swing. Or coloring in a book on the floor of her room. Between my job and my commute, I have precious few hours left during the day. I want to enjoy them.
I have just flat out had enough of people who expect more from me than they are willing to give me. Oh, and seriously? If you’re going to act childish about me leaving Twitter(and yes, I did. yes, again. Yes, for good.) and act like if I’m not on there, I can’t be your friend anymore? Then BUH-BYE! Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out, ok?
And speaking of social media, you know what else I really hate? When people copy their twitter updates to Facebook and never use Facebook for anything else. It really flies in the face of the whole SOCIAL part of the social media thing. What incentive do I have to reply to you if you never respond?
Allright, I’m stepping off my soap box now. If you want to take the opportunity to leave a rant of your own in the comments, feel free.
Have an awesome fucking day, ya’ll.
I Left High School But It Never Left Me
High school when you are poor and overweight is not fun. High school when you are poor, overweight and painfully shy? Torture.
It’s always been hard for me to be in social situations with people I’m not familiar. Especially after having spent so many years of the company of people I did know who were less than subtle about keeping their distance from me. Heaven forbid one of the popular kids be seen walking down the hall with me. Or talking to me. Or sitting next to me at lunch. I wasn’t one of those kids. I didn’t fit in with the rebel crowd either. The ones who cut class, acted out, got in trouble. I was too much of a chicken. I’d try to make friends, only to be ditched when someone more popular would befriend them.
It was a little better my senior year, when I became close friends with a girl. She was on the fringe of the popular kids. She was accepted by them. She was pretty, could sing, made good grades. Her family wasn’t rich, but they lived in a nice house, had nice things. They tolerated me hanging around because I was with her. But accepted? Welcomed? No. Never. I’d hear the whispers. See the glances. I knew they wondered why she was friends with me. Sometimes? So did I.
Yesterday brought about those same old feelings of anxiety and insecurity. Darin has recently reconnected with a childhood friend, who, as it turns out, has a daughter two months older than Ava. They are wonderful, warm, outgoing people. We have had them over to our house on several occasions, we’ve had a play date at the park for the girls. It’s been wonderful having someone close to Ava’ s age for her to interact with. It’s great seeing Darin and Mark bonding again, the commonality of fatherhood bringing them closer together. Sheila and I have swapped stories of being working moms and compared notes on our girls. It’s fun having someone to talk with who is experiencing the same toddler joys and woes.
Yesterday we had the pleasure of being at their home to celebrate their daughter’s second birthday. I was looking forward to seeing Sheila and Mark again. I was excited for Ava to have some children to play with. I was terribly anxious for myself. I knew that I was going to encounter a room of strangers. I don’t do well in those situations. It takes me back to being in high school. Things started off ok. We went out back and tried to get Ava, who is going through a shy stage, to let go of our hands and go play. There was a slide, a toy house, and even a trampoline. I helped her attempt the slide, and encouraged her to play in the little house. Darin took her to the trampoline and let her bounce around a bit. We had been introduced to everyone and of course there were the obligatory “hi, nice to meet you” murmurs. One of the women looked familiar to me, and I to her but we never did figure out if we knew each other.
As is bound to happen, eventually the men end up standing outside together, talking about who knows what, while the women are in the house, chasing kids and fussing over the kitchen. One woman there must have been a really close friend of Sheila’s. She took over in the kitchen, cleaning and organizing. She kept giving me the stink eye for some reason. Maybe I was supposed to help too? I tried engaging in conversation. I would start a sentence, only to be cut off and spoken over. Every single time.
Eventually, I retreated to a corner. Found a nice cozy chair and settled back in to keep an eye on Ava and myself out of the way. From that moment on, I kept my head down and my mouth shut.
I know those women don ‘t know me. They have no idea how difficult it was for me to speak up in the first place. How my heart pounded. How my palms were sweaty. How I kept looking for my husband so I could have someone familiar close to me for comfort. I don’t know if I ended up coming off as aloof, or bitchy. I’m not any of those things. Well, I mean, I can be bitchy, but hey…
It just would have been nice to have a conversation. To have give and take. Share stories. Jokes. Not be brushed aside like I didn’t matter because I was a stranger.
I know that’s not the last time I’m going to encounter it. Ava will go to many more parties. There will always be a group of moms that I don’t belong to. I need to find a way to make it not matter so much. In 20 years, I don’t want Ava to be writing a new version of this post. I don’t want her to be 37 years old, and still carrying around 20 year old insecurities.
High school may have been 20 years ago, but the scars are still there. Right now, one of them is bleeding again.
How To Drive Me Crazy
Issa posted yesterday about things she hates. I jokingly stated that I should write a list like that, but I was afraid if I started, I might never stop.
However, it being Friday, and sunny outside, I don’t feel like writing anything serious or deep today.
So without further ado, here’s a list of a few of the things I especially dislike. Hopefully, I won’t have to start another blog just to contain it all. 
Websites with videos that automatically start. Some of us are trying to stealthily surf the net (OMG, that sounds SO 90′s) from work, yo. How am I supposed to hide the fact that I’m really searching for recipes when I’m supposed to be doing something for which I get paid, if the minute I open a web page a loud ass theme song or advertisement starts blaring?
Olives. Who the fuck ever decided to eat these things? Even after curing, brining, stuffing, they are inedible. Not to mention, you can’t even eat them straight from the tree. And really, how desperate was someone for something to eat that they spent THAT much time trying to make them palatable. It’s the same thing with a lobster or a crab. Both of which I like, btw. But don’t you wonder who was the first person to look at that and go “Let’s eat it!”?
Eggs on cheeseburgers. I don’t get it. Maybe it’s because I really don’t care much for eggs, unless it’s egg salad or deviled eggs. But the thought of a runny yellow egg yolk on my cheesburger is gag-arrific.
Fake buttons and zippers on baby and toddler clothing. Either make it functional, or leave it off. It drives me nuts, and more importantly, it frustrates my daughter to no end when she tugs and tugs at a zipper that isn’t going to move.
Soy sauce. Just the smell makes me nauseous. Its the main reason I have such an aversion to most Asian cuisines. Well, that and the fish sauce. And again, WTF? How did fish sauce come about? Hey, what should we do with all these leftover tiny fish? Oooh, I know! Let’s leave them out in the sun to dry and then we’ll pulverize them. And THEN! We’ll add water and let it ferment until the next town complains about the smell. Then we’ll bottle it up and sell it. People will LOVE it.
People who constantly Re-Tweet. I’m not talking about someone who occasionally does it. I’m talking about the person whose stream is 90% other people’s tweets. I mean, if you can’t come up with ANYTHING to say that’s original? Maybe Twitter isn’t for you.
People who expect more of you than they are willing to give. I’ve run across that several times lately. I don’t get it. How can you expect people to do something for you that you aren’t willing to do for them? Relationships have to be about give and take. If not? Not worth my time.
Smoking. I don’t understand how someone can enjoy something that smells so bad and is SO detrimental to your health. Also? I know I’m gonna get flack here, but…I wish there was NO smoking in public period. I’m all for freedom of expression and individual’s rights, but smoking harms people around you. Not just the smoker. I have asthma and there have been many times I’ve had to use my rescue inhaler courtesy of someone’s need to consume some nicotine.
Beer. Again, I don’t get the appeal. It takes like piss. Or what I assume piss would taste like, never having actually imbibed that particular liquid. I can’t stand the smell, the taste, none of it. I think I’d rather eat an olive. Maybe.
Pumpkin pie. Pumpkin anything, really. I know, I know…that makes me look anti-American or something, but I just don’t care for the flavor. I dread Thanksgiving coming around because I will have to make the dreaded pumpkin pie just so the family will be happy. Me? I’d rather have chocolate cake. Or cherry pie. Or chocolate cherry pie cake.
Turkey. I may have to turn in my citizenship and move to Canada after this AND the pumpkin pie thing, but I hate the smell and taste of turkey. Again, I make it every Christmas for my family. If I didn’t there would be a revolt of epic proportions. So I make Darin do most of the work. Like prepping. And putting it in the oven. And carving it. Ok, so I make him do all of it. If it were up to me, we’d have a big pan of lasagna, a salad, and some garlic bread.
Mmm…now I want pasta. Wait, where was I? Oh yes, being a hater.
Actually, I probably should stop now. So there you have it. A tiny fraction of the things that drive me crazy.
Friday Rants
I have spent a large portion of this entire week irritated by one thing or another. Is it really too much to ask that the world gets a clue? Apparently so, and it doesn’t look as though it is going to happen anytime soon anyway. So what’s been chapping my ass this week, you ask? Ok, maybe you didn’t ask, but seeing as how this is my blog, I’m gonna tell you anyway.
- People who want to tell other people what to write on their blog. If you want specific content, perhaps you should write your own. If you don’t like what you see/read/hear at any given time, you have a choice. There’s a little X at the top right side of your screen. Use it.
Also? Please don’t visit blogs and suggest in the comments that the author should get counseling. Unless you actually KNOW this person and their life, you’re making an assumption based upon some words on a computer screen. An assumption that is highly likely to piss off the author. Most people don’t like being told what to do. Especially if they are ALREADY doing it. - Thinking you have the right to tell people what to Tweet and what not to Tweet. Yes, the Olympics are in full swing. No, I’m not watching them. When my stream fills up with Olympic chatter, I know it’s time for me to shut down and do something else. I have no desire to talk about it or read about it. However, that does not give me the right to ask or tell people to stop Tweeting about it. If you don’t like a person’s stream, either unfollow, get over it, or just shut the hell up.
- Fair weather friends. I’m actually not sure if this is the right term or not, but I’m not sure how else to classify these folks. The ones that act concerned for you, but then never bother to check up on you, see how you are doing. The ones that repeatedly tell you that they care, but don’t follow up those words with any sort of actions. Those people? Are on notice. I’m getting wise, and you’re about to go bye-bye.
- Facebook. I have a love/hate relationship with you, Facebook. I want to love you more, but you keep changing on me. I want to hear what my friends and family are up to. However, I really don’t need to know every time they friend someone, join a Mafia, find something on their farm or get a stupid heart. Things I actually want to read are getting lost amidst the clutter. Make.It.Stop.
- Product review pitches that start with “Dear Blogger”. I know this is old hat to many of you, but I got my first one this week. Nothing like a nice, impersonal email from someone who didn’t even take the time to read my blog. Here’s a hint for you PR folks out there: Get to know the person you’re trying lure in. Take the time to read their writing. I would have been much more likely to respond if my email had gone like this:
Dear Jenna,
What a wonderful blog you have here. Little Ava is simply adorable. We think the moms and ladies who read you blog would be interested in our latest product, and as a result, we’d like to send you some free samples to try and also for a give away.
However? What I got was:
Dear Blogger, (some things have been changed to protect the innocent)
Douche Bag Brands has come out with Stink Be Gone (new flavored mouth rinses for after brushing your teeth)!!! These are arriving here on March first.
There are four new kinds with flavors consisting of Spearmint, Orange & Vanilla.
We would love to send you two entire sets. One set is entirely for you to keep and the other for a giveaway on your blog.
If you are interested I will need your full address and the name of your blog site. (Really? You had to go to my blog to send me that email, I think you’d have my blog name)
Ain’t gonna happen, Douce Bag Brands. Sorry. I don’t do product reviews and even if I did? That is a bad way to go about it.
Anyway, that’s most of my ass chapping for this week. Stay tuned next week for a whole new chapter of “Jenna gets pissed off.”
Feel free to leave your rants for the week in the comment section. Just don’t tell me I need therapy ok?
Friendship and the internet, what it all really means….yeah, here I go again.
This is the post where I call out my own hypocrisy and tell you why I went back to Twitter. Plus a small dissertation on friendship.
I was reading comments on a friend’s blog recently and the subject of Twitter was being discussed. Some folks were talking about paring down their follower list to make it more manageable, since it is physically impossible to keep up with the daily ramblings of 900+ people. I started thinking, what if I restored my account, and whittled away at my list so that I was only following/being followed by the few people I felt I had a real connection with. Use Twitter more as a giant instant messaging system so that I could chat with people all at one time. (I’m lazy and emails exhaust me. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE getting them, but I have a hard time returning emails sometimes.)
Great idea, right? Yeah, well, in it’s execution, not so much. I took a list of over 400 and pared it down to around 50. Manageable. Folks I really felt I had gotten to “know”, as much as you can through 140 characters. I removed some people I had never even had a discussion with. I removed some people I had spoken with. Immediately I get requests to add some people back. I hesitate. Not because of who they are. I simply cannot allow this thing to overtake my life again. I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, truly I don’t. I am at a place in my life that has left me feeling overwhelmed very easily. If I start letting one person back in, then it’s another. Then another. Then another. I cannot really explain why this stresses me so much, but it does. I cannot allow things to snowball once more.
So if you are reading this, and are one of the folks who I removed, it’s not personal. Please do not take it as such. I’m having a hard time with this whole internet friendship thing right now, and I’m pulling myself in tight. Please try to understand.
Now on to my second rant of the day…..
What does it mean when you say you are a friend? In real life, it’s easier to define. It’s tangible. Concrete. Visible. You can hug a real life friend. Take them to dinner, a movie, shopping, hang out at their house. Listen. Sympathize. Empathize. Care.
With the internet, I think the word friend has gotten too casual. It’s tossed around too carelessly. Once again this week I’ve learned that lesson the hard way again. Someone I thought was a friend proved me wrong. Maybe it’s my fault for holding someone to my own standards. When I call someone a friend, even online, I mean it. It’s not just a word. Coming this way and need a place to crash? Call me, I’ll make up the spare room. Have a book you want to read and I have a copy? Send me your address, I’ll mail it out. Unable to get to a computer but really need to purchase something? I’ll do it, pay me back later. To me, that’s a friendship. Words backed up by deeds.
Questioning someone’s honesty publicly and then ignoring it like it never happened? That’s not a friend by any stretch or casual interpretation of the word.
Once again, I am hurt. Angry. Confused. I questioned whether my decision to return to Twitter was the right one. I came very close to leaving again. So tired of the drama. But in the end, I decided that I would not let this person have that much power over me. So, one more person removed from the follow list and life goes on. I want to chat and have fun. With my friends.
Why I’m a Twitter Quitter
This was not the post I intended to write today. I had something else in mind entirely about how hard it is to get Miss Avacakes to eat these days. But since I created an account just to update Twitter when I have a new blog post, I have some questions to answer about why I left.
This may be very difficult for some of you to understand, and that’s ok. My reasons are my own and at the end of the day they make sense to me and that’s what matters. But I know a lot of you were left scratching your heads at my sudden departure. So I will attempt to explain.
About six years ago I was planning my wedding. I scoured websites for information to help with the planning process and stumbled upon the Knot. I found a community of women who were doing the same thing as I and I joined a message board. It was tons of fun. Lots of laughs and support to go around. As time progressed, I started corresponding with several people off board, through email. A few phone calls here and there, which for me is a big deal because I HATE, DESPISE talking on the phone. It’s one of a handful of phobias I suffer with.
Then came the idea of a get together. It was going to be huge. Dozens of “Knotties” from our board were attending. Despite the fact that it was clear across the country in Washington DC, I begged my poor then-fiancé to go. So we did. And I solidified some of my online friendships as we met in person. It was a great weekend.
When we got back to real life, about a dozen of us felt, or so I thought, that we had formed real connections and began our own message board so that we could chat throughout the day about whatever we pleased. For months we had daily sessions, on that board, on instant messenger, via email. I was the lone West Coaster among the group, so when a second get together for just our group was brought up in December I had to bow out. We’d been going through some hard times since that last trip and could not afford to pay for a plane ticket for me. The other girls decided to chip in and buy my ticket for me. A gift. They wanted me there that badly. So next March, I was on my way to Baltimore.
In between the time the trip was planned, and its actual execution, things perked up for us financially. My husband got a promotion and with it a nice raise in pay. We got our tax refund back. Before I left I purchased a gift for each of the girls as my way of saying thank you for all they’ve done.
The trip was not as much fun as I had anticipated. I saw cliques being formed among our small group. I did not fit in with any of them. I slept in a room alone while the rest of them camped out pajama party style in another room. Not by choice, it was where I was directed to sleep. There was a lot of drinking going on. I’m not a big drinker, and I don’t judge people who do. Whatever makes you happy. But I cannot tolerate very much alcohol and was not into the whole bar hopping scene that they wanted to embark upon. I started feeling like an outcast. By the end of the trip I was very glad to be going home and was starting to second guess my friendships.
After getting home I started getting a weird vibe. I couldn’t really put my finger on it but I got the distinct impression that there was a lot of “behind the scenes” discussion going on. One member of our group left. Another soon followed. I took a break from all of them. For one thing, my mother’s very first visit to Oregon was approaching. I was excited that she was finally coming after 6 years. After her visit I was hesitant to go back. I saw that in my absence I had been discussed, and in unflattering terms. Every single cent I spent on that trip was questioned. Why did I not pay them back for the plane ticket if I had enough money to buy a pair of shoes? Now maybe this is where I am at fault. But I was told that ticket was a gift. I was brought up that you don’t insult someone by trying to pay back a gift. But maybe I should have any way. But they started feeling they had a right to dictate how I spent my own money because I had shared my troubles with them. While I was gone, they even tried to ban me from the message board *I* created and had ownership of.
At that point I cut my ties. I got several emails afterward, some of which were very enlightening. Turns out the group member who left before me was dealing with the same issues. She forwarded several emails to me that confirmed the feeling I had that I was being discussed off board. My gut had been correct.
Now I tell you all that because I felt myself slipping back into the same old pattern. I was forming “friendships” on Twitter. Maybe I’m not giving enough credit to the people there, but I really cannot go down that same path again. My heart hurt too much after the last time. I can’t do the get togethers, the BlogHers. I can’t put myself out there again to be hurt.
After BlogHer2009 at first I was excited to go next year. I bought tickets. Then the drama started. Always the drama. I knew in my heart that I would end up caught up in it again if I went. Add to that the fact that people would start falling away as they started leaning more toward people they had actually met….I saw the writing on the wall.
It’s so damn hard to make friends as an adult. By the time you are my age, most people have friends, long term close friends. It’s hard to meet people, to make the time and effort to do it. It’s even harder to find someone with whom you fit. Moving across country, working full time, having a baby…all those things have left me at the age of 36 without what I’d call a close friend, except for my husband. I miss it at times. I thought for a while Twitter could fill the gap. But at the end of the day, I am too afraid of the hurt to take the walls down again.
I write here
I’ve Been Featured On:
I Guess I Don’t Suck
