Yesterday, I wrote a post that was a bit peevish, as two guys have descended upon my house, installing new windows. Yeah, yeah, yeah… it’s a first world problem. Nevertheless, it still sucks for me, because I’m used to being by myself most of the time. I like peace and quiet, and being able to hang out at home, braless. I like reading and napping when I want to, and being able to write in peace, without a bunch of power tools and crappy pop music blaring.
I feel displaced in my own home, and it’s got me a bit irritable, even though ultimately, the new windows will make the house a better place to live. I don’t enjoy being bitchy to people, but these guys are kind of pissing me off. I want them to do their work and get out of my life. 😉 I want them to stop acting like my space is their space. I feel like I used to feel when I was watching a movie and my dad would come in and, without a word, change the station to sports or something. Granted, it was his house, and his TV, but he had no regard for me. It was like I was a nuisance to him. This time, I’m actually in my own home, and these guys have just swooped in like a bunch of seagulls and crapped all over my peace.
Yesterday, they spent most of their time upstairs, which is where I usually spend my days. They took over my office, the bathroom, and Noyzi’s room (which is really the “entertainment room” that we never use). Now, the bathroom and the office are done. I’m not sure about my bedroom and Noyzi’s room. I’ve parked myself downstairs with my laptop and AirPods, which at least helps me block out their annoying dance music with the mindless thumping rhythms and moronic melodies. It doesn’t block out the sound of their equipment, but I mind that less, as they need that to do their jobs effectively.
Well… now they’re moving downstairs, so I can’t avoid the noise as easily. I’m not sure if it would be better to go upstairs, or if they’ve still got their shit spread out all over the place. I just checked, and one of the guys is sitting on the stairs, basically blocking the way. I just pointedly closed the door again. I thought I had them trained. SIGH. See… I don’t like having to do that. I’d just as soon stay out of their way completely. But, just like Zack Mayo in An Officer and a Gentleman, “I got nowhere else to go!” So, I have to sit here and endure, just like always. It’s my lot in this military life. 😉
No, I don’t have a drill sergeant screaming at me while I do sit ups, but like Zack, I feel like “I got nowhere else to go…”
Before anyone tries to offer me solutions– and PLEASE don’t do that, by the way, cuz I didn’t ask for advice– I can’t leave the house. My car is dead, and I can’t get my dog in it, because he’s a big monster and I drive a Mini. The only way he’s getting in the car is if I drop the top and somehow manage to lift him into the backseat. I don’t think I’m physically capable of doing that by myself. But, like I said, the Mini needs a new battery. It won’t start, anyway. That’s the next problem we’re fixing to address.
So this is me, complaining again… and trying to focus on how I’ll feel when these guys are done installing our new windows. Maybe it’ll be kind of like this.
Maybe it’s time I invested in a motorcycle…
Looks like they might have taken a set of doors to one of the rooms upstairs. In a few hours, they’ll finish for the day. I might start drinking before then, though.
“Give me the bottle!”
On a more serious note… yesterday, I found myself getting upset. I actually felt, at one point, like I might burst into tears. Why? Because this experience gave me a flashback to July 2013, when Bill and I were moving from North Carolina to Texas, and we had the most godawful movers, ever. They descended on my house like a bunch of hungry nematodes and did an absolutely TERRIBLE job of packing us.
It was very stressful to watch, especially when one of the teenaged boys came into the house like a fucking elephant and busted a hole in the floor. We almost lost our security deposit over that, even though the floor wasn’t correctly installed in the first place and was buckling because of moisture. The moving company, of course, denied responsibility. We complained, and their insurance company paid our former landlord.
The following year, we had to move from Texas to Germany, and we had split movers. One set was fantastic– they packed our stuff for Germany. Bill even did a shot of tequila with the guy– a Mexican and his son. The other set of movers– the ones who packed our stuff for storage– was shitty. One guy was on his phone the whole time, and the other got food poisoning from eating gas station sushi and had to go home early. I’d say the North Carolina movers and the storage portion of the Texas movers were equally terrible.
In both of those situations, I had a crying jag/meltdown/fit. I was about on the verge of another one yesterday. I was that triggered, plus I was hot and miserable. But I managed to survive, just like Zack Mayo did. I have every hope and faith that the same thing will happen today.
An Officer and a Gentleman is one of my favorite movies of all time, by the way. Maybe it’s time I watched it again. Also… when we went through the window exchange in 2014, I was somewhat less bitter.
The featured photo is me at age 12, on my beloved pony, Rusty… At that time in my life, I figured I might be a mom someday. It wasn’t in the cards for me… Maybe that’s okay. Warning in advance that this is a very personal post.
Livingston Taylor’s moving cover version of Stevie Wonder’s classic song about his daughter, Aisha.
I continue to learn more about Bill’s younger daughter as every week passes. Lately, we’ve been exchanging emails. This morning, I received one that gave me pause. In it, she apologized to me for being “insensitive” about my “infertility”. I had recently written in an email that I had always wanted to have children, but was never able to have them. I didn’t elaborate as to why. I figured she already knew.
But this morning, I found an email from her, and she expressed kindness over my “infertility”. I guess she assumed I never had children because I literally couldn’t get pregnant. The truth is, I don’t actually know if I was infertile. I am almost surely infertile by now. In any case, I have never been pregnant.
There I was, sitting in bed this morning, trying to decide if it was appropriate for me to tell my husband’s daughter the reason I don’t have kids of my own. I asked Bill, and we decided that I should tell her that Bill had a vasectomy when he was still married to Ex. He later had it reversed, but it was eleven years after younger daughter’s birth. Though the reversal surgery was technically successful, I never managed to conceive.
Then Bill went to Iraq, and we had a bunch of Army moves that made trying to conceive with medical help logistically difficult and financially impossible. By the time we had recovered financially from Bill’s first marriage and paid off most of my student loans, I was getting pretty old. We ultimately decided that not having children was okay.
I carefully wrote this explanation for younger daughter. Bill is going to follow up with more of the story. I don’t want her to think he had the vasectomy because of her.
My father also had a vasectomy after I was born. My parents always made it seem like he did that because I was such a “difficult” child. Of course, now I realize that decision had nothing to do with me, personally. My mom hadn’t expected to get pregnant again after my sister was born. Eight years later, there I was… and I was a big, colicky baby, with big lungs. Mom didn’t want another child. Quite frankly, she hadn’t really wanted to have me. So, to keep the peace, my dad got snipped. I don’t think he had wanted to have a vasectomy, but my mom insisted.
In Bill’s case, he decided to have a vasectomy mainly because of financial reasons. Ex had her son from her first marriage, plus the two daughters they’d had together. Bill was supporting the whole family on his income, which, at the time, wasn’t much. He was an Army captain at the time. Ex got pregnant with ease, but she wasn’t a very attentive mother.
One time, when older daughter was a toddler, Bill came home from work to find that she hadn’t been fed. Ex was in bed, depressed, and older daughter had pulled a block of cheese out of the refrigerator. It had a knife plunged into it. I’m not sure where ex stepson was at the time, but it was clear that Ex wasn’t taking good care of the children.
Then, because his Army career also wasn’t going that well, Bill temporarily got off active duty. The family moved from Washington State to Arkansas, and Ex’s sister and young daughter moved in with them. Bill was supporting his family, plus Ex’s sister and daughter, on the piddly amount of money he made working at factories in Arkansas and from National Guard duty. It would have been disastrous and irresponsible for them to have another baby.
Bill was also concerned about the bizarre way Ex behaved when she was giving birth to younger daughter. He said she had kind of disassociated from the pain, crying that she would “be still”, as if she was hallucinating about being abused. At one point, she even refused to push. Bill had to tell the nurse that Ex was a victim of abuse and was apparently having some kind of traumatic flashback. The nurse realized what was happening and managed to get Ex to snap out of her spell and give birth to younger daughter. The scene was disturbing enough that Bill didn’t want to see it happen again.
Bill did propose to Ex that she get her tubes tied, since she clearly had issues with being pregnant and giving birth. Ex, of course, shot down that idea and shamed Bill for even suggesting it. So he had the procedure done, which in the long run, was probably a blessing. Ex clearly wasn’t done having kids, and she would have gotten pregnant again with Bill if he hadn’t gotten snipped. She had two more babies with #3. I don’t know what their births were like, but according to younger daughter, Ex is still neglectful and abusive.
Of course, a few years after Bill made that life altering decision, he met virginal me. I appreciated that he was willing to have the reversal surgery. The Army also offered reproductive and fertility treatments, but we needed to be living in an area where they offered the therapies. We lived in the Washington, DC area when Bill had the vasectomy reversal, so that worked out for us. After that, we frequently moved (five times in seven years), and sometimes to places where fertility treatments provided by the Army weren’t always readily available. We weren’t willing to go more into debt to try treatments with a civilian provider.
I had always wanted and expected to have children, but Bill was my first and only sexual partner. So I don’t have children… and the whole mess surrounding the vasectomy is another major reason why I’ve been so angry with Ex all these years.
It wasn’t enough that Bill left their marriage infertile. She also severely alienated the children they did have together. It’s only because younger daughter is a kind, loving, and thoughtful person, like Bill is, that he’s able to know his grandchildren. Ex wanted to deny him that, too. She told them many lies about Bill and me. Making matters worse is the pervasive attitude among people that fathers are expendable and second wives and stepmothers are always homewrecking whores.
I wrote to younger daughter that I’m “okay” with not having children. I suppose that’s true, at this point. I certainly wouldn’t want to have a baby now, at this time in my life. But I do feel like that decision to be mother was taken from me. Yes, I know there are people who will try to point out to me that I could have married (or just had sex with) someone else… or adopted… or gone through fertility treatments. Those kinds of comments are very belittling and discounting. I specifically wanted to have a baby with Bill. It’s taken a long time to come to terms with the fact that I can’t. Now I realize that it’s probably better that way. Fortunately, Bill is enough. I love him very much and wouldn’t choose another partner, regardless of everything that has happened.
I hope that my email to younger daughter isn’t too much of a bombshell. I honestly thought she knew about Bill’s vasectomy. He will write back to her and explain it more, since he was the one who made the choice. I just want her to remember that infertility isn’t always due to the woman. For all I know, I was infertile, too. We never had the chance to find out for sure.
Yesterday, younger daughter and Bill exchanged Marco Polo videos. Bill is finding that he has to dispel some impressions that she has, as well as offer her some basic history lessons. I can’t help but think that if they had been able to have a relationship for all of these years, they would both be so much better informed. But hopefully, they can make up for lost time.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again… Bill really should have fought harder for his daughters. But dealing with a malignant narcissist is very difficult for the unaware and ill equipped. Unfortunately, when he and Ex split, Bill wasn’t in a good position to fight harder for access to his kids. So now, all he can do, is damage repair and restoration. Still, I am relieved that just like the song, younger daughter is truly lovely. She really is Bill’s daughter, in spite of everything. I’m finally starting to love her. Thank God for that.
I wasn’t going to blog today because I’m having one of those “not so fresh” days, and it was kind of foggy and chilly this morning. I thought maybe I might binge watch season five of Cobra Kai on Netflix, and finally make use of my subscription. But three or four episodes in, I got really drowsy and thought I might fall asleep. So I tried to take a nap, but then I had to keep getting up to go to the bathroom, and the sun came out and made it a beautiful day.
I didn’t have a good topic in mind for today, either. I have been reading a book and I suspect it will lead to an interesting review when I’m finished, but I’m not quite halfway through it at this point. I could write about US politics, but I am not in the mood for that, and everyone’s writing about politics, anyway. So I went to YouTube for inspiration, and found that Brady Brandwood had uploaded another video about his pet lobster, Leon.
Leon’s journey has been fascinating!
Brady says Leon has now lived with him in South Carolina for a year. But he and his girlfriend split their time between South Carolina and Georgia, and actually spend more time in Georgia. So Brady bought Leon a new, much larger aquarium, and assembled it in the Georgia house. He decided to move Leon from South Carolina to Georgia, where he can enjoy the much larger digs and get to know Brady’s eight cats.
For those who don’t know, Brady famously rescued Leon from a grocery store and made videos about his progress in captivity. I’ve been watching Leon’s saga the whole time, finding it to be strangely fascinating… and now, I feel guilty about loving to eat lobster as much as I do. I’m also very impressed with Brady’s knowledge about how to take care of creatures of the sea. As I found out in watching this video, there’s a lot that goes into moving a lobster from an aquarium in South Carolina to a new one in Georgia. Brady also seems like a really nice guy. I enjoy his slightly southern accent, too. It reminds me of home.
Speaking of home… Bill and I used to live in Georgia ourselves, courtesy of his Army career, so the footage of driving on the Interstate– looks like it might be I-85– made me a little homesick. I’ve passed the water tower for Gaffney, South Carolina many times. It’s easy to spot, because it’s a giant peach, that always reminds me of a well spanked ass. Sorry, I’m a little kinky sometimes. 😉 I also used to live in South Carolina. I was there for the three years I was in graduate school at the University of South Carolina in Columbia. But I don’t think I ever drove past Gaffney when I lived in South Carolina. I do remember driving through there on my way from Georgia to Virginia and back.
Brady also includes some shots of the Atlantic beaches in South Carolina, which also remind me of home. I grew up about an hour’s drive from Virginia Beach. And some shots from North Georgia and his wooded home in South Carolina also make me homesick, a little. My dad’s side of the family is from Natural Bridge, Virginia, which looks a lot like North Georgia, and our homes in Georgia and in North Carolina were on wooded lots where there was a lot of wildlife. I love Germany, but I miss living in a secluded house with lots of trees around.
Our Georgia house was especially nice, with lots of deer in the woods, including a mama deer who was almost tame. However, I wouldn’t want to be living there now, as energy prices are soaring. It was a huge house and badly needed renovation. But it had an enormous kitchen and deck, which overlooked lots of trees and a creek in the back. Our house in North Carolina was smaller, and didn’t have the great kitchen, but it did have a view of a disused irrigation pond, where wildlife such as turtles and wild ducks lived. I loved watching them. It also had some fish in it. Sometimes, the neighbor would go out there and try to catch one. Those were the idyllic days of the Obama era, when political leaders seemed to have more sense.
Even though I’m totally freaked out by how polarized and violent the United States looks from over here, I do miss home sometimes. I would like to see some of my family members. And I miss American supermarkets, too. But I’m not quite ready to get on a plane for eight hours, even though it’s been eight years since I last set foot in my homeland. Also, I know that once I got back to the States, it would be no time before I’d be ready to leave again. I’m still glad people like Brady are posting content on video that teach new things and make me realize that not everyone in the United States is freaked out about the elections.
Anyway… I hope some of you might watch Leon’s videos. I think they’re fascinating, and I’ve learned a lot about lobsters, and how to keep them, from Brady. I won’t be adopting one anytime soon, but I sure have enjoyed watching Brady take care of Leon. It reminds me of my friend who used to have me “turtle sit” for her, when she took trips. I never realized how much fun turtles can be. The one she had– a red slider whose name was “Little Chicken” (named by her then young daughter, who won him at a fair)– acted kind of like a dog when it was mealtime. He’d see me coming and crawl alongside of the aquarium. He couldn’t wait to eat his turtle food. She told me they eventually set him free in the Potomac River, which makes me think he probably didn’t live much longer… Apparently, he got too big to keep.
I don’t know what else I’m going to do today. We really should go out and do something, but unfortunately, I need easy access to the bathroom today. Maybe I’ll watch some more bodycam footage… or work on my latest jigsaw puzzle, which is 2000 pieces. Or maybe I’ll read more of my book, so I can move on to the next one. I might even be tempted to dream about our next trip, after we go to France for our anniversary. That trip will be to a place we’ve been several times, but not since January 2020. We’re going there because we know the apartment we’re renting; it’s pet friendly; and it will still be a change of scenery. We love going to Alsace, because it’s a beautiful part of France, but since Arran is having chemo, we don’t want to board him. Besides, it’s time Noyzi got to go on a trip with us.
There was a time in my life when I was like Velveeta, melting down at the slightest sign of heat. I’ve always been sensitive, but for the first thirty years of my life, I would get easily overwhelmed. I had problems with anxiety and would hyperventilate in panic attacks. Sometimes the attacks would happen in very embarrassing places. One time, I melted down in front of my boss, who was a nurse. Oddly enough, she thought I needed a trash can because she assumed I was going to vomit. I managed to croak out that I needed a bag to breathe into. She gave me one and I soon calmed down enough to talk to her. You’d think a nurse would know what to do for hyperventilation.
My panic attacks used to happen fairly frequently. For a long time, I didn’t know how to stop them. I’d get so upset that I’d find myself tingly with carbon dioxide overload, panting in a fight or flight reaction to whatever had me so bothered. Many times, it was fighting with my parents or some other authority figure that would get me in those states. For awhile, I even had Klonopin prescribed to me. It did nothing for me. I’m surprised people get hooked on it, to be very honest.
I don’t remember the last time I had a panic attack. It’s been many years. I have had a few meltdowns, but they aren’t like they used to be. Now, I get angry rather than panicky. Sometimes I cry a little bit, but I can’t even muster tears much anymore. In some ways, I’m glad crying is harder for me now. I was embarrassed by public crying jags more times than I’d like to remember. Some people legitimately thought I was crazy when I was younger. Others wondered if I was bipolar (I’m not).
Then there are times when I miss having a good cry. Crying can be very cathartic. I remember the rush of endorphins that would inevitably come after I released my emotions all over the place. I kind of miss being able to do that. Now, when I cry, it doesn’t last long and isn’t very intense. I’m sure some of it has to do with getting older and hormonal changes that come with that. Some of it is because I just don’t physically feel like I used to. I haven’t felt the way I felt as a young person since I started taking antidepressants in 1998.
Good plan.
I took psych meds for about five and a half years– first Prozac, then Wellbutrin, which turned out to be a much better fit for me than Prozac was. I also took Topamax, which is a mood stabilizer/migraine med/anti seizure med. My doctor prescribed it for me because he wanted me to lose weight. It did effectively kill my appetite and made drinking anything carbonated unpleasant. I didn’t lose weight, either, which disappointed my psychiatrist, who seemed to think my weight was the root of my problems. Bill didn’t like me on Topamax, so I got off of it. Beer began being fun to drink again. Looking back on it, I think the shrink was irresponsible to give me Topamax for that purpose. He prescribed it not because I had medical issues due to being overweight, but because I think he preferred thinner women himself and figured that being thinner would make me happier.
I had a slight meltdown last night. It turned out Bill couldn’t leave early and, in fact, probably won’t be home until late. I got pissed off when he sent me an email telling me about his issues getting home. It’s not because he’s not getting off early. It’s because, once again, he got my hopes up and dashed them. It’s not the first time he’s done it and this time, I’m having a particularly hard time dealing with life.
All of the other times he’s had long TDYs, we haven’t been in a pandemic situation. We’ve managed to have some fun somehow… going to a restaurant, taking a short trip, or doing something social. This time, we’ve been locked down for months. Seriously, Germany has been locked down in some way since November 2020. I haven’t been to downtown Wiesbaden in many months. By now, it’s probably been a year. I haven’t had a dental cleaning since May 2019. We did manage to take a trip last summer, but after we picked up Noyzi in early October, we were pretty much relegated to the neighborhood.
Germany was going to open a little bit this month, but the rising COVID-19 infections forced the lockdowns to extend. The AstraZeneca vaccine rollout has stalled, thanks to stories about a few people having rare blood clot reactions to it. We can be vaccinated on post, but we’re low on the priority scale. So while the United States is getting people the shot and things are becoming slightly more open over there, here it’s still isolated and weird. And it pissed me off that my husband had to go on a business trip for three solid weeks, even though travel is highly discouraged right now. I’ve been sitting at home alone, faithfully awaiting his invitation to chat, which always came when I was in the middle of watching a movie.
I don’t know what happened, but when he said he was going to be stuck there until late, I just got pissed. Because, what it comes down to is his job coming before me. I understand that his job will always come first. It’s that military “mission first” mentality that every recruit is indoctrinated with when they join one of the services. Intellectually, I get it. But after three weeks of boredom and loneliness and having my hopes raised, I was not very happy to hear that they were going to be dashed. I got so pissed that I even told Bill I didn’t want to chat with him and didn’t care when he comes home.
I probably should have kept my disappointment to myself. I should have found something to pour myself into, like I usually do. But I wrote on Facebook that I need a boyfriend. I was half kidding. Most people laughed. One person, who also spends a lot of time alone due to her husband’s work, opted to give me advice. To be honest, it kind of pissed me off that this person offered advice. Sometimes, people just want to vent. They aren’t looking for anyone to help them solve their problems. They just want to be heard and validated.
I understand that advice giving usually comes from a place of wanting to help, but she knows I’ve been a military wife for 18 years. This ain’t my first rodeo with being alone. Moreover, I’m not a kid. I don’t need someone to tell me to go out and “join” things. But even if I wanted to join things, I can’t right now. First off, it’s Germany, and not everyone speaks English. But even if I spoke perfect German and they spoke perfect English, the culture is different… and we are not allowed to congregate, anyway. It’s literally against the law right now. And, to be honest, I don’t necessarily want to hang out on post, either. For many reasons, I don’t fit in with most of the military wives. There are some exceptions, of course. Things are closed on post, too, but even if they weren’t, I wouldn’t want to hang out there.
I don’t need to be told to do something creative. I do that already. That’s why we have five guitars in our house when a year ago, we had none. That’s why I write a blog. I would write fiction, but a certain stalker let me know that she doesn’t appreciate my efforts or respect my privacy. So I’ve kind of lost the desire to write fiction for now, because someone might assume that I’ve written about them or get the wrong idea… or offer an uninvited critique. Even if I wrote it offline, I’ve just lost the urge.
I was just feeling low and wanted to express it. I still knew in my heart, someone would try to fix things and offer advice. And I would be put in the position of being a bitch and stating that I don’t want or particularly need any advice. I just want a virtual hug or something… hell, I don’t know what I want. I guess I just feel like I’ve wasted my life. I spend so much time waiting around for Bill. It’s not even so much that I want to join other people. I actually find a lot of people irritating… and they find me irritating and weird. I don’t want to get dressed and get in the car and go somewhere. I don’t need anyone to tell me that I chose this life. I know I did. I love Bill with all my heart, but I often feel like a loser. Just once, I’d like for him to have to wait at home alone for me. Or really, I don’t want either of us to have to wait at home alone. I just feel like I’ve already put in my time with this “mission first” lifestyle. For once, it would be nice not to have to put the mission first.
A few weeks ago, I fell and tore up both of my knees. Fortunately, I wasn’t badly hurt. My pride was injured and I had bruised, swollen, oozing, itchy knees for two solid weeks. The knees are mostly healed now, save for a bit of scarring and almost healed scabs. It occurred to me that I could have been badly hurt and no one would be any the wiser. When he goes on these trips, I might as well be single. I survived being alone as a single person just fine. I expected to be alone and coped with it. As a married person, it’s harder to cope. Especially when I can’t go hang out in a bar when things get too solitary.
When we lived in Stuttgart, it wasn’t as bad. I knew more people there. Of course, I much prefer where we are now to where we were then, but I don’t know Wiesbaden as well as I do the Stuttgart area. The past year hasn’t allowed for much exploration. I’m not that close to my family, which is probably a blessing, since they’re all thousands of miles away. I have the dogs and they are great company. But they’re dogs… and they require care more than anything else. I did get a kick out of Noyzi this morning, who asked for butt rubs and head scratches and expressed appreciation by rolling on his back with his legs in the air and smiling goofily at me. I wish I’d been able to get a picture. It was adorable.
I miss Zane a lot. He was high maintenance and worried me with his health issues. However, he loved to snuggle with me in bed and would burrow under the covers and curl up next to me. Arran only snuggles with me occasionally. He likes to snuggle, but not like Zane did. He’s more Bill’s dog than mine. And Noyzi isn’t going to snuggle in bed as long as Arran is around, because Arran doesn’t like him.
I miss physical contact and conversation… and I feel like I just wait all the time for something to happen. And I don’t need someone in the United States, who doesn’t understand the reality of life as a childless foreigner during a pandemic, telling me what I should do. I mean, I know she meant well… but she’s got children and grandchildren and a job… and lots of friends. And she lives in the USA in a familiar place. I don’t think things are locked down there like they are here. But in the USA, you can expect that most people can speak your language. Here, I can’t make that assumption, even if it’s often true.
I think I also have PMS. My skin is a mess… and it’s about time for Aunt Flow to show up. Just in time for Bill to get home, too. Wouldn’t you know it?
I do feel somewhat better today. I woke up at 2:15am and couldn’t get back to sleep. By 4:45am, I was chatting with a former co-worker who lives in Washington State. We had a very entertaining chat, not about my problems. He didn’t offer advice or try to fix my issues. He just talked to me and we gossiped about the old days. It was fun, and it made me feel better. He even said he liked me the minute he met me because I’m “authentic”. He’s not the first person to tell me that. Say what you want about my personality… it’s definitely mine and it’s real, even if not everyone likes it. And he told me he likes me the way I am, which was really nice. I probably should have chatted with him last night, but I ended up chatting with Bill, who apologized profusely.
I told Bill that I get it. The job will always come first. He has a “mission first” mentality that he won’t let go of, and frankly, that’s what makes him so employable. And, to be honest, I’m not sure if it would be a good thing for him to change jobs for my sake. I wasn’t asking him to do that. I simply don’t like it when someone raises my hopes and then disappoints me. It’s happened too many times. If he had just let me think he’d be home late tonight and never mentioned leaving early, I probably wouldn’t have gotten so irritated.
Also… people are finding that post I wrote about Adam and Darla and, apparently, want to correct my opinions on that. And those who are regular readers probably know how I feel about people who want to correct other people’s opinions. Right or wrong, I don’t like it when people aren’t allowed to express themselves unmolested and uncensored. Must be part of my “authenticity”. On the other hand, at least they care enough to comment.
Anyway… I will probably be happier later. If I know Bill, he’ll make it up to me. Or maybe he’ll disappoint me again. Either way, I probably won’t melt down, because I expect I’ll finally be ragging. I think I’ll make this morning a vocal morning. It’ll make me feel better.
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