complaints, mental health, Military, modern problems

Melting down over mission first…

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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musings

Facebook is a lonely place…

Ever since this social isolation stuff began, I’ve noticed people are hanging out even more on social media. I run a Facebook group for food and wine and we’ve had a surge of new members. Why? Because people are sitting at home, drinking a lot… cooking a lot… and probably gaining weight.

For the most part, it’s been alright to hang out on Facebook even more than usual. I have noticed, though, that some people may think of Facebook friends as appearing closer than they actually are. Sometimes social media turns into a substitute for actual friendships.

Don’t get me wrong. There are people I have “met” online that I consider real friends. Hell, I was friends with Bill for 18 months, having met him online. He truly was a friend to me during a time when I needed a friend… and he needed a friend. We chatted every day and got to be very close, even though we hadn’t met offline. I never thought I’d ever meet him, though, let alone marry him. And then there are people I have met offline and been friends with on Facebook who turn out to be people who fade away…

I did read a rather sad comment from someone this morning, though, which has inspired today’s post. This guy decided to go to the grocery store on his bike, and announced it on his Facebook page. He asked his friends for prayers. No one responded. He came back from the store and wrote:

Nobody responded to my bike post yesterday — and I literally almost died. Thank you so much for your concern…

I sense a bit of sadness and disgust in that post. I suspect this dude is kind of lonely. I have never met him before. He’s someone Bill knows from his adolescent days. In fact, this guy was someone who knew Bill when he got run over by his “friend’s” Subaru Brat. I’ve written this story before, but because I don’t have anything else to do and some readers might be curious, here’s what happened…

When Bill was sixteen years old, he was hanging out with some buddies. They were all drinking beer. One of his friends had a girlfriend who was doing that usual teen angst shit that teenaged girls are so good at. She stormed off, and her boyfriend, who owned a Subaru Brat (basically an ugly car with a bed like that of a pickup truck), got behind the wheel. Bill had gotten a ride with them, so he went to clamber into the back of the car. His friend didn’t see him, and started backing up as Bill was trying to mount. Bill lost his footing in the gravel and slipped under the car. His friend backed over him. The rear tire went right over Bill’s chest.

After a week in the hospital with a collapsed lung and extremely bloody eyes, Bill was released relatively unscathed. He does have a bit of arthritis in the area that was injured. A couple of his discs were crushed. He also says he had a near death experience. I believe him when he tells me that, because Bill is an unusually empathetic person. He’s very much in touch with God.

Oh nooooo!

Anyway… ever since then, people have called him Mr. Bill… including me. Even people who don’t know what happened to him try to be clever by sharing a picture of Mr. Bill on social media. This was a thing on Saturday Night Live. He kind of sounds like Towelie on South Park. It’s kind of funny to watch this. The world was a lot more dangerous back in the 70s and 80s. Interestingly enough, Mr. Bill was created by a guy who responded for a request from Saturday Night Live to send in home movies.

Walter Williams got a job writing for SNL after this.

So anyway… where was I. I got sidetracked by Mr. Bill…

Facebook offers a facade of closeness that doesn’t actually exist. Because so many people use it, you may find yourself connecting with people you’d never meet… or ever even want to meet. And people think they know you, but they don’t. So sometimes, you might feel slighted when you reach out on social media, hoping for prayers or whatever, and no one responds. The fact is, without social media, you might not have a connection anyway. I doubt I’d know Bill’s former classmate if he hadn’t decided to friend me on Facebook.

And while I don’t wish Bill’s friend ill, I don’t actually know him well enough to care about whether or not he goes to the store. I don’t think I ever even saw his post, but if I had, I probably wouldn’t have prayed for him. I don’t pray for most people. It’s not something I do. I completely missed that he posted this, though…

Good morning all!
Later on this morning I am going to get on my 18 speed mountain bike (which I haven’t done for about 10 years) and ride over to the grocery with back-pack and mental list! I have been told I should wear a mask — thing is I look odd as it is! Will you guys lift up a prayer for my safety, please? Thanks & God bless.

I can tell he was disappointed that no one responded. Sometimes, I’ve been disappointed in responses from other people, too. I try to remind myself that most of them are strangers. It hurts more when people I actually know or am related to ignore me. Then I realize that they have lives, just like I do. Most of my stuff just isn’t as interesting to other people as it is to me. And social media is, by and large, a facade. The real stuff happens offline. But then… maybe for some people, being online is less painful than dealing with reality offline.

On the other hand, I’ve been watching Desperate Housewives again. It’s a very entertaining show. I’m still on season one. Felicity Huffman’s character, Lynette Scavo, wants to get her kids into a private school and she mentions paying $15,000 as a “donation” to up her chances. That episode was from 2004 or 2005… interesting how art imitates real life sometimes. Years later, Huffman “donated” $15,000 to improve her daughter’s SAT scores. She ended up doing time in a federal prison.

Maybe this social isolation is getting to me. Hopefully, it won’t last too much longer, although my next door neighbor seems to be ignoring it. She’s had people over for the past three nights.

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complaints

TDYs SUCK…

So… Bill has now been gone for eight days. He’ll be gone for ten more. I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself. Yesterday, I got extremely bored and drank a lot of wine, which I had managed not to do all week. I now feel like warmed over crap.

I need to go to the store and could actually walk there, but it’s cold and rainy outside and I really just want to crawl back into bed. Bed would probably be the worst thing for me, though, because I have really bad lower back and hip pain that is only alleviated when I move around. I really think it may be time for a better mattress, but we’d probably need to order one from AAFES, because German mattresses are not the same size as American mattresses are.

The store can wait until Monday, I guess. I have enough of what I need to get through the weekend. Nothing is open on Sundays. However, I’d kind of like to get that little chore done. I might just drive to the store, even though it’s so close. That way, I won’t get rained on and will be able to haul all of the plastic water bottles I’ve used up rather than trying to carry them. Edited to add: I just went to the store. Piece of cake! And I traded in 7,50 euros worth of plastic bottles. Go me. Seriously, that is the first time I’ve driven my car since late November. I’ve turned into a true hermit.

I really hate how long this TDY is. I miss my husband. I hope he doesn’t have to do another one of these again anytime soon. I can’t believe he’s been gone eight days and we’re not even halfway through this crap yet. It sucks. I need to get a life in the worst way.

Oh well… I did manage to upload a couple of new tracks to SingSnap a couple of days ago. They turned out relatively nicely. Here’s the first one. I swore I’d never sing a Celtic Woman song. I thought I didn’t like Celtic Woman, but then I heard “You Raise Me Up” and decided I should try it. This version was done when I was a little tired. I messed up the ending a little and decided to say “fuck it”…

I like the other one better… This is my impression of Linda Ronstadt singing “When I Grow Too Old To Dream“. I was excited to find a karaoke version of it. I may have to do this one on Garage Band, so I can eliminate the Internet fuzz from the sound. When I record on SingSnap, I get static. Hell, it would give me something else to do besides drink wine… Edited to add: I was listening to Linda Ronstadt last night and this morning and was inspired to learn this song. I think it turned out even better than the other two.

Or maybe you’d rather hear Linda do it. Most people would.

I’m also reading about Chernobyl, the nuclear reactor in Ukraine that blew up in the 1980s and killed many people. Very cheery topic. Actually, it’s an interesting topic, particularly since I remember when the nuclear accident happened in 1986. I was a couple of months shy of turning 14. That was when we thought the Soviet Union would never die. Little did we know, the whole thing would collapse just a few years later. And little did I know that I would one day live in what used to be the USSR.

I surprised myself a little. The book I’m reading explains how nukes work. As I was reading the process, I thought to myself “That’s fission”. Sure enough, it was. I was never that good at science classes, but obviously I learned something. So a very special thanks goes out to the teachers at Gloucester County Public Schools for doing their jobs. I recently read a sad story about dogs who are living in the nuclear wasteland now. They want to be petted, but they’re all full of radiation… just like everything else is in that area. It won’t be safe to live there for hundreds more years. There’s also a former Soviet era listening device there. It’s huge. Legend has it that Phil Donahue was one of the first allowed to visit it. He saw the spy equipment in the distance and was told it was unfinished hotel. Having seen a couple of bare boned hotel skeletons in Armenia, I would agree that’s what it looks like. The link will take you to a post that includes some pictures of naked, unfinished buildings… or maybe they were just buildings that were really messed up after Gyumri’s earthquake in 1988.

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Ex

Using my words…

Sorry… I wish I had a really lighthearted and less rambling topic for today. On the positive side, I am almost finished reading my latest book and the review will likely be positive. I might even get to it today. In fact, I’m certain I will. It’s dark and rainy outside and I doubt I’ll be arsed to do much more than read and continue binge watching Under Arrest on Netflix.

Last night, as I was sitting there watching the Canadian cop show, it occurred to me that for most of March, I’ll be here by myself. I’ve done this before, of course. My husband went to Iraq for six months back in 2007. But when he deployed, I lived on an Army post and had local friends. I knew my surroundings very well and could even go home to see my parents or other relatives if I wanted to. I never did do that, except in July 2007 when my Granny died.

Yes… this song is originally by Eric Carmen, not Celine Dion… with a nod to Rachmaninoff. Kudos to Eric for not lip syncing here. It’s rather obvious. Hmm… maybe today will be a music day.

Here in Wiesbaden, I don’t know anyone, and I’m still learning my way around because I don’t like driving in Germany. I mean, I can definitely do it. I drove my Mini from Stuttgart with no problem. I just don’t enjoy it if I don’t have somewhere specific to go and/or someone to go with. I’m not sure what happened to me. When I was a social worker, I had to drive all the time and I got to know rural South Carolina pretty well without a GPS or a cell phone. But here, I have to deal with narrow streets, limited paid parking, and obnoxious Staus. Then, once I park and pay, I have to deal with my terrible German skills. Of course I know the solution is to get out more, but it’s hard to work up the enthusiasm for that, especially when the weather sucks.

In Stuttgart, I knew where things were and how to get around. I did drive sometimes, but not very often. We lived in an area where getting my basic needs met wasn’t a problem, but Bill was also never gone for as long as he will be this time. Getting my needs met is not really a problem here, either. I can walk to the grocery store and the bakery. There’s even a small restaurant within stumbling distance of our house. There’s always Amazon.de, too. And if I really needed to, I could drive my car. I wish I wanted to.

So anyway… it’s now March 10th, and Bill will be gone until March 26th. The whole month is stretched ahead of me. I lost the momentum of my old blog, which still gets visitors every day and even the odd message. Now I have this new blog that I’m slowly introducing. It’s hard work launching a new blog, especially when the old spot was well-established. This is overall a nicer place to write, but it’s not quite broken in yet.

I’ll be honest. I was feeling kind of down about writing as recently as yesterday, wondering why I continue to do it when it causes so much drama and grief. Then I noticed I was getting a lot of hits on a post I wrote on my travel blog back in May 2018. A pizzeria in the German city of Ludwigsburg found a glowing review I wrote of their restaurant and shared it on their Facebook page. Then, very early this morning, my dogs woke me up and I checked Facebook. Yesterday’s post didn’t get any visitors at all, because I didn’t share it. But a friend read my post about Bill’s next grandchild and said she loved it. She described my writing as “refreshing” and “poignant”. Well… that got me in the feels, even if I realize my writing is definitely not always refreshing. Sometimes, I am a true wet blanket… and I overshare, especially when I’m angry, anxious, or depressed.

I read a blog post on a different site yesterday advising bloggers that they shouldn’t write when they’re angry. I can’t say I agree with that viewpoint. I think it depends on what your goal is. If you’re writing a blog for business purposes, then yes, I think it’s best to write when you’re not pissed off. But if you write for your own purposes– to share yourself and your thoughts, then I think writing when you’re angry can be an interesting thing to do, as long as you’re not committing libel or writing hate speech. It beats slashing tires, getting in fights, and driving drunk, right?

I need to write. I realize not everything I write is fun or interesting to read. Sometimes I do write some good stuff that gets people excited. I have many posts on my old blog that people come back to again and again. Some of those posts are positive or funny. A few posts got people upset, but generated good discussion. I’m pretty proud of those posts. The trouble is, sometimes people expect the same qualities every day. They don’t seem to understand that my writing is affected by my mood, and these posts are always off the cuff. That’s what a blog is for. It’s not a book or something that gets edited umpteen times before it’s published.

They’ll read something I’ve written when I’m angry or sad about something and stop “liking” me, or leave me a nasty comment. For instance, I think the mess with the former tenant was very telling in many ways. You see, I wrote many posts on my old blog– over 3200, I think. Most of them had nothing to do with the ex landlady or my husband’s ex wife. My old blog had posts about true crime, books, living in Germany and other places, and even old stories from my childhood or early marriage. Some posts were about nothing. Those posts were obviously not interesting to her. In fact, I doubt she read them. She focused on my venting posts and, apparently, came to the conclusion that I’m “unhinged”. Then she sent me a private message to complain, after having seen how I deal with people who complain about the contents of my blog. Here’s a big hint. Complaining about my blog is a waste of time. If you don’t enjoy it, just move on.

Same thing goes for “Wondering Why”, who complained about how “bitter”, “petty”, and “negative” I am. She read for a much shorter period of time and happened to catch a couple of posts I wrote about my husband’s former wife. They were prompted by conversations my husband had with his younger daughter, who was revealing some heavy and disturbing stuff, which was shared with me. “Wondering Why”, who clearly didn’t know the convoluted backstory, left me a chastising comment about my bad attitude and “negativity”, as well as “advice” on what and how I should write.

I usually respond to people like “Wondering Why” with an open letter and, in fact, that is what I did. I’m sure “former tenant” was also expecting an open letter when she wrote to me. In former tenant’s case, I determined that trying to explain or even just responding would not work. She had clearly taken a side and come to a conclusion about me. Also, I know that she’s very concerned about her privacy, so if I called her out on my blog, even though it really didn’t get that much traffic, she would probably not react well, and the drama would continue. So I did something that I think was ultimately a most “healthy” thing to do. I removed her from my audience.

It occurs to me that both of these readers probably meant well. They both reacted in very typical ways people act when they encounter someone whose opinions make them uncomfortable. How many times have we encountered someone who is upset and suggested that they, “Calm down!” Let me ask you this. Does it usually work when you suggest that someone should “calm down” when they’re emotional? Does it usually help when you advise them to “let it go”? It seems like the obvious thing to say, but in my experience, it usually pisses the upset person off even more. Even if that is ultimately the pathway to peace, they may not be ready to take that step.

Both “Wondering Why” and “former tenant” criticized me for airing my thoughts on my blog. I thought having a place to air my thoughts was the whole purpose of writing a personal blog. “Wondering Why” went as far as to tell me that I don’t need to share everything I’m thinking (duh). I’m guessing that she was herself someone’s first wife and my comments hit too close to home. She probably assumes my husband’s ex wife is a normal person. The fact is, she’s not. If she were, I certainly wouldn’t be writing about her. I wouldn’t need to. Normal people don’t unilaterally refuse to let the fathers of their children have relationships with their kids. It might be one thing if she only did it to one man, but she’s done it to two, and we have it on good authority that she treats number three pretty badly, too. Aside from that, since Ex falsely decided she was “done” having children, I didn’t even get to have children of my own. While I understand that I might not have had them anyway, it does feel like that choice was “taken” from me. Life isn’t fair… I get it. It still sucks. Mind if I vent about it on my personal blog?

It upsets me that my husband is only now rebuilding his relationship with his 25 year old daughter, when they should have had access to each other all along. It saddens me that when he sees her in person, it will have been about fifteen years since they last saw each other. But all I’m doing is writing about it. What’s wrong with that? This blog isn’t about anyone’s situation but mine!

I can’t explain the situation with the former tenant. She clearly has a good relationship with the ex landlady. I don’t know enough about her to know for certain why she has a good relationship and I don’t, although what I do know is that she’s much younger than I am, has young children, and is very attractive. When she lived in Germany, she had a job, which got her out of the house. That meant ex landlady could come over and check things out to her compulsive heart’s content without causing upset. Ex tenant didn’t stay as long as we did, and she befriended ex landlady’s daughter. By contrast, I never even met ex landlady’s daughter, don’t have kids ex landlady can play Oma to, and, perhaps most importantly, didn’t try to buddy up with the landlady. It’s not necessarily because I didn’t want to be friends. It’s more because we just didn’t click.

I also get the sense that maybe former tenant is very concerned about what people will think, whereas I am mostly less concerned about that. I think people who are overly concerned with image tend to be less authentic because they’re always concealing things. It might be because I’m a lot older than she is, or it may be because I have a very different personality. In any case, she seems to have come away with the idea that I’m the sole source of the whole problem. I will accept responsibility for being part of the problem, but I won’t take all the blame.

I don’t have girlfriends to gossip with, so I will write about this stuff. No one has to read it. She should have stopped reading it before complaining about my content. The first couple of times she complained, I edited for her. This last time, she forced me to take action. It felt like she was trying to censor me in my own space. I also really resented her condescending tone toward me. It was clear to me that she doesn’t take what I do seriously. She’s not the first person who hasn’t taken me seriously, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to continue to entertain that kind of disrespect on my space.

Now… if this makes me “unhinged”, “unhealthy”, “bitter”, “petty”, “angry”, “mean-spirited”, “bitchy”, “obsessive”, “snarky”, “condescending”, or “sarcastic” (all adjectives people have used to describe my persona on my former blog), alright… I can even own some of those adjectives. However, I’m also a basically nice person with interests, talents, and even a couple of loved ones. When I complain about people like Ex or former landlady, I do so with cause. I think most people would be upset if their spouse was denied access to children from another marriage. Most people would be angry if their former landlord withheld three quarters of their security deposit to upgrade their property, rather than to pay for actual damages. Like I said… better to vent about it than slash tires.

I am far away from my family and friends, and my culture… and I often feel like a lot of those people aren’t really in my life anymore and never will be again. I spend a whole lot of time alone, while, at the same time, not wanting to engage with anyone because so many of them end up not “clicking”. It takes a toll on my mood. Writing is one way I sort things out for myself. It’s basically a healthy thing to do, too, especially since it doesn’t involve drugs or violence. If my writing doesn’t do it for other people, I wish they’d simply move on, rather than try to dictate to me what my subject matter should be. I’m sure former tenant felt compelled to stick up for her friend. I can understand and respect that. But she had no right to act like a “minder”, imply that I’ve got “issues”, and try to censor my writing.

I realize that ultimately, moving the blog is probably for the best, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t in mourning somewhat. This mourning comes at a time that would have already been difficult. I’ll get through it, but truthfully, being here sucks sometimes. It would suck much worse in other places, I know… but acknowledging that doesn’t change the situation much. I’m still going to be here all by myself for the next 16 days… two down already. See? I’m already looking on the bright side.

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