Ramblings of a Single Mom

[Gypsy]

Clarification:

I do not begrudge Dodge his happiness. In fact, when he told me the news, I asked him "Are you happy, my friend? Are you really happy?" His reply stopped sounding uncomfortable in an instant. "Yes, I really and truly am. I can honestly say I'm happier than I have ever been in my entire life. I've been in love with this girl for nine years. She is so sweet, and she really treats me good. Yes, I'm honestly happy. I quit at the bar. I don't go drinking anymore. In fact...I've started going to church."

"Wow. Wow...Then I am honestly happy for you, and I wish you all the best. Congratulations." (And I really am honestly happy for him, too.)

However: I am jealous.

I'm jealous because I want my guy, and he's out of arm's reach....and Dodge has his girl. I'm jealous because...hey, wait just a damned minute! What was so wrong with ME? (I didn't ask him that out loud.)


I jokingly asked him if I'll be getting an invitation to the wedding, and he started telling me how they don't know how big of a wedding they're going to have, nothing is planned yet except that they want to be married the end of April...and they're seriously considering having the ceremony at Eagle Point. It's the first place he ever kissed her.

Oh, there *was* one thing that kind of irritated me a little bit. It seems that Dodge was the best man at Randy's wedding to his 2nd wife, (a fact I was unaware of). He asked me if I knew where Randy was - he wants to ask him to be *his* best man. I was so surprised that I couldn't remember the name of the town where Randy lives. It was a day or two later when the name suddenly hit me out of the blue, and I immediately dialed Dodge's number. He wasn't home, but his finacee was. (Did I mention they've already moved in together?) I explained to her who I was, and why I was calling...would she please give him a message for me? Sure, she said. "Tell him I remember now where Randy is. I don't have his number, and it might not be listed, but this will at least give him a clue where to look." I gave her the name of the town, and told her if Dodge couldn't find Randy with that information, let me know. If I'm motivated, I CAN get his phone number. All I'd have to do is ask my 2nd ex.

God, that's weird. I can get my 1st ex's phone number by asking my 2nd ex for it.

Oh, and Dodge finds it weird that Randy and I are no longer good friends. He doesn't understand at all, because he's always known that we'd remained friends after the divorce. He knows that we spent weekends together, all the spouses and all the kids, having cookouts. Christal and I would help each other clean house, and take care of each others' sick kids. He knows we spent holidays together. The four of us would leave all the kids with Christal's mom, and go out together. He knows that Randy and Christal were my best friends. He cannot understand this rift, the fact that I will not contact them and work things out between us. He just doesn't understand the hurt. Ah well. It matters not.

It's time for work. Today makes the thirteenth straight day, and I'm tired as hell. It's dark outside, and foggy, too. Wish me luck.

Gypsy

 

[Gypsy]

I don't know whether to thank God or scream in anger.

I am *so* frustrated right now. I'm so tired, so very beyond tired. And more than a tiny bit depressed. The depression will ease just as soon as the numbers come in, and I can stop worrying about how bad they'll be.

I got stranded on the way home, tonight. I made it halfway through the light on 60 and 5th, and my car died. I had noticed a few minutes earlier that it was kind of surging a little at the stop sign, and maybe running a bit ragged, but nothing major. I was thinking "Check the fluids when you get home, girl, something's up." Nice thought, but...

I could have been creamed, if you want to know the truth. That was a bad place and time of day for that to happen - I was lucky traffic wasn't moving any faster.

I coasted as far as I could, then tried to start it. No dice. I'm blocking the intersection by default, since the people who were turning behind me can't move. I can't even wave them around me, there's nowhere for them to go. Oh crap.

A nice gentleman stopped his truck in the cramped turn lane, and helped me push the Die Nasty off the road into a tiny parking lot. Once we got it there, I grabbed my cb mic and started calling an S.O.S. He thought I had a cell phone, and took off. Damn.

I wasn't raising anyone on the radio, and I was starting to worry. You see, I was carrying two bank bags, and I did NOT want to be walking home alone all the way down 5th with those things. I wasn't even wearing a jacket to tuck them inside of. I kept calling on the radio "This is Gypsy calling S.O.S., I need a local with a land line or a helping hand." About ten minutes went by, and I watched the sky slowly lose its light. I thought about my kids at home alone, and wondered if they were starting to worry about me yet - I was already late getting home when I got off work. Just as I was about to lock up and start walking, some guy I'd had in the cab last week appeared at my side. Not good. This guy isn't someone I'd trust, and he'd just seen two bulging bank bags on my front seat. Shit. Shit shit shit. Now I HAVE to stay here.

I should note that my bank bags are bulging mostly because I carry lots more than money in them. Sunglasses, personal calender (for recording daily numbers), bottle of Excedrin, hairbrush, pack of smokes, breath mints, city permit, and hand lotion. I no longer carry a purse, but I cannot shake the habit of trying to be prepared. However, Cab Ride Guy had no way of knowing that. He saw two bulging bank bags, and I can only imagine how much money he must've thought they contained. Right this moment, I'm concerned that my car is being broken into, or will be before daylight.

In fact, I just paused to call the police and explain the situation, asking them to please keep an eye on it. The nice person who answered the phone assured me they would. I'm just hoping one of the officers who know me and my car will actually pay attention to it.

So there I was, sitting in this parking lot trying to figure out what to do, and trying hard not to cry. Deciding I'd try for help one more time, I grabbed the mic and called out one last S.O.S. "If no one answers this time," I thought to myself, "I tuck my bank bags down the back of my jeans, pull my shirt over them, and start walking....and praying."

"Hey Gypsy, it's Big Mac...what's wrong, darlin? Where are you?"

Thank God! Now, Big Mac isn't one of my most favorite people, simply because he keeps trying way too hard to get me to go out with him. He keeps offering to help me with all kinds of things, and that weirds me out. I mean, we're pretty much strangers, except for talking on the cb, and sometimes the things he offers to help with...well, you wouldn't expect a stranger to help, you know? But the fact remains, if I'm stranded on the side of the road (and I obviously am, at this point), Big Mac coming to my rescue is a good thing. If he can't get my car running (which I doubt, for I have a sneaking suspicion already that it's nothing simple), he can at least give me a ride home.

And that's what he did. As I got out of the car he kept offering his phone number, so I could call him "if I needed anything." Uhm...no thanks, you've already been a big help, I really appreciate it. Gotta go, see ya.

So, I made it home. My car is about a mile away, and I hope it doesn't have broken windows and a missing cb in the morning.

I called Dale, but he was no help. I'm not surprised. Ever since The Episode, I've made myself scarce to my friends, because things are too weird, and because I will NOT allow a similar episode to happen. That left one person I could call. The Ex. Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck. I dialed his number and left a message on his machine.

When he called back, I asked him if he would please pick me up a carton of smokes and bring them by when he had time, since I was unable to make it to the store. When he arrived with the carton, I paid him back for what he'd spent while I explained what had happened with the car. I'm to call him tomorrow, after I call the shop, assuming the shop says they can work on it immediately. He told me he'd take an hour off work, pick me up, and we'd go and tow my car where it needs to go. Sounds like a real nice guy thing to do, doesn't it? yeah...it does. Shame it's going to have such a high price. It *will* have a price, you know.

I think what's wrong with the car is a dead fuel pump. Perhaps it's simply clogged filters/lines/injectors or some such, but I doubt it. I have a sneaking suspicion that this pump is deader than a doornail - just like my alternator not too long ago. I have no idea how much this part might cost, or how much labor is involved in replacing it. I only know that I'm worried about the final number, and how much work I'm going to have to miss because of it.

Once again I am approximately three weeks from a planned visit with The One, and once again things are going haywire in a seeming attempt to prevent it. Of all the things that have bogged me down recently, THIS is the one that finally made me actually burst into honest to God tears. It is impossible not to feel picked on by the very Universe itself.

Today is St. Patrick's Day, which of course is associated with luck. Oddly enough, when I woke up this morning, I'd completely forgotten what today's date signified, yet I wore my only green t-shirt to work.

I guess the Luck of the Irish never promised to be good luck.

I'm trying very hard to see this in the brightest possible light. If my fuel pump HAD to die, at least it died AFTER my tax return came in. That money is slated for things like insurance and school clothes, but at least it exists for me right now. That's better than having a potential repair bill of a few hundred dollars and not having a dime to call my own. Also, I'm home. Perhaps this was going to happen a few weeks from now, but as Luck would have it, it happened now...when the only thing it's interrupting is normal every day life - as opposed to an out of town visit with the man I love, where my time is measured more cruelly, and is infinitely more precious.

I told you I was trying. Perhaps I'm reaching a bit, but what else can I do... other than cry?

 

[Gypsy]

I can deal with this.

I had difficulty going to sleep last night, so I had difficulty waking up this morning. My eyes opened when Lady barked at 7:30, indicating that Harley's friend Shaun was here. Yikes! Gotta move it fast.

I'm dressed, and drinking coffee. I have only to slap on a quick coat of makeup and brush my teeth after I wolf down a bowl of cereal, and I'm ready to walk out the door.

Now I must call the shop, and see what I can find out. And then I must call the Ex. My fingers are mentally crossed that the estimates and final repair bill aren't as high as I fear. And I *will* deal with having to take help from the Ex. It will be very uncomfy, and I will likely feel nauseous all day, but it must be done. My only other choice is to spend an insane amount of money on a tow truck.

I've just decided that instead of making more than one post about this, I'm just going to go into a holding pattern on this one. I'm calling the shop...be right back.

Okay, I just talked to Larry (the owner of the shop), and he agrees that it sounds like the fuel pump...but that it could be a relay, the computer, clogged filters, etc. Hah! I'm not so dumb after all. Of course, my guessing what it might be is a far cry from my being able to fix it, so I suppose I shouldn't be so darned smug.

I've called the Ex, and now he says he has to find a tow chain. I thought he had one! So, instead of jumping into action, I'm in a hurry up and wait scenario. Oh yeah, I love those. Oh well, it'll give me time to write this, and eat breakfast.

The One set his alarm and got up especially early this morning just so he could call me before I left the house. How sweet! He is so tired, and it's not like he doesn't have stress of his own...and yet he got up early just to check on me. Well, that and he knows that hearing his voice helps me to stay sane and calm. And I am, now. See? Even from so far away, he tries to take care of me. My hero, my love. :blush:

So now I just have to deal with getting a tow chain. Actually, I prefer a rope, I think it would be less damaging to my vehicle.

Grrr...I just called Auto Zone, and when my call was answered, no one said hello. Just an open line, and voices in the background - how weird! And then the Ex was beeping through on the other line. I switched over, and he'd hung up. Grr... So I hang up and call him back. What?? "I was just wondering if you'd heard anything yet." Jeeez! Give me time to find out and then I'll call you...dumbass. Anyway, now he's on his way up there to buy a tow rope. I'm betting he'll present me with a bill for it, and expect to keep the rope, too. Actually, I could live with that, if I got to offer it to him. See, that way, I'll have paid him for his help, and I won't owe him anything. It's the fact that he'll expect/demand it that irritates me.

*sigh* I really do get way too irritated way too easy, where he's concerned. Mustn't let him push my buttons.

I'm holding tight to the thought that this situation is a blessing in disguise. I'm sincerely hoping that by dealing with this ugly problem right now, I'm avoiding any complications while The One is nearby. This is exactly the kind of thing that, if it happened at the last minute, could prevent my being able to get to him. Or possibly worse...prevent me from getting home to my kids and job. Ewww...the thought of having to call the Ex to tell him I'm stranded in Tennessee and can't get home when expected... that'd be bad. He'd demand to know why I was there, and who I was with. Not good. Yeah, if that pump was going to die, now is better. Much better.

See me being optimistic? See me searching for the silver lining?

Okay, so...I'm off to eat, brush my teeth, and put on my face. It's going to be a beautiful day.

So sayeth one Gypsy dreamer.

 

[Gypsy]

And then there are busier, brighter days

News from the homefront:

Dealing with the Ex this morning wasn't nearly as unpleasant as I'd feared it would be. I'm well aware that his helping me today will come back to bite me on the ass later, but I'll deal with that when it happens. For now, I got the car to the shop, and it will be home soon.

The cd he was playing on his new car stereo as we drove to get my car was obviously a favorites mix. My eyes widened and I hit the volume button when one of MY all time faves came on. I don't know the actual name of it, but it's from the second Eddie and the Cruisers movie. You know the part where the kid aggravates Eddie into playing the first time? I call the song Garden of Eden, but that might not actually be the name of it. Anyway, it's an awesome song, and it made the time spent in the vehicle with the Ex much more pleasant.

I've had to take two separate cab rides today, to the tune of $15.50 (plus tip) total. Ouch. Lost wages, repair bill, AND money spent on cab rides. I feel really poor just thinking about it. One of those cab rides was to the bank, though, to buy a money order for that credit card bill. That envelope will go in the mail tomorrow morning bright and early, and now I can safely say that that particular stress is behind me. The money is gone, and I have to refigure what I am able to accomplish with what's left, but at least that particular credit card cannot ever come back and bite me on the ass, ever again. I just wish there wasn't another one lurking out there, waiting to nail me.

*edit - Due to interruption. First, Larry came to pick me up in my newly fixed car, so I wouldn't have to take another cab ride. Yay! After that, I ended up taking the kids and going to Dale and Shirley's for dinner. It's now past 9 pm, and I'm getting more tired and sleepy by the minute. I am, however, thinking about that Edy's Grand Butter Pecan ice cream I bought while at Walmart with Shirley. Hmm....*


After the experience I went through when I had to buy motor mounts for the Die Nasty, I was sincerely afraid that this bill was going to be six to eight hundred dollars. It seems that a lot of parts for this particular year/model can be hard to find, have to be special ordered, and cost ridiculous amounts of money. I got lucky this time. It was indeed the fuel pump - deader'n a doornail, it was. I specifically requested that he check the fuel filter, regardless of whether the pump was working or not. It's a jolly good thing it was checked - that puppy was so completely stopped up it might as well have been made of cement. Well, almost. Anyway, the pump was an original part (and Larry wonders if the filter was, too), and it was old enough to die. Thing is, it would still be going if that filter hadn't been so clogged.

Does anyone remember me taking the car to a different shop recently, desperately trying to find out why my car was running so rough? I do. Six hours Jim spent on it, and couldn't find anything wrong. He swore it was running fine, regardless of the fact that I was telling him it was NOT. The Aamoco station couldn't find anything wrong, either. Neither could another shop just down the street. I kept complaining that the car jumps hard when it's started, and was idling really rough, with enough vibration in the steering wheel to slosh coffee out of a cup. Everyone kept telling me to tune it up, but the tuneup was less than three days old when I started taking it to people to find out what was wrong.

Guess what? It runs like a champ now. The vibration is gone. The surging at stop signs is gone. The hard jump when it's started is now diminished by 85%. I have power again. The choppy idle that had me constantly asking the mechanics to check to see if it'd jumped time is gone. It runs smooth as glass. I'm happy about that. Yay! I'm NOT pleased about the price tag that brought it all about, and I'm not pleased that I've been trying for months to get someone to diagnose the problem and fix it before I had a breakdown - and ended up having to be stranded with a breakdown before they could figure out what the hell was wrong. But hey. It's fixed, right? I mean, never mind that if they'd just figured out from the symptoms that they needed to check the fuel filter (and change it), I wouldn't have had to put out over $200 on a fuel pump.

I realize I'm a woman and I cannot walk into a shop and say "this is what's wrong" with absolute certainty. But damnit, I drive this car, and I know how it's supposed to run. I KNOW that I put regular tune-ups on it, and I know that I try very hard to keep it maintained PREVENTATIVELY. When I tell them it's not running right, when I tell them that something is wrong, I wish they would take me seriously.

Anyway, that rant is now over. Let's see, where was I before I got started on that rant? Ah yes, I remember now.

Tomorrow I draw out $100 to pay Dale and Shirley for the bed I bought from them. Another debt paid in full. Yay! Tonight by sheer chance I ended up in that video store that I've been avoiding because I was told there is a debt balance there in my name of over $100. I asked while I was there with Shirley "Do I still have an account here?" Why, yes...you do. There's a $21.00 balance on it. (Only twenty one dollars!!!) Hmmm... I didn't have any cash on me, and they don't take debit cards. I think I'll pay them off tomorrow, though. ANOTHER debt paid in full! That will leave two outstanding debts that I'm aware of. One with the other Mastercard, and one with the Texaco card. I just hope they don't jump up to bite me until I have something to feed them.

While I was waiting on my car to be done, I spent my time on the phone reporting to DFS and to Housing, letting both agencies know I'm back to work. As long as I turn in my records by the end of the month, all is good. *Whew* I also got my floors swept and mopped. It's been a productive day, ya'll, especially considering I didn't go to work.

Now, you can see why I'm in a much better mood tonight. The only thing that could possibly make it better would be if I could have a truly enjoyable and unrushed conversation with my love tonight. I have a sneaking suspicion that that isn't the way it'll be, and that is going to be the one thing that will mar this day.

Hah! The instant I typed the period on that last sentence, my phone rang. I answered it to hear The One yelling at someone while he waited for me to answer. He finally said "Hello?" I answered with my own hello, and he said "Hi. Gotta call you back." Uh-oh. This means he is having a nasty ugly day at work. His mood shall be foul, and there won't be a lot I can possibly say to fix it. I was right. He won't be able to have a relaxed and pleasant chat, and that will be the one thing to mar my day.

OH! I nearly forgot, I wanted to be sure and record this. Remember recently I mentioned that I'd had a dream with Randy in it? I couldn't remember anything except that he'd been there, and I decided I'd probably be bumping into him soon or something. Well, last night I was folding towels around 8:45, and I suddenly had this thought out of the blue: Randy is going to call the Ex and tell him he's watching that Dune movie. He's going to remind the Ex of the time he riled him (Randy) up about Dune. He's going to want to make a point to the Ex that he's watching a Dune sequel. (Dune is Randy's all-time fave movie. One day, the Ex decided to aggravate Randy by telling him he'd heard they were making a sequel to Dune. Randy was very excited, and kept watching commercials trying to see the preview that the Ex was swearing he'd seen. About 12 hours later, he finally confessed to Randy that the whole thing was fabricated. Randy was beside himself, and called the Ex many ugly names. The Ex couldn't stop laughing, and actually fell on the floor and turned purple, choking because he was laughing so hard. He never let Randy live down the fact that he'd fallen for it, and so hard.)

This morning, the Ex looks at me and says "You'll never guess who called me last night." I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, and said "Randy." His eyes got big. "How'd you know?!" he asked. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you" I said. "Did he call you too?" "No. But I knew he was calling you." He looked at me strangely, and I knew he was thinking that either A) I knew because Randy had told me he was going to call, or B) I was lying. "Do you remember that time when we lived in the country, and I told you that they were on their way back from Oregon...and they were coming to our house before they went home? You didn't believe me, remember? I begged you all day long to help me get the house cleaned up, and you told me I was full of shit, and refused to help. And then that afternoon, they showed up. Do you remember?" Yes, he remembered. "Well, it's just like that. I was sitting there folding towels, and suddenly I just *knew* he was going to call you. Let me guess: He told you "Guess what I'M watching? That's right, bitch, I'm watching the sequel to Dune. Remember when you told me there was going to be a sequel to Dune and I got all excited, asshole? Well! Ha ha ha....the joke's on you, now!" The Ex looked amused and yet taken aback. "That's what he said, isn't it?" I asked. "Uhmm..yeah, that's pretty much what he said, you're right" he told me. "He really didn't have anything else to say, did he? He said goodbye after that, right?" Again, I got that odd look. "Yeah, he said that's all he called for, and hung up." I turned a bit in my seat so I could look him straight in the face. "I had that feeling around 8:45...what time did he call?" His mouth dropped open a little bit, then. "Okay. I believe you now. And I believe you about the last time now, too."

Life can be interesting sometimes, can't it?

 

[Gypsy]

I just realized I forgot to note...

...that the Ex played the Dune trick on Randy about five or six years ago. I meant to say that in my last post, but left it out. Oops!

Goodness, but I woke up hurting this morning. It's going to be an Excedrin day, that's for sure. Ah well, I'm not surprised...it's raining.

Oh, I was wondering if someone out there would be so kind as to remind me every day for a few days that I need to take my vitamin? I've sort of gotten out of the habit lately due to all the changes in my daily schedule, and I need them now more than ever. My new work and sleep schedule has me feeling a bit run down as I try to adjust. I'm a creature of habit, so if I can just get back in the groove of taking them regularly, I'll be okay. It's getting the habit started I have trouble with.

Okay, that's all I have time for this morning. I'm late for the shower, now. I have my fingers crossed that A) Rick has replaced the ewwwwy wiper blades on Car 5 B) If he hasn't, it stops raining C) It's a seriously busy day with runs that can be coordinated to give me the most fares with the fewest wasted gallons crossing town to pick up one person and take them to the opposite side of town. I really need to cut my fuel expense and increase my fares, especially now.

A little good luck in planning a visit with The One would be really appreciated, too.

 

[Gypsy]

Sadness

I can't take too long to type this, I have to go over and talk to Shirley in a minute. Before I do that, though, I HAVE to write this down.

Today has been kind of hard on me. Nothing terrible happened to me, but something did happen, and I've had a heavy heart all day because of it.

I was sent to the bus station about two miles outside of town (not outside the city limits, but still outside the edge of 'town') to pick a woman up and take her to Apple Street. When I got there, she had a ten month old blonde Lab pup in a harness and on a leash. Uh-oh. We're not allowed to transport dogs (animals, period) unless they're inside a pet carrier, due to insurance restrictions. I radioed in that we had a problem, and explained to dispatch what the woman was telling me: the dog is a service dog, and she has him because she has problems with seizures. (Truthfully, I've never heard of this...has anyone else? What on earth could this pup do for her if she had a seizure??) Sue radioed back that it couldn't be helped - no carrier, no ride. The woman began to tear up. Now, Apple is about four or five miles from the bus station, and most of the way is alongside a very busy highway. There isn't much shoulder to the road, and this town isn't exactly known for its sidewalks even in the residential areas. I felt like a completely heartless heel telling this woman that I could not take her where she needed to go.

You cannot imagine how much it bothered me to see this woman cry. She tried to call family - anyone, really - to come and get her. Then she began to sob in earnest, repeating "I don't know what to do...I don't know what to do." She looked scared, worried, and humilated. I was beside myself with guilt. I wanted to help her so badly, and I wasn't allowed to put her dog in my car...and she couldn't leave him there. She started walking up to people in the cafe and asking them if they could take her to Apple Street. Time and again, she was told "No." It broke my heart to watch her pleas rejected like that, and to see her become more and more distraught. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I got on the radio and asked Sue if I had any runs. When she said no, I told her I was stepping out of the car to use the phone. I called Shirley and begged her to come get this woman and her dog, and take them to the woman's sister's house. Shirley agreed to do it, but she is not pleased with me. I know the woman gave her gas money, and I intend to go over and give her a little more for her trouble.

I know I put Shirley on the spot, but my concience wouldn't let me walk away without finding a way to help this poor woman. I haven't been in that exact same scenario before, but I HAVE been in very similar situations. It was too easy to relate. And besides, I could feel the panic coming off her in waves. I felt like I caused it all. I caused it when I told her she could not get in my cab. I heartily wish I'd never radioed Sue and told her the situation, that I'd just put them both in the car and whisked them home. I thought about it, but I just KNEW that my luck would find me with three runs in the next five minutes, and I'd be found out - and I'd lose my job.

I hate that I put Shirley on the spot like that, I really do. I have to go over and apologize to her profusely, now. I just honestly could not walk away until I knew that woman had a way to get to her sister's house. I couldn't leave her there alone and terrified in a strange town, not even knowing where to walk to. I couldn't leave her sobbing and alone, knowing that she had no one to come get her. I just couldn't. I found her a ride, told her to look for Shirley and what she'd be driving, hugged her, and drove away.

I've been extremely quiet all day. Every single one of my regulars noticed I wasn't myself, and every single one has asked me what was wrong. I couldn't tell them what had made me so sad and introspective without sounding like I was putting the company down, so I remained silent. Even my daughter noticed within seconds that I wasn't my usual self, and asked me repeatedly what was wrong. I didn't know what to tell her, so I simply said I was having a sad day. She's aware that I occasionally have days where I'm just in a bad mood for no reason, so I guess she accepted that I was having a sad day.

I can't shake it. I feel like I did something really shitty to another human being for no good reason, and it weighs on me. I know the woman is alright, but the effect remains with me all the same.

This will be gone by morning, if not before. I don't know why I carry it so heavily on my shoulders and in my heart, but I do. The intensity of my sadness is somewhat odd, and I don't want to forget this day. Perhaps at some point in the future, it will make some sense.

Gypsy

 

[Gypsy]

Good morning. I think.

*Yawn*

I hate mornings. Did I ever mention how much I HATE mornings? I hate them, by the way. Ugh. Another day. Please, let this one at least have more money and less tears in it.

I went in yesterday, and Rick had an attitude with me. It didn't show to the naked eye of a person who didn't know him like I do, but I could feel it. I asked him if I could bring up my Hotmail, and he graciously allowed me to do so without a moment's hesitation. And then I proceeded to piss him off, although he never admitted aloud that he was angry. (He forgets, I've known him since I was a very small child. Plus, I don't think he realized I could feel his anger, but I could.)

I had gotten several WONDERFUL pm's from folks after my last post, and I want to thank you all. Minou, Tango, Krystal Moth (hug), Dano, dangit I'm forgetting someone I know I am...sorry, and oldlady: Thank you all. Your messages were very informative and helpful to me. Oldlady, thank you so much for that link. I clicked it, read it, and sent it off in an email to myself so I could easily bring it up on Rick's computer.

I'm afraid he didn't appreciate it. He took it that I was being argumentative. He read the first sentence, and clicked the window off. That upset me, I have to tell you. "I don't have to read this, our policy states Seeing Eye Dogs only, our insurance would be cancelled if we took any other kind of dog without a carrier, and that's that." He didn't even READ it! I'd never thought Rick to be so close-minded before.

We argued back and forth for a few minutes, and as I was walking out the door to get in my cab, he made mention of the fact that I'd been pissed off ever since the incident occurred. "Everyone is a little bit ticked that you got pissed because we said you couldn't haul that dog, and you stayed pissed all day." I stared at him, and my mouth fell open. "PISSED? Why in the world would anyone think I was pissed off??" Rick rolled his eyes. "You went from the most cheerful and happy person in the world to the exact opposite, that's why." He looked over at Stan. "You heard her on the radio, didn't you? So soft, so quiet, so mopey, sooo sad all day long." That's when I finally lost my cool and calm, and fell smack dab into Upset Speech Mode.

"I WAS sad, Rick! Let me explain something to you. I'm a girl, and I wear my heart on my sleeve. I'm sorry if it PISSED people off to hear sadness in my voice, but I could not help it. I have news for you: NONE of you were there! None of you watched this woman dissolve into tears, and then into frightened sobs. I watched a grown woman of low intelligence fall apart, I watched her make phone calls trying to get a ride, and hit dead ends. I watched her approach strangers in the cafe in desperation, and I watched them all treat her like a pariah." Rick shook his head and tried to interrupt. "The rules..." he started, slapping the back of one hand into the other palm. I cut him off. "Yes Rick, I know. The rules. I understand that, I do, we could lose our insurance and have to shut down, I truly do understand completely. But you know what? Understanding that didn't make that woman feel better. It didn't help her one damned bit. It didn't make her not cry, and it didn't stop her from being scared."

Rick's eyes widened a bit. It hadn't occurred to him that this woman was anything but a fully capable and intelligent person. It hadn't occurred to him that she might be scared. He actually started listening with his heart instead of formulating arguments in his mind, after that.

"Yes Rick, she was scared, I could feel the fear coming off her in waves. I could FEEL her fear, Rick. And while it wasn't my fault, I also knew it was my refusal to allow her in the car that brought her to that state. YES it bothered me! It fucking tore my heart out, okay?" I turned, and started out the door. I didn't get but two steps when I turned and spoke again.

"I'm sorry if it pissed everyone off yesterday that I was so SAD because of what I was part of and what I witnessed, but I have a big heart, Rick. Things like that will have a definite effect on me. So, if you have a problem with me having feelings - fire me. But I cannot help the way I feel."

Neither Rick nor Stan bothered to try to argue with me anymore. Maybe it's because halfway through my speech, the tears I'd been holding back began to stream down my face, and there wasn't a fucking thing I could do about it so I just let them fall. At that point I was prepared to be fired, because I wasn't exactly being nice anymore. I was telling my boss off. Of course he didn't fire me, though. After all, this is Rick. Rick is one of the biggest softies I know. If it had been him that had arrived at the bus station and found himself in my situation, he'd have gotten on his cell phone and called someone, and had them come pick that woman up and take her home. I know this about him. It's just that no one else saw what I saw, knew what I knew. None of them understood what was happening the way I did.

Well, they shouldn't have assumed, damnit.

He's going to the insurance office today, and to city ordinance office. He's supposed to be asking more pointed questions about SERVICE dogs, and how many kinds there are. He's going to ask specifically about the kind of service dog we were presented with, and if they're unaware of their existence, he's going to tell them to look into information about them and ask them to determine a rule for them.

I understand Rick's fear. He stands to lose hundreds of thousands of dollars that he hasn't even paid back to the bank yet, if someone shuts his business down for something like that. He has to protect the business. He has to. Our family doesn't come from money, and he's out a limb getting this whole thing started.

Somehow, that just didn't make it all okay, though.

We did learn one thing out of it. The next time (if there is a next time) we're presented with a service dog situation, we know to call the police. It turns out the police will gladly assist in getting these people home in a situation like that. I wish to God we'd known that Wednesday, it would have saved that poor woman a lot of grief.

Enough. I have to get ready for work.


P.S.
Thanks, Seamonkey. I checked my PM's this morning to see if there was anything new in my box, and saw your PM again. I just took it. *smile*

 

[Gypsy]

When I first started this journal, the moment I walked in my door at the end of the day, I wanted to write. The moment I woke up in the morning, I wanted to write. It was all I could think about, all the time. My journal. It wasn't about a 'fan club', although I did make jokes about that. It wasn't for the hit counter, although I did notice mine, just like everyone else. Often, the difference in numbers from one day to the next would absolutely astound me. Actually, they still do, but don't tell anyone I said that.

No, it wasn't for other people that I had an urge to write, although knowing that I wasn't being viewed as a freak by those who WERE reading..well, it helped a lot. I poured a lot of ugly shit out of me here, and if the truth be known, I hide a lot more still yet. I have often wondered why the people who read these entries think I'm something that I have a hard time seeing in myself...and yet I'm grateful that they do. I don't know why those opinions matter to me, now. I guess it's because I feel like I've gotten to know people, just a little.

Now I realize that where I once posted once a day - sometimes more, I now only post every few days. Is it because the novelty has worn off? Am I running out of things to say? Is it because I know it's being read by more than just strangers? All of the above, perhaps? I don't know the truthful answer to that.

I don't even know why I contemplate something that, to most of the people in my life, is irrelevant. If I were to try to discuss this with Shirley, she'd be at a loss as to what to say. The importance of this journal is completely lost on her, as it is to Dale. A lot people cannot understand why it is so important to me, and I have no idea how to explain it to them so that they understand. I don't try to defend it to people who just don't care, but to those who ask me why I would allow my journal to cost me my job, I do try to make it clear - and often fail. It's just a journal, just a bunch of writing. Right?

I know my writing has changed. It changed before I lost my job, to be sure, but it has changed even more so, since. I keep trying to put my finger on the exact cause, in the hope that an answer to the question will revive my earlier ability to express myself, here. I fear, though, that the answer might be simple... and devastating.

Regret.

Do I regret writing here? Do I regret telling such dark secrets and pain? Do I regret sharing the fact that I'd found something that brought me so much joy with those who were supposed to be my friends? Do I regret not giving it up to Mike? If I regret...WHAT do I regret? I don't know, for sure.

I know that my earliest entries look nothing like the entries I post now, and that saddens me. I know that I am not the same, my journal is not the same, and I don't know how to get it back to good (to quote the Matchbox song).

I know that my freedom is gone. When I started this journal, I was completely free with it. No one knew, then, no one but me. I could say anything I wanted to say, in any way I wanted to say it. My flippant sense of humor? Sure, let it run wild. My tears, my frustrations, my anger? Emotions can run rampant here, and if no one continues to read it because it's boring drivel - so be it! I didn't have to care if it was good, and I didn't have to care if it was correct in any form or fashion. It was mine, damnit, all mine...and I could write any way I wanted to.

Somehow, that freedom is gone.

I've felt it slipping away from me in bits and pieces for quite awhile, now. At the present, my sense of freedom feels pretty tattered, and I don't know if I can find a way to patch it up and send it back into play.

Since The One came back into my life, since I lost my job, since Dodge rejected me...I've felt a lot of changes in myself. Some of them are good, some just feel like I've been regressing. I've often felt lesser - not nearly as strong as I had begun to believe myself to be.

Of all the things that have happened to make me feel sadness or frustration, none have been able to make me truly sit and sob like a baby, until recently. Oddly enough, it took arguing with Rick over that woman and her dog to bring that about. How very, very odd. After I'd been unable to stop the tears from slipping down my face as I spoke to him, I'd gone outside to my cab, unlocked the door, and sat down in the drivers seat. I was doing what I always do - biting back the tears, biting back the hurt and the anger, and getting on with life. Stop being such a baby over every damned little thing, woman! I told myself to breathe, shake it off, let it go. Even as I told myself this, the dam burst. Everything I'd held back for the past four months came crashing down all at once, and I couldn't stop it. Right there in the Yard, I sat in my cab and I bawled. Not the quiet "I'm going to cry, but I'm not going to cry" tears that I've allowed for the past two years. No, not this time. This time, I fell apart, I wept as though someone had just died - nearly hysterical in its power and urgency - complete with the 'hiccs' that come during and after. A cleansing cry, my gramma used to call it. Yeah, I guess that about fits.

I know, you're wondering "What the FUCK does bawling over fighting with Rick have to do with freedom and journals??" Well, it doesn't, really. It's just that the fight with Rick was a catalyst for the cleansing cry I've been needing for so long. I guess I'd been saving it all up for The One, and I couldn't wait any longer, I don't know. Yeah, he's part of the reason I've been needing to cry. And yeah, I know that doesn't make sense.

It's the angst, I suppose. I knew going into this that it would be this way. I KNEW, damnit, 'tis why I fought so hard against it. It was easier, so much easier, to be be unconnected. To be connected to him again is wonderful, and yet it hurts so much. I miss him so badly! I cannot cry about this every day of my life - even if I wanted to, I couldn't. And yet, the urge, the need are there, and it builds. Eventually, something's gotta give.

I think about his upcoming trip, and I feel numb inside. I know that things aren't going to work in my favor yet again, I'll not see him again. I think it's more difficult this time, for this time he won't be cancelling his trip. He'll be nearby, within reach, and I won't be able to go to him. I push that thought away constantly because it tortures me, and in a very special way. Fate is taunting me, laughing at my powerlessness and desires, shoving me cruelly backward two steps when I try to take one forward.

I think he loves me less than he did before. I think that what we had is fading, for him. Why do I think that? I wish I could explain it. I wish I could point to something and say "See this little fact right here? THAT'S why." I cannot. I only go on feelings, and I feel like he is slipping away from me, and me from him. I wish to God that there weren't so many seeming insurmountable obstacles between us. The distance and time due to a neverending list of things keeping us apart is slowly but surely killing us. The man I love is still very much part of my life, but I'm losing him. Perhaps not him, perhaps only the intensity, his confidence, his belief in Us and Someday. Then again, maybe I'm only tired and feeling put out that not only have I not spoken to him since Thursday, but his message on my machine Friday night didn't really sound upset about the fact that it would be so long before we spoke again.

I'll not lose him completely, regardless if I lose him as my mate. After all, he will always be my best friend, no matter what happens. Still, I cannot help but wonder what is happening to us, and I cannot help but wonder... Where is he? Why can't I feel him in my soul right now?

I have to stop. I'm exhausted, and I am not making sense. My eyes have been closed for the past ten minutes, actually. If I force them open and see all the typos that are surely here, I'll likely just delete this before I ever post. I think I might need to read this jumble in the near future, though, so I'll keep my eyes carefully away from the insanity I've just recorded.

Yes, I am tired. I have to sleep, now.

....zzzzzzzz

 

[Gypsy]

I will NOT shut it!!

KT;

I don't think you understand, dear. It isn't that I no longer want to write. It's that my passion for it has waned, and that fact troubles me. I want to want to write...if that makes sense to you. It does to me, so if not to you, then read it again. It'll click.

I always question everything in my life, it's something I've always done. I can question something to death, and I know it - but only because I've been told that I can. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever recover from the deep-seated need I carry to understand things. Analysis can kill, or so I've been told.

As for The One and all the obstacles:

There are many, and I won't bother anyone with listing them yet again. I just wanted to make a note that every single one of them can and are traced back in origin to the Ex. If the Ex would let me go (or have a permanent accident), all the obstacles that stand between my love and I would pretty much disappear.

Just Friday night I was talking about the Ex and certain parts of my situation here. I had gotten off work, but was hanging out at Rick's in the hopes that all the other people would disappear and I could talk to him alone. I had intended to try again to broach the subject of service dogs, and see if I could find out if he'd contacted the people he needs to in order to straighten this situation out. Stan never went away (he's one of the drivers, but he's also Rick's landlord - weird story there), and in fact, Stan had company show up. This company was interesting, to say the least. I won't give his name, but I will say that he's a former cop. In fact, he was a cop in THIS town, a few years back. He's got certain attitudes about certain things, and I thought to myself..."Self, never get on this man's bad side. Ever." I don't think he's the murdering type, but I don't think he'd think twice about putting someone in the hospital if he truly believed they needed the shit beat out of them. I don't actually know that, it's just a feeling I got.

Anyway, Stan was asking me questions about my Ex and stuff, and somehow it was asked whether the Ex had ever been physically abusive. I showed them the light bruise that I still carry on my cheekbone, and told them how long it has been there. Stan says "Sounds to me like he needs to have himself an accident, if you know what I mean" as he gave me a 'look'. I've had this conversation before with untold others, and I rolled my eyes. "Are you volunteering for the job, Stan?" He looked a little surprised as he shook his head No. "Then shut the fuck up." I'm sick of people giving me the same advice over and over again, I really am. People think nothing of advising me to see that the Ex has a little accident. They're quite sincere in their prescription for my woes, until I offer them the job. It takes on a whole different perspective, then.

Anyway, Former Cop was eyeing me through the entire conversation, and constantly trying to place my Ex. He said he was going to go home and look through his yearbook. He seemed really bugged. I'm not saying that I think his interest in the situation is going to help me at all, but I just found his reaction to be...disturbring? Encouraging? I'm not sure, I couldn't put my finger on it. He had a definite thought process going on that he didn't share, though.

Anyway, I'm rambling about nothing again. These things matter to no one but myself, but hey. I might forget this stuff in the near future, and someday, when I go back and read my journal, I might find it of interest all over again.

The One woke me up this morning with a phone call as he drove to class. What a sweetie, giving me a wake up call. He's going to be grumpy for another week. He'd had three hours of sleep, had to get up and go to class, and after class he has to work an 8 hour shift. Another week of barely talking to him, of us falling asleep really early, of grouchiness and frustration and exhaustion. Yay.

I miss him so damned much... *sigh* I wish things could work out so that I could see him when he's on that fishing trip. I know it would help a lot just to see his face, to hug him, to feel his touch again. It's all starting to feel like a dream.

I have to get my shower now. Love to all.

P.S.
Hey babe, way to go with that phone bill! Tell me about it again...I think I was asleep the last time.

Love,
Me

 

[Gypsy]

Holy Macaroni!!

I have a real pain in the ass answering machine. It has separate mailboxes for individuals, and it also has a main mailbox. If there are messages in the individual mailboxes, the little light under the number stays lit. The perturbing part is, even after you listen to it, it STAYS LIT.

I'm a sentimental kind of gal, dontcha know. Just damned near every message The One has ever left in my mailbox is still there, and occasionally I go back and listen to them. There are a few others saved - Renee leaving her cell phone number, for example. Anyway, my point: That little light stays on ALWAYS. Always always always. Guess what problem that causes?

Uh huh. I forget to check my mailbox.

So, imagine my surprise today when I remembered to see if I had new messages. I did, in fact - two of them. One of them entailed the voice of my sweetie telling me something about trying to call and missing me repeatedly. The other one I had to listen to no less than seven times before I understood it correctly.

Did I mention that this machine has a tiny speaker in the back, and that often you have to struggle to understand what's being said? Oh yeah, there are times when I have to pick the whole thing up and turn it around, placing it directly against my ear, before I can make out the message.

That second message was one of those, but, my God...who was it? I didn't recognize the voice, and I couldn't make out the words, at first. Was the person drunk? No, they didn't sound like they were slurring, exactly...what the hell is he SAYING??

And then it hit me. I'd been promised a phone call, some time back, and here it was....and not only had I not been at home, but I didn't get the message for three days! Was it three days? Was it actually four...or five? The stupid machine had been unplugged and I'd never reset the timestamp on it, so I don't know. Gah!!

So, with the knowledge of whom it likely was in mind, I listened again. And don't you know, THAT time, I understood every word perfectly! *lol*

Burns, you darling! I'll not be erasing that message, I want you to know that. I am SO, so sorry I missed your call! Oh, the letdown when I realized that I'd missed the chance to converse with you - and to think I'd nearly erased it thinking some stranger had called a wrong number or something! *grin*

You have the most adorable voice, my friend. The day will come, at some point in the future, when I will meet you. I cannot wait, and while the first thing I will do is hug you, the next thing I'll do is try my best to keep you talking for as long as possible. *wink*

This has been the absolute highlight of my day. I'd gotten cranky around 1 PM or so. (The One must've been in High Bitch Mode, because there was absolutely NO reason for me to be crabby like that. One minute I was fine, the next I was irritable about *everything*. He must've taken something for an energy boost around 3 or so, because it all disappeared as quickly as it came) The day's pay was really lousy, and I was feeling pretty sorry for myself. My money numbers sucked, and I was pouting about the upcoming fishing trip. I wanna go, damnit!! Anyway, I was pretty agitated when I came in the door, but after hearing that message...I was all smiles.

I feel all kinds of special, and loved by friends. Thanks, handsome. You not only made my day, you made my week.


Huggles,
Gypsy

 

[Gypsy]

P.S....

I'm still waiting for that email.

*grin*


And of course, you know that right after I talk to you (if I ever do), the next thing I'll have to do is make another call - for girlie giggles.

*snicker*

Love,
Gypsy

 

[Gypsy]

Am I a Mom...or a Child??

I find it shocking that I'm having difficulty remaining awake and lucid, and it's not quite ten pm, yet. Holy wowsers.

I made a nice dinner for me and the kids, tonight. Fettucine alfredo with diced chicken and broccoli, baby carrots, water chestnuts, and *ewwy* soybeans. My children attempted to rebel. I won the war, though. Harley cried for the first five minutes of dinner, because I told him he could not have a hot dog, he had to eat what I had cooked or go to bed hungry. Lordy, but that child was ticked off. Alyssa said she'd just have salad, and I told her she'd just eat what I'd cooked, or she too would do without dinner. Then she tried the whole "I'm on the phone, start without me" routine when I called her to dinner. My response was enough to get her off the phone and to the table post-haste. "We are waiting." It wasn't a request, it was a command.

They ate. Alyssa now likes fettucine alfredo, although she has always hated the stuff. This is because her darling boyfriend heard what we were having and said "yummmm.....I LOVE that stuff!" Changed her whole outlook, it did. Harley refuses to admit he liked any part of dinner because he's mad at being forced to eat it, but I know he liked it, he really did. All except for the veggies part, he's not really down with broccoli, dontcha know.

I made Harley help me clean the kitchen after dinner, because I made Alyssa walk Lady at 3 pm. I'd been driving near enough the house that I stopped and told her I wanted her to walk the dog. They were calling for thunderstorm watches on the radio, and I could tell by the color of the sky that it'd be raining at six when Harley got home. Ugh, that ticked him off too. He wasn't consulted about the chore switch, so he thought he shouldn't have to abide by it. I explained it to him in terms he could understand. "Alyssa didn't volunteer for this, I MADE her walk the dog...and I'm MAKING you help with the kitchen. End of story."

"Oh."

If tomorrow is as slow at work as today was, I'm begging for the rest of the day off at noon. Good golly, but it sucks to work 8 hours and not have any more to show for it than that. So far, I've noticed that Wednesday is the deadest day of the week, so I KNOW it likely won't be busy enough for three cars out there. I have an idea...I'll take the cab home, and if it actually gets busy, you can call me on the telephone! Meanwhile, I'll do a load of laundry and take a nap.

The One didn't call me this evening. He's probably still pissed at me for being so cranky on the phone this morning. He irritated me, and I told him so. I'm not known for my diplomacy at 5:30 AM, sorry. He was grouchy yesterday, and I was sweet about it. I woke up grouchy this morning, and he interrupted me to tell me I was on a rant and he shouldn't have to hear it. "Oh. I see. So, when you're in a pissy mood, it's okay for you to rant, but if I'm in a pissy mood, I should keep my mouth shut about it, is that it?"

Now, I know he was kidding when he said "Yeah, I'm so glad you understand the rules" or some such shit. I know he was kidding because we've cut up like that a million times. However, like I said...it was five thirty in the morning. He struck a nerve with me to get me going on my rant, and then he didn't want to hear the rant. I got my nose bent out of shape about it.

The truth is, I'm feeling pretty resentful right now. I know it isn't his fault that things are working out the way they are, but the fact that he doesn't seem the least bit bothered by it perturbs me.(In fact, with his schedule recently we've barely had time to communicate at all, so how would I really know?)

I guess what it boils down to is that I need to hear him trying to figure out a way for us to pull off a visit in the midst of this...or at the very least, I need to hear him whine and be upset that we can't. He and his best friend (whom he sees often, I might add) are going to be fishing and having big fun, and I'll be stuck here dealing with responsibility, knowing he's a mere two hours away. It's positively maddening.

And yes, I know I'm being difficult about this, and not in the least bit logical. Quite pouty and probably fairly childish, too. Sorry. I've never ever ever been jealous of his best friend before, and right now, I AM. I'm terribly jealous, and it's awful, I know. But I can't help it. I just can't.

I miss him. I miss two hour phone calls. The less we talk, the further I feel from him, and it's upsetting. Sorry, can't help that. After all, I'm a girl, and I have those pesky ovaries.

Don't worry, HE'LL get the joke.

Okay, so I'm going to put my whiny, pouty, foot stamping bratty little girl self to bed. I'll feel better after a nice long nap. I hope.

 

[Gypsy]

It always comes in three's

There has been an odd pattern to my range of emotions this past three days. I find this to be quite odd, considering the cornucopia of events and people that have set the emotions off.

It starts with a startled surprise, then moves to speechless astonishment. Within moment - nay, seconds - the astonishment is replaced by hurt. Next comes anger at ridicule, at betrayal and lies.

And then the fury sets in.

Pure unadulterated anguish and rage, positively shaking with it, and I have to bite my lip and concentrate hard to keep from destroying something. I want to key a car, I want to stab tires, I want to rip someone's hair out, plunge their own sword into their chest, throw dishes, beat a phone receiver against a wall until it smashes into tiny pieces. I want to scream, and I cannot, I cannot, I must hold it in, I must retain control, I must I must I must. I am ever watched, and I am ever judged. I cannot react within the strength of these emotions, or I will be my own undoing. It's so difficult to keep a lid on my pain, to hide my tears, to hide my screams, my snarls.

And the coldness sets in. I feel so cold, I shake with it even as I shake with the power of the rage and the sobs. And still I hold it in. I will not submit, I will not. You cannot make me, nor can you, nor you. I am Iron Bitch, and you cannot taste my fear, my hatred, or my pain. I suffer them in silence with a level head, I put on my mask and I act the part I'm expected to play.

Poor me. Can't they see how hard I try? Can't anyone see I'm simply the best among them all? I do the right thing, always I do the right thing, and always I pay the price. Poor me, poor poor me.

And it works.

I remembered something that has more value than I gave it credit for at the time it was told to me. My sister chided me when I was going to court to fight my custody battle. "You show them your strength, but what they want to see is a victim. Your strength is distasteful to them, it is arrogant and hypercritical. The higher you hold your head, the more intensely they want to bring you back down."

She is right. The world wants to see a victim. They want to pity me, for they can help someone they can pity, and feel good about it. Strength is only a chip on my shoulder, baiting them to knock it off. So, I remember my role as a victim, I take it out and try it on like an old and hated costume. It still fits, which I find to be disconcerting. The only people who are allowed to see my tears, the only genuine part of the play, are those in the offices. Those whom I need to pity me, none other. The rest of the world sees a laughing bitch who remembers why she does not trust, does not believe, and has no faith in any but herself.

My anger and resentment fuel my energy, as I gather my tools and supplies. There is cement to be made, and bricks to gather. The wall must be rebuilt, it was a mistake to tear it down. I have changed since my forced incarceration, my beaten submission. I have changed since my chains were broken. I've changed since my self-imposed solitude.

The world has not changed. People I thought I could love and trust have yet again betrayed me, shit on me, and left me on the side of the road. People I thought I could safely love and believe in, trust implicitly, have lied to me.

Lied to me. That's right, you heard me. I said you lied to me. You've been lying for weeks. I've asked you, and you've lied to me and you've avoided. But, now you're caught. What say thee?

What answer doest thou offer in defense of these charges? Wilst thou cover one lie with another? Wilst thou confess thine heart and tongue?

What say thee?

It is one o'clock in the morning, and though I had paid off my sleep debt, though I was finally on a morning schedule, I am cleaning house, doing laundry, drinking coffee. I am pacing the floors, looking for something to put away, a reason to walk. I need something constructive to do, for if I cannot be constructive I will most surely be DEstructive.

Like yesterday, and the day before that as well, this will be calm and polite by morning. I am alone in my house, there is none but the dog to see the glint in my eye, the energy in my walk, my determination to be silent.

In the past three days, I have endured:

Driving a cab with dangerous brakes, even as I repeatedly reported that the car needed parked until repairs were made. I was not taken seriously, in fact, I was treated as a whining nag. I had to listen to my boss speak with irritation even as I tried to warn her that the situation was dangerous - to me, the passengers, and ultimately to her business. For the final three hours of my shift Thursday, I was driving with white knuckles, uncertain when the brakes would finally fail completely. Would it be at a quiet stop sign? Behind someone who had slammed on their brakes? Trying to avoid a child in the street? At a busy intersection on the main highway?

I was fairly agitated when I finally was told to park the car and go home.

A few minutes after six, I was severely chastised by the Ex for daring to not be home at 4 pm when he tried to call. He'd gotten off work early and wanted to pick our daughter up, but no one was home to answer his call. I'd had the audacity to pick the child up and take her with me to the post office, where I'd discovered I had a fairly flat tire. From there I dropped her at my aunt's house so she could hang out with her cousins, and took the car to the tire shop to have it repaired. Back at my aunt's house, she and I got to chatting, enjoying our first real visit with each other in months. We were invited to dinner. Alyssa and I went to pick up Harley, and call the Ex to see if he minded not having to cook dinner.

How DARE I have a life!!

When I took Alyssa to her dad's house, he picked a fight with me right there on the street, complete with accusations, lies, and venomous snarls. It got uglier from there. Crying children, hysterical daughter, screaming and vindictive Ex. My nerves were ready to snap. I dealt with it and kept going.

Friday morning I was fired by Sue for daring to constantly complain about the condition and safety of the cars, for daring to speak my peace to a worthless mechanic whose diagnosis of the brakes on Monday could have gotten me killed on Thursday, and for agreeing with a passenger when he said "someone should call them and tell them besides you, maybe then they'd believe it." How dare I suggest that if they believe that, maybe they ought to be the one to do it.

She fired me over the radio, no less. Not a "Call me, I need to talk to you" and firing me in private. No, over the radio where two other drivers, two other base stations, and who knows what passengers in the other cabs could hear it.

I drove back to the Yard as instructed, but I argued with her on the radio the entire way there. If they were going to hear her side of the story, they were certainly going to hear mine. She warned me to stay off the radio, and I knew if I kept on she would call the cops to have me arrested. So, I parked the car and sat in silence until I could bring my shaking rage under control, gathered my things, locked the keys inside the cab, and left.

I made a decision this morning to have a happy and decadent day. I called my aunt and suggested we hit the grocery and video stores. She agreed, and by around 1 or so we were off to shop. My dishes were done, floors swept, the living room tidied, fridge cleaned out, and a flat of strawberries were sliced in a bowl with sugar. We were having a nice girl day of it, watching chick flicks and eating hot wings and mozzarella sticks, laughing at silly stuff. We walked to the video store to return movies and try to pay penance for the strawberry shortcake, and when we returned I saw The One's cell phone number on the caller ID. Four minutes had passed since the phone had rung, so I wasted no time in calling him back. Oops. I dialed his home number by mistake, he didn't call me from there. I quickly hung up before it rang, and tried to call his cell. Before I could start dialing, the phone rang in my hand. It was my calling card call, calling me back. Oops. Call waiting, I'd switched lines not hung up. A voice was saying "Hello?" I asked who it was, and learned that the voice on the other end was the eldest daughter. I explained I hadn't meant to call that number, and hung up. Called his cell phone. When I got his voicemail I left a message and hung up.

Thirty seconds later the phone rang again. The One proceeds to explain to me that he'd slipped out of his best friend's house to buy a soda, and thought he'd call and check in. "Oh...you're at Ed's?" He explained how they were staying the night at Ed's house, and he'd call me from home tomorrow after he took the girls home.

Hmmmm.


*edit

I woke this morning to realize I'd never actually hit the submit button before going to bed, so I'm hitting it now.

 

[Gypsy]

Forgive me...

..for it seems that writing IS my anger management. Folks who read this end up reading my bitter anger, the fierce ranting of someone who gets angry and feels sorry for herself when something shitty happens. Well, it's true - we all have a reaction to any situation, and mine aren't always the best possible reactions. I write instead of striking back, but at least I'm not in jail...right?

Anyway, I write to get it out of me, and then when I wake up, the worst of the rage is usually gone. Most of the time, I'm not even mad anymore, just sad or a little depressed. That's what happened this time, too.

I understand your anger. I have felt similar anger. My anger ate me up inside, and I turned my anger into a poison-against myself. I fear you may be doing this as well.

Please. Listen. I care.

Yes, my cousin Rick owns the busines - he co-owns it with his sister Sue, the woman who fired me.

Nice family, huh?

Anyway, yesterday everything had just built up fast enough for me to feel the need to blow. Blow I certainly did. Between a letter to The One, a journal post, and a long message to another journalist, I wrote until 5:30 this morning. The fury is gone now, as I knew it would be; I wrote it out of myself. I woke up a bit depressed, but considering I don't know what's going on with The One and the fact that I'm jobless again, that's no surprise. I'll figure something out about an income. As for The One...que sera sera. I'll deal with it as it unfolds. It'll be good, in the end, no matter how it goes. Either we'll end with closure, or there's nothing wrong and I misunderstood. I'll take it as it comes, but I reserve the right to feel sadness or anger as the situation warrants.

Letting my anger poison my mind and heart, eat me alive...that's something I USED to do. Now I express it, and for the most part it disappears. Don't worry about that, ok? Only something that was sincerely wrong can keep me angry for more than a day. Like losing my pizza job for the reason I did. Or the service dog situation. And I'm not letting the anger eat me up, trust me when I say I know the difference. I find it odd that my mother keeps telling me I need anger management classes. Are these classes supposed to teach you how to never ever ever become angry at all? Wouldn't that be unhealthy, abnormal? I AM human, after all.

When I lost my cab driver job, I was sincerely angry. I sat and thought how easy it would be to take the club or flashlight from my own car and beat the hell out of the cab with it. Smash windows, key the paint, use my knife to destroy the seats. Mentally I completely trashed that car. I also mentally did NOT trash it, but left it unlocked, doors wide open in fact, key in the ignition. I wanted it to be stolen. What I did in reality is clean out my stuff, empty the ashtray, and hide the keys inside the car...and lock it up. No harm no foul though...there's another set of keys to it. I'm fairly sure it was somewhat of an inconvenience for someone to come unlock that car for the next driver, but I'm okay with that.

I happen to think I managed my anger quite healthily. The only reason I ended up blowing up in my journal is because too many things happened in too few hours. Driving scared and frustrated all day with nearly not there brakes; a sincere fight with the Ex, just like the old days; a mechanic being hateful and snide, telling me he's been doing this for 20 years and I'm just a woman; being fired; something uncomfy and odd happening with The One. It got to be too much, I had to write, write, write. I did...and then I slept.


My telling the mechanic what I thought of his skills was an excuse to fire me, one I think Sue had been hoping for. Truth be told, I think subconciously I wanted to be fired. If I hadn't, I'd not have lost control of my tongue like that with the mechanic, I think. I wanted out, but didn't feel I had the right to quit a job when my kids need money and I thought Rick was counting on me. I liked the job, but the idea of constantly being scared of my cab while I worked and dealing with Sue's hatefulness on the radio all day every day was a tremendous stress that no one needs, especially me.

I needed out of a low paying job that went from no stress to extremely high stress. As 'coincidence' would have it, it worked out so that I only wasted a month on employers who are not worthy of me, my talents, my loyalty, or my time. Gee, thanks God. But, what next?

I don't know what's next. I only know that I'm not looking back, this time. It is spring, and I'm looking forward, if I look at all. I don't know what's around this bend, I don't know what's waiting for me, but something is - of that I'm sure. I'm afraid, and I'm excited. I'm wary, weary, and expectant. I know what I'd like to find, but I'm willing to be led by a higher power to whatever is best for myself and my kids.

That is what I pray for every day, you know. Help me to do what is best for myself, my kids, my dog. Not just financially, but emotionally, physically. Show me how to find serenity of heart, enough income to keep us going, strength to face our battles, knowledge of ourselves, and love.

Always, let there be love. Amen.

(I wrote this in wordpad yesterday evening, but was unable to post it because the kids were hanging over my shoulder so much. I fell asleep on the couch waiting for them to go to bed.)

 

[Gypsy]

Burns and Minou:

What can I say? I'm so happy that the two of you are happy, I could nearly wet myself. Well okay, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration... But I'm really really happy for you, though!

Burns, I am so glad I finally got to hear your voice! It was so cool, talking to you and hearing Minou in the background laughing, talking to Minou and hearing your voice in the background. You blush adorably, by the way. *grin*

Should I send you a case of Altoids as a gift? *giggle*

Minou, I'm envious of you right now. No, not about Burns, although that happiness factor is something I am working to achieve with my own guy - the whole 'together' thing, ya know? I need a visit, and bad...but I digress. No, I'm envious of your current location. The more I listened to you describe what you'd already seen and what you're GOING to see, the more I wanted to go see it all too! hehe Ah hell, maybe someday...but I'm not holding my breath. I demand pictures, chickie. I plan to live vicariously through you on this one. :up:

And I'm here to tell you, I plan to call again, sometime. I doubt I'll call umpteen times while you're over there, interrupting your visit. That'd be damned annoying, huh? lol But, I do intend to talk to both of you again sometime soon. I enjoy this friendship with the two of you, both together and separately. But then, I always have.

And don't you DARE feel guilty about your bliss just because I'm having shit luck right now. Don't you DARE. I had already done all my whining and complaining, ranting and raving, and was already feeling much better. I wanted to hear bliss, damnit. THAT'S WHY I CALLED. So there. Stick that in your peppermint and suck it. *wink*

Have fun, you two. Live it up, snuggle, laugh, take pictures, hold hands, glory in it all. You have the love and support of nearly everyone here - and with that many good thoughts and wishes for your happiness...how can you possibly lose?

P.S.

Minou, show him, girl! Show him that an American woman CAN by God keep up with British men when it comes to drinking! Just don't pass out anymore....

*snicker*

Love,
Gypsy

 

[Gypsy]

Floating on a wave of calm

For the last few days, I've been listening to a lot of Live. I think it's probably one of the best things I can listen to while I'm writing, to tell you the truth. My writing the last few days hasn't been exactly 'good work' or anything, but I've FELT better afterward than I have for a couple of months. That's something, anyway.

I've lost myself somewhere along the way, I think. Sometimes I feel like I'm just floating along, like a beach ball on a wave. I don't really have a direction or purpose, my only job is to stay afloat until I land somewhere. I keep wondering who might pick me up, throw me around...or ground me someplace safe.

I think about the happiness of friends, and it brings a smile to my face. I wonder if I seem a bit hysterical by comparison, and I'm inclined to raise my hand to affirm my guilt for it. Thing is, this is the only place I get to be hysterical. In fact, sometimes I swear my computer holds no other purpose but to contain that hysteria.

I've found many good friends through my computer, friends that I know have enriched my life in one way or another. Some I have met, some I've talked to on the phone, some I've chatted with. I met the love of my life through this very computer. Perhaps that is the real reason I refuse to sell it, or even format the drive. It is part of my history, part of me in a way I never, ever thought a computer could be. There are times I swear my whole life is wrapped up in what I see on this screen, what I can say, what I can make happen. Is that healthy? I don't know about that, but I'll tell you this: I trust the true friends I've made through the use of this contraption more than I trust the people I interact with in my physical world. Perhaps that is only because the folks trapped behind this screen have less opportunity to screw me over. Maybe it's just that there's less chance they'll let me down by not being who I want them to be, who I think they are.

Life has been interesting since I bought this computer, if not easy. I don't blame the computer for the difficulty, though. There are those who swear I'd still be married if not for my purchase of a computer and an internet account. Perhaps they're right, but I kind of doubt it. I know I might not have left when I did, but the thought of leaving had been in my mind for a long while. I believe I left sooner rather than later, but I don't for one second believe I'd never have left at all. But then, I can't believe that, can I? If I'd have stayed, someone would have died. Things would be different, but I absolutely know they would not be better.

I wonder if my relationship with The One can possibly ever live up to our dreams and expectations. I know I want it to. I don't expect perfection by any measure, but I do expect us to be a couple capable of talking through any difficulty or misunderstanding, of acting as a team intent on one goal - facing the world and all it throws at us, all it has to offer - in unity, harmony, and love. I want us to always know we can count on each other for comfort, comraderie, emotional support, physical support. I want us to know what serenity is, to revel in it. I want us to know when something happens to steal our serenity that no matter what that something is, we can face it and put it away...together. I want us to love each other, truly love each other, always. Is that too much to ask? I hope not.

I think about my mother, and how everything just goes wrong between us no matter how hard I try. I think maybe I'll quit trying, and quit worrying about it. The result will be the same, but I won't feel as shitty. I wonder if I can actually put those words into true action, or if I'm just talking bullshit?

I think about my sister, and how much I love her. We're so different, she and I. How'd we end up so different, and yet so alike? I don't think we look a thing alike, but people tell us they can see the resemblance. I think they lie when they say that. I think they're trying to cover up their reaction of "Holy SHIT!" when they see us. Maybe not. I don't really know, I just think my sister is gorgeous, and built a lot smaller and sexier than me. She has great hair, too. Damn her.

I think about my kids, and I wonder how we ever got this far without actually going anywhere. God, but they're beautiful, inside and out. Harley can be difficult when he gets his feelings in a snit, but he is also the most wonderfully sweet and giving child, too. Sometimes I wonder what I ever did to deserve such great kids, and the abundance of love in this house.

I think about my ex, and wonder when God will be merciful to me where he's concerned.

I think about the fact that it's spring, with changes apparent everywhere. It isn't just me - the whole world is changing. It scares me so much, sometimes, not knowing what tomorrow holds. I keep making my to-do lists, and concentrating on them. It's my only way of assuring myself that I have any control over tomorrow at all, sometimes. I know that in a lot of ways, I'm the only one in control of my destiny, but I often feel like all I can do is strap myself in and hang on...it's a helluva ride.

Speaking of destiny...

Deez, I know this is pretty much code-speak, but I wanted you especially to know that I have thus far taken tiny steps to change my destiny. Remember what you wrote to me about? I wish I could tell you about it, I really do. I can't, though. I can only tell you that I listened, even back then. It's taken me awhile to start coming up with things that work in balance with my ideals, but I have definite ideas. It's on tomorrow's to-do list. Really.

I'm applying for a Communications Clerk position at the VA hospital. It isn't exactly the job of my dreams, but I think maybe I wouldn't hate it. The pay is halfway decent for around here, and around here, that's about the best I can hope for. No weekends off, though. I'd work evenings 5 days a week, Thursdays and Fridays off. The application process is a lengthy pain in the ass, I can tell you that much. You wouldn't believe the fight I had with an ink cartridge tonight because of it...sheesh. You should see my fingers, they're black as can be. That oughta look pretty tomorrow when I go apply for another job, huh? Oh well, maybe it'll be worth it. We'll see what happens.

I'm tired, and right now more than anything else in this world, I want to hear the voice of the man I love. I'm going to go get ready for bed, in the hopes that he calls soon from home, and isn't too tired to talk to me awhile.

Peace,
Gypsy

 

[Gypsy]

Four days and counting...

It must be the spring air, I can't see any other explanation for it.

Even though I'm currently without an income again (unless you count unemployment and child support - not much), I feel fine. Fine, I tell you! It's odd, it really is. It's exactly as if I knew I'd taken a wrong turn on a long trip, but I found my way back to where I'd made that left, and turned right instead. I'm a little behind schedule, but I'm safely on the right road to MY destination. God, what a relief!

The thing is, I don't actually know where that destination IS.

Somehow, that just doesn't seem to matter to me right now. I'm making as much as I can out of this time off, and I have a sneaking suspicion that there won't be a whole lot of it. I've wasted time this morning that I shouldn't have, but it felt right. I'm getting used to the idea of not having to be awake at the butt crack of dawn again, at least not for work. I still get up in plenty of time to get Harley up and around, but I don't freak if I sleep until six - or even seven. This works out okay if I get that VA job, because the schedule there would be 11:30 am till 8 pm. It'd seriously deplete the amount of hours I can spend with my kids per evening, however, my two days off each week would be on weekdays. This could work. I just rearrange the custody days with the Ex a little bit, not enough to truly throw the kids off kilter...and keep going. I figured it up, and this job would pay a tiny, tiny bit more than what I was making up in Indiana when I only got 40 hours a week. It being a Fed job, though, I'm sure there'd be good benefits.

It occurs to me that while driving that cab, I was inside that VA hospital nearly every week day. They courier lab tests and reports back and forth to another local hospital, and I was constantly going to get them. I made the simple point of always, always smiling and being very pleasant to every single soul I passed on my way to that office. Even the Police Chief there knows my face. I stopped at his office door one day, and stared at him. He looked up, obviously looking disgruntled or stressed, and barked at me "Can I help you?" I smiled. "I just wanted to stop and say hello...and to tell you to smile!" It was a mixed reaction, at first. He seemed annoyed that I'd interrupted him for something so trivial, but as he looked at me smiling at him, a genuine smile completely for him and for no reason at all, he couldn't stop his own smile from forming. He finally gave in and grinned and waved. "That's better. Doesn't that FEEL better?" I asked, as I winked and walked away.

Every single time I was there, after that, he made a point of making eye contact and smiling. It was a very quiet private joke between us. I doubt anything like that helps me to get hired, but I'm fairly sure it won't hurt a damned thing, you know?

I know the chances of my getting that job are slim to none, I'm well aware of it, believe me. It's a better job than most there are to apply for in this town, and I'm betting there will be hundreds of applicants. Of course, the fact that the application process is so complicated might weed some out. Yes, you can simply go to the hospital and pick up the packet of applications. But I have to wonder if they don't take note of those who do it online the way I did. The lady I spoke with in Human Resources when I called to ask how to apply DID say that the very best way to apply is to go to the website and follow the instructions there. In fact, she repeated that twice. Now, she said it's the best way to apply - but it sure as HELL isn't the easiest.

One wonders, sometimes. Was all that crap I went through to produce those applications a test of determination, skill, computer literacy, problem solving? If so, I sure hope I passed, and if I did, I hope it gave me extra brownie points.

In other news....

The countdown is on. It is now Wednesday, and by Saturday evening, I will be hugging the stuffing right out of the man I love. I refuse to say "I hope". It's going to happen this time. It is. I refuse to allow any other scenario to exist.

Got that, Fate? You can kiss my ass, baby, I'm getting my way this time. (Of course, maybe I shouldn't be quite so cocky about it...perhaps I'm getting my way because Fate is letting me...)

I want to see the man I love, and if I have to hitchhike to get there, by God, then that's what I'll do. I'm going. He'd just better be there. No illnesses allowed this time.

I know there's other stuff to talk about, but it's already getting late and I have Things To Do. I'd better get my arse moving, or I'll be kicking said arse tonight.

Oh, just want to mention this: Had a good conversation with The One earlier this morning. He's still stressed out of his mind, but we settled the issue of "what the hell is wrong, exactly - do you need a break from this relationship?" He's still gonna be stressed awhile, and it's partly because of our relationship - but it's the barriers that are causing the weird reactions. He doesn't want out, of that he assured me. Now, I know I knew this...but I really needed to be reassured, especially after all the weirdness of this past week. I feel SO much better.

Amazingly, it just turned into the most beautiful day....

 

[Gypsy]

His name was Greg.

His name was Greg, and while he wasn't my first love, he was my first. Even after all this time, I can still easily picture his face, the clothes he wore, his smile. He was cool in the very geekiest of ways. Or maybe he was geeky in a very cool way. Either way, I was crazy about him. I was just a kid, but I knew he had a good heart.

I've spent a lot of years being bitter and angry over that breakup, because it was not of our choosing. My mother forced us apart the day after my birthday, but I never understood why. I asked her repeatedly Why...Why?! All she would say is that he was no good, that he didn't deserve me, and that I was never to see him, nor speak to him again. No dates. No visits. No phone calls.

All I could do was weep and obsess.

It was horrible. The depression I suffered over it was the worst I'd ever known, and though I did try, I could not shake it. I screwed myself over in school because of it, for I could not stay awake most of the time, and I had become highly rebellious against my mother - against most authority, in fact. Sometimes I wonder how I managed to stay out of real trouble, with such rebellious thoughts in my head at all times, with such vindictive and dangerous daydreams floating through my mind. Nay, they did not float. I dragged them there, held them, caressed them, and replayed them incessantly.

I wonder, sometimes, whatever became of Greg. I wonder if he's happy, if he's single or married, if he has kids. I wonder if he ever thinks of me, and wishes he'd done things differently. I wonder if he and Michelle got together in the end. I guess I'll always wonder, and I'll always regret the way he left my life.

I don't know why I'm even talking about him right now, except that thoughts of him have crept into my mind more often, lately. It's not that I'm pining for him or anything, for the love that I'd felt for him died long ago. I don't really feel much of anything, now, except maybe a whole lot of regret.

That must be it. I have unfinished business with him. Unfinished business that will never, ever have closure. I have carried shame in my heart, shame that I cannot apologize for or make right. I cannot understand what happened, and I cannot make him understand why I did what I did, in the end. I can never apologize, and I can never receive an apology. There will never be answers to the questions.

I do like to have my answers, you know. Yes, I certainly do. I think he deserves answers, too.


The biggest reason I fell head over heels back into love with The One is because of what he went through for me. All those questions I asked, he answered. I know it was killing him inside, I know he was ashamed, I know he felt the guilt twisting into him with every single one. He didn't run away, though. He didn't run away...he answered them. He listened to my pain, he faced it, he answered to it, and he made it all go away.

Have you ever had that with someone from your past? Someone who has hurt you deeply, and knows it? Have you ever had anyone conquer their own instinct to run, to avoid, to evade...to make it better for you by giving you the answers and closure you desperately needed? Has anyone ever stopped and suffered for you, so that you could understand why you had to suffer for them?

The One is the only one to do this for me, ever. He unbroke my heart, freed me to forgive and let go as no other has ever cared enough to do. He is my hero for doing that.

I think maybe Greg needs to face me. I know I need to face Greg.

 

[Gypsy]

My thoughts are of The One, and my heart is filled with him. I am mentally packing for the weekend, figuring out when I'm going to fit in a waxing session, driving there...

...walking into his arms, and being held just as long as I want to be. I can almost feel his arms around me, smell his scent, hear the sound of his heart beating as I hold on to him, trying not to cry with the relief of it all.


And THAT is the thought I take with me to bed, tonight. That is the thought I'll hold onto as I drift off to sleep. That is what I wish to dream of - to feel a residual emotion of - when I awake. Safe, protected, loved.

Yes. Above all....loved.

 

[Gypsy]

The laundry is nearly finished. I can pack my stuff tonight after the kids are gone to their dad's. My biggest hurdle is making this trip without an all out fight with the Ex. In other words: keeping him from finding out.

Christ, what a way to have to live.

I get so sick of having to hide everything I do, everyone I talk to from him. I get so sick of having to constantly worry about my kids in this very special way. One should not have to constantly be on guard like this. I shouldn't have to always be wondering what kind of crap he's filling their heads with now.

His current and ongoing specialty seems to be scaring the hell into my daughter. He keeps telling her he's a warlock, and that there are spirits visiting all the time. She has nightmares constantly. She's convinced her father's Uncle Gene's spirit is following her everywhere to make sure that she follows her birthright. That's right, folks! Her dad has told her she was born to be a white witch, communicate with the dead. It seems he needs to take a white witch and turn them to black magic in order to reach true warlock status. Or so he's told a few people. They warned me he was grooming my daughter for exactly that.

What a crock of complete shit. I'm so furious about it! My daughter is constantly traumatized because of this crap, and there's nothing I can do. I can't keep her from going over there. She begs me not to tell him I know, she's not supposed to tell me ANYTHING that happens over there. She's scared what he'd do if he found out I knew. She's terrified I'll confront him, we'll fight, he'll beat me up again. She's afraid he'll cast an evil spell on me.

*sigh*

How in the name of all that IS, am I supposed to handle this? My hands are legally tied. I can't take him back to court unless she's willing to tell the judge everything, and she's scared to do that. My stating to the judge that she told me stuff won't work - heresay is worthless. Several times she's told me she's thought hard about testifying that she wants to live with me full time, but she's also afraid that Harley would end up going over there alone. Alone equals unprotected, and he's even more powerless against their father than she is.

This is so completely insane. I am so very tired of the drama. Even if I gave up The One and any hope of being with him, and contented myself with living in this town forever, still there will always be drama, because of the Ex. If it isn't one thing, it's another. He constantly seeks to corrupt anything that is good, anything at all. Sometimes, I think he was born to destroy. Destroy faith, love, anything good that he can touch.

*shakes head*

There has to be an end to this, somewhere. I chafe at my restraints, and my rebellion grows stronger. I do not know how to free myself from this nightmare, but eventually I will become truly desperate to do so. Desperate can be dangerous, and the consequences can be dire.

Perhaps I should be praying for his salvation...hmmm?