the-notebook

 

It’s a complete mind-fuck when your man treats you differently around his friends. It’s hard for us girls who expect (rightfully so) a sense of loyalty and pride from their man. Especially when he is in front of his crew.

So what happens when he repeatedly argues with you in front of his friends and/or speaks to you in a disrespectful tone in front of his friends? 

Before you write the guy off completely, you may want to play devil’s advocate and consider this: he probably has no idea how a man is supposed to act and is playing into the pressure of his peers in how he “thinks” a man is supposed to act. (Which is a disrespectful dumb ass.)

 

Men can say they don’t care about what their friends (or ANYONE) thinks about them, but the reality is that isn’t true. They do care. They care so much that you may start to think they too have ovaries. Yet, that being said, they do not want to come across as anything other than “Mr. Manly Man of All Things MANLY”. So whilst he may be “Yes, Dear”ing you behind close doors, he may be doing the opposite in front of his friends.

And yes, it is ridiculous and also a sign of their immaturity. Treating women with respect and showing how proud they are to be your man doesn’t make him less manly…it actually is seen as them being THE MAN.

It shows a lot in the core of their character by how he talks/treats you in front of his friends. If he is saying/doing anything other than treating you respectfully (and lovingly) in front of his crew, then you’re not with a man, you are with a boy. 

A real man would never be insulting towards you or have you feeling less than adequate just so he can keep up appearances with his friends. If you have talked to him about this and he refuses to change, then it’s time for you to move on. A real man is good to you ALL OF THE TIME, especially in front of his friends. People lead by example so if your man is disrespecting you in public, you can guarantee his friends will do the same.

 

 

Image result for Oh No She Didn't

 

Where have I been?

Well, that’s a story. A long…not so fun story…but if you know me, you’ll know I’ll somehow twist it into something either funny or depressing. There’s really no in between with me.

I had to take a break from writing. Not just from here on this site, but all of my writing projects were put on hold. I had to take a step back and regroup. Things went off the rails for a bit…with my health, relationships and the reality of having people in my life (not by choice) who are the scum of the earth.

Evil can come in the form of a bipolar middle aged man and his boyish-looking child bride. (OOps. Did I say that outloud? On the Internet? Maybe I should have posted it on Instagram with The Boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend smiling with his “friends”. This is  AFTER “the group” calls him to try to set him up to seeing her without his current girlfriend.)

But nevermind that.

I’ll never fit in this new town I moved to…mainly because I’ll never be ‘white’ enough and believe me…I gave it a good go. But now, I’m pretty happy NOT fitting in.

I think this is called “growing”. Or maybe not. Maybe it’s just that I’m too old to try to fit in anywhere. You don’t like me? I don’t give a shit. I like me. And if being a shallow, ignorant racist means being in your little middle-aged clique…I’m good, thanks.

Things I Learned This Week:

 

  •  I need to buy new tires even though my car is only a year old

 

  • My niece is rocking the whole “poo-poo in the potty” lifestyle

 

  • I no longer can do a back bend without worrying that it could lead to paralysis and possibly death. Also…I’m not as cute doing it as I was twenty years ago. (Same goes with rapping. Now I just sound ridiculously sad)

 

  • My new shorter hair resembles a Brillo pad

 

  • Eminem is still around and if social media is to be believed…he’s now qualified to be the POTUS

 

Stay Tuned, Readers. I’m just getting started.

the-missing-piece-36-728

“Are you anybody else’s missing piece?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘Well, maybe you want to be your own piece?’
‘I can be someone’s and still my own.’
‘Well, maybe you don’t want to be mine.’
‘Maybe I do.” 

The Missing Piece by Shel Silverstein

 

 

I’m trying to think of a word to describe what it is I’m feeling. The things I’m going through are by far NOT the worst things I’ve gone through in my life. I keep telling myself this fact. However, this is the first time in my life in which I don’t have a rock. A support system in which I am totally comfortable that I will not be judged. And maybe, I didn’t ever really, as I tend to keep the BIG BAD things private and only complain/whine/vent about things that will ultimately work out. Those things are just life nuisances…life happens and you deal. Perhaps I come off as just a whiner, dramatic…a rambling lunatic. Or as someone who kindly described me once:  “A fucking psycho.”

 

I’ve written before about how certain people in my life misunderstand me and sometimes I can’t help but think it goes deeper than that. I’m truly overwhelmed by life right now and whilst this revelation is probably not a shock by anyone who knows me…I’m still finding myself in this internal turmoil. I honestly don’t know how else to describe it. All I know is that there is something wrong in my life and the universe is blasting it in my face constantly. There’s a glitch in the system. This has happened before when I’m off my path…stumbling blocks the size of boulders are rolled towards me at a rapid speed. I go five steps forward, but knocked ten steps back.

 

I walk up the stairs to my office, which isn’t really an office, a corner cubicle with huge glass windows that looks out towards west downtown Anchorage and I take multiple deep breaths. There is a beauty to this side of Anchorage, despite all the buildings. It’s cloudy, yet as I’m watching people walk busily down the street…I am comforted by their presence. Perhaps one of  those people who is hurrying to their office has gone or is going through the same things as I am. And they’re surviving. They’re doing it.

That means I can too.

A month ago, I felt beaten, despondent and lost. I have been holding onto those feelings for over a year, possibly more. I gave up on life, to be honest,  although I kept a pretty believable façade. Or maybe I didn’t. Maybe it was just all the booze numbing my senses into thinking I was fooling everyone. It all boils down to the fact I was trying to fit into a place in which I never would have wanted to be to begin with. Not that I’m better or worse…I’m just me.

I’m a missing piece that hasn’t found the right fit yet.

I’m almost there.

Almost. But not quite.

 

Anne Lamott says,“God loves us just the way we are, and He loves us too much to let us stay that way.”

 

That sounds pretty fitting to me.

 

 

 

 

The feelings of intense, selfishness, and a tad bit loony has been my mood for the past year. It’s like a dynamite of fireworks going off inside my body, but mostly inside my brain. There isn’t anything…big or small…that doesn’t seem like a tragic event. Everything in life is overwhelming. I feel like poop that has taken a gigantic poop on top of another gigantic poop. Being that there is so much poop, AKA shit, going on in my life, I firmly decided that my life sucks. It sucks so much monkey balls that I’m starting to believe that because it is so bad… the universe is getting ready to open up some grandiose wonderful things into my life. Because life screwing me so hard in the ass must mean something GREAT is about to come.
dd

However, despite all that positive speak about my life sucking right now ONLY because something great is about to happen, I can’t help be honest and say that this form of optimism could just be the drugs talking. Because, that’s right, my readers…(all ten of you) I’m on some killer drugs. Killer in the sense that if I don’t take them, chances are pretty good I could die. Maybe not right away…but soon.

Like forty years from now or something.

I went to the doctor last week for hives. FOR HIVES. The doctor takes my blood pressure and is all, “Woman, I don’t know how you are sitting here so calmly, your blood pressure is through the roof. I’m sending you next door to the ER.”

That’s not usually the words you’d like to hear from your doctor when you are only there for HIVES. Yet, there I was with hives and she’s sending me over to the emergency room.

And I’m all, “Of course, I’m going to the ER.”
I’m all about the theatrics, people.

dramatic

After an all day visit at the ER which included chest X-rays, tremendous amount of blood being drawn and some male strippers who happened to visit me because I was about to die, of course…I was finally released and told to come back the next day to see my doctor.

I left with absolutely nothing for my hives. Not even Benadryl!

So I did what any mature adult would do, I cried in my car and called The Boyfriend so he could also hear me cry. (Why cry alone when it can be heard by many?)

I finally calmed myself down to drive home and recovered from being a sniveling cry baby to just a whimpering adult whiner.

The next day, the doctor ran more tests and then happily gave me a long list of drugs, one drug in particular has me feeling a little psychedelic with some short term memory loss.

But I’m totally feeling groovy though, man.

I also have had some weird and crazy thoughts, thoughts in which I would like to refer to as “epiphanies”.

 

This morning, on the drive into work, stuck next to The Boyfriend who is absorbed in listening to his book on tape INSTEAD of talking to me, I had a few such epiphanies:

  • The Boyfriend hates me. Secretly, though. Like he’s not going to broadcast it to the world and be all, “I HATE MY GIRLFRIEND!” No, he’s smarter than that. He hates me in secret. I know this because he listens to books on tape on our way to work in the morning, he plays video games and he would rather go out and have a beer with his friend (a friend in which I believe has a huge crush on The Boyfriend. Are they having an affair? This must be figured out immediately.) than hang out with me and discuss the future of our relationship. Do we even have one? We are OLD. Doesn’t he care that we are old? He probably hates me because I’m old.
  • I can’t get a handle on my household chores. There’s just too much stuff. STUFF everywhere. Plus, we have these two HUGE brown couches that take over the entire living room. They belong to The Boyfriend and he will not be reasonable in at least placing one downstairs in the den. NO. I hate the couches and  therefore this is another indication that The Boyfriend hates me.
  • My children also hate me because they’ve decided to become teenagers and it seems they only need to speak to me when it comes to asking for my car and my money.
  • My parents love my sister and brother more than me. It’s probably because The Boyfriend secretly hates me.
  • My hair is ugly and falling out. Probably feels the pain of The Boyfriend hating me secretly.
  • I’m simply overwhelmed with a list of things that are important and are life changing…and not in a positive way. I check one thing off said list, and then four more get added. I know logically I’m loved and cared about, yet, I am struggling with feeling as if I’m dealing with all this shit alone.

 

That’s where I am, dear readers. This is just the stuff I can share publicly.  In my world of loopy (yet groovy) craziness, my waiting on lab and test results, dealing with my heart issues, I’m always on the verge of tears. And yet, this heart thing isn’t scaring me too bad. I’m actually sorta tickled about it because despite all these problems I may be having with my heart, the hard core fact is that I do, in fact, have one.

So take that, Ex-Husband. You said I didn’t even have one.

 

lucy

 

I’ve been busy living life as opposed to writing about it. 

I can’t believe I just wrote that sentence with a straight face, because “Busy Living Life” isn’t exactly accurate. Whilst, I have been living (because I’m not dead), I shouldn’t say I’ve been BUSY.

“Busy” gives the indication that I’m excitedly doing stuff with no time to do more stuff which quite frankly, the stuff I’m doing isn’t fun/exciting. It’s pretty pathetic and if misery could be formed into a human form, well, friends, just look my way.

What started as a minor skin irritant two months ago has now turned into a raging fire on my skin. I’m broken out in hives all over my chest, stomach and lower back. And if I could get away without wearing a bra to work, I would do so. This isn’t an option because the last thing I need is to break a few ribs going up and down the stairs in my building because I had to go bra-less. I remember a time in which my big breasts were idyllic to my sex appeal. Now, at the age of forty, they are a safety hazard and in no way could be classified as sexy.

I’m not exactly sure WHAT is going on with my body, but I’m in an internal hell. Taking a shower is painful. Wearing clothes is painful. NOT wearing clothes is painful.

Basically being me is painful. 

Plus, I’m dealing with major digestive issues that has me bloated and swollen and my discord is only intensified by The Boyfriend. The Boyfriend is on some health kick and is shedding pounds like crazy. He recently bought not one, but TWO bicycles and if he isn’t playing softball, golf or hockey…he’s riding his bike. I have mixed feelings of admiration and jealousy…because I would like to be more active and join him. Or maybe not even join him because that is now HIS thing so I would probably do something active solo. I admire his commitment to be fit and healthy but I’m also jealous because THAT WAS ME. And I can’t even wear a damn bra and clothes during my 8 hour work day without doing Lamaze breathing. This irritate torture is becoming more difficult to hide my displeasure when it comes to my being smothered in calamine lotion with an ice pack on my stomach and The Boyfriend is excitedly talking about some new trail he’s found on his bike and is all,  “OMG BABE, IT’S SO MUCH FUN!”

How dare he have perfect NON-ITCHING skin free of hives, is able to poop daily AND is happily active? I want to tell him he looks absolutely ridiculous in his bike attire and not just that?

Hockey is stupid. 

I don’t say any of that, because none of it is true.  I’m cranky and miserable and want to kick -whatever this is going on with my body- out into the oblivion. And because nothing is quick and easy…the next available appointment to see this new specialist is two weeks away. So I do what only comes natural to me:

Bitch to the entire Internet and shoot daggers at The Boyfriend when he tells me he’s going to play golf this weekend because:

Golf is stupid. 

 

cd

 

 

I just got done filming a commercial/video that will most likely run only in other towns, the tourist channel and in the hotel it was filmed. It wasn’t a paid gig but I got free lunch out of it so HEY, win/win.

Also? There was no audio which made for some fun discussions.

Under the pretense of my checking into the hotel, I was told to ask the standard questions but to be really animated and over the top. It would feel weird, but it would view well on camera. So there I am walking up to the hotel manager to “check in”.

Dialogue went something like this:

“Hi, I’m here to check in.”

“Name?”

“Sansa Stark”

“Ahh. Ms. Stark. So lovely to meet you. Your room is ready. You have a terrific view. Do you have any special requests?”

[Huge smile by me with elaborate hand gestures]

“Yes, I do have some requests. I would like four male strippers, preferably not gay, but one could be gay just for the hell of it, they must be totally buffed and gorgeous, I’d also like them to be a little near sighted because I find I’m much more attractive to those who can’t see very well. Also I’d like some cocaine that I will snort off one…okay…who am I kidding? I’ll snort the cocaine off all four of the male strippers’ bodies. And if it isn’t too much trouble could you bring me up a bottle of your finest tequila?”

Guy is now baffled, trying not to laugh but the director is telling us to keep going that this? THIS IS GREAT! More smiles! Ask more questions! Give her what she wants!

“Okay, Ms. Stark. You got it. Strippers. Cocaine. Tequila. Anything else? We really want our customers happy. ”

“Do you think you could bring me up some chewing gum? Drinking and snorting cocaine really gives me dry mouth.”

We shot other scenes such as a business meeting in which the four of us only talked about Game of Thrones. Then there is the scene in which I’m walking in and out of the building with this man who wanted to keep talking about Game of Thrones. A final scene is me sitting on the couch talking to a woman in which we ELABORATELY discussed with our hands and BIG smiles about how great Game of Thrones would be if more of the actors favored four buffed male strippers who kept their shirts off even with Winter coming.

One of the individuals in the filming crew said I was a surprise. He thought I wasn’t going to have much of a personality, that I looked really shy and reserved. I am pretty reserved, but the last few days have been pretty tough emotionally. Not sure what made me step out of my comfort zone and just laugh and be silly with a bunch of strangers, but it was a wonderful reprieve from life.

And for the first time in a very long time, I felt like me again.