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Three Deaths

I hate everything today.

The past 2 to 3 weeks has culminated in a series of events that have put me over the edge. I am angry, restless, tired and bitter. I want destroy everything. I would say i just don’t care anymore. But it’s actually the opposite. I care so much that I just want to turn it off and make it stop.

Event #1) An old friend from high school had asked me to donate some of my hand made jewelry items to a fund raising event she was doing for her mom. Her mother had been diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. She was mid chemo. The bills were too much and she needed help. So a ziti dinner with an auction was created. We talked back and forth. I did my best to give her advice to help her through the experience. I donated a bunch of items and sent gifts for both her and her mother to keep. I followed up with her often to see how her mom was holding up. Her Mom didn’t make it through treatment and passed away. I missed the wake due to an event I was suppose to be vending at. I wasn’t part of the process or anything but it still saddened me to hear. I still haven’t reached out to my friend privately.

Event #2) A few days later Robin Williams killed himself. Normally celebrity deaths don’t mean much to me. Usually an Oh really, that’s too bad. Then life goes on. This one struck me. When I was a kid growing up, my mom was a bipolar (manic) depressive. It was a struggle. She was a wreck more often then not. I was a big fan of escapism. I watched tv, hid out up in my room. I lost myself in music and comedy. Especially stand up comedy. Even from about age 7 my Mom would allow to watch things that were rated R. Robin Williams was my very favorite.I use to do his routines on the playground. He was very public about his manic episodes. It gave me hope. He gave me hope. His loss felt unreal and tremendous. Someone I so looked up to had just thrown in the towel. What the fuck man. I feel stupid even saying it. I felt stupid for mourning it. I never thought I could be so effected by someone I did not know personally. But I was and still am. It was like losing a hero. I don’t know why I said like – it WAS losing a hero.

Event #3) Back in June two of my cousins graduated from college. We had a picnic to celebrate. Their maternal grandmother was there. She was at many of our family events. Even though their Mom and Dad had divorced Grama Jane always came to our events and stayed close with my uncle. She always felt like her daughter had wronged him.Their relationship stayed in tact despite the divorce. At this picnic she asked me questions about my Cancer, chemo and radiation. She told me she was sick. She hadn’t told anyone else yet, and wasn’t sure if she wanted to. She said it made just make her daughters fight. That she didn’t think those treatments would be options for her. If I were her, and I thought I could pass away, what would I do? I thought for a few minutes and gave her my most honest answers. I said in my experience, sometimes people fear what they don’t understand. When you say I am sick, or I have Cancer, sometimes people retreat. They think about their own mortality and freak out. On a few occasions you will find wonderful folks who do think of you first. I told her she should go out and live. Do all the things she wants to do with her time left. Celebrate every minute. And FIGHT! Fight like a mother fucker. Don’t take no as an answer. Look into other doctors. Other therapies. But as far as telling her family, kids, etc. I told her that is her choice. If she thinks it will give her more grief then good, then go out the way SHE wanted to. She told me there was a will, that she just didn’t know where it was. That she planned on spending her last days doing all the legalities. I told her if that isn’t how she wanted it to end, don’t do it that way. Please go and enjoy every moment you have left. I literally said let someone else deal with that. Just take care of yourself and live.

I have serious guilt over what I said. I didn’t tell anyone what I knew at her request. Even though the whole way home I thought to myself, I should call my Uncle and tell him. I didn’t. I rationalized it as it’s her choice, not mine.

On Monday of last week my cousins called me from the airport in NYC saying they were stuck there. They flew in with no plan. It was 6 am. I happened to wake up and see the message. I scrambled to get some cash together, fought with The Smoker to wake up and drive. We zoomed through commuter traffic, picked them up and brought them to the hospital. Five hours later Grama Jane died. 

I was the only one from my mothers side of the family besides my cousins that showed up to her memorial service. My heart was heavy. I quickly learned that NO ONE knew she was that sick. NO ONE. Except me. A week ago she told everyone she had a few weeks left, then it became she has 72 hours left. Then she was just gone. She never got the Will or insurance stuff together. No one knew why she was so stubborn and didn’t say or do anything more then she did…. I knew why.

Yesterday I had a dinner for my family. An impromptu goodbye party for my cousins. Low key and fun. Pizza, wine, video games for the kids. More people then i expected showed up. My cousin Dan started talking about her Grama’s passing. I started to tell her that she was asking me about Cancer therapies back at the end of June. I didn’t tell her the full extent of the conversation. Just made mention. She burst into tears and said that she was so angry. I panicked. I don’t know why i had even opened my mouth so soon after the passing of G.J.. Dan said why was she so stubborn! That means she knew she was sick! She fucking knew and she didn’t tell anybody! I would have come home sooner! I would have spent more time with her! I am so mad at her! I immediately shut my mouth. Saying more would have only caused her more pain. I apologized over and over.

Dan left last night. Today I have spent all day with my heart heavier then ever. I have such guilt. Guilt for not speaking up as soon as I knew. Guilt for still being alive. Guilt for surviving. Guilt for not doing more for Grama Jane. I had her contact info. I should have called or emailed SOMETHING to check in!

All of these events have just rocked me. I am a grumpy angry mess. And I hate myself even more for knowing how much pain my cousins are in and that I could have eased it. Instead I made it worse. 

Ever since my own Cancer, I have felt like this weird messenger to other Cancer patients. I meet people and they tell me their secrets. They cry. In many cases I have never even met them before. I think getting to the brink of death and coming back sends people a message. Other Cancer patients and survivors maybe sometimes need that. But when they don’t survive. When they aren’t here anymore it fucking devistates me. All I can think is why am I still here and you aren’t. 

I can’t even talk about it anymore.

Fucktard, I mean me…

I have to say, right now, in this moment, I feel like a total loser. Finished with my work I spent my late night Saturday tooling around Facebook. I saw something that was quasi surprising. A post from an ex of mine who rarely posts. I haven’t seen him in about 15 years.  So color me surprised when I see that he has a film coming out that he produced. Ugh I am immediately disgusted.

Flash to 15 years ago. This same boyfriend and I are having a fight. This is when things were at their worst between us. He had been making comments about how I should lose weight. He tells me he is going to be a producer someday. That he couldn’t be seen on a red carpet with a fat girl like me. I got mad at first. Then panicked. I had never been talked to like that by a partner like that before. So I said what if I lost the weight? Do you want me to diet? All this stupid shit because I was so worried about losing him. Some guy who didn’t love me. Cheated on me. And was the most emotionally abusive of any man in my life before or since.

Why did I stay with him as long as I did? Simple. I was 19. He was hot and he always had plenty of money and drugs.

So now this fucking guy is legit producing indie films. And I, I am still fat!!! Had cancer and not much else. Bully for me! What a fucktard! And by fucktard, I mean me…

The Cycle

I quit smoking pot. It’s been about 3 weeks now. I don’t necessarily feel as great as I thought I should. Not remembering things better or feeling that much clearer to be honest. But I felt good about my decision. After a friend came and stayed for the weekend and smoked constantly, I started feeling kind of pathetic. Like this is what I am doing with the middle of my life? Just smoking and stuffing my face until I feel worse?

The Smoker quit with me. He had been selling, that didn’t go so great as he was the only dealer I’ve ever known that didn’t seem to be able to deal. No one was buying. So we both agreed to say done with this. We both agreed maybe we are so out of shape because we smoke a bunch and then eat a bunch. And we’re never picking healthy things. Just whatever seems to be the closest and quickest. 

Since quitting we’ve been eating better, working out. We started the diet thing about 2 months ago. Now we are hiking almost daily for hours. I have never been a nature person, but lately I LOVE it! He’s lost about 30 – 40 pounds. I’ve lost about 20 – 30. It started really coming off once we stopped smoking. I just feel better knowing I am making the right choices for my body. 

The downside, I have been sick for about three weeks now as well. A coldy flu thing that just never seemed to go away. Even with pills and his mom doctor trying to help. This has worried me a bit. My immune system isn’t fighting this thing off. My wheels turn and I fear, what if the Cancer has come back? I’m tired all of the time. Sweaty all the time. Stuffy, coughing. It doesn’t seem right.

Today was a big blow in our relationship. The Smoker’s mother called him. She wanted pot. Which he said he is no longer messing with. And just like that he turned on a dime. Didn’t even consider what I had to say and ran right out to help mommy. He’s been gone for 3 hours. 

My honest reaction is FUCK. I know once it comes back into the house, he’ll start smoking. I am kind of weak to things like this. I know once he starts, I’ll start. I am so mad. His mom had quit because of the Smokers brother. He had some serious addiction issues over the past few years. It started with weed and progressed until he was eventually smoking fucking crack. He has been sober for about a year now. He gets sober and is successful. Then his mom starts smoking weed and he does. It always progresses to harder shit. The same cycle every fucking time for like 10 years now. And now she’s pulling them both down with her.

I hate this about his family. It was one of the huge things that broke us up the last time. She should know better. She’s not some white trash junkie. She is a prominent doctor with two successful practices. And two grown ass men children that are completely dependent on her and turn to drugs every time she does. It makes me mad. How does no one else see this!?! Why did my boyfriend give in so quickly! Why couldn’t he have been stronger. 

If I am being brutally honest, I would leave right now if I could. But ever since i got sick, i have been way to dependent on him. He has a car, I don’t. There is NO form of public transportation around here. And Cancer left me with thousands of dollars of debt. And I was double insured at the time. I also now work for his mom. Which is going to make things so much worse. I see trouble on the horizon. I am already disgusted and desperate to pull away. That trapped feeling, it’s back. I am fighting myself to stop myself from emotionally indulging in crap to feel better.

That Good Bad Place

I don’t really know what i have to say with this entry. It just seemed time to write again. Where to begin….

Moving back to my hometown has been both blessing and curse. While I finally feel that I now have some amazing resolution to my past with my father, I feel that I have moved physically the closest to my mother but emotionally – further than ever. I get the feeling that part of living her life as an adult for the first time requires her to remove herself from her past. Considering that I very much so look and act like my father, I believe I am part of her cathartic removal. Am I ok with this, for now, yes. Will I always be, absolutely not. 

IN my current resolution with my father, I spend a lot more of my time with that side of the family. It feels good to feel a part of a real family life. I think it’s the first time I can successfully say that. I spend a lot of time with my kid sister. (I can’t remember what her alias is here, so for the sake of easy we’ll call her Posie.) Posie is 15. She doesn’t really know about my past or my fathers. She was here over this past weekend. We got to talking and in her typical fashion, she had a lot of questions. Why didn’t I see our Dad for so many years, what happened? I told her about being the product of teen pregnancy. YEARS of not knowing who I was or where I came from. What it was like to find Dad. To talk to him for the first time when I was her age, 15. How he was completely open and honest with me about who he had been and who he wanted to be. How he wasn’t always a good person. A sober person. She had no idea. 

What I knew had been told to me in strict confidence by my father. When I was first diagnosed with Cancer and reached out to him in hopes of finding closure in case I didn’t survive it, he answered some questions for me I’d always needed to know. That he didn’t really get sober until I was about 19 or 20. That if I had known I wouldn’t have had a relationship with him. The weekends where he disappeared for entire days or didn’t show up to get me at all were spent getting high. That things were a lot darker then I thought. That before he got sober he was doing heroin. In family pictures I started to recognize the difference between him high and him sober. That during the years I didn’t know him he was drug trafficking for some names in the game. He went to prison for a few years. He was not a nice man. And the biggest blow of all, there was a time where he beat the shit out of every woman in his life, including our two other sisters. 

When it came to Posie, I wasn’t quite as graphic. I told her this gently with love and honesty. I always seem to be the person in her life to tell her the straight story on things. This was a big turning point for her. She had no idea, but said so many things now made sense to her that never did before. How he could never chaperone her school trips, our state does background checks on all parents before trips. How when in elementary school our Dads friend had given her a tour of the police station where he worked, finger printed her, and through her dna pulled up our fathers mug shots and arrest record. And how she was then quickly taken to another room when she said why is Dad’s face on the screen? Why he so strongly believed in God. 

My stepmom is Posie’s mother. She and Posie have a very strained relationship. But I think she found more respect for her mom knowing how she was such a big force in our fathers final sobriety. That what got him sober for good was the fear of losing her, she never did drugs and didn’t stand for it. Eventually Posie’s birth was the thing that motivated him to get it right. How our sisters and I admire him for finally getting it right, getting it right for her.

It was an emotional day. I love my sister so much. I worry Posie will blurt out something like she knows this stuff. But at the same time I have zero regrets for telling her about what we really come from. Why things have been so complicated for so long. It’s a weird place to be in with her. That good bad place where the truth makes things suddenly bearable in a bittersweet way. I think that is my way of protecting her in a sense, to arm her with the truth.

“You have to take care of them now. You have to take care of each other. You have to be strong. ..the hardest thing to do in this world… is to live in it. Be brave. Live….” 

City Kitty & Country Pup

The Smoker and I have little nicknames for each other. We call our life together The Tale of City Kitty and Country Pup. The Smoker grew up in a heavily wooded farmland town. Most of his neighbors have horses or chickens. He loves being in the sunshine, reading, hiking and co-existing with the animals. I on the other hand moved to the nearest city at 16, desperate for some excitement and culture. I love museums, art and the anonymity of a city street. I can look anyway I want and more often then not, no one knows me and I like that. 

So we finally moved. City Kitty has found somewhat of a happy medium for Country Pup. We have moved back to my hometown. A small all american town. Some new folks and some familiar faces. Already i am hearing some small town gossip. It makes me nervous. The Smoker seems happy here, and that makes me happy. Our apartment is very nice.

The only real problem so far, my lack of motivation. I have this weird thing about needing to feel 100% comfortable and at home before I can create a significant amount of work. I have made a small handful of rings since we moved. THAT’S IT! So this making me a little nervous. I have been making very little money due to my lack of creativity. This is NOT good. I am hoping over the next week or two I will start to feel more at home and inspired.

I think the issue really is that I am not use to having a second floor. I feel weird about using the bedroom as my office space. And we don’t yet have the funds to refinish my small attic space as my office. (My summer project with my Dad’s assistance.) The upstairs is a little creeky. You can here it through the walls. In a paranoid fear of upsetting my neighbors, I rarely go up there. Stupid I know. But that is just part of my weird agoraphobic anxiety shit. I always fear making waves.

I’m sure things will settle in their own right.

In the meantime I keep debating on whether or not I should start to remove the anonymity of this blog. Any advice would be appreciated on this. Part of me says YES! Just be you! Part of me says are you crazy?!? This whole blog is like 4 years of me with no filter! I have no idea what my decision will be yet.

I had this weird moment with one of my boss/clients where she told me what she thought successful people did or didn’t do. She basicly said I am some sad girl who lives with a rain cloud over my head and I shouldn’t be telling people on any form of social media or in life about my failures. While I think there are certain things that don’t belong on Twitter or Facebook, I also think it is completely ridiculous to pretend that everything in your life goes perfectly and never own up to the failures. She is also one of the people in my old city that used people up and threw them away the second they couldn’t do anything for her anymore. It’s gotten so bad that she now has to hire people from other cities to work for her, she’s run through everyone in her own city. I don’t want to be that kind of business entity.

So things are good. I am just trying to find the comfort and my place in this town. My experiences before I left the city were kind of bad. Left me feeling very uncomfortable with trusting people and being myself. I hope this move will be a transformation of sorts for me. Growing and learning never really stop.

Moving Up, Moving Out

Things are going well, in an exhausting kind of way. We are almost completely moved out of our city apartment. The new apartment is in an “all american” small town, the town I grew up in. There is an interesting mix of people who never left and have grown up and had their own kids there, and people who have moved there recently. We’ve been taking little moments out in between our moving runs back in forth, to explore it.

I think we’re moving back at an exciting time. Lots of small businesses have cropped up in the center of town. It seems that the small town I couldn’t move fast enough out of has started to embrace the arts community. But in the form of little boutiques, shops and even a gallery! I actually already sell my work in one of it’s shops and do quite well there. 

This has also been exciting because for the first time in 15 years I will be close to my family. My Mom helped us move today and she was so excited. She loved the new place and seemed to (for the first time in…ever) see what I saw in the potential of things. She saw the attic space and agreed yes, this would turn into a great office for my little business and that I should refinish it. She said yes, she thought the idea of putting in a shop that sold vintage clothes, and my jewelry made from vintage components (and wings around Halloween of course!) in town was a great idea. That even trying to be more a part of local community was a good idea too! When I told her that Matt and I started collecting vintage pieces and have already successfully sold an item she was supportive. When I told her the first thing that sold was her old wedding dress from her second marriage (she hated the ex and the dress) she laughed! “That old thing sold for that much!?! I don’t even think I paid that much for it new!”  She also told me how excited the rest of my extended family was to know I was going to be closer. It feels good.

I think my father is excited I will be closer too. But I am not entirely sure about that. He was hard to read about it. The conversation went into a weird direction where he said he thought I was gay or bi. Long story short, my kid sister misinterpretted something I posted on Facebook. Being the excitable judgey people my Dad and stepmom are (she was not present for this), he drew his own conclusions that he might need to have a talk with me. I said “wait you’re talking to me???” He said yeah. I felt myself turning red form embarrassment. NO! I said. I have had moments of experiment in my early 20’s. But LOL, gay is something I am 100% NOT. I am a big supporter of the LGBT community and have been since I was a teenager. But I am not a lesbian. I wouldn’t even goes as far to say bisexual either. I’m a straight girl who loves men. And my boyfriend. Who was sitting next to me, wondering why this was happening. I told him No. You are mistaken. And then felt very uncomfortable the rest of the time I was there. How did my own father not know that about me? Why was there even a need to have the conversation? It’s pissed me off all week long. I’m sure I was being oversensitive about it. But it always seems like when I feel like ok, my Dad is FINALLY proud of me something else comes along and makes me want to hate him again. Now it’s this.

Regardless of my father finding more fault with me, true or not, I am still happy. I think this move is going to be a fresh start. I am hoping that this middle part of my life is the part where things become a little more put together.  

The Good and Bad of It

So things have taken an interesting twist. We are no where near out of the woods yet with our commercial space hiccup. I am sending back their keys and a letter via certified mail in hopes of them acknowledging us. Still no contact form anyone on their management team. I did however find 2 small flaws that might save us should we have to go to court. 1) in the email with the lease they said they will print for us to sign if we are ok with it. IF. I immediately responded with a list of things for them to fix in it. 2) they didn’t put the correct name of my business in it.  So wouldn’t that make it void?

In the panic of all this gallery no gallery drama, the Smoker and I made a very important decision. We decided to look for an apartment we can move into by the 1st. We found one! A great one! We just passed their application process and are about to drop the lease and payment to them tomorrow! I am beyond thrilled. It is a townhouse apartment with a bedroom full bath and attic upstairs and a nice sized kitchen, living room, closets and bath room downstairs. We’re right near the laundry facility on premises and this will be the first time ever in my adult life I will have central air and a dishwasher! Ugh, a dishwasher…. it’s like fucking music to my ears. I have truly reached middle age knowing my body gets more excited about a machine that washes dishes then of my boyfriend and I being able to have regular sex again now that we’ll be back under the same roof!

This place oddly enough is my old hometown. A small but sweet place where a lot of my past lives. I had prayed to the soul of the grandma who raised me in that town to help me find the right place and answer for my problem. In all honesty I never thought we would get approved for such a nice place. But we did!

There was a long time where I wanted to erase who I was. But now, all I can think is how excited I am to have a nice place to live in a great town full of family and old friends.  A town that also is lacking in vintage and vintage made items. There is a small antique shop with a few boutiques gaining popularity now. So I think phase 2 of my plan will be to build up my credit and bring my collections, handiwork and city know how to my town and find the right place to open a shop there. I bet people will be so curious to see me again after being gone for about 15 years, it would be an instant hit!

In an ironic twist, after finding out we are getting this fab apartment, I got a summons for jury duty. It was as if the universe was sending me a little wink of acknowledgement. We do you a solid, you do us a solid. Fair is fair. I guess it’s the least I can do in exchange for NOT being homeless! :)

Failing Spectacularly

I can’t even believe this is happening. I have barely been sleeping. Or working on anything I need to be getting paid for. Just sitting here and panicking. Trying to get to the next moment where maybe I won’t panic, then panic again. My stupid white girl problems are exploding and fucking my shit all up for the umpteenth time!

So still no word from management. We have let him know we need our security deposit back. The crazy artist bitch client sent me a very weird and accusatory email about my wanting to quit and how could I do that to her at such a crucial time. She says I victimized her and why would I tell the landlord she did that to my floors without discussing it with her first. Three pages of email with every paragraph ending in why didn’t I come to her first. But the thing is, I did come to her first. Over and over. She is refusing to pay me the last payment for all of the work i put in. She said I owed her more time. At this point I would have made around $5 an hour or LESS for all the work I have put in to date. What was suppose to be a few weeks of helping has become this “salaried position” where I am paid $700 for about 3 months of work. Bullshit.

The Smoker is choosing to ignore everything as much as he can. More reason for my panic. 

I contacted some online law forums. I even paid for one of those ask a lawyer sessions. It’s not looking good. We didn’t sign the lease yet, but we gave them a deposit and took the keys. We took the fucking keys. And that one action might be our undoing. Every lawyer said taking the keys might be seen as a commitment to carry out the lease. That they might be able to keep our entire security deposit because of it. They may even be able to charge for as much as a whole year’s rent.

If that’s the case, I’m fucked. No gallery. No place to live. No business location. I still have to be out of here at the end of the month ON TOP of all this shit. 

I am so embarrassed. And depressed. In a very different way. I told everyone we were doing this. And yet again I look like some bullshit loser who can’t get this shit together. AGAIN.

 

 

Reality Sets In

Things have gone from hopeful to shit once more. Why I don’t trust my instincts, what the world is trying to give me, bring me, show me – is beyond me. I must be a glutton for punishment. I must be desperate and sad. I knew this was coming and I fucking did it anyway.

So, last time I posted I was thrilled and nervous over the possibility of a shop / office and gallery space for my business. Things were looking up. I was really doing it. Even my mom said she was proud of me.

The Smoker and I put a deposit on the place. We were going to sign the lease, but the landlord didn’t have it written up yet. So we said, oh, we’ll come back. No problem. 

In two days time all of this happened. It started with that same boss / client of mine. The one that felt like a con artist. She has a space above the one we were looking into. She has been refinishing the floors. Some of the glue has been dripping from her floors, through the cracks into our soon to be floors. The agreement was suppose to be that we would add dry wall to the ceiling for a super cheap rent. We all sat in a room. Management said to her you have to put something down on the floor, our floor. She said Oh I thought you would put drop cloths in there. Than manager said, oh I thought you were doing that. She says something to the effect No, but you know what, I have pieces of old billboards I paint on. I can put some of those down to make sure nothing drips down. 

We go into the space last night to measure, start purchasing some of the materials so when April came the money wouldn’t hit us so hard. We walk into the space and there is tar, dried wood glue all the SHIT all over the fucking floors. No drop cloths or billboards. Just shit everywhere. Including on the old piano I was so excited to inherit in our space. I am enraged. The Smoker starts trying to scrape it up. He’s mad too. What the fuck! He says. I storm out of there.

The Smoker and I talk. He says calm down before you call. I don’t. We are generally anxious nervous people. But sometimes my anger comes and I can’t stop it once I am pushed over that final brink. I am enraged because this is just one more thing. The final fucking thing that put me over the edge with this woman. I have been working for her since December. I assisted her in this fucking project that she has been putting together that just felt like even more dishonest con artist shit. I started to feel like a piece of shit, helping her do all of HER work. She wanted this business. She asked me to help her put it together. More and more it felt like I was doing everything while she sat around and did nothing. And that’s exactly what it became. Every word out of her mouth was bullshit. I realized I was helping her con the shit out of people via Craigslist. I tried to believe it wasn’t really happening. Now I see how fucking blind by being broke I was. She has been using me for everything.

And in this moment I exploded! I had been taken advantage of since Christmas and I was too fucking stupid to pick up on the fact that I was being conned too. The fucking floor. The whole place. It was a nightmare. I started doing the math. I would be spending over 2,000 to fix the ceiling, I was suppose to fix the counter tops, the bathroom was a mess. EVERYTHING IN THERE WOULD NEED TO BE REDONE! I grabbed The Smoker’s phone and called her. Fuck it, I told him. This is happening. He just stared at me.

I asked her why the floor hadn’t been covered and she lied to me. She’s one of those people that is very quick talking and doesn’t really shut up. I had to fight to get a single word in, even in normal conversations. This was worse. It infuriated me further. She said Oh you need to call the manager. They said they were going to cover it. Don’t you remember? I wasn’t suppose to they were. You better call them in the morning. Yeah not me. You have to talk to them. She said it over and over to me. The same sentences. I said ok. I knew full well she was lying. I just said it to shut her up. My plan was to call management and tell them there was no way in Hell I was living below this woman. She started to change the subject to business. Why was I so mad that she took the thing she had me work on alllllll weekend long and trashed it? Why was I so mad that she was trying to get the client and CREDIT CARD INFO of my fucking personal clients! Then she started telling me that I don’t have the right to be mad. I started to yell at her. Tell her how full of shit she was and I wasn’t going to fuck work with her anymore. She Immediately talked over me. telling me I didn’t really feel that way. Twisting it. I hung up on her. I fumed.

The Smoker sat there stunned. What just happened? He asked. I told him the whole thing. He was just like woah, what? Credit cards, personal info?!? One of the clients whose info she wanted was The Smokers mothers’. She is a client of mine, a doctor with a very lucrative practice. I refused to give her any info. I refused to sign any contracts. As it was, she was awful about paying me. It had gotten worse and worse, I had been swearing up and down the past two weeks that I would stop working for her after I got the last payment… She still owes me $300.

We both realized we were fucked. We just put a deposit down on this place… this fucking dump. Because of her and below her. She had talked us into it. Really to serve her own purposes since I hadn’t been taking her calls anymore. I realize that now. 

So now I have to figure something else out and fast. 

I have given the notice to my landlord on my place. He hasn’t rented it yet. But has informed me he has raised the rent for the next tenant. We also NEVER signed the lease for the retail space. I am expecting this guy to pull some serious punches on us and try not to give us the deposit back. Things aren’t sitting well with me. Neither of us have been able to reach this guy. I have sent THREE emails now, The Smoker has called and left messages. My fear is that this guy won’t give us the deposit back. Then i am truly truly fucked.

I feel like and idiot failure right now. This is my biggest dream to have a shop and work space. I saw what I wanted to in it. This space is a dirty dingy hole. The outside is now covered in dog shit, which we couldn’t see before because of the snow still covering. Along with all the needles and crack pipes. The side of the building someone wrote Fuck drug dealers that make you wait. We couldn’t see that with the snow before either. New England and it’s fucking 30 inches of snow that is still melting.

When I took this client, it had come from Craigslist. I am someone who has found a lot of work through CL. But when I talked to her and started working with her I had a very distinct dream. I dreamed that it was spring. That we had gone in on some sort of place of business together. Something bad happened having to do with money. She is screaming in my face. I have this feeling, this panicky fucked up feeling. I end up in court with her and some people she knows. It’s long and horrible. I remember waking up from the dream and thinking, good thing I am just assisting temporarily. I even told the Smoker about it. I had forgotten about my warning dream until this week. Even my subconscious was begging me not to work with her.

All day I have been nervous upset and intermittenly crying. I have no idea how I am going to find somewhere that I can live and work out of. How I am going to find a place to live period. Or salvage my dignity when I have to admit this happened to everyone I told about my soon to be retail space. I even questioned if this was really happening, was this woman that bad.

I was on Facebook before going to WordPress to post. I created an FB page for that awful woman’s project. She had a big meeting with all the web designers she’s been talking into helping her. I was suppose to be there to assist. I sent her an email saying I was quitting instead. Per my usual self I felt guilt and failure. I always assume it’s me. Then I saw it. ANGRY facebook posts from the people in her meeting. Calling her a con artist. Trying to use them and make money off their backs for her own good. One said Stop applying your gifts to take advantage of local people. Your actions are predatory and disgusting.   In this…. I felt vindicated. But in relaity, I still have no where to go, no deposit money and nothing for my business.

 

My little Libra ways are becoming cumbersome yet again. I am having trouble maintaining a balance and getting everything done on time. The stress of everything, keeping up with work, packing up my place, planning for my business to move into it’s first retail space and creating a gallery within that, trying to take care of my Diabetes and self. It’s so much. I am exhausted. 

Right now it’s 3:30 in the morning. I have been waiting up for The Smoker to come back. He works nights once or twice a week. Tonight’s a late one. I just want to sleep. But he should be here soon. I’m so tired I don’t even know if what I am typing is making sense. 

I don’t know what I can do to make this time less stressful. I guess i took on too much. I’ll have to start pulling some things back. I knew this was going to happen too. It’s the nature of the retail business. There are trends in timing. March things start to pick up again. Tax return money starts rolling in. People start buying those something specials. Weather begins to change. Events get planned. I get work on all fronts. 

I need to start saying no to things I guess. I don’t like to because of money. But once i have a shop / gallery /office, maybe it will be a time to be more selective.

So sleepy. South Park take me away…

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