Tag: family

You talk about your scars not your wounds.

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I’m watching a YouTube of two doctors (Family Med and a Psychologist) discussing mental health. It’s very interesting. The title comes from that. This is over and hour, but right now, they’re talking about people sharing their stories. Specifically people sharing their stories online. The psychologist said the title: “talk about your scars, not your wounds.” He expanded on that to mean, talking about things you can discuss without breaking down and having nightmares for a week. If your tik tok goes viral, be prepared for all the feedback on your trauma. So don’t talk about something that’s still raw.

Luckily I’m 40 with a fuck ton of therapy under my belt. I find that talking about my fucked up shit helps me. It gets it out there. Like it’s not a secret. It’s not my fault it happened. I’m not the only one that went through that shit. So it helps ME in being open like “hey, this is a part of who I am. There’s reasons I’m fucked up, please understand.” But also a bigger reason I talk about my mental health is to show other people, yo — “you’re not the only one.” And then there’s also a little bit of total selfishness.

How do I explain… There’s some people I know of — who have a lot of trauma of their own. And they know me very superficially through third parties. If you don’t know anything about me — but you hear my accomplishments, I sound like green pasture, right? I moved away from my family, went to college, graduated, have a great job, married, live in an amazing house, have a funny cat, post pictures of me and my friends by my own pool. One of these people was having a major psychological crisis and I found out that part of their trauma was comparing themselves to ME because we’re the same age. I was BLOWN AWAY.

So like, I want people to know, it ain’t all roses. I grew up with a lot of family trauma. When I finally moved away, I broke down. I failed multiple semesters of college. I was self harming and suicidal and agoraphobic. I finally sought out therapy. Let’s insert an *AGAIN* here. I had sought out therapy secretly when I was old enough before I moved away from my family. I was so good at having no feelings and presenting a fake front, that after two sessions with this man, he decided to give me his treatment plan. It included seeing a dermatologist about my acne and also working on losing weight and dressing better — which I took offense because I picked out my best outfit for this bullshit. It was Lane Bryant pants and shirt! That’s quality, expensive shit. I remember this so well. It was dark brown dress pants that flared but they had a rough edge on the bottom. The shirt was a green plaid button up — but one that was cut to form fit and flatter. But I mean, I was super fat, so it’s not gonna look GREAT on me. But I was wearing good clothes that fit and were stylish. It was my favorite outfit. So I pushed back. And he said this exact quote “Society doesn’t find THIS acceptable” — while using a two arm gesture referring to my entire body. Cause I was fat.

I left and cried in the car. When I got home (no one knew I was seeking therapy or even needed it – I was totally happy). I stayed in my room for THREE DAYS and just cried. I couldn’t wear those clothes ever again. It was highly traumatic. So it took a few years before I was willing to go again. But back in 2003/4ish, I was rock bottom. So I went. And they put me on meds and a standing Monday appointments with a behavioral (talk) therapist. Eventually, I started going to CODA for codependent people who come from fucked up families. So I was hitting the root of my issues finally. And it was hard but it was worth it. I only did it because I was literally going “At worst I kill myself in the morning.” In the vein of Wesley’s quote from the Dread Pirate Roberts in the Princess Bride.

And yeah, I didn’t graduate college until 10 years AFTER highschool. Even though I was in school that entire time. I was a joke. Literally, it was a family joke. There’s a Christmas ornament on my Dad’s Christmas tree of me as a graduate — from looooooong before I graduated. Because they got everyone custom ornaments like a nurse and shit but thats what they chose for me. Not something like a painter or reflecting a hobby. Nope. Also, no one told me I could have all those failed semesters wiped from my record due to mental illness so my GPA is a 2.1. Yeah, ouch.

Yall. I am rambling now. I did not intend for ANY OF THAT to be in this post. I just got going. The POINT of this post was supposed to be a very dark humor post about an incident that happened this week.

Incident is too strong of a word. Let’s just say – something that came up.

I was browsing Reddit cause that’s most of my time. There was a thread on “Ask Reddit” about what you can’t understand how people can afford. And one of the joke/maybe not so joking ones was “A second family.” Because dude, most of us are barely affording our lives — you’re gonna have a whole ass second one? Who has the money and TIME for that!? I come home and watch youtube because I’m too exhausted to commit to an actual show or movie. Yall are juggling multiple partners and kids? What?

But… MY DAD HAD A SECOND FAMILY! And I had totally forgotten until I posted about it in this Reddit thread. Like for real — LOL — Laugh Out Loud. I forgot my dad had a second family.

So I was messaging with my husband like woah, dude, I can’t believe that slipped my mind. I wonder if my psychiatrist even knows? Like would I mention my stepbrother (I wouldn’t) and be asked how it was growing up with a step family? “Oh no no, I didn’t know he existed until I was 16.” We had declared bankruptcy for the second time and lost our house for the second time (the one with the pool where I got my moms flamingos from). We couldn’t afford a three bedroom apartment, so my evil sister moved in with mom and I moved in with dad. (Getting fucked up, right?) Then my other sister had a car wreck and had to move back home so she moved into my room at dads.

Dad called a family meeting. Not in a healthy way. He does that shit in weird ways. Like he went to help at 911 as a firefighter so he could die a hero. So we had a family meeting about how he wasn’t going to come back. It was weird.

So family meeting. Over spaghetti. I hate my dads spaghetti. He buys the chunky sauce that has like whole ass chunks of carrots and onions and tomatoes and shit. That aint right. So he announces my step brother is moving in. (My older siblings were old enough to remember the initial affair, marriage, attempt to take us away from mom – so I don’t think this was huge news to them). I didn’t even know I had a stepbrother. Apparently, he was moving in through.

Listen, by this time, I was checked the fuck out. I wasn’t remotely upset mentally. I was withdrawn eventually from this situation by a charge from my sister in law that “yo — she’s not OK, she can’t live there anymore.” I was so good at hiding and not acknowledging my emotions that I didn’t know I HAD them. I was really fucked up medically. Stress will kill you. I was having episodes of stomach pain that would bow me over. I was seeing doctors and on smooth muscle relaxers. It was all stress. But I wasn’t self aware enough to know that, much less convey that to a doctor.

So this news wasn’t distressing. I don’t think I even had a “here we go again with more bullshit” reaction. I had no reaction. So I got up to get a glass of milk. Perhaps my stomach was acting up? This was read by my father as me reacting. So I got chewed out about how we’ve always been treated as superior. My step brothers always known we had it better than him and a better life. It’s not his fault and we WILL accept him. Like “OK, dude, jesus – I’m just getting some milk.” I distinctly remember the moment and where I was standing by the ugly apartments moon light over a counter between the kitchen and dining room. He moved in and slept on the couch.

So yeah, my dad totally had a second family. He had an affair while i was a baby. He got her pregnant. He named my step brother my actual brothers middle name. Then they decided to be a happy family so he decided to divorce mom. She wanted us to call her mom and for him to get full custody (probably so he wouldn’t have to pay child support). I was too young to remember though.

No idea why it just completely died and no one told me we had a step brother LOL

I’d even stay at my dads apartment sometimes (cause I didn’t know he was a bastard — and he could afford canned coke. And he had a NES). He had a spare room “for me.” But I wasn’t allowed to decorate it at all. Probably because it was also my step brothers room. So that makes sense now. I was allowed to leave one stuffed animal there. I chose my BEST ONE. It was a huge soft lion with long arms that were weighted so he could give you hugs. What a fucking waste.

Man, I bet all of this shattered my moms heart. Especially, when I bragged that dad bought me a 12-pack of cans of surge! Why didn’t she ever tell me anything? I only found out when I was adult and decided dad could go fuck himself on my own volition. She said she didn’t want to ruin my relationship with him. FUCK THAT. Mistakes were made.

But yeah, so my dad had a second family. What a weird thing. Also, what a weird thing to forget. Like I have so much childhood trauma, I forgot about that one. I mean listen, my dad is a clusterfuck. (My sister is worse in affects on my own life). I’ve gone extremely low contact with dad. Unlike my siblings, I don’t pretend to give a fuck. Because… I kinda don’t. What a bastard.

Any time they expect things from him or are surprised at something he did, I bring up Penny the cat. He fucked that cat up so much that she lost her hair and lived on the top stair by the attic. She had been the sweetest cat when I stayed at dads apartment in my fake room. My sister watched her while my dad was out of town and dad could never get her back because she hid from him and refused to be caught. She grew her hair back. Great cat. So yeah. Like if dad mentally fucked up a CAT that bad, why are you expecting him to do decent with humans? The man is incapable. Stop it. He couldn’t even meet the emotional needs of a fucking cat. He can’t meet yours.

So yeah, sorry this was so deep. I was literally amused and validated when I realized I forgot about my dads second family. Like oh yeah, that’s why I hate that guy. I’m right.

He had a motorcycle and a boat too. While we had nothing and lost two houses and mom had 4 jobs. What a fucking bastard.

Twitch Twitch

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So you’re telling me that reading reddit on my phone for 9 hours a day for the past 4 weeks and freaking out about everything is bad for me?

I’m stressed. I’ve also still not got anything to do at my job. Not for lack of trying. So until I get access to the damn training system, I’m stuck. So I just play with my phone all day and monitor my emails hoping someone has a meeting I can attend. It’s causing eye strain. ‘Cause my phone is tiny.

And I’m already freaking out about our summer plans. Well, really my sisters. I’ve recently concluded that not only do I not actually like my sisters, but I hate who I become when I’m around them. Even Mr C says I get way more snippy around them. He understands — but the point is, it happens.

One sister was abusive as fuck growing up. I mean take your pick. She used to weigh me every day and I remember when I hit 100lbs and she ran to “tattle” on me to mom. And she was bulimic — but for some reason she threw up in 5 gallon buckets in her closet. Who had to help empty those buckets with mom? Yep. It was so gross and smelly. Ugh. And she’d wake me up hitting me and yelling. I liked to sleep with QVC on and I was allowed to. I’d turn it down to the lowest setting but she’d randomly come in my room and wake me up by hitting me and screaming at me because my TV was bothering her (no, our rooms weren’t even next to each other). So yeah, I’m a really fucking light sleeper now. Ask Mr C. And I still have nightmares about her. I’M FORTY. You have nightmares about Lovecraftian creatures? I have nightmares about my sister.

Then there was Smokey. My moms birthday present — a black mutt dog. That dog loved my ass. And he hated my sister for beating me He’d try to defend me. The only thing on the planet that actually gave two shits about me at the time (Mom had 4 jobs, give her a break). I’d sleep with mom a lot and Smokey would always sleep with me. And my sister has always had this weird thing about bugging mom (Seriously. In Florida, she cant go through the living room door to get to the balcony to smoke, she has to go into the master bedroom where mom is to go through THAT door. Same with the house on Golf Road. Couldn’t go outside through the kitchen — had to go through the door in moms bedroom. And when we were little — use the bathroom literally right next to her room? Nope — gotta go use the one in moms room on the other side of the house). So she’d come in moms room at night. And fuck if Smokey was gonna let her near me and mom if he had anything to say about. Even in the middle of the night. He was pretty awesome.

She started abusing Smokey too. After school, when mom was at her second job, she’d trap him in a blanket and throw him in a closet until right before mom got home. So I mean, Smokey hated her. It was a problem cause Smokey would draw blood. So one day I got home and no Smokey. I asked what happened to him and Dad joked about how he finally tied him up and drug him out in the woods behind the house and shot him.

Yeah, fun memories. Mom swears she gave him away. I never will really know though, will I? She was never able to present Smokey to me or let me visit him. Even when I begged for my wedding present to just let me see Smokey again. But she never changed her story. Anyway, that’s why people think I hate dogs. I won’t have one. Smokey was my dog. And I couldn’t protect him. And even if they did give him away, he didn’t know I had nothing to do with it. He lost his person. He was betrayed, might as well have been me. I hated having her over with Jack. I warned Mr C and mom that I didn’t want her near Jack. Ugh.

Then there was the time she wanted to kill me. I forget the reason, but I ran to my others sisters room to hide and locked the door. She tried to break the door down with a hammer. She beat a hole straight through the door before she gave up. It was like the fucking SHINING.

Then she just became a raging alcoholic. She’d get blackout drunk and pass out and piss herself where ever. Who had to get her into bed and clean it up? Oh that’s me. Unless she passed out on the lawn where at least there was not vomit or pee but “the neighbors might see.” (Like I said, Mom wasn’t perfect. We were best friends when mom died, but there were a lot of years where we were not close after I finally moved away). I was super into Christianity back then – total bubble Christian in high school. I didn’t even curse! And she’d get really blasted drunk and beg me to read the Bible to her. I’d refuse and she taunt me. I’m pretty sure girl has demons. Like I’m serious, yall. I may not be a bubble Christian anymore, but I’m still a Christian. Might as well have been a devil taunting me.

She also used threats of suicide and self harm as emotional abuse against us. She still self harms. Wears it proudly on her arm for all of us to see. Oddly enough she’s carved a cross into her arm. See the difference is, when I self harmed I hid it. Because I’m not an attention seeker — I was just really fucked up. So when I’d rip open my own skin, no one ever saw it. Cause I have standards. Pretty sure she’s still a raging alcoholic too. Last time I was at my sisters house (she lives with my other sister. Short story is Sister never left the nest — mom moved in the sister so other sister did too) So yeah, I sit down in moms bedroom chair thinking of mom. I look into her basket of books to see what she was reading… oh a giant bottle of alcohol. Don’t think that was moms… We used to do alcohol raids but it never did any good. Other sister says she’s letting the drinking slide because she’s afraid she’ll kill herself (They’re both in black holes since mom died).

She also drove drunk all the time which led to lots of accidents. Once she ran into a parked car and got arrested. She was sentenced to live in a halfway house. It was nice while she was gone. She was diagnosed with Antisocial Personality Behavioral Disorder. She came back though. Nothing ever changed.

It’s funny. This week a deep seated fear I haven’t had in over a decade resurfaced. I used to breakdown crying to mom that what if I was like her and didn’t know it? She doesn’t know she’s like she is! What if I’m like that? Ruining peoples lives and I don’t know it? What if I’m bat shit crazy and evil too? Really crazy people don’t KNOW they’re crazy, yall! I confessed this to my husband and said I turn into a different person around my sisters. I hate who I become. He admitted I do become really snippy when I’m around them — but he understands. Wait. I already said that.

Any way, other sister used to be cool. Growing up she was cool and loving. She was away at college and worked at TCBY and when she’d come home, she’d bring me a whole cup of the toppings like reeses pieces and shit. I think she’d send me cards sometimes too.

But the past few years she’s been insufferable. She’s ripped me off financially. She’s a bitch. And she absolutely ruined my Christmas. Killed it. I know she has an autoimmune disorder that causes her sever constant pain and fatigue. And she feels like she got stuck with other sister (even though she’s done nothing to kick her out). So she’s bitter as fuck. And it ain’t pleasant to be around.

Anyway it’s Florida year. I still like going to the beach. And I love my brother and his family and want to spend time with my nephews and keep moms favorite thing alive. Our yearly trips to Florida. But damn, I don’t think I wanna stay in the timeshare with my sisters this year. So I’m like should me and Mr C get our own place? Go in with my bro wherever they stay? It’s too early for my bro to commit if he’s going. But like I don’t wanna wait too late and not have anywhere to stay booked. So yeah, that’s brought all this shit up.

Whatever. It’s past my bedtime. I still gotta lay out medicine for the week! And get my twitchy eyed ass to bed! Lack of sleep is on the twitchy eye causes too! And see, that’s another difference between me and sister — I have a psychiatrist and take my medication and try to not let my personal crazy destroy everyone else’s lives.

Also I’m married. And we’re like in a healthy relationship. Surely husband would have left me by now if I was like her?

I need a valium. Don’t worry, I take 3 a day.

Oh and I want to look for a cat but it stresses me out SO MUCH. Friends, please find me a very needy cat that just wants cuddles and constant attention. I was thinking maybe contact fosters and see if any of them have a needy as fuck cat? Like I need fuzzy snuggles.

A Passive Aggressive Christmas

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So this year, Mr C and I spent Christmas with my family. It’s only 90 miles away but we planned to spend the night. My family does their big celebration on Christmas Eve so as to not have to fight for everyone’s time. Everyone’s free on Christmas Eve. So we went down on Christmas Eve and planned to sleep over at Sister1’s house, have Christmas brunch and head home on Christmas. Really just a formality as I feel bad that we spend a week with my in laws but only spend 24 hours with my own family. So we could at least do that.

We’d usually sleep at my brothers house, but they were full for the night. They had to take custody of SIL’s niece. Her mom was a drug addict. She’s supposed to be better now though so they’re working with her and bio-mom was sleeping over for Christmas. So they had a full house — but also a damn full plate of drama of their own. So we’d sleep at Sister1’s house — where Sister2 also lives. Plan. Not ideal because Sister1 has a big dog, but whatever – it’s one night. (Brother has 2 big dogs, but unlike the rest of my family, he trains them. His dogs are insanely well behaved.)

So dinner is at Dad’s at 5. He has forbidden present exchanges so we got to my bros house at 4 to exchange gifts. Well, Sister1 decided not to come cause she didn’t feel good. That’s fine, she has RA really bad and it really brings down her quality of life. Understood. However, since Sister1 wasn’t going to come, Sister2 decided not to either. This pissed SIL off very much because they’re having a feud right now. But whatever. We gave the nephews and kinda-now-niece their presents.

SIL explains that Sister1 is sick with a cold so that’s why she’s not feeling good. Wait, what? No one told us anyone was sick. She explains that Sister1 has had a cough for about a week now. Two things: Mr C is a germaphobe who didn’t want to be there anyway. Also, I have no PTO so I can’t get sick. It’s not an option. I gotta work. So we decide not to spend the night at Sister1’s house.

Sounds simple? Not simple. I about had a panic attack over this decision because this was gonna piss Sister1 off and I knew this would be a nuclear bomb. But Mr C is very supportive and said he’d go with whatever decision I made. So I texted them that we wouldn’t be spending then night. Then I had a mini panic attack but Mr C was very nice and let me sit in the car and calm down. Then we got out of the car at Dads. Sisters had just pulled up.

Sister1 immediately laid into me something fierce. She was furious. She said she wasn’t sick that it was just her RA and she can’t help it. So I’m being an asshole over something she can’t help. I tried to explain it was over the cough but she said she’d taken multiple covid tests and she wasn’t sick. (Which, if you weren’t sick, why did you take covid tests? Someone’s lying.) After screaming at me in the driveway in front of my husband, Bro and SIL arrive. I try to explain to SIL what is going on but she’s having major neice baby-momma drama of her own and needs a xanax and a couple of drinks. Fair. Merry Christmas.

So we go in and pretend to be a happy family, cause that’s what we do on holidays. But Sister1 is still furious. She won’t speak to me or look at me. If I move towards her, she leaves the room. At one point, she had to walk past me and went all the way around all the furniture so as to avoid me. It was really obvious. I pointed it out to my husband who reassured me, I’m not crazy — she’s crazy. But I felt like SHIT. Absolute trash.

So dinner was OK. Affair child and his family came. Dad loves to coo over affair child’s child. He was never nice to any of us or even my nephews. So it kinda just makes me sick. Like, I know he’s kinda probably got a bit of dementia, he’s bonafide insane, and is now on psychiatric medications. So like he’s different. Logical me knows this. But emotional me sees him as an evil bastard who ruined pretty much everyone’s lives just for shits and giggles. HE SHOT MY DOG.

Ok, breathe.

So I walk in the kitchen where SIL is and — just to make sure I’m not insane — I clarify that he never treated her kids so nicely and isn’t that kinda gross? She agrees. Ok, I’m not crazy. But by this point in the night she was taking shots and so was Dad’s girlfriend cause — family holidays, am I right? Oh yeah and Dad has 2 huge untrained dogs and Sister1 brought her dog, so in the background and all around you are 3 huge dogs play fighting. Also a sad little blind, deaf, and incontinent little dog but I mean, you can’t fault him. He just wants the other dogs to leave him alone.

Then girl friend actually starts talking about making him (Dad) go back to a psychologist — not just a psychiatrist who gives meds, but an actual therapist because of how bad he’s been the past two years. She’s actually started to have heart troubles because of the stress of this bastard. So I’m like girlfriend, it’s not just two years. I know for a fact he’s been an asshole for 40 years minimum, and thats just what I can actually verify first hand. Why does she stay? IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE.

So after dinner we go to the Sister’s house and give them their gifts (because again, Dad had banned gift giving at his house). I was surprised she let us in at all. It wasn’t bad. But we did go home that night. I mean after the way she had treated me all night, there was no winning. Like you want to bully me into sleeping over because you’re angry? WTF?

So we slept in our own bed which was nice. Wouldn’t have had a good nights sleep on her air mattress. And we didn’t have to drive home or do anything so we got to sleep late and chill. We opened gifts. I had eggnog and Mr C had cookies. I took pictures. Later that evening, Mr C took me to look at the Tinsel Trail Christmas lights. But Christmas was kinda ruined.

Sister1 is still so angry she won’t talk to me or respond to texts. She’s acting like I’m being ableist against her RA when I just didn’t want to catch her COUGH. But she denies ever having a cough so it’s moot. So yeah, she hates me now. She’ll hate me for a few months and then maybe get over it a little bit. We’ll see. I feel REALLY bad. So it kinda spoiled my Christmas.

Yay, family!

Vacation Acts 2 & 3

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I’m writing this from the airport.  Where we have been all day.  We left the cottage at 8:30 for a 12:20 fight.  It’s now 2:15.  Our connection flight was canceled.  They wanted us to stay overnight and all day tomorrow in the airport and leave for home at 9:30 tomorrow night.  So we had to reroute and deal with customer service.  Now were flying out at 5:30 and arriving home at midnight – HOPEFULLY.  This trip has been a travel nightmare.  And American Airlines is, of course, blaming all the delays and cancellations on weather.  That way they don’t have to reimburse you or pay for food and hotels.  Such fucking bullshit.  It’s the lies that really piss me off.  

Our vacation was great though.  I usually don’t like this trip much because the cottage is far too small and unairconditioned and has a single bathroom for 6 grown adults.  However, with just the 4 of us siblings, it was great.  I mean, we all feel bad that it was great.  Of course, it’s sad we didn’t get to see Mr C’s parents.  However, it was really nice just being the siblings.  It was so much more chill.  And so much more roomy. 

We went to the beach almost every day.  I got in the ocean a lot.  I lost my mountain toppers on the second ocean adventure.  I managed to hang onto my glasses when an unexpected wave nailed me but the toppers slipped from my grasp.  They were my favorites too.  After that, I just didn’t wear toppers in the ocean.  I’m learning.  Slowly. 

We played a lot of games.  I even joined in the family tradition of pinochle which I’ve refused for a decade.  Mr C’s family is SERIOUS about pinochle.   They even buried his grandma with a perfect pinochle hand.  So we played 3 games.  Mr C and I lost the tie breaker last night.  This pinochle participation shall never be spoken of outside of the group. 

We also played a ton of Splendor.  I brought the fancy glass gems and metal doubloons set I got for Christmas.  The gem set costs more than the actual game.  But playing a game with really nice pieces makes such a huge difference.  It’s so much more fun to really hold the gems and gold and feel fancy.  We played Five Crowns too.  I won last night! 

So vacation was really good.  Now, if we can just get home, we’ll be solid.     

UPDATE:  It’s now Sunday morning.  After I wrote the above post, we got delayed and canceled again.  We rerouted and arrived home after a late connection in Miami.  I was getting into bed at 3:00am.  Oh, and they lost our luggage.  Fucking American Airlines.  We really enjoyed the trip but this was the trip travel from travel hell:

1 Saturday flight out, canceled.

2 Sunday we arrived at the airport, got a pat down at security and it was canceled after we sat there two hours. 

3 Monday we finally made it out on a delayed flight.  We made our connection because it was also delayed.  Arrived at the cottage at 3:00 AM

4 We arrive to fly home at 9:30am.  First Saturday flight gets pushed back further and further and further.  We spend hours at Gate 8.

5 Find out the connection we are about to fly to is canceled. 

6 Reroute through a different airport that has a connection to home.  Also going to leave from Gate 8. Decide that Gate 8 is really just the “fuck you” gate. Flight gets pushed back so many times that we are in jeopardy of missing the home connection. 

7 Rebook on a flight that leaves a little sooner to make the connection.

8 Leave Boston around 6:00pm.  Arrive to find the connection has been pushed back.   

9 Home connection gets pushed back, like five times.  We were supposed to arrive home at midnight with the new flights (was going to be 630pm with the original booking).  We got home at 2am. 

10 Our luggage apparently never even left Boston.  Still waiting to hear from them on that. 

But I saved the toppers!

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Yesterday, I dove into the icy waters off the coast of Maine. I’m not traveling to a beach and not getting in the water. Even if it is really fucking cold. Painfully so. I got half-way and decided to fully commit. And the best way to fully commit is to dive in. I swim with my glasses all the time at home so I know the toppers fall off in the water a lot. So I took my sunglasses topper off to hold onto. Then I waited for a big wave and dove right in!

My glasses went with the wave. Yep, right over my head.

I kinda just wrote them off as gone. I could easily order a new pair from “Pair” for under a hundred dollars. It would suck going the rest of the week without glasses, but not cripple me. I’m like -3 in my prescription. So everything would just be blurry. But we’re not sight seeing here.

Thankfully, my Brother-In-Law and Sister-In-Law were with me to help me frantically search the waves. Somehow BIL found them. It felt like five minutes of searching but maybe it was closer to two. We were panicking. I tried to communicate to husband back on the beach what had happened, but he didn’t realize. I guess I was still holding my twenty five dollar topper so he probably assumed I was holding my glasses.

Anyway, lesson learned. Don’t dive in the ocean with your glasses on. Its funny, I’ve worn my glasses in the gulf many times and never had them fall off. However, they fall off in the pool sometimes while I’m falling off a float or something. They’re just really easy to retrieve in a pool. Not so much in the Atlantic.

Thanks, BIL!

I’m here anytime you need to talk. Except when you need to talk.

Posted on | by cursingcats.com | 8 Comments on I’m here anytime you need to talk. Except when you need to talk.

Got a text from sister1 today. Apparently sister2 had a breakdown and spent hours telling her how she had backslid into drinking a ton and depression and she was not doing okay over moms death. We all kinda knew that (When I sat in moms bedroom chair and looked to see what she had been reading, I assumed the hard liquor wasn’t hers), but she hadn’t admitted any of it. So sister1 wanted us to be mindful and reach out and let sister2 know we love her and not tell her we know kinda way.

In this same text message thread, sister3 mentioned she cried to nephew2 about mom just this weekend. Well, fuck I was talking just yesterday to nephew2 online and told him I was super upset about moms death too. So I was like, I’ll call sister3! She ignored my call, yall. You know how you click someone off and it goes to voicemail early ’cause you clicked them off. Uhuh. So okay, I’ll call sister2. She cuts me off too with the auto text “can’t talk right now.” She ALWAYS does this. She did it to mom all the time too. So no big surprise. Okay… I’ll call sister1. No answer. FUCK ME. So I call my mother-in-law cause she loves to talk. No answer (she’s most likely working and not ignoring me. She LOVES when I call). Yall have got to be kidding me!

So I called nephew1 and chatted a while. I wanted to talk about mom but I did not. I just talked to him about what was going on with him and his life. It was still good to talk to someone. And I left work early cause I was upsetty.

INTERMISSION: Hey I told Mr C when I got home super early: “I quit! … for the day.” Haha, he had one of those mini heart attacks.

Anyway, what the fuck? Everyone’s all “I’m here for you.” Except when you actually need to talk to someone and then no one will pick up the god damned phone. It’s been hours and no return calls either. And in the text thread where sister3 mentioned crying about it this weekend, she was like “I’m glad we all still think of her.” Again I say to you: what the fuck? Like no, I moved on. I don’t give a shit that my mom died on Christmas. I hardly think of it. Certainly not EVERY FUCKING DAY. What a shitty support net I have.

AND NOW, THIS…

God, that mug humored me so much when I saw it earlier in my Facebook Feed. “Bitch, I will put you in a trunk and help people look for you.” That’s good. I’ve never heard that. They had so many good ones too. (The picture links to Piper & Lou who sell these epic mugs.)