A Lesson in Humility

Posted on June 3, 2009


After yesterday, any day would do. I take that back. I must stop living in a yesterday, or a tomorrow, because for as shitty as today also turned out to be, there is one little gem that made me smile, right before I sat down to write this.

It started early morning with my regular SAA meeting, where I’ve taken a strong disliking to one of the men in the group. He is the epitome of every powerful man I’ve ever fucked to gain power over, regardless of whether or not this “power” I gain is an illusion, and now that I cannot do so, I feel uncomfortable around him. To add to that, I feel as though everything that comes out of his mouth is a fucking lie, from his so called sex addiction to his shares, and I’d love nothing more than to call him out on it. Tell him he’s on a power trip because so many of the other men look to him for guidance. But that would just be another power play in my fucked up little brain, so I will refrain. I will also refrain from being a cunt to him because I have no clue whether or not my sneaking suspicions hold any truth. All I can say is I smell a liar from a mile away, and I smell one sitting in the room. In fact, he will probably end up being on my resentments and amends list, so perhaps I will get the cathartic release I so desperately need, but in a nice healthy and productive way instead of the mean, cruel and vindictive way I’d usually go about it. Sometimes, sex and cuss words are not the answer.

On the way back I hit Trader Joe’s, because folks, the truth of my situation has really hit home. And by home I mean my wallet. After settling into the idea that I owe the IRS some cash, my first child, and my right ovary, I realized I have an IRA I can dip into. And my pride has been interfering with me doing so, the ego telling me, “don’t you dare touch that money before its time, you’ll have to pay penalties and that’s why you put it in there in the first place, so you wouldn’t spend it.” But that is all hogwash and bullshit and I put it in there for an emergency. Granted that emergency was supposed to occur when I hit 55, but fuck it. This is an emergency.

So after I decided I need to dip into the no fly zone, I also decided it’s time to seriously cut back on all my lovely little things that keep me tied up in bills and receipts. Things like the Benz, and tasty dinners in hollywood. Things like new pairs of panties when I’m too lazy to do laundry, and lattes when I’m too lazy to make my own coffee. It’s time to cut back. And to be honest, I’m kind of excited at the prospect. Less things to worry about? More money more problems? Lets see where I’m willing to go to make this choice I’ve made work out.

I’m calling the Benz financial dealership tomorrow to tell them it’s impossible for me to keep the car. Maybe if the payment is no more than $200, but anything over, I am ready to drive it to a dealership and walk the fuck away. I may have to take a hit on my credit. Default on a loan or what the fuck ever they want to do. But I cannot spend 3/4 of my rent to drive around a car that just collects parking tickets. It’s just fucking retarded. And I’m trying not to be a retard anymore. Trying. I don’t mind taking the bus, it just means I have to get up a little earlier. Make sure I’m where I need to be when I need to be there. I’ve always enjoyed public transportation-part of growing up in the bay area where we have BART and it takes you exactly where you’ve always wanted to go. A bus and metro pass are both way cheaper than a Mercedes. Besides I’ve hit my two year lifespan with this car and am looking for a change. It will feel good to not have to worry about traffic, or speeding tickets, or any of that other nonsense that goes with driving. I’m hoping they can make a deal with me, but quite honestly, if they don’t. Good fucking riddance.

And while we are throwing out the Benz, lets throw out dinners at Koi, or Katana, lunches where I order appetizers and only eat one dumpling. Lets say goodbye to Victoria and her naughty secrets- it’s not like anyone will be seeing my panties anyway. I still have another 307 days to go. April 6th 2010? Look the fuck out world. I’m not getting a television, so there’s that bill, no home phone, no worries, goodbye auto insurance, (this no car thing sounds better and better), goodbye excess. I am going to try to live my life as simply as possible, because it’s the desire for the extra’s that has gotten me in the position I’m in right now. Oh, that and the fact that I can’t have sex with the people I care about, drink excessively which leads to eightballs of cocaine, and don’t give a flying fuck about the people who do get in my bed so I kick them out before 3am so I can starfish all by myself. All I really need every day is breakfast – yogurt and berries, lunch-spinach berries candied pecans blue cheese and oil and vinegar and dinner-whatever the fuck is in my house. I have plenty of canvases, ones that I am going to wreck and paint over my original paintings, plenty of paint, plenty of memory on my computer, and plenty of room for change.

Speaking of making room for change….

After the conversation with my mother yesterday, I called my father, to talk it out. Talk it all out. It was my New Years resolution to make him a part of my life again, after 13 years of my being a shithead teenager and refusing to let him in, as a young woman, I need my dad, need him to be a part of my life, even if it is only at first in small doses. So I’ve been calling him every couple days to check in, to put in place the foundation of a relationship I totally demolished years ago. I told him everything that had occurred between mom and me and he said I made the right decision in telling her what I did and made no judgements toward me or her. She had called him prior to my call, saying how worried she is about the IRS coming after me, and so he called her back after our conversation to offer her a little advice in dealing with me at this time. Which is a little ironic I suppose but that’s life right? He’s been in tons of therapy since the divorce and understands the nature of self-discovery. He knows its my path and he can only be there to support me in my decisions. I inherited the brutally honest approach from him, and he took it with my mom, leaving a message saying he’d like to offer her some coaching on talking to me. I knew nothing of this until today, when my step-father called to say I may want to look into JK Harris or something like, at which point I told him I’d rather just dip into the retirement fund and pay the fucking man. no point in putting things off anymore.

Step-pops then went on to say I shouldn’t talk to my dad about things going on between my mom, my step-dad and me. That he just uses it against my mom, and it fuels his fire. I fucking broke. I started crying hysterically and screaming.

“Don’t you fucking get it? This is why I feel like such shit. I am always being put in the middle of something I shouldn’t be. I can’t fix that. I refuse to censor my conversations with him because he’s my father and I want a fucking relationship with him. I need support, and she can’t offer it to me. She can’t fucking hear me when I talk because all she does is make me feel guilty for failing her as a daughter. This isn’t shit you should talk about with me. I can’t fix it. I am not her mother. ”

He tried to interject, I wouldn’t let him, between my sobs begging him not to ask this of me and rage that after 13 years, I still felt like the child I once was. Still am. I screamed that I can’t help myself if I keep it all inside, and he’s the only one who doesn’t think it’s his fault I am the way I am. He tried a few more times to say something about dad extrapolating things from the conversation to use against her and I hung up. I don’t need 4 syllable bullshit condescending words when I’m a quivering wreck of a woman. I just need someone to listen. And to let me share my feelings.

After I hung up it all came out, the tears the frustration, the hopelessness that has been building inside me for years, and I sat on my couch crying for what seemed like ages. Saucy had been asleep in the other room but my sobbing woke her up and she came out to see what was going on. The Big Dog wanted to play but I think Sauce knew I was a mess so she got in between the wiggling big dog and me, crawled up on the couch and licked my salty face until I fell asleep. When I woke, she had fallen asleep with her face on top of mine, and I’ve never been so thankful for my little blue pit as I was at that moment.

I spoke with Karim about the whole thing and he asked if I need to be emotional with my mother right now. If I can just have nice short conversations with her that side step the larger issues at hand. And the answer is no. There will be no time soon where we can talk without it turning into an emotional conversation, because she wants to know what traumatic experience fucked me up so bad, and I just want her to support me on this new, bus driven path I get to call my life. photo