Whatever stuff

Waiting for the bus to work.  I missed the 11:07 bus that gets me there an hour early, so instead I’m catching the 12:07 bus that gets me there 15 minutes late.  I should care more than I do, the thing about retail and specifically the store I work for is that they are very flexible.  People come late and leave early all the time and no one really cares, unless it’s excessive and inconveniences others.  I know if I get this new job I’ll be back in corporate America and they are not at all flexible about that kind of thing. I better be an hour early and like it.  My contact, the friend and former coworker who referred me says there is still a chance I’ll get the job even though it’s been over 3 weeks and still haven’t heard anything.  The training classes are set to start on October 5^th or at least that’s what I was told during the interview.  My friend says one of the trainers was recently fired which means the date of the classes might get pushed back.  The reason I’m worried about that is because I want to be able to give my manager at least 2 weeks notice before I leave.  I know it will be difficult for them to cover the schedule if I leave, especially since one of our part time girls recently confessed to me that she wants to find another job and would likely be leaving at some point.  That would leave the lab a manager with one part time guy whose not really trained and one other part time girl who is fully trained but is also crosses trained to work on the sales floor so might not be able to cover all the hours that would be open.  I really want to tell J--- and B---- that I’m leaving sooner so they can have time to get someone hired and at least half way trained but I can’t take the chance that they hire someone to replace me and then I don’t get this new job.  I know I’ll feel like an ass but I have to do what’s right for my family.  I need to have my nights and weekends back.  And this job is literally a 5 minute drive from my house.  Hell, I could walk there if I really needed to.  I won’t have the car anymore if I take this job.  Ron will get Nathaniel up with him in the morning, drive him to Terrea’s house and then drive to work.  I’ll walk Elizabeth to daycare in the morning and then hop on the bus.  This will be how it works at least for the next 6 months until Nathaniel turns 1 year old. Then he’ll be able to join Elizabeth at her daycare.  At that point I don’t know if Ronald will continue taking the car and I’ll go back to getting both kids  up and out the door every damn morning.  Up to this point I’ve accepted being responsible for the kids because at least I had the car and he had to get up extra early and take a bus, a train and the el.  I’m sitting here on the grass under a tree waiting for the bus.  It’s unfortunate most of the bus stops around here don’t have any shelter or shade. You’re completely exposed to the elements.  That is going to be a problem for me at some point.  I think I should be able to keep the car during the winter months if I’m going to have the kids.  We’ll have to cross that bridge when we come to it. 

I have to close tonight.  Crossing my fingers that it’s slow.  I know that sounds so lazy, I’m just not in the mood to do any real work.  I’m such a bum. Lol  It just irks me that they schedule me to work by myself so often.  B---- will be there today until 5 or 5:30.  I like Bryan, he’s interesting.  Reminds me of the kind of guy I would have been friends with in high school.  Sitting with my legs crossed like this is starting the make my knees sore.  Geez, my knees are atrocious.  So this is how it feels to get old.  I don’t like it. 

At work now, taking my dinner break. I hate my job today.  I find myself liking it less and less over the last couple of weeks.  There are aspects of it that I honestly enjoy my immediate managers and supervisors are good guys, easy to get along with.  Most of my coworkers are tolerable and most days things go pretty smoothly.  There is just an attitude that permeates this company that I can’t stand.  I’m not sure how to describe it without going on for a paragraph and since I had to wait in line at Chick-fil-a for half my break I don’t have the luxury of time on my side.  Wouldn’t it be cool to get paid to write?  To be able to support myself and my family just using my own creativity and imagination.  To communicate on a level and be able to reach people in a way that was so significant, so profound that they would pay me.  Getting paid to think and share my thoughts wih the world.  How awesome would that be?  Up until this point I thought my success would be in a work of fiction.  A narrative story; put perhaps there’s more inside.  Perhaps that has been the reason for my writer’s block.  I was trying to write the wrong thing.  I’ve thought about writing down my thoughts about religion and politics, racism in America.  Really heavy stuff.   I have a lot of thoughts but when I think of actually putting them on paper I shy away.  I’m not a political science professor or attorney, I don’t have any of the background or credentials that people expect.  I’m not Hollywood entertainer with a huge following who can get people’s attention just because of their celebrity.  Hell, I didn’t even finish college.  Why the heck would anyone care what I have to say?  But yet I feel it burning inside me.  Can I get it out?  Can I tell you what I really think?  Uh oh, breaks over.

Mistrust vs Unforgiveness

Monday, September 14, 2015

Didn't take lunch today, no overlapping coverage and by the time I was actually ready we had too many jobs working for me to stop.  So I skipped lunch and just clocked out a half hour early. I’m still sitting in the break room eating what I guess is technically dinner since it’s after 5pm.  Leftovers from the potluck we had on Saturday, the same thing I had for breakfast.  My beloved stayed home today so he has the car so I’m just sitting around waiting to get picked up.

This morning I woke up feeling a combination of sadness, frustration and despair.  I dreamed about my husband cheating again.  Catching him in the act. Him first denying the accusations and then blaming his actions on my inability to satisfy his needs.  It’s difficult for me as I try to move forward with my marriage because even though I am committed to forgiving him, I am unable to trust him.  Almost everything I know about his various infidelities I discovered on my own.  Either by my own investigation or by third parties bringing information to my attention; some things were just a matter of my own intuition leading me to conclusions that ended up being spot on.  Only about 1% of the facts were volunteered by my beloved and most of that 1% came after much plying and peeling away layers of deception.  Each time we would have what was supposed to be an open honest discussion establishing a clean slate, I would find out in a matter of days or weeks that he had again lied to me and there was more to the story.  So it stands to reason that if there were any further offenses I could not count on him to be forthcoming and just confess, no, I would have to wait for any further betrayals to be be revealed in the same fashion.  Therefore, our foundation is shaky at best.  Still each day I try to move forward, try to focus on the positive, take him at his word.  Unfortunately the rope that’s holding us together has been unraveled so severely that almost anything causes me to slip back into fear and anxiety.  Even just a dream.  This next confession is going to seem suspiciously spooky but it’s 100% true.  I dreamed about his infidelity.  I had multiple dreams about it over the course of months and almost everything I dreamed ended up happening in one way or another.  I spent so many nights crying in my sleep, experience heart wrenching betrayals over and over, knowing in the center of my being that what my unconscious mind was showing me was a glimpse of what my conscious eyes were unable to view.

I am unable to find peace.  Not because of unforgiveness but because of mistrust.  I can forgive what I already know he did, but I am terrified that I am walking into more hurt.  So many things raise red flags in my mind. Things that once seemed innocent now set off alarms in my heart.  HE’S UP TO SOMETHING.  HE’S UP TO SOMETHING. HE’S UP TO SOMETHING. BEWARE. BEWARE. WARNING!!!!!  How do I move past that? My intuition was spot on every time, every time he lied, in my heart  I knew the truth, but somehow now I’m supposed to ignore my intuition? How?  And better question, why should I?

Yet somehow, a little bit at a time I feel like I am starting to trust him, or at least be less suspicious.  Sometimes I look at him and how hard he really does seem to be trying and I feel a little bit of my guard letting down.  Or at least I feel apprehension when I feel the anger rise up in me from time to time.  I see him, looking all pitiful.  I don’t want to be a fool, yet I want to believe him.  I want my life to make sense again. I want to be at peace.  I want to make love without cringing inside every time I get a vision of him touching her.  I want to look at our children without thinking about the child he made with his mistress, or the son in Atlanta that he’s been denying for the last seven years.  I want to be able to hear him say he loves me without recalling the months he contemplated leaving me for his mistress and wondering if he could be capable of that level of deception again.  I can accept that he did it, I just wonder if he could do it again. 

Career Inopportunities

September 12, 2015

Potluck at work today in honor of Diamond Day. Some promotional bullshit corporate made up, I couldn’t care less.  I was supposed to make chicken wings but we went out last night for my birthday and my stepson had a football game this morning so I went to Acme and bought some roasted chicken and just passed it off as my own.  Our regional manager stopped by to cheer us on.  When I first met her I really liked her, she had great positive energy and that was refreshing.  These days she just seems fake and annoying.  I can only stand being around her for a little while before I have to get away.  I suspect at times even she is aware of how plastic she is. 

Anyway, I feel like I’m getting back into the habit of writing on a somewhat regular basis.  I think maybe that’s why I’ve been experiencing creativity blocks when I try to write.  I’m so out of practice.  Getting thoughts out of my head, organizing them and writing them down.  I need to write a novel.  I need to write for a living.  I need to freelance or something because I’m sick of working for someone else.  Tired of the corporate politics and bullshit.  Tired of my success being dependent on another person doing something.  I want to live off my own creativity and talent.  I’m tired of trying to make my square peg fit in a world of round holes.  At previous points in my life I felt different.  I thought that entrepreneurship wasn’t for me.  I was happy learning how to do a job and working hard for someone else.  I thought, “Let that person be responsible for the risk.  I’ll just play my role, earn my check and go home.” The problem with that is you’re forever at the mercy of that person or entity.  I hate working for another person.  I guess that’s the first step.  I don’t want to do this anymore.  I don’t want to have a job anymore.  I want a career; a purpose.  I hate that I’m doing a job that any 19 year old high school graduate could learn to do over a summer break.  Sure, I have picked up a lot of knowledge about this industry and I guess I do like what I do, insomuch that I don’t hate it.  But it’s not helping me develop my talents or grow in my natural abilities.  It’s just a job.  I’m 37 years old.  I don’t want a job.  I've had jobs since I was 15.  I work with people who have been doing this for 15-20 years.  Oh my God, if I’m still doing this in my 50s just shoot me.  Seriously.

Last night my beloved took me to Red Lobster for my birthday.  We had the kids with us and that was nice.  I love my babies, I love to see him play with them.  I love my family.  I have to make myself focus on that and not let my mind wander to all the externals.

It's my birthday

Masquerade!
Paper faces on parade.
Masquerade!
Hide your face so the world will never find you.
Masquerade!
Every face a different shade.
Masquerade!
Look around, there's another mask behind you.

Birthdays and other such nonsense

September 10, 2015

At work again, lunch break.  This seems to be the only time I can carve out to write.  I was off yesterday, home with my little monster all day.  Didn’t get much done, didn’t even really get to nap because I was focused on him all day.  Well him and TV but I can usually get stuff done while I watch television but not while I’m holding him.  I have aMoby wrap which I actually like but the AC is still broken so going around with him strapped to me with all that fabric is not an option because the house is just too damn hot.  I managed to straighten up a little here and there, threw in a load of laundry but for the most part I sat on the catch with little man all day watching whatever.  I had intended to be out and about for at least the first part of the day.  I needed to go to my job because I left my debit card in my lab coat and from there I was headed to my Momma’s house to get her BJs card so I could get some formula and other essentials. Problem was I didn’t have any gas, definitely not enough to get all the way to my job and then to the gas station.  I was reluctant to transfer money to the joint account that I do have a debit card for.  I ended up doing that anyway several hours later.  Not sure why I waited to so long.  Around 5pm I gathered little man and myself up, picked up the girl and finally went to run my errands.

Tomorrow is my birthday.  I’ll be 37 years old.  Not quite sure how I feel about that.  I’ve always loved my birthday but I’m at a point that I’m kind of indifferent.  Maybe I’ll care when I turn 40.  I am painfully aware of my age.  The number of years I’ve been on this earth troubles me only in light of how little I feel I’ve accomplished.  I have 3 awesome children whom I love with all my heart but their existence was really more good fortune than an actual accomplishment.  True, my oldest is in college and doing well by most accounts, still I don’t feel I can take credit for that.  His success in life is more of a blessing from God than a human achievement, at least from my perspective.  I know I made more than enough mistakes raising him to have ruined him completely.  It has been God’s grace and mercy keeping both of us. 

So I’m scheduled to work on my birthday, even though it falls on a Friday.  I’m working the next day too.  Eh, I just didn’t feel it required any time off.  The husband is planning to taking me to NYC at the beginning of October for a weekend getaway in honor of my birthday.  We just need to find someone to watch our kids for 3 days.  Easier said than done, but my beloved doesn’t think about that sort of thing.  Of course he’s used to having someone else be responsible for his children.  He’s a good Dad to the children he has with me, but he is gone a lot because of his job and even when he's home he's often still working.  He’s only had physical custody of his oldest son for the last 3 years; he has 2 other children that don’t live with him; one he only sees every other weekend and the other he’s never even met.  I suppose that is harsh, but I can’t take it back, it’s true.  He’s been a part time dad most of his life and even though he tries his best, he has a disturbing ability to be separated from his children for long periods of time, leaving them in the care of others without feeling bad?  I’m not sure how to describe it.  It just seems to me that most full time parents of small children have an instinct to be present with their kids as much as possible and if too much time goes by it’s a problem.  It’s not like that for my husband.  He’s totally fine leaving his kids for extended periods with other people while he pursues his own interests.  And he totally expects that other people will just be okay caring for them while he's off doing whatever.  Not that he doesn’t miss them or want to be with them, he’s just not as affected by being absent.  He only had to be a weekend dad for so long, and he had the freedom to dip off for weeks at a time and it was fine because his "baby's mother" was doing all the heavy lifting.  As a dad as long as he came around on a somewhat regular basis and paid child support he was a "good dad". It's like that for a guy. The mom does most of the work, makes all the sacrifices and deals with the everyday, monotonous routine that is parenting, but parttime dads get to show up when it's convenient for them, spend a few hours every other weekend playing the role and everyone is impressed. Smdh.

Baby Boy

Tuesday, September 8, 2015

At work, my little 30 minute lunch break.  Don’t remember what time I clocked out or how long I’ve been clocked out.  I’ll probably be late clocking back in, sadly I don’t care.  At least not as much as I should.  It’s not that I don’t like my job, I guess I do, there are aspects of it that are kind of cool.  I like my coworkers most days.  I got unofficially demoted while I was on maternity leave in a rather shady fashion but if I’m honest I don’t really want the responsibilities of being the lab manager anyway.  Bryan is a nice guy and he has a lot more experience than I do, I can learn from him.  I didn’t get a reduction in pay and I’m still getting full time hours so I guess it worked out pretty sweet.  The only reason I’m looking to leave is because of the hours.  I’ve been working retail for 4 years now and frankly I want my nights and weekends back.  My husband’s job is so demanding, one of us needs to have a standard routine schedule.  We have 2 little kids and one obnoxious teenager living in our house, so organization is essential to making this work.

I drove my oldest baby up to college this past weekend.  I cried a little, but I’m mostly happy.  I know how much he wanted to get away, especially after all the drama of the last year.  He really moved away at the end of May, the last day of school he packed up everything he could into my mother’s car and hauled ass out of my home. It wasn’t me he was running away from but rather the drama that had taken over my home as a result of my husband actions.  My house had become downright insufferable for my son, he toughed out those last couple months but I knew that when I let my husband move back home I had inadvertently accelerated my son’s departure.  So fast-forward to this past weekend, I had already cried so much over these last months I guess there wasn’t much left.  I got a little misty a couple times but at this point I guess I was feeling the same sense of relief that he was.  Not relief that he was gone, I will always want my baby boy near me, rather relief that he had finally gotten enough distance from a situation that had caused him so much pain.

At this point I just pray that he is successful.  I’m trying to determine how much I should contact him.  I want him to know I care and that I’m thinking about him but I don’t want to be a bug.  He’s very independent, not a mushy kind of kid.  He and I have good communication but we’re not really touchy feely if you know what I mean.  We can talk and joke but don’t get into feelings a lot.  I do tell him I love him sometimes.  Occasionally he’ll say it back.  My hana hoona apple dumpling pie head.  The first time I ever remember loving anyone so much that nothing else mattered.  

Love

Love.  People like to write songs about it. It's one of those things that sounds like a great idea, sounds like fun, like a grand adventure. We wish for it, hope for it, pray for it. We think that if we're good and patient like little kids waiting for Christmas that love will show up like presents from Santa Claus under the tree.

I think I'm drunk. Double shot of Jack and 3 Heinekens. Lightweight, I know. I'm laid out on the lawn of the Courtyard Marriott. It's chilly but I don't want to go inside. I really wanted to smoke some weed but the job I'm trying to get is going to drug test me so I have to stay clean for at least the next couple weeks.

I'm not gonna cry. I could cry. If I allowed it I could find myself sprawled out on this lawn sobbing like my dog just died, but I won't. Instead I will hide behind giggles and mindless chatter because that is what you do when your heart has been ripped out, broken, shattered, stomped, lit on fire and buried under a pile of shit and there's nothing you can do about it. You still have to go on living because there are people counting on you. People who rely on you, so you put on the face and you hold it together.