Titles shmitles
My original title was going to be I hate you all, thanks for playing, but I realize that’s not going to endear you to giving a fuck about coming back. Which to me of course gives me nothing but some sense of whatever regarding my general existence.
I started writing the story about what a shit human being my birth mother was to choose money over me I want to release for Mother’s Day and maybe I will, but the story has about fifteen billion ways to be related, and no, not really fifteen billion but definitely an entire handful. I did talk with my birth father about it, because he has certain memories that don’t completely align with reality and maybe in some ways he has more of a relatable experience than she offered.
I did become more bitter about it the other day reading rents were going up and realized she honestly never would have made a cent in rent had we not done what we did to help and then so my mind started relating back to the entire event and how shit went down in 2017. I got angry, and then I decided that no, there is no fucking way in hell I will talk to her ever again. Not that she’s tried, mind you, certainly money is absolutely the more valuable thing over some fucked up haphazard idea of an adopted family for her, since it was me adopting her family into mine, the tiny circle that held Don and I, at least. But the story has evolved from a guess who threw me away twice to a story about money being the only value everyone gets behind, even family, to the shitty nature of human beings and how even in a pandemic, people will still sit on their shit stools, and never reach out a bit.
I think I’m on this tangent today because I realized last night this predicament Don and I are in is totally my fault. I was the one telling him we needed health insurance 7 months after he told me it was okay to quit because my ass was the one that needed health insurance. Because they told me last May I needed that valve done, and so I forced him to start looking everywhere. And it was my shitty health that got us fucking 2,000 miles away from the sun and the few friends I had when all we had to do, honestly, was wait a bit. But I also wanted to leave because of the shit we endured with my birth mother’s family because I never wanted to run into them anywhere and it felt like the entire state was stained and they were the ones holding possession of it. So though I never would have ended up in Colorado without her, I also would have never left Colorado but to get the fuck away from her. A real catch -22 if you will. There’s that whole ego involved in getting thrown away twice, which is the theme of the story I am writing about her, but there is the ego of oh you want to throw me away? Fuck you, lady, I will fucking leave and live a good life in spite of your cruelty.
And so we are here, bleeding money and I need a job and I am working on that, and he wants to fly a plane, and I wouldn’t mind, but that means leaving here and going to live in an even more isolated place like Maryland which means I will be even lonelier than I am now–so yeah. How the fuck do you win?
I’m generally VERY good at tying the strings, finding the reasons, figuring out the whys as they happen and as they come. And I can tie the string to string to string back to her kicking us out, sure. The strings that brought me to Colorado to start. The ignition switch that Facebook ad I saw to redo resumes we paid that guy to do for Don which ended up with him finding better and better and better work. The surgery I needed which you all know I am still needing and am legit fucking petrified to even get, the string that brought him working on that military base in Nebraska to basically leapfrogging to the place he did say he wanted to work which is here and is very prestigious, sure. But all of this even started because she threw me away for the second time. And there are no strings to tie going anywhere today when I leave the house to go to the grocery store and for not a thing more. And there is no string that makes me want to get dragged to Maryland but for him to be happier and yes, flying would be good. But I miss human beings and I want to feel like I am a part of something and honestly–if we are not on the East coast because it is closer to smarter city minded people or because it is closer to Europe, then I just don’t know what I am even doing here. It is not a fun place to be, mentally or physically, this place I am standing in today. It’s a place, so I am grateful I have a place, but ultimately–I need the know where the next string might connect because this is a stagnation that will breed a moldy heart.
