I like documentaries. I watched one about the Westboro Baptist Church last night and, for some reason, it's still on my mind. Anyone seen these jackasses? For those who don't know, it's basically some ancient asshole whose daddy never hugged him, his kids and grand kids who can't find anyone else to stomach them and their vile ideals, who got together and made up their own church (which no one but the family, incidentally, attends). Their idea of a good time is to picket events like Gay Pride parades, colleges and fallen soldiers' funerals with signs that spew filth like "God hates fags", "God hates the USA", and "Thank God for dead soldiers" and regurgitate bible verses taken completely out of context to justify what they're doing.
My first reaction was something like "Who would even listen to this?" I thought it was kind of amusing in that bad-horror-film kind of way. There was just this shriveled up old man standing at the front of his family members, carrying on about fags destroying our civilization and God hating everyone blah blah blah while they sat there and just gorged themselves on this banquet of bullshit. There were one-on-one interviews with this guy with more of the same, only in a calmer tone of voice and wearing more casual clothing. Then it got really disturbing.
There was a young girl who was recounting the story of how she fell in love with and married her husband at a young age. He went off to Iraq and was killed in an attack. It was all very sad. So she's going to her husband's funeral when these knuckle-draggers show up with their Thank God for Dead Soldiers signs, yelling about how much God hated him and how much God wanted him dead. I was absolutely horrified!
The crowning jewel was the family interviews. The film maker went around to various family members asking them about their beliefs, etc. The grownups produced the expected parroted rhetoric they soaked up from Old Man Malice. The worst part was watching kids from about age 7-12 saying things like they want to kill the fags, but they can't because God wants to do it. It was so sad to watch the kids talk about how fun it was to hold up the signs to punish the fags. When asked, the kids all happily pointed out their favourite signs. When asked, the kids, by and large, didn't know why it was their favourite. When asked, most of the kids didn't understand what their slogans really meant. Most of them didn't even know what a 'fag' was. If you've ever wanted to know what a brainwashing looks like, watch this portion of the documentary.
Do people like this really exist? I guess i just can't understand how people can feel so much hatred toward someone they don't know. I don't understand how a person can, with so much malice and desire to inflict hurt, tell widows that their husbands deserved to die and that the world is a better place now that their faggy husbands have been blown to bits (how a woman's husband can be "faggy" is beyond me). How can people teach their children this kind of hatred, as though they were teaching them the alphabet or something equally casual? If they hate America and its fags so much, why are they still here? They walk all over the American flag (literally), the very symbol of the freedom that allows them to vomit up these pristinely ugly ideals. Then they turn around and cower behind it at the same time, demanding protection from those who would silence the verbal feces falling from their lips.
It's no secret that Christianity and i have an uneasy relationship, at best. I've known some really bad "Christians", whom i prefer to think of as Jesus Hypocrites. You know the type: Unleashes a steady stream of scripture-justification at you for their own misdeeds, and holds up the Christian lifestyle as superior to yours (hence, why they're a better person than you), but then doesn't actually *live* by that lifestyle while admonishing you for not doing it either; but it's okay for them because they're forgiven but you're evil sinning scum because you're not. The Kristi's of the world.
I've also known some really good people who're Christians. Kind, caring people who really want to help you be a better person, preferably their way but even still if their way isn't for you. The Judy's of the world. These are the people i genuinely feel bad for. People whose whole religion is besmirched by thes WBC beasts. I hate to think that good people could be cast under the same dark shade of the umbrella these hate-breeders uphold.
But most of all, i feel outrage for the targets of this sub-species of de-evolved human trash. No one should be subjected to persecution for simply being who they are, holding peaceful beliefs or serving their country. I truly hope people look on this cult with the loathing it deserves. Ultimately, i hope people see them and then dismiss them as unworthy of their notice. Let them rail against a society who refuses to hear their hate-filled messages. Let them scream themselves hoarse, and let their words die with their voices.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Not That Anyone Cares, But . . .
Say you have a favourite cereal at the only grocery store within 50 miles that sells it, and they run out. You go there, and find that they've not only run out, but won't be getting anymore for an undetermined amount of time due to a wheat shortage. What do you do? Do you call back daily to check the status of the wheat shortage? When you hear that the wheat shortage isn't over yet, do you start abusing the grocery store personnel because you're irritated? Or do you substitute a corn cereal in the mean time (which, while it isn't your preferred cereal, at least allows you to eat while the wheat shortage is happening)?
We're in the middle of a Mo-99 shortage, which means there are no generators being produced. This shortage has been ongoing for the last week and, though we hoped it'd be over by Wednesday, it doesn't look like it's going to end anytime soon.
We've been doing our best to service as many of our full-time customers as we can by asking them to reschedule some of the heavier patients and cutting cardiac doses back to 10- and 25mCi and bone doses back to 20mCi. Not the optimal dosage, true, but still produces a perfectly diagnosable image in a patient that isn't too heavy. We also suggested substituting Tl-201 for the 10mCi resting doses. Again, not optimal, but images adequately, and it's a temporary measure.
At first, people were pretty understanding (with the exception of a couple of people who, naturally, think that they're our most important customers and should be treated accordingly). But as time wears on, tempers are growing shorter. Yesterday a few people behaved as though we were intentionally holding back on them. A few went so far as to accuse us of making the shortage seem worse than it actually is.
For what?! Why would we deny our customers doses?! We're a business, for chrissakes, how can we make money if we choose not to sell products?! It makes no sense. So apparently, the consensus is that if they're jerky to us, the shortage will end and they'll get what they want. I just don't get it.
We're in the middle of a Mo-99 shortage, which means there are no generators being produced. This shortage has been ongoing for the last week and, though we hoped it'd be over by Wednesday, it doesn't look like it's going to end anytime soon.
We've been doing our best to service as many of our full-time customers as we can by asking them to reschedule some of the heavier patients and cutting cardiac doses back to 10- and 25mCi and bone doses back to 20mCi. Not the optimal dosage, true, but still produces a perfectly diagnosable image in a patient that isn't too heavy. We also suggested substituting Tl-201 for the 10mCi resting doses. Again, not optimal, but images adequately, and it's a temporary measure.
At first, people were pretty understanding (with the exception of a couple of people who, naturally, think that they're our most important customers and should be treated accordingly). But as time wears on, tempers are growing shorter. Yesterday a few people behaved as though we were intentionally holding back on them. A few went so far as to accuse us of making the shortage seem worse than it actually is.
For what?! Why would we deny our customers doses?! We're a business, for chrissakes, how can we make money if we choose not to sell products?! It makes no sense. So apparently, the consensus is that if they're jerky to us, the shortage will end and they'll get what they want. I just don't get it.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
You Think YOU'VE Got Problems?!
I love my dog. Seriously, he's like my miracle child. Practically came back from the dead to be this lively, healthy, happy, affectionate, but very dumb creature. LOVE my dog.
I don't like to give him people food because it usually ends up as a brown, cocoa-looking puddle somewhere on my floor half an hour later. He's never been discontent with his own dog food, so for the most part, i give him that and don't really think anything of it. That's not to say that he doesn't practically trip me and break my neck whenever i go into the kitchen to make a meal. He does. For some reason i'll never fathom, he always seems to think i'm going in there specifically to prepare something for him, as though any time i've ever cooked spaghetti, i've unfailingly put it directly into his bowl once i was finished. But hey, i guess you gotta have a dream, right?
The one thing i've discovered i can give him without upsetting his delicate stomach (and, inevitably, his delicate bowels), is bread. So whenever there's that heel at the end of the loaf that i know is going to sit on the countertop until it looks like a sheet of gray-green chalk dust someone decided to place in a bread bag, i like to give it to him. The first time i gave it to him, he leapt up all expectantly and when i gave it to him, he walked away with his head and tail proudly erect, and at a brisk trot signalling his victory to the entire household. He paraded with it hanging out of his mouth around the couch a few times and back over to the desk area and then back into the kitchen, just to remind me of his good fortune. It's good to be the Bean.
Once the heady sense of his own luck dissipated, he was left there with the bread, still hanging out of his mouth. I'm never sure what emotion he was experiencing at that point as he stared intently at me. There we were, staring at each other in the kitchen; me curiously at him, and him expectantly at me. And then he walked back into the living room with an entirely different gait. Slowly, almost listlessly. And once he got there he let out the biggest, gustiest, most wearisome sigh i've ever heard a dog express.
Well, that's not exactly what i was expecting. I walked out to see what was the matter and there he was: standing over his piece of bread looking at me with this 'YOU did this to me!!!' look on his face. I tried to maintain a look of seriousness as i asked, 'Whatsamatta, Beaner Weener?'. He stood there and looked at me, then looked at the bread, and then back at me. And then he started to whine.
Whine?! I took a step toward him, and he quickly scooped up the piece of bread and loped a little ways away from me and then stood there look at me, whining with this bread hanging out of his mouth. I just burst out laughing. It was the most ridiculous thing i'd seen him do in a long time. So i went back into the kitchen, and he followed me in there, bread in mouth, crying like it was three hours past mealtime. Then he paced around the whole house, slowly and whining the whole time. He'd drop back in periodically to look at me with his ears drooping and sighing, as though i'd placed the biggest burden on him. As though no dog in the history of the world had ever had such an impossible trial to face, and he wanted me to know that it was i, his loving momma, who inflicted this terrible task in the form of a piece of bread upon him. A veritable little brown and black Atlas with the weight of the world dangling from his mouth. I could see how his bottom jaw trembled with the effort of supporting it.
So, like any good martyr, he eventually walked into the living room, deposited his burden on the floor and slowly began to consume it, whining and protesting the whole time. And, like a good martyr, he refused to let go of the terrible thing that plagued him; instead, he bore it dramatically and publicly, so everyone could see how hard he's really got it.
He does this every single time i give him bread.
I don't like to give him people food because it usually ends up as a brown, cocoa-looking puddle somewhere on my floor half an hour later. He's never been discontent with his own dog food, so for the most part, i give him that and don't really think anything of it. That's not to say that he doesn't practically trip me and break my neck whenever i go into the kitchen to make a meal. He does. For some reason i'll never fathom, he always seems to think i'm going in there specifically to prepare something for him, as though any time i've ever cooked spaghetti, i've unfailingly put it directly into his bowl once i was finished. But hey, i guess you gotta have a dream, right?
The one thing i've discovered i can give him without upsetting his delicate stomach (and, inevitably, his delicate bowels), is bread. So whenever there's that heel at the end of the loaf that i know is going to sit on the countertop until it looks like a sheet of gray-green chalk dust someone decided to place in a bread bag, i like to give it to him. The first time i gave it to him, he leapt up all expectantly and when i gave it to him, he walked away with his head and tail proudly erect, and at a brisk trot signalling his victory to the entire household. He paraded with it hanging out of his mouth around the couch a few times and back over to the desk area and then back into the kitchen, just to remind me of his good fortune. It's good to be the Bean.
Once the heady sense of his own luck dissipated, he was left there with the bread, still hanging out of his mouth. I'm never sure what emotion he was experiencing at that point as he stared intently at me. There we were, staring at each other in the kitchen; me curiously at him, and him expectantly at me. And then he walked back into the living room with an entirely different gait. Slowly, almost listlessly. And once he got there he let out the biggest, gustiest, most wearisome sigh i've ever heard a dog express.
Well, that's not exactly what i was expecting. I walked out to see what was the matter and there he was: standing over his piece of bread looking at me with this 'YOU did this to me!!!' look on his face. I tried to maintain a look of seriousness as i asked, 'Whatsamatta, Beaner Weener?'. He stood there and looked at me, then looked at the bread, and then back at me. And then he started to whine.
Whine?! I took a step toward him, and he quickly scooped up the piece of bread and loped a little ways away from me and then stood there look at me, whining with this bread hanging out of his mouth. I just burst out laughing. It was the most ridiculous thing i'd seen him do in a long time. So i went back into the kitchen, and he followed me in there, bread in mouth, crying like it was three hours past mealtime. Then he paced around the whole house, slowly and whining the whole time. He'd drop back in periodically to look at me with his ears drooping and sighing, as though i'd placed the biggest burden on him. As though no dog in the history of the world had ever had such an impossible trial to face, and he wanted me to know that it was i, his loving momma, who inflicted this terrible task in the form of a piece of bread upon him. A veritable little brown and black Atlas with the weight of the world dangling from his mouth. I could see how his bottom jaw trembled with the effort of supporting it.
So, like any good martyr, he eventually walked into the living room, deposited his burden on the floor and slowly began to consume it, whining and protesting the whole time. And, like a good martyr, he refused to let go of the terrible thing that plagued him; instead, he bore it dramatically and publicly, so everyone could see how hard he's really got it.
He does this every single time i give him bread.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda
So back to this whole Ryan business. I kinda sat back after he left and thought of all the things i SHOULD have done at the time.
I should have told him right away that he needs to introduce people when he brings them into our house.
I should have told them that Jim's hint wasn't a request.
I should have told them I was uncomfortable with their behaviour.
I should have flipped on the light and told that bitch to go home.
But i didn't... I honestly didn't know how to react at the time and as much as i wish i had my wits about me at the time, i didn't. I have always been great with imagining what i should have done at the time ten minutes too late. Gotta love that hindsight, eh?
So what i plan to do is this:
1. He gets a nice big lecture about permission. Also, how i expect him to conduct himself in the presence of friends in my house. After all, if we're too embarrassing to be introduced, then his friends really don't have any business over here in the first place.
2. He gets to have zero friends over for the forseeable future. That's for not satisfying the conditions of my permission before doing as he asked, and not having the courtesy to introduce them.
3. No more girls in the bedroom. That's for treating my house like a fucking rent-by-the-quarter-hour-no-tell-motel.
I know he's a teenager, i know he's exploring his boundaries or whatever. But as far as i'm concerned, he's not grown yet (as evidenced by his immature behaviour) and boundary exploration doesn't allow for nor excuse disrespect.
I should have told him right away that he needs to introduce people when he brings them into our house.
I should have told them that Jim's hint wasn't a request.
I should have told them I was uncomfortable with their behaviour.
I should have flipped on the light and told that bitch to go home.
But i didn't... I honestly didn't know how to react at the time and as much as i wish i had my wits about me at the time, i didn't. I have always been great with imagining what i should have done at the time ten minutes too late. Gotta love that hindsight, eh?
So what i plan to do is this:
1. He gets a nice big lecture about permission. Also, how i expect him to conduct himself in the presence of friends in my house. After all, if we're too embarrassing to be introduced, then his friends really don't have any business over here in the first place.
2. He gets to have zero friends over for the forseeable future. That's for not satisfying the conditions of my permission before doing as he asked, and not having the courtesy to introduce them.
3. No more girls in the bedroom. That's for treating my house like a fucking rent-by-the-quarter-hour-no-tell-motel.
I know he's a teenager, i know he's exploring his boundaries or whatever. But as far as i'm concerned, he's not grown yet (as evidenced by his immature behaviour) and boundary exploration doesn't allow for nor excuse disrespect.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Abused Hospitality
I consider myself to be a pretty liberal person. I pretty much feel that as long as you're not hurting yourself or someone else (or putting anyone in danger of being hurt), and you're taking care of your responsibilities, you should be able to do whatever you like. I grew up with a pretty Nazi-ish father whose views were pretty much the opposite: Stay home and do absolutely nothing so that i can watch what you're doing at all times. I found that to be rather chafing at times, to say the least, and i figured if i ever had kids i wouldn't want to subject them to that kind of restriction.
As it turns out, i never had any kids, but i wound up with a couple of step kids instead. That suits me just fine. They have a perfectly functional father and (in spite of how i may feel about her personally) a servicable mother. With this in mind, i don't do much in the way of parenting for either kid; instead, i try to offer advice when they need it and leave them alone when they don't. My rules that govern my house are pretty simple: Take care of your responsibilities and be considerate. As long as both of those conditions are met, everyone pretty much goes along unfucked-with.
Now, we finally come to where i'm going with this. Last Wednesday, Ryan sent me a text message asking if he can have a friend over on Sunday. Thing is, i don't like having people over when the house isn't neat. The house wasn't a complete wreck, and since it was his guest, i figured he could straighten up. I replied "Sure, as long as you straighten up first". He replied "Alright".
Now, i'm not psychotic about how my house looks. I don't require that it look like a model home or unlived in. Just don't have shit all over the floor or dishes in the sink. Maybe wipe down the countertops and straighten up your desk. By no means am i going to come through with a white glove to criticize the job.
So Saturday, he asked what time can she come over (i learn now that the friend is a 'she'. No big deal, just info i didn't previously have). At this point, he hasn't done anything but take out the trash when asked. So i told him anytime after 11 am. I resisted the urge to tell him 'After you straighten up', because i didn't want to nag (which i'm prone to doing when people don't do what i want them to do when i think it should be done).
Sunday came around, and he still hadn't picked up. So i asked Jim if she changed her mind about coming over, and he said that she was in fact, already on her way. I was pretty peeved about that because Ryan still hadn't straightened up. Apparently, there was some confusion on Ryan's part about what qualified as 'straightening up', and Jim told him to come ask me what i needed. He opted not to do that, and instead elected to do nothing at all.
So this girl shows up, and Ryan takes her into his room. No introduction, nothing. Just straight for the room. I don't mind if the boys have girls in their room as long as the door is open, but i thought that not introducing someone was pretty fucking rude. I walked by, and they're just sitting in there holding hands and watching TV. Fine, i decided, i'd talk to him about how i felt later. Jim went in and tried to hint drop a hint and told them they could change the channel on the big tv in the living room. They said thanks, and didn't move.
As time went on, they went from sitting and holding hands to laying together under the covers in bed with the light off. I was so uncomfortable! I didn't even want to walk past the room to go to the bathroom. It was getting pretty late, and Jim and i were hungry. I was pissed off, and didn't want to cook for this girl i didn't even have the priveledge of meeting, nor did i want to go out to get something and leave the two of them anymore alone than they'd already made themselves.
So about 7:30, she decided to leave. They came out of the room, and walked right out the front door, without a word said. Ryan strolled casually into the kitchen and asked what was i cooking for dinner. It took all my self-control to not blow up at him. I was seething.
So am i overreacting to this? Or is it reasonable to expect that if i put a condition on permission for something, that the conditions be met before the permission is taken advantage of? Am i old fashioned for wanting to meet people who walk through my door for the first time? And if someone says to me 'friend', am i being prudish for being shocked at them taking this 'friend' to bed half an hour after they arrive? Jim has left what's to be done about this in my hands. But i'm already running late and i don't have time to go on about it now.
As it turns out, i never had any kids, but i wound up with a couple of step kids instead. That suits me just fine. They have a perfectly functional father and (in spite of how i may feel about her personally) a servicable mother. With this in mind, i don't do much in the way of parenting for either kid; instead, i try to offer advice when they need it and leave them alone when they don't. My rules that govern my house are pretty simple: Take care of your responsibilities and be considerate. As long as both of those conditions are met, everyone pretty much goes along unfucked-with.
Now, we finally come to where i'm going with this. Last Wednesday, Ryan sent me a text message asking if he can have a friend over on Sunday. Thing is, i don't like having people over when the house isn't neat. The house wasn't a complete wreck, and since it was his guest, i figured he could straighten up. I replied "Sure, as long as you straighten up first". He replied "Alright".
Now, i'm not psychotic about how my house looks. I don't require that it look like a model home or unlived in. Just don't have shit all over the floor or dishes in the sink. Maybe wipe down the countertops and straighten up your desk. By no means am i going to come through with a white glove to criticize the job.
So Saturday, he asked what time can she come over (i learn now that the friend is a 'she'. No big deal, just info i didn't previously have). At this point, he hasn't done anything but take out the trash when asked. So i told him anytime after 11 am. I resisted the urge to tell him 'After you straighten up', because i didn't want to nag (which i'm prone to doing when people don't do what i want them to do when i think it should be done).
Sunday came around, and he still hadn't picked up. So i asked Jim if she changed her mind about coming over, and he said that she was in fact, already on her way. I was pretty peeved about that because Ryan still hadn't straightened up. Apparently, there was some confusion on Ryan's part about what qualified as 'straightening up', and Jim told him to come ask me what i needed. He opted not to do that, and instead elected to do nothing at all.
So this girl shows up, and Ryan takes her into his room. No introduction, nothing. Just straight for the room. I don't mind if the boys have girls in their room as long as the door is open, but i thought that not introducing someone was pretty fucking rude. I walked by, and they're just sitting in there holding hands and watching TV. Fine, i decided, i'd talk to him about how i felt later. Jim went in and tried to hint drop a hint and told them they could change the channel on the big tv in the living room. They said thanks, and didn't move.
As time went on, they went from sitting and holding hands to laying together under the covers in bed with the light off. I was so uncomfortable! I didn't even want to walk past the room to go to the bathroom. It was getting pretty late, and Jim and i were hungry. I was pissed off, and didn't want to cook for this girl i didn't even have the priveledge of meeting, nor did i want to go out to get something and leave the two of them anymore alone than they'd already made themselves.
So about 7:30, she decided to leave. They came out of the room, and walked right out the front door, without a word said. Ryan strolled casually into the kitchen and asked what was i cooking for dinner. It took all my self-control to not blow up at him. I was seething.
So am i overreacting to this? Or is it reasonable to expect that if i put a condition on permission for something, that the conditions be met before the permission is taken advantage of? Am i old fashioned for wanting to meet people who walk through my door for the first time? And if someone says to me 'friend', am i being prudish for being shocked at them taking this 'friend' to bed half an hour after they arrive? Jim has left what's to be done about this in my hands. But i'm already running late and i don't have time to go on about it now.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Fucking Insomnia
It's ridiculous how when i can sleep i don't even think about it, i just do it. It's also ridiculous how when i can't, it's all i can think about. As i lay awake pretending that if i don't open my eyes i'll just drift right off, i can't help but steal glances at the clock. That's the worst thing. "Only 6 more hours to sleep". "Only 5 more hours". "Fuck, i've only got 4 hours left. I'm going to be so tired tomorrow". And so on until it's pretty much time to get up.
Or, if i can manage not to look at the clock, i can't stop thinking of things. Sometimes important or stressful things, but not necessarily. Roz is gonna be pissed if i don't write that audit response soon. I really need to get the sink fixed so i can run the dishwasher without flooding the undersink. Hmm..what should i eat for lunch today? I think i want a sweater for Christmas this year. The next book in the series doesn't come out till next November, what'm i gonna read till then? And so on.
And then the next day i walk through in a daze. In the beginning it isn't so bad, my attention just wanders a bit. As it progresses, and i get less and less sleep, people start asking me if i'm mad at them, because i forget things like saying hello, or i stop listening to someone mid sentence in an obvious way.
Toward the end, right before i crash, i feel like everything that's happening to me is happening to someone else and i'm just watching. People are pissed at me because i'm too tired/lazy to do my share of our work and my own work. I struggle to stay awake when it isn't appropriate for me to sleep. I snap at people whether they deserve it or not. I stop liking the kids. I pretty much stop liking everyone, and i feel like the feeling is mutual.
So i started this new drug Rozerem. It's not quite as good as i'd hoped it'd be because though it helps me fall asleep really fast and doesn't make me feel hung over the next morning, it doesn't keep me asleep. So i still wake up a lot at night. On the whole, i have to say it's better than the alternative. Anyway, if you're currently in my life, and i've been a douche clown toward you lately, i'm sorry. I'm trying to get better.
Or, if i can manage not to look at the clock, i can't stop thinking of things. Sometimes important or stressful things, but not necessarily. Roz is gonna be pissed if i don't write that audit response soon. I really need to get the sink fixed so i can run the dishwasher without flooding the undersink. Hmm..what should i eat for lunch today? I think i want a sweater for Christmas this year. The next book in the series doesn't come out till next November, what'm i gonna read till then? And so on.
And then the next day i walk through in a daze. In the beginning it isn't so bad, my attention just wanders a bit. As it progresses, and i get less and less sleep, people start asking me if i'm mad at them, because i forget things like saying hello, or i stop listening to someone mid sentence in an obvious way.
Toward the end, right before i crash, i feel like everything that's happening to me is happening to someone else and i'm just watching. People are pissed at me because i'm too tired/lazy to do my share of our work and my own work. I struggle to stay awake when it isn't appropriate for me to sleep. I snap at people whether they deserve it or not. I stop liking the kids. I pretty much stop liking everyone, and i feel like the feeling is mutual.
So i started this new drug Rozerem. It's not quite as good as i'd hoped it'd be because though it helps me fall asleep really fast and doesn't make me feel hung over the next morning, it doesn't keep me asleep. So i still wake up a lot at night. On the whole, i have to say it's better than the alternative. Anyway, if you're currently in my life, and i've been a douche clown toward you lately, i'm sorry. I'm trying to get better.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Wounds Don't Heal
...If you don't quit picking at the scab. Or, so i keep telling myself.
A year or so ago, i found out my mother in law has been leaking details about my and Jim's personal lives to Jim's exwife (who shall from here on out be referred to as the WBC- whorebitchcunt). I can't for the life of me figure out why she'd do a thing like that. When they were still married, the WBC treated my mominlaw like shit. They never had a very good relationship, in spite of the fact that mominlaw's a really nice lady. Anyway, since they've been split, the WBC's still not been very nice to her, except when she wants something (typical of her).
So last year, mominlaw did something i'd expressly asked her never to do: try to push her religious beliefs on me. Now, mominlaw and i have had this discussion before, and i've told her about the treatment i've suffered at the hands of my more "faithful" family members. I told her i love and accept her for who she is, and that i'd appreciate if she'd return the favour. She always had, and i was so relieved and so thankful. Then, out of the blue, she wrote my husband a letter encouraging him to try and bring me into the fold. I guess at some point in his youth, he was also a Christian and is no longer practicing (i'm guessing mominlaw is unaware of his straying from the ole flock), so she thought he'd be the perfect tool.
Needless to say, i was both livid and hurt at the same time. Being the sort of person to just blow up and say anything that comes across my little mind, regardless of how harmful it will be to the future of my relationship with the person i'm blowing up at, i decided it'd be best if i didn't talk with her until i'd calmed down. So i waited, and a few months went by, but still i felt horribly betrayed. Meanwhile, she tried to contact me repeatedly, and i wouldn't answer. Jim tried to caution her to just leave me alone and let me come to her in my own time.
Unfortunately, she didn't listen. So about the time i started feeling like maybe i could talk to her about why i was so upset with her, she decided to cry on the WBC's shoulder about "how badly we've been treating her". Poor mominlaw probably thought that the WBC, being a sister Christian and all, would keep their communications confidential. Unfortunately for her, the WBC likes to gloat, and did so to Jim's oldest son. Jim's oldest son happens to be very close to us, and let us know what was going on.
How could she?! Of all the people in her life to complain to, why did she have to choose that one? How dare she betray the intimate details of our lives to that awful woman?! So i was betrayed again. And, to make matters worse, apparently it wasn't the first time she'd done that. As it turns out, every time she became annoyed with Jim or me, she'd gripe about us to her.
So i didn't talk to her again for a while. Now, so you understand, i don't do this to hurt or torment people; it's the exact opposite. I know my temper well, and i know i'm likely to say things i can't take back. I do it to preserve my relationships. So i finally ended up writing a letter explaining to her that i felt twice betrayed by her. I was careful, and i edited a great many times, just to keep the anger out of my tone and get my feelings across. I wanted very badly for her to understand what i was going through. She got my letter, and wrote me back, and had the gall to deny everything.
At that point, Jim talked to her and got her to see that lying wasn't going to help her keep a relationship with me. She admitted what she'd done and apologized, and i've been doing my best ever since to accept that apology. I try to tell myself that in the greater grand scheme of things, it's more important to have a good and loving relationship with the first significant other's mother who'd ever shown me any kindness. As much as i try not to think about what happened, i just can't help it. It's like a nice, big scab on my knee that itches and just begs to be picked at. I want to forgive her. I really do. I don't know what i need to do make it happen. The worst thing is, i know she'll do it again, and i just can't accept that.
So now there's a raw place where there used to be a good relationship with mominlaw. I love her so much, but things will never be the same if i don't figure out how to stop picking.
A year or so ago, i found out my mother in law has been leaking details about my and Jim's personal lives to Jim's exwife (who shall from here on out be referred to as the WBC- whorebitchcunt). I can't for the life of me figure out why she'd do a thing like that. When they were still married, the WBC treated my mominlaw like shit. They never had a very good relationship, in spite of the fact that mominlaw's a really nice lady. Anyway, since they've been split, the WBC's still not been very nice to her, except when she wants something (typical of her).
So last year, mominlaw did something i'd expressly asked her never to do: try to push her religious beliefs on me. Now, mominlaw and i have had this discussion before, and i've told her about the treatment i've suffered at the hands of my more "faithful" family members. I told her i love and accept her for who she is, and that i'd appreciate if she'd return the favour. She always had, and i was so relieved and so thankful. Then, out of the blue, she wrote my husband a letter encouraging him to try and bring me into the fold. I guess at some point in his youth, he was also a Christian and is no longer practicing (i'm guessing mominlaw is unaware of his straying from the ole flock), so she thought he'd be the perfect tool.
Needless to say, i was both livid and hurt at the same time. Being the sort of person to just blow up and say anything that comes across my little mind, regardless of how harmful it will be to the future of my relationship with the person i'm blowing up at, i decided it'd be best if i didn't talk with her until i'd calmed down. So i waited, and a few months went by, but still i felt horribly betrayed. Meanwhile, she tried to contact me repeatedly, and i wouldn't answer. Jim tried to caution her to just leave me alone and let me come to her in my own time.
Unfortunately, she didn't listen. So about the time i started feeling like maybe i could talk to her about why i was so upset with her, she decided to cry on the WBC's shoulder about "how badly we've been treating her". Poor mominlaw probably thought that the WBC, being a sister Christian and all, would keep their communications confidential. Unfortunately for her, the WBC likes to gloat, and did so to Jim's oldest son. Jim's oldest son happens to be very close to us, and let us know what was going on.
How could she?! Of all the people in her life to complain to, why did she have to choose that one? How dare she betray the intimate details of our lives to that awful woman?! So i was betrayed again. And, to make matters worse, apparently it wasn't the first time she'd done that. As it turns out, every time she became annoyed with Jim or me, she'd gripe about us to her.
So i didn't talk to her again for a while. Now, so you understand, i don't do this to hurt or torment people; it's the exact opposite. I know my temper well, and i know i'm likely to say things i can't take back. I do it to preserve my relationships. So i finally ended up writing a letter explaining to her that i felt twice betrayed by her. I was careful, and i edited a great many times, just to keep the anger out of my tone and get my feelings across. I wanted very badly for her to understand what i was going through. She got my letter, and wrote me back, and had the gall to deny everything.
At that point, Jim talked to her and got her to see that lying wasn't going to help her keep a relationship with me. She admitted what she'd done and apologized, and i've been doing my best ever since to accept that apology. I try to tell myself that in the greater grand scheme of things, it's more important to have a good and loving relationship with the first significant other's mother who'd ever shown me any kindness. As much as i try not to think about what happened, i just can't help it. It's like a nice, big scab on my knee that itches and just begs to be picked at. I want to forgive her. I really do. I don't know what i need to do make it happen. The worst thing is, i know she'll do it again, and i just can't accept that.
So now there's a raw place where there used to be a good relationship with mominlaw. I love her so much, but things will never be the same if i don't figure out how to stop picking.
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