reality check

Pain is like fog

it creeps on little cat feet.


If you sleep with someone, and they have to get *drunk* to do it; they're probably not the one.
If the presentation is sensational, and the follow-thru is mediocre, they're probably not the one.
If the professed occupation is *dancer* (meaning stripper) and the reality is prostitute... they are not the one.
If Zero to Sixty includes a rage-aholic, and the difference between them sucking your cock or clit and coming after you with a kitchen knife is a heartbeat; they *definitely* are not the one.
If they happen to have a brain the size of a planet; but the only thing they are using it for is to play "poor poor Pitiful me", then they're not even remotely the one, especially with a alcohol / meth addiction.
What, you didn't think I'd notice that you're shit-faced most of the day?
What worries me more is that I'm still here.

Promises made and broken

I have to be my own worst enemy,
and also that of my friend, the one with an addiction disorder unfortunately.

. She will stop drinking.  If She does drink, She won't do it around us.  If She feel that she is losing control, She will leave.  So, what do I do?  I allow her to drink (because she will seize without detox) and furnish alcohol she can get to.  It's also interesting because her other friends can furnish her with alcohol (party) and although she complains about it, she goes back willingly and whether or not other activities occur... I have no idea.  But I'm *different* -- BullShit.

. She will provide $$$ / week and some cleaning help.  That one is mixed, she's intermittent on the money (which to be fair... I told her she could slide because I didn't want to have her *work* because it's damaging to her soul / psyche).  I would much rather have her whole...  But she cleans like no-one I've seen since a professional service.

. She will fix (list of items).  Most of which, cannot be worked on when she's drunk; which provides a barrier to completion. 

. She will no longer talk to (insert list of names here) because they are damaging to her mental health, sobriety and makes her angry.  And, yet, between drunken dialing by *them*, and her response; the cycle continues.  Using my phone...

. She will tell the truth about what she have ingested.  That one seems to be holding, but I have my occasional fears...

. She will take care with the household; I won't endanger anyone. Your mileage may vary.  If I fly to elsewhere for the holidays, are we all safe?

. She won't make accusations (rape) because she is angry.

. She won't get violent.  I've got an interesting set of stitches that say otherwise.  And the morning of this posting, she sounded and acted *exactly* like she did when she went after me with a kitchen knife; so forgive me if I am a little untrusting.

But, mostly... because she's still drinking.  And she has to stop.  And I don't have any leverage or control; so it is not my problem.

And I'm an enabler.  Some of that because I'm infatuated with the amazing person she can be when...

Some of that because when she's slightly tipsy; she's amazingly friendly/funny/cuddly/sexy.  That messes me up more than anything else; because I know what I want --- and the little lizard brain is damm sneaky that way.  Just because I feel that way, does NOT mean that she will, and she most certainly does not.  Still want to F***, dammit.

But it feels like it is my problem; and enabling aside... it isn't.  But I care and that hurts.

Anger is like Scotch

Anger *is* like scotch.
It can be light and dizzying; or dark and stick around in your mouth for much longer.

I don't have good reason, but I'm annoyed at one roommate for doing what he does on a regular basis; e.g. being unaware of his effect on others.  So, leaving dishes and other meal prep in disarray is *ok* for him, because he's "going to get back to it really soon now". 

And, telling him that he has to clean up his act there, and other  places (like paying bills) isn't going to play well.  <sigh>

Then I have to deal with my *fears* about the other roommates; the metaphorical elephant in the room, the alcoholic with some other issues.  It doesn't matter whether or not it's my responsibility or not... I still feel betrayed when she falls down; and it ISN'T my problem

Maybe someday...

I will get over it.

Apparently not today.

I'm not making enough money to cover bills; and I cannot squeeze the roommates for any more, it isn't fair; but life isn't fair... and I'm screwed.

So, rather than interact (badly) with both of them, who don't deserve it...  I am writing this.

It doesn't help (really) with the desire to kick one out, and F*** the other... but I'm working on it.

maybe someday.

Family

So today was a good day.
We went out and did the Farmer's market shopping, knife sharpening, little gifts and consumables, and eventually the cheese and Dairy shop in town (somewhere in Oregon).
My mom (all of 97 3/4 years of  experience) walked and enjoyed... something that becomes rarer as time grows short.  And it does grow short, I know.

Only last year, we thought we were going to lose her because she broke her femur / hip in a fall, and yet she recovered.  She's still not walking 2 miles a day, but she's doing at least a half-mile and the exercise room pretty much daily.  At 97 remember.  Her brother is 101, and still with us, abiet somewhat more frail.

My boot (Nevados hiking boot) lost it's heel, and the local cobbler in town fixed it for free.
It doesn't get any better than that.

I bought cheese, my mom had ice cream, it was a good afternoon.

Then, a friend and his wife came over (30 minute drive) to have dinner with us (sister, sister's partner, mom and myself).  Between dinner and a board game (Meme) afterwards, I felt like a real person.

I even talked to my neighbor, who is supporting the effort at home to maintain normalcy.

Life is good.

So why do I feel sad?

orbit decaying

Anger and tears, out of control
frustration and anger
darkness in my soul.
I weep for what was
and could not remain
I cry in anger
in fear
and in shame.
Helping or not
do or do not
That which is real
and that which is not.
Just  because a person
tries hard to do right
doesn't mean it's easy
or obvious in sight.
You cannot help an addict
or change their course
you only can remove
obstacles
of course.
But being good
isn't easy of course
baser impulses notwhitstanding
I falter, I fear
I don't have the answer
I'm no longer clear.
The knife or the bottle,
it matters not.
Like a fly in amber
I'm caught.
My penance, my burden
my path and my rue
I don't have the answer
I cannot tell you.

Insert swear words here - instead of at her

Damm.  Again.  Well, with the grand performance (two in one night), I'm guessing she made enough to fly.  Enough already.

I'm extremely annoyed / pissed; which means anything I do after the incident will be *bad*.  How bad?, well....

I didn't get stabbed/cut or arrested.

She doesn't *apparently* have keys; lost them at a client's house, along with her phone apparently.

I deleted her profile info backup copy on my phone (her phone list as of the last time she broke her phone in half); deleted the photo of her transcribed contact list (because I was going to give her the paper copy -- and didn't want her to lose it -- but she did anyway),  not my problem anymore.

All this stems from me responding to her writing on her message-board (whiteboard) "Questions are to be directed to the respondant" (which makes sense), with "Ask and ye shall receive" and "something implying agape love..." which was my acknowledgement.

I thought I was being witty.  Apparently I wasn't.

Then she got a message from a client who's a ?minister? and she had what I thought was mis-directed rage.  Apparently, I didn't help by putting a message with "love" on her board. 

So, I am the piñata.

[update - I spoke with my roommate and he said that she's been upset with me for days; apparently I'm still triggering her as opposed to being just a good friend.  I'm out of clues; and she's still pissed.]
---

At least this time I didn't get stabbed.

Life is a bitch. 

I feel better now.

Do or do not, there is *no* try.

look what the cat dragged in

I let her back in the building a couple days ago...

She looked SO pathetic...

Police kicked her loose.  O.R.  (own recognizance -- hmm, google isn't helping with spelling?)

She's got a cheat sheet that says she was *never* arrested;  just *held* for 2-3 days...  wtf?

Don't look a gift h(ore)se in the mouth...

we will talk.

....


Later

...

Back to drinking and being a little edgy. 

Oh well...  (you know the remark about being less than you can be?)