Don’t Take Shit From People

So I’m laying here tonight trying to relax after the week from hell. (Impending eviction)

Fumbling through my old Facebook photos, you know how that goes. you start nosing in on people you’ve lost touch with over the years to see what they’re up to. Tonight, mine led me to a face that I haven’t seen in over 9 years. My mother.

For the past couple of years, I’ve missed her. I’ve missed having a mom I could call up and ask for advice from. I’ve missed having a mom that would be there for me when I needed her. Most recently, I’ve needed my mother to deal with this illness. whatever it is is. Fibromyalgia, ME/CFS, something neurological. I really don’t know what the fuck is going on inside my body. I know I’m in early onset menopause, I know I have pretty severe osteoarthritis as it’s throughout my body and leaves me pretty crippled in the damp and humid weather. I know I have something seriously wrong with my spine and am waiting to see a specialist about it. I know I have PTSD.

I’ve also needed my mom to deal with my father. His in and out presence in my life. His oblivion to my pain. His inability to recognize how seriously he has damaged me.

Then I browsed through some more photos. Saw her and my stepfather got another dog. Got a new motorhome I see. It baffles me how my parents were unable to attend my wedding years ago (I’m divorced now, thankfully and am with the right person, finally) but are apparently able to travel in a camper. You couldn’t even send me a card when I got married.

I remembered how my mother was never there for me. When I called she couldn’t be bothered to take the time to talk to me on the phone. Her TV shows were more important. No matter if I was in a jam and needed help, or just really needed to hear her voice when I was down or needed life advice.

I had no one to go to for life advice.

I look at my stepfather’s smug face in his profile picture and remember how he always looked at me with contempt. Like I was gross. Some kind of fucking slimy garden slug. A garden slug with a bad smell. Yeah, that’s how I would describe it. Oddly enough, it’s the same way my stepmother always looked at me.

I feel like I’ve gone through tremendous mental growth over the past few years. I’ve terminated friendships that were not healthy, balanced or kind. I don’t need that. I’ve ended associations with people because I don’t share their views or ideas. I have different values, I have strong morals. something that seems to be lacking in this world.

Funny thing is, I didn’t get these morals or values from anyone in my family. Not my mother, not my father, and most certainly, not my step parents. I have absolutely nothing in common with my stepbrothers. For the most part, they’re egotistical, selfish, immature, and well… they’re kind of jerks. Who needs that? Nope.

I developed my own code as I grew up. As I made mistakes or failed, I learned lessons the hard way, on my own. Some values I received from my grandmothers. My paternal grandmother was a woman of faith who taught me about Jesus and the Bible at a very young age. I loved it. I found the time we spent reading the Bible together, I read it out loud to her because the printing was too small for her eyes, to be peaceful and reassuring. My maternal grandmother taught me about strength and perseverance. She taught me how to cook. Both grandmothers taught me to stand up for myself and, in their words, “don’t take shit from people.” They were sassy ladies. I probably get my sassiness from them as well.

No. Looking at my mother tonight brought me to a conclusion. A closure even. I don’t know this person, and she doesn’t know me. She’s never been that kind of mom you could call when you needed her. She’s never been that kind of mom that puts her (only) child(ren) first. She’s always been more concerned about her own needs, her own wants. It was proposed to me that perhaps my stepfather is too controlling. Well, yeah. he is controlling, sometimes an outright asshole but, I also know this. What my mother wants, my mother gets. My stepfather has always been a “Yes Dear” man. He’s not entirely to blame. My mother had a choice, and she chose to pretend I don’t exist. In the photo of my mother’s most recent lap dog, she’s a better dog mom than actual mom, I zoomed in on the shelf behind her. There were pictures of stepbrother one and his woman, next to it was a photo of stepbrother two and his wife. There were no other photos on that shelf. No, I’m sorry, their past dead dogs’ photos were there. But that was it. I didn’t make the shelf display cut. I simply don’t exist.

Last year, this would have sent me spiralling down the depression hole quicker than a squirrel up a tree with a cat after it. But tonight something in me clicked. I’m done grieving my father and my mother. It took some time, but I think I’m done. They’ve sucked up enough of my time and energy. No more.

I cut these ties.

I am just going to focus on building what I have with the love of my life. I’m going to enjoy some happiness for a change. As my paternal grandmother would have said, “Fuck ’em.” So sassy.

I feel remarkably stronger and lighter. My love is intact, my faith is stronger than ever. That’s all I need. We have overcome worse things in our lives, we’ll overcome this too.

Live Humbly, Be Charitable, Live Graciously,

S.

Blogmas Not So Much

The Blog Broad BlogmasI started to write Blogmas posts but quite frankly, I’m just not feeling writing about Christmas.  See my first Blogmas post here.

It’s all so commercial.  Geared towards the consumer.  I haven’t been a proper consumer in years.  I haven’t been able to work in years.  I’m trying to do things from home.  It’s picking up but it’s slow going.   When you’re poor and chronically ill and in pain daily, your priorities change in life.  Where, at one time I fretted over things like the perfectly decorated Christmas Tree, or making sure I baked enough cookies.  Will I get all my Christmas shopping done in time?  Now I think things like, can I stay awake long enough to visit with people?  How many bed ridden days will this holiday bring?  Can I handle the stress of the travels?  Am I going to break down and cry in front of her family?  Am I going to annoy my partner because I’m so exhausted I’m going to need to rest when she wants to go out?  Please don’t let my dog poop in the house.  There’s a lot of stairs in that house and the house itself is huge.  My body is not used to that, so my legs and back often give out while I’m there.  It’s embarrassing.  ME/CFS is embarrassing.  The only other people who understand it, typically, are those with the disease.  To others, we’re just depressed or lazy or need to get out more or or or.

My partner and I also both lost our fathers.  Hers to cancer about 16 months ago; mine at his own choice by cutting me out 18 months ago.  The loss of her father still hangs heavily on everyone’s hearts.  He was a great man.  A kind, gentle and caring man; one of a kind.  My father, still alive, has always been kind of a jerk.  Selfish, immature and somewhat ignorant of the world.  He’s not a loving man.  Nevertheless, he’s my Dad.  I still love him and his absence hurts.  My mother’s absence hurts; we haven’t spoke in 5 years.  Family is actually incredibly important to me and it’s always bothered me that mine is so fractured.

Being chronically ill disables you.  Physically and mentally.  Unfortunately many of us fall into that grey area on paper where you don’t qualify for provincial or federal benefits.  Most people require legal representation to get those federal benefits.  If you can’t work, you rely on your “family”.  My family consists of my partner “C”, my dog Lucy, my partner’s family and my sisters from other misters.  These are my close gal pals that I confide in.  That confide in me.  They’ve helped me many times.  I trust these women.  In my life, I haven’t been able to rely on or really trust my own blood family, but I can trust these women.  They are my support.

I have other things on my mind right now besides Christmas.  I’m more concerned about getting by day by day.  My partner’s job could be gone any time because there’s no job security where she works.  I can’t go in to detail about what she does as it’s kind of a public job.  It’s stressful.  So, are we out spending money on presents?  No, we’re trying to keep up with bills and the ever increasing cost of eating healthfully which costs just as much as our rent I might add.

Do I want to write a holiday inspired post everyday?  No.  Not really?  I just don’t give a tiny rat’s ass right now.  I’m still battling a virus, my partner has it, my wrist is still healing/broken.  I won’t know unless I sit at the hospital emergency for hours and hours because let’s face it, it’s not really an emergency, I just don’t have a doctor and really need an X-ray.

B’ah.  Humbug.

I need a nap.

The Blog Broad tag line
Sam

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Images by Canva

Men:  A Scathing Review

I don’t want to sound like another man hating lesbian, but I am becoming a man hating lesbian.  

For years I have been watching almost every damn woman I know struggle.  Struggle for equality in pay, struggle for opportunities, struggle in love, with their self worth and even with their own identities.  At the root of a lot of these struggles, is men.  

I see my well educated double degree and masters holders, business owners, professionals, beautiful strong women friends being oppressed by men.  I see friends who are absolutely stunning women, struggling with self confidence.  I see talented, exceptional women being held back with pay and job security.  I see my highly intelligent friends questioning themselves.  I see my beautiful friends everywhere being treated poorly by men children.  

What’s a man child you ask?   Well it’s simple.  It’s a man who’s emotional growth stopped at pubescence.  He cares about material items, looking cool or tough in front of others.  He likes his toys.  He thinks primarily of himself and his needs rarely giving a moment to consider yours.  He doesn’t ask you about you and would rather blather on about his own problems.  He likes to hear himself talk and often seeks an audience.  He doesn’t see you as an equal.  He sees you as his property, his meal ticket, his product, his inferior because he is the man and you’re the woman.  He can’t handle pressure or any real responsibility either.

I’m angry about how men have been treating women for ages both professionally and personally, and in light of recent events of all the shit bags in entertainment, news and politics being called out, I want to jump in on that momentum.

It needs to stop.  

A man doing the same job as his female co worker should not earn more simply because he has a penis.  “Oh this doesn’t still happen though, things have changed” you might say.   No.  They haven’t.  Most women (unless you’re Meryl fucking Streep) working in entertainment, TV, film, news and radio, often, do NOT earn equal pay to her male counterpart.  And honestly, I bet Meryl had to endure her fair share of shit early in her career.  Women’s ideas are NOT listened to or taken seriously.  She is forced to endure inappropriate comments and unwanted advances.   She is told she has to look pretty and wear make up.  She is undervalued, underpaid and overworked.

“But if you work hard you can do anything you set your mind to”

That’s some great advice from a man right there, because he is oblivious to how the other half truly lives.  It’s not his fault, he’s just always been a man.

“There are still some great men out there.”

Yes, but they are few and far between.  A dying breed if you will.  We had a small resurgence of the sensitive man that came as a result of 90s grunge and the angst ridden, tortured souls of the Prozac and Cobain generation.  These men can often be found sporting beards and man buns wearing toddlers like vests.

“What is a real man then?”

A real man builds others up regardless of gender.  

A real man sees qualifications and hard work, not your breasts.

A real man treats women others with respect.  

A real man has integrity.

A real man isn’t guided simply by ego.

A real man treats his woman with respect, is supportive, caring and kind.  He puts your needs before his own.  He values you as a partner and a person.  He loves his family.

“What makes you an expert in men?  You’re gay.”

For 34 years I lived in denial trying to get by as a “straight woman”.   I dated many men.  I have a father and step father.  I have 3 step brothers.  I have had probably 20 male bosses in my life and hundreds of male co workers.  I’ve always had plenty of female friends throughout my life, and I am a good listener.  I have paid attention.

You might be a shit bag employer if:
You hire women based on what they look like.   As a teen, I worked in 2 of biggest coffee shops for years.  Not only was I sexually harassed, had my boss rub up against me, but, that same boss blatantly stated one day that he’s “not going to hire her, because she’s kind of ugly and has a big ass.”  Now that’s a minimum wage job.  We see all the shit that’s coming out of the woodwork in the high power world of entertainment, news and politics- (Matt Lauer I’m looking you, you dirty creepy shit weasel) what do you think it’s like in the real world?  

You say really inappropriate, cringeworthy things to and around your female staff and colleagues.  I had an employer tell me once that I had “Nice blow job lips.”  This came from a supervisor.  Fucking creepy.  I didn’t even feel safe at a couple of my jobs.

You talk about sex openly.  

“Pal, you’re barking up the wrong tree.  I don’t want to hear about it, and I certainly don’t want to picture your ugly ass naked.”
Look, I know there a few good men still out there.  I even know a handful.  I see you, I applaud you, I respect you.

However for all the women out there that are:

Struggling to be heard at work

Struggling with your careers in a male dominated workplace

Struggling with dead beat Dads

Being taken advantage of

Being taken for granted

Being disrespected, lied to, cheated on

Being abused verbally, physically or emotionally

You deserve more.  You’re a strong, intelligent, beautiful woman.  You deserve better.

I see you.  I applaud you for your strength, courage and determination.  I respect you.

Empowering Women
Live Humbly, Be Charitable, Live Graciously,

Sam
Image “Empower” courtesy of Pixabay (Creative Commons)

Things I Do That Drive My Partner Crazy: A Rebuttal by Partner

Things I do That Drive my Partner Crazy: A Rebuttal
After posting my prior post titled Things I Do That Drive My Partner Crazy , my ever loving, ever so sarcastic partner “C” decided she would weigh in.  Here are her responses:


Random Singing.

Hey. I’m fond of the random singing! It means she’s in a good mood. So sing on, girl! “Singing” the entire Fairlight part of Running up that Hill isn’t singing – it’s bleeps and bloops. You’re making computer sounds for heaven’s sake. You are a Dot Matrix printer. Beep Beep. Bloop Bloop.

Eating in Bed. 

How the fuck a human manages to eat an apple in 5.1 digital surround sound cranked to 100 is beyond me.

Patience with technology.  

Most of our technology is stone-age obsolete bricks. Having fits about running Windows 7 on a third-hand $200 laptop from 2007 is just silly.

Free? Yes please! 

Collect all the freebies you want, love. I’m poor too. Pass the purse hot sauce.

I love my dog.  

OH THIS IS A STICKING POINT FOR SURE. I love that she loves her dog! Pets are part of the family!

Having said that – I’d be just as angry if a family member took a giant steaming sloppy dump on the floor for me to walk in at 5 a.m.;

I’d be just as raging if a younger sibling sat on my partner’s lap for 12 hours a day and totally clam jammed me at every opportunity.


I tend to collect things. 

You call it collecting. I call it knick-knack hell.

I’m a night owl. 

You say night owl, I say as long as I don’t wake up it’s kosher. That 3:20 a.m. alarm, y’all.

Also – I don’t call her horror and supernatural documentaries stupid. Anything that someone is passionate about and interested in is not stupid.

I say that those horror and supernatural documentaries *might* have a role in the screaming night terrors…

BONUS! THREE THINGS I DO THAT MY PARTNER HATES!

This face
Things I do That... This face

This face

This face 2

and

This face

This face 3

Live Humbly, Be Charitable, Live Graciously,


Sam


(Graphic designed by me-Canva)

Things I Do That Drive My Partner Crazy

I’m a bit of a weirdo.  I have many idiosyncrasies that drive My partner nuts.  Besides staying up all night writing…

Random Singing.  I sing and hum all the time.  I drove her nuts one day when I was cleaning.  I always play music when I’m cleaning.  I frequently sing along to the music or hum.  I hummed throughout Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush so much so, she got up from the couch to get her own headphones and proceeded to drown out my humming with heavy metal.

Liz Lemon singing

Eating in Bed.  She goes to bed early as her work schedule demands it.  I usually go to bed with her even if I’m not tired.  I watch TV on my IPad with headphones and the screen dimmed.  The problem is that I’m a big snacker.  I don’t have much of an appetite during the day and prefer to eat small snacks over large meals.  So when I’m up late watching TV I get the munchies and next thing I know, I’m bringing the peanut butter to bed.  Sometimes I eat chips quietly.  You have to put the entire chip in your mouth and kind of suck on it as to not make a bunch of crunching sounds to not wake your partner.  Other foods I have brought in to the bed include; granola bars, apples (although I have been banned from eating apples in bed because of the crunching) nuts, deli meats and cheese, pizza and ribs, yep- ribs are spectacular in bed.  I have a special “rib eatin'” tank top.  I am very careful not to leave crumbs utilizing a saucer beneath my chin as a catch tray.

Homer eating bed

Patience with technology.   Everything’s just so damn complicated and tedious now.  I’m a cranky ol’ broad who just wants to watch my Netflix.  Don’t tell me I have to upgrade my Windows 7, clear all my cookies, reboot my computer and spin in 3 counter clockwise circles with a fucking eagle feather whilst praying.   Also, why in the hell can I NOT copy and paste from Google docs to WordPress?  If you think I’m gonna re type everything like a fucking chump you must be mad!  I also threw my last record player in a dumpster.

Fuck computers

Free?  Yes please!  I am poor.  I love Freebies, even if it embarrasses my partner.  Sure, I took like 20 packs of hot sauce from Taco Bell.  My partner loves hot sauce.  I had purse hot sauce for months for her.  Who was the winner?

I love free

I love my dog.  She’s super cute and funny and loveable and perfect.  I don’t see the problem.  I am admittedly, addicted to dogs.

Dog freak

I tend to collect things.  When “C” and I moved in together, she was met with a plethora of Doctor Who memorabilia, zombie posters and various nods to the TV show, Supernatural.  I had a lot of clothes, records and books.  I have since scaled down my belongings, keeping only what I deemed essential.  Several TARDISs remain in the home and we’re still fighting over my Twilight books.

My stuff

I’m a night owl.  I love the the peace and quiet of night.  It’s often when I do my best writing.  I used to paint and knit at night as well.  My creativity goes in to hyperdrive during these hours.  I still sometimes draw funny cartoons for my partner to wake up to.  I have ALWAYS been a night owl.  I love staying up at night watching  my forbidden shows and documentaries.  The ones my partner deems dumb or boring or so lame.  Sometimes I am even still awake when her alarm goes off at 4 am enjoying a radio show or engaging in one of my weird hobbies.  A special nod to Alien & UFO Discolsure and Coast to Coast am for keeping me awake at night.  I also enjoy colouring.

40 year old virgin painting miniatures

In addition, I also have a terrible case of Dad humor.  

“You feel like chocolate?  You don’t look like chocolate”

*loud eyeroll*


How do you drive your partner nuts?  I can’t be the only one.
Live Humbly, Be Charitable, Live Graciously,

Sam

 

Gifs

Peter Griffin writing with a quill  https://youtu.be/yKxGy8NJp44

Liz Lemon singing  https://media.giphy.com/media/9s5Vbbtmd1lkc/giphy.gif
Homer eating in bed  https://media.giphy.com/media/5EYxJigLKsNWg/giphy.gif
Hoarding  https://theblogbroadblog.files.wordpress.com/2017/10/d7c58-2bg-hoardfall.gif
Ron Swanson computer in trash  https://i.pinimg.com/originals/74/9d/64/749d64e129bd9f9eda94e5844bcb2686.gif
Freebies  http://media.tumblr.com/64839788fe3bd893aeda8fad4fbd40e9/tumblr_inline_mmhu2xRmFn1qz4rgp.gi

Dog lover  http://www.unfather.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/dog-forced.gif

40 year old virgin gif   https://media.giphy.com/media/11oJIpiuWk69mU/giphy.gif

Sorry For Trying to People With You

Avoiding People with cell phonesPhones.  They’ve come a long way from their early rotary ancestors.  I am among the many who grew up –pre cellular technology.  It took forever to dial a phone number as it click click clicked to your desired destination.  

I got my first smartphone, a Blackberry, in 2010 and it changed my life.  I spent hours on Facebook, on Twitter, reading, playing games.  It was amazing.  I did however grow increasingly annoyed with the fact that people were now beginning to spend their time together, while in each others’ company, on their phone instead of interacting.  It seemed rude to me then and it still seems rude to me.  Maybe it’s my age.

I’m not going to say that smartphones are evil.  I can’t poop without mine.  You laugh, but you probably can’t poop without yours either.  You’re probably pooping right now in fact.  You animal.

My problem is that it’s quickly become a replacement for human interaction.   My partner, “C” is always on her phone. From the time she comes home until the time she goes to bed.  She’s an obsessive reader and Redditor and fervent Jeopardy World Tour contestant.   Sometimes I try to talk to her and she shoots me the look that instantly lets me know I have disturbed her game and quite possibly, cost her precious points. 

Sorry Babe.  Sorry for trying to people with you

Annoying cell phones
It’s just like that now.  In addition to evaluating a person’s body language to determine whether they will be receptive to conversation, you now have to consider whether they are playing a game, responding to an email, commenting on post somewhere or tweeting.  I mean, if we have to start waiting for people to meet our eyes to start engaging, it’s going to become an awfully quiet world.  The only noise will be that of periodic beverage sipping and occasional chuckles over a meme or a thread or a tweet or, or, or.

Sure, there some very valuable benefits to keeping your phone nearby at all times.  I certainly feel smarter when I can interject a random piece of trivia in everyday conversation. “Actually a yurt is an entirely different building structure from the early Turkish culture which vastly differs from a tipi from Native cultures…”

I can also stay up to date on all the latest dog and cat videos.  I sometimes catch myself looking at food porn or secretly trying to keep up with the Kardashians thinking to myself, “what am I doing with my life?”

Shoutout to Pinterest for all those craft ideas and recipes that will never come to fruition.  An honourable mention to Tumblr for introducing me to Gifs back in 2011.   It literally changed my life.

I’d like to close with a promise of using my phone less but, let’s face it, I’d just be lying.

Are you addicted your smartphone?  What’s the longest you’ve gone without checking it?  

Live Humbly, Be Charitable, Live Graciously,

Sam


Images

Cell phone humor cartoon- https://i.pinimg.com/736x/e9/19/16/e919160d81c7c9a24509d7455cc75771–pet-peeves-funny-things.jpg

Hands and phones image https://www.menshealth.com/sites/menshealth.com/files/styles/article_main_custom_user_phone_1x/public/young-people-dont-know-how-to-talk-to-eachother.jpg?itok=jBvMzIEP×tamp=1490800552

Looking For Love in All the Wrong Places

 

I have been looking for true love for a long time.  I grew up in a home where everyone made fun of queers and fags and dykes.  I had also always believed in God and the Bible;  a belief I shared solely with my paternal grandmother. At age 18 I began attending church, I was christened Roman Catholic so I attended a Catholic Church and sometimes Anglican with a friend of mine, and later on, United Churches, just really seeking The Word and guidance.  I believed that if I admitted to anyone that I had crushes on girls (as well as, girly boys) not only would my family hate me but God would too.  It took me until age 34, several churches and much praying before I eventually came out as a lesbian; I dated men until the age of 34.  I was never truly happy with any of them, I did what was expected of me.  I looked for a husband.

Hockey Guy/Stripper Fan

The first serious boyfriend I had was at age 20.  He was obsessed with hockey, Wayne Gretzky and stats so we’ll call him Hockey Guy.  I was never really physically attracted to him but he had a good heart.  I had originally planned on waiting until marriage before committing The Act but it didn’t work out that way.  We were best friends for more than 8 years, we even got engaged much to his reluctance, after being together for 7.  I was a heavy set girl at that point in my life.  From ages 20-30 I peaked at 260 pounds.  I think he kept looking for something better to come along.  He found it on the Internet.  What broke the deal was when he confessed to me that he had met up with this stripper he had developed a relationship with online, while on business trips to Toronto.  I felt betrayed.  It wasn’t the only the only time I had felt betrayed by him so I did what any scorned woman does at age 27.  I went to Newfoundland and slept with another guy, ending my relationship.

 

The Peeping Tom

The second relationship I had was with a guy in Newfoundland.  We’ll call him, the Peeping Tom.  This is the guy I cheated on Hockey Guy with.  I moved to Newfoundland to live with one of my best friends, and to get away from Hockey Guy so the break up would take.  I didn’t want to cave like I had the last time. This guy, (Peeping Tom), was purely a rebound.  I never loved him.  I liked him and enjoyed his company but..  I wasn’t over my prior experience.  In addition to his ever increasing ass size; seriously, this guy had the biggest ass I have ever seen on a man; I discovered he was a peeping Tom.   I packed up my cats and 2 duffel bags full of stuff and moved out to Edmonton, Alberta with a friend of mine leaving behind all my belongings.  He sold everything of value on EBay and threw out the rest.

 

Drunk Ass Man Child

At this point I have turned 29, I’m back in Nova Scotia feeling like a failure, and I am very much overweight.  I have zero self esteem and I am incredibly lonely.  I end up meeting this next guy through a mutual friend of ours.  We’ll call this guy Drunk Ass Man Child.  I noticed he drank a lot before we moved in together.  My lease had ended with a roommate I had and didn’t want to live with her again because she just wasn’t very stable.  I was quickly looking at having no place to live so I moved in with him.  Within a month I learned that he was a hard core alcoholic.  He would spend his entire paycheck on booze, and things like comic books and action figures and DVDs and CDs.  When it came my payday, it was time to pay the rent, the bills, buy groceries.. Yeah, you see where this is going.  I also learned he was abusive.  After waking up to find this asshat urinating on the wall in the bedroom one night I banned him from the bedroom period.  I learned to loathe this guy.  He’d yell at me and call me names and throw things at me and try to choke me.  The last time he put hands on me I left him.  He went to work one morning and I quickly grabbed the boxes I had hidden around the house for two weeks while I secretly found another apartment, threw all my belongings in said boxes, moved to a different address and changed my cell phone number.  I never spoke to him again.

 

The Booty Call Guy

By age 30 I had begun to lose a lot of weight and started exercising and eating healthy to try to lose the rest.  I started to feel pretty again and even had the nerve to ask out a guy from work who I had a crush on.  We’ll call him.. The Booty Call Guy.  We would get together once or twice a week but he didn’t want a relationship nor would he go out with me in public..  It turned out, I was simply a long term booty call.  The back burner girl.  He preferred younger skinny girls.  After a while, I came to my senses and stopped that.  He would continue to try and get me over to his house for a couple of years after that.  I declined.

 

Angry Little Girly Man

I then dated someone that I had liked for a long time.  We liked each other initially but we were both in other relationships.  (Hockey Guy).  We’ll call this fellow, Angry Little Girly Man.  Needless to say I was pretty excited when he called me out of the blue saying he was single and blah blah blah, we ended up dating for seven months.  I called it off when I got tired of his tantrum fits.  I got sick of him saying things like “you should wear less makeup” or “Don’t wear that, men will stare at you”.  At this point, I had lost 130 pounds, the real way.  I worked really hard to get that weight off and get in shape to gain back some confidence and I wasn’t going to let this little man with his own confidence issues take it away.  I moved on.  Every so often this guy still tries to contact me and I’m like, “Yeah, still gay, not interested.”

 

Creepy Dinner Guy & Ladies’ Panties

After Angry Little Girly Man and so many experiences ranging from disappointing to downright terrifying, I went on a dating expedition.  Online dating was getting really big so I decided to give it a try.  At one point, there was Creepy Dinner Guy, who took me to fancy dinners and then said he could communicate with Wolves.  The Psychoanalyst, (not really) he just always liked to say things like, “You know what your problem is..?”  My problem was that men just seemed annoying and pointless.  I was never really into any of the men I dated.  There was always a million things wrong, that annoyed me, that drove me crazy, that turned me off, that grossed me out.  I wanted to date women but was still afraid of being shunned by my family.  (Little did I know that would happen later over money anyway).  So I kept looking.  There was Music Guy who was really into music and collecting vinyl.  He was pretty cool and I enjoyed his company.  He wasn’t all hands either.  He was respectful.  After meeting Sweaty Guy and The Guy Who Wore Ladies Panties, I decided to give Music guy another shot, although I was pretty sure he was an alcoholic too.  We broke up after 3 months and I started seeing someone new.

 

Phoenix the Poet Crackhead

Phoenix. That was the guy’s name, swear to God.  He had entrancing eyes and his words were simply beautiful.  He was a published poet and always said all the right things.   He was a mess.  He had horrible teeth (what was left).  He was a crackhead AND alcoholic.  Double whammy.  That didn’t last long and we never slept together so, thankfully no harm done.  

 

Music Guy

Music guy in the meantime, cleaned up his act a bit.  We had kept in touch.  We lived on the same street so…  I ended up going back out with him.  At the time I remember thinking, “Well, if I have to be with a man, it may as well be Music Guy.”  We dated for three years.  We lived together but didn’t sleep together.  He slept in another room on a futon with the cats.  I came out of the closet to him at age 33.  I ran back into the closet, out of fear, for another 8 months.  I prayed more than ever before.  

“God, would you hate me, if I loved a woman?” At this point, I had met a woman and I knew I felt way more than just friendship for her.  It was intense.  Nothing I had ever experienced with a man.  During my months of praying I encountered a bright orange display of books at a local Chapters called “Bulletproof Faith: A Spiritual Survival Guide for Gay & Lesbian Christians.  A light went off in my head. You can be gay AND Christian!?  I took that as one of several signs that kept urging me to just be myself, whoever that was.  Stop pretending to be something you’re not.  You will never find true happiness until you live your life as your true self.  I found groups of other gay and lesbian Christians online.  I came out at age 34.

LGBT Christians

The Ex Wife

I dated my ex wife for two years before we were married.  On my wedding day, my father pulled me aside and said, “Are you sure?  You really want to marry a woman?”  I glanced across the street where I saw a group of guys taking turns jumping into a sinkhole that had formed on the side of the road.  Noticing the idiocy of that act prompted me to respond, “Uhhh, yeah.  I’m sure.”  I did love my wife but our relationship always lacked the passion and affection I had hoped for.  She wouldn’t sleep in the same bed as me claiming my night terrors kept her awake.  We were very different people.  I wanted to work on our marriage and building our life together; she was consumed by gossip and money and talking to other women.  She cheated on me after about a year of marriage.  Then again and again.  We split in 2014.

 

The American

The American was introduced to me through a mutual friend.  We had some things in common (namely we were both nerds) and we were both going through divorces so, we bonded.  We dated for a few months before moving in together, which I didn’t really want to do.  I wasn’t in love with her, I was still grieving the loss of my marriage but I needed a place to live and neither of us could afford our own place.  After being together for 7 months, again with the separate bedrooms, her visa was going to be revoked as her ex wife was beginning their divorce proceedings.  I think she knew I wasn’t in love with her which probably played into her decision to go back to the USA early.

 

My Soulmate

At this point, I’m 40, disabled and a soon to be divorcee.  What a catch.  I really had given up on ever finding love.  I’d tell myself, It doesn’t happen for everyone.  My time has passed.  My looks are going, I see wrinkles.  I’ll just live with my dog and hopefully find roommates along the way.  Whatever.  Then I met this girl.  She was cute and confident and funny and sassy and sexy.  Well shit.  She probably won’t be into me though.  I was wrong.  Our first date lasted four days.  I didn’t want her to leave and she didn’t want to go.  It was weird.  I was absolutely hooked on this broad.  In turn, she seemed to be pretty sweet on me.  She got a job in a different province a few months later and the thought of losing this woman… Killed me.  The first time she experienced my night terrors she simply spooned me until I drifted back off to sleep.   We talked about everything.  We liked the same things, we laughed A LOT.  There was passion and affection.  She was loving and thoughtful.  She listened to me and rubbed my body when it hurt.  It got so I couldn’t fall asleep without her.  THIS was what I was looking for.  Nope.  Not losing her.

 

We moved to Saint John a little over two years ago and we’re still going strong.  She is my absolute best friend in the world.  I love being with her and am happier with her than I’ve ever been with anyone.  Ever.  We are such a great match; she is truly my soulmate.  We got engaged a while ago and hope to get married next year.  As you can see, I looked for her for a very long time.  I had to kiss A LOT of frogs to find my princess.  I have to laugh at that because she is the farthest thing from a princess.  She’s a tough little broad with a sarcastic wit and a sharp tongue who likes heavy metal and war games.  She’s definitely a keeper.

 

How many duds did you go through before you found your soulmate?

 

Live Humbly, Be Charitable, Live Graciously,

 

Sam

I Can’t Throw it Away, These Things are Valuable to Some People…

mangrove tree  Trying to pull it together after a week of pure exhaustion.  I have Fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue syndrome, arthritis everywhere and degenerative disc disease so I have bouts of pain and exhaustion where I fluctuate from suffering from insomnia to chronic fatigue.  I spent the evenings unable to sleep and having to nap in the afternoons.  My brain has been so foggy.  I’m somewhere in that space between not really awake but not exactly asleep but walking around. Miraculously.   Yesterday I went out with 2 different shoes on and I didn’t even notice.  Everything I eat makes me feel like I’m going to be sick.  It’s like having the flu.  I woke up this morning completely soaked.  Had to change and crawl back into bed.  I barely remember because I was still partially asleep.  I couldn’t wake up and get up so I slept.  I slept until 11am.  What woke me was another nightmare.

 

I usually dream the same things over and over again.  The world outside is chaos.  Something has happened.  Something from the skies.  We’re always watching the skies.  People are travelling in small groups of people trying to stay safe and unnoticed.  There’s no food, and there is destruction and devastated buildings everywhere.  We have to to stay quiet and unnoticed because if they hear us, they will take us.  I don’t know who they are.  I never see because I usually wake myself  up screaming.  My dreams are terrifying and violent.   I’ve had dreams similar to this for most of my life.  I have had PTSD for most of my life.  Another way I wake up is I’m yelling at my parents.  Usually my father.  We fell out a couple of years ago over money.  He had co signed a line of credit for me in 2007 to go back to school.  I went back to get certified in Fitness Instruction, Personal Training and Nutrition and Wellness.  That was going to be my career and I was really good at it.  Then I got sick.  I had to have emergency surgery one night from endometriosis complications.  I was off work for a while but I was unable to ever fully return to my normal capacity.  Over time my Fibro came back full swing with new symptoms added.  Arthritis became crippling some days.  I missed time from work and kept getting fired from job after job.  The stress of not being able to eat or pay rent or take care of everything while being sick and getting sicker was awful.  Again.. No support or caring from my father or stepmother.  I was put off work years ago because of illness.  My stepmother thinks I’m lazy and so does my father.  Kept telling my to get my shit together .  I’m sick not lazy.  They don’t understand that I am actually ill.  So when I was unable to keep up the payments on this line of credit, my father cut me out.  He told me he did not want to see my face.   That was almost 2 years ago now.  My mother and I haven’t spoke in five years or so.  She has a lot of health problems as well, in fact we share many of those- thanks DNA, but I was told by my stepfather years ago that I wasn’t to call there anymore.  If I had something to say, to put it in an email.  I know my mother has moments that she could speak to me for five minutes.  She chooses not to.  She’s chosen not to since I was 26.  I had a rocky relationship with my mother until about 12 where we became friends.  I say friends because she was never consistently in my life like a mother should be.  My father just ignored me but she would be in and out like the seasons.  In while my stepfather was away at sea and she was lonely, out once he retired.  

 

All I’ve ever wanted is to feel loved by my parents and to feel close, but instead I felt like an old antique piece of furniture being passed back and forth.  “Well I don’t want it right now, so I’ll just store it in the attic in case I need it for something, I mean, I can’t throw it out, these things are valuable to some people.”  I guess not everyone gets the supportive advice, the encouragement, the hugs, the “I love yous” , the birthday cakes, the gifts, the help, the empathy, the compassion.  I’ve been pretty much on my own since 13 with the occasional help from them of say groceries for my birthday.  I’ve lived with my father but I was ignored.  Like not even told there was dinner ready ignored.  No one noticed my good grades, no one noticed how hard I was working at university, or the fact that I never asked them for anything.  Ever. (Except for that line of credit in 2007) I overdosed at 18 on Valium and slept in my bedroom for two days and no one noticed.  When I got married in 2011, my mother and stepfather didn’t attend my wedding, nor did I receive a card or a present.  I noticed my youngest step brother got married this past month, my invitation seemingly lost in the mail.  My stepfather made it to his wedding I learned.  My stepfather.  He taught me some things and helped me different times but he was more of the same.  There, then not there, then don’t call me.  

 

All this stuff seems to come up when I go through a flare.  I guess it’s because it’s when I feel most vulnerable.  I so wish I could hear an encouraging “I love you” or a hug or “I’m sorry that you’re having these problems, can we help?”  I hear my partner talking to her mom and sister on the phone and there’s always this little piece of me that breaks a little inside.

 

My parents are getting older, approaching their seventies and I know that things will never be resolved with us.  The chaos I grew up in, the things that happened to me and not having their help, their protection, their guidance or love.  Even my health needs went unmet which in turn has complicated my health now.  In today’s world, I would have been removed from that home.  I saw things and knew things children should never know or be exposed to.  Nothing…  There will never be anything different with them.   

 

Seeing how difficult it is to attain mental health help in addition to the family doctor I am waiting for, 2 years now.  I felt like the only means available to me is to write about it.  I can’t afford the treatments that many people have access to and I have no health coverage.  The only thing I have is my writing.  I have hesitated to really put things out there for a long time.  I already got yelled at by my brother because of “how I write about our parents” he is my step mother’s son from her previous marriage.  Her only child.  He got taken care of well.  Very well.  I on the other hand was not her problem.  He doesn’t realize that despite us living under the same roof for 6 years we have lived very different lives.  

 

My family doesn’t care about me.  I have one cousin that I wish lived closer but I even tend to keep her at arm’s length because I don’t trust she’ll stay in my life either.  My now ex wife cheated on me and we divorced in 2014 so yeah, now I have some serious abandonment issues and PTSD and chronic pain and poverty and bad credit and all the other shit that comes with being chronically ill.

 

I prefer for people to think of me as witty and happy and clever so I tend to only write when I’m feeling upbeat but that isn’t realistic.  Life isn’t always like that.  Sometimes, life is just shit.  

 

I hope I feel better tomorrow.

 

Live Humbly, Be Charitable, Live Graciously,

 

Image

“Mangrove Trees” by 9comeback  www.freedigitalphotos.net 

 

The Mysteries of the Lesbian Relationship Revealed

Cannoli
Mmmm Sweetie…
The quintessential lesbian breakfast traditionally begins with a hefty portion of bacon ideally served with a warm croissant. Money and time permitting, that is followed by a Second breakfast. The ultimate Second breakfast is made up of a delicious sweetie like say, a cannoli perfectly paired with a hot cup of Saint John’s finest coffee- Java Moose, Foghorn if you please.

We will enjoy our morning coffee on our Sesame Street style stoop while the sun is shining and discuss today’s plans (namely, what we will eat) and observances. There was an overweight Robin Hood and a Value Village Xena walking down the street today. Bizarre yes, but this is an artsy area. We live across from a Performing Arts center so we concluded it was for a play. I know people wonder what it is us lesbians do at home. I’m about to reveal an age old secret. It’s not all late night cable soft core porn as many people would choose to believe. We talk about food. There aren’t sexy pillow fights happening, there is Masterchef, Kitchen Nightmares and anything else Lord Gordon Ramsay (he really should be a Lord) has a hand in.

In addition to our many hours of Yahtzee and Star Wars Trouble with the Pop’O’Matic Bubble, we like to compete in the kitchen. Coming up with different techniques and seasonings to try to blow each others’ taste buds away and tease each other over who’s the better cook. I say it’s her.

At some point today we’ll play hide and seek with the dog. We have a miniature dachshund named Lucy. Well, I have a dog that she lays no claim to; more of a cat person she insists. We’ll do some housework and Netflix for the day. We’ll curse my laptop as it craps out a dozen times. Then we will cook dinner. The star of tonight’s dinner will be chicken, frankly it’s the only meat ‘C’ will eat unless I make pulled pork.

Sometimes we send each other dirty mind reading text messages like,

“I’m craving chocolate, are you?”

And wouldn’t you know it? I am!

I’ll literally be fantasizing about ice cream when I receive a message from ‘C’

“I was thinking about ice cream, should I get some?”

Hell yes.

Food is prevalent in most lesbian relationships I’ve learned. I’m just glad that I found someone who likes the same food as me (barring seafood). Our snack preferences are the same and our cooking talents measure up to one another. My partner- my life and food partner.

Our relationship is no different than anyone else’s. We do the same things other couples do, there’s no mystery or evil or “agenda”. We’re just two people who love each other, love food, love the same things, (barring my dog) who happen to be women. Period. Sure, we boob bump (chest bump) when something goes our way but I mean- who doesn’t??
Also.. Who couldn’t adore this face?

Wire haired Mini Dachshund
Lucy the Dog
Live Humbly, Be Charitable, Live Graciously,

Sam