It IS all about me.

Today I came home from a long day at work.  I trudged up the stairs with my groceries, looking forward to being home in the quiet.  I even bought new candles to put that relaxing scent in the air that is recommended by the latest articles on rest and relaxation.  I trotted back down to my mailbox in the hallway since my hands were full earlier.  I made the guinea pigs their "nummies", gave Nemo the cat his head scratches and treats, then I sat down to read my emails and munch on my dinner.  

I know, I am just a bundle of excitement, don't be jealous of that.

I glanced over and remembered that I had mail.  I like getting mail for some dumb reason.  I don't even care if it is bills.  I am kind of strange like that.

I opened my letters.  I was so happy to see my new health insurance cards.  The best thing about working so hard and getting promoted to full time is the benefits for my family.

I left the bigger envelope unopened.  It didn't have a return address but it had a local postmark.  I was curious but I waited anyway.  I don't recall why.

The envelope laid on the floor next to the couch until my episode of Roseanne was over.  Did you know Netflix has Roseanne?  I love that show.

I picked it up and opened it.  There was a single piece of paper folded in three and I wondered why someone would put that in a big envelope and pay the extra postage.  Duh...

Once I unfolded the letter and saw that it was a print out of a joke that I posted on Facebook (I know, social media drama) on the 27th of December. 

"A woman just dropped a 20 dollar bill next to me.  I thought 'What would Jesus do?' so I turned it into wine... Well, I bought wine."

It was just some joke I read somewhere and it made me chuckle.  So I just shared it.

Now, I never worry about offending anyone because, Facebook is what it is. No one would post anything if that were the case.  People post the dumbest shit, me included.

Anyway, back to my story.

On the paper was a handwritten note that basically said the reason that horrible things happen to me is because I wasn't a good person and kept the $20.  Oh and, when was I going to get it, it isn't all about me.

This was NOT signed.

Ack!  Another anonymous note....

If you missed it...here's a link to the first note.

Anonymity is a Voice of Cowards

Of course this upset me.

This is such a shitty thing to do.  I mean, write a letter based on a joke that I posted assuming that I actually kept a $20 bill and bought wine.

First of all, I would not have done any such thing.

Second of all, if I had...I would have bought something a little stronger than wine.

(I kid, please don't send me a nasty note)

In all fairness, if this anonymous person knew me at all, they would understand that I do just about anything for anyone.  I have helped friends in pain.  I have loaned money to a friend when he needed help.  I have made gifts for friends fighting cancer.  I have donated my time and money for good causes.  I have rescued turtles from a busy highway.  I have send kind messages and cards to people who needed uplifting.

Now, I do things not to shine bright in the eyes of God.  I do things like this because it is the human thing to do, the kind thing to do.

The thing that really upsets me is that this person takes the time to send this anonymous, hateful thing to me and thinks that it is going to change me.  If anything, it makes me want to keep on being me.

I hate to break it to you, but it is about me.  It is my Facebook page, my blog, my little corner of the interwebs and if you don't like what I have to say, post, comment, whatever....you can kindly block me or stop reading the shit I post.  It is that simple.

I like who I am.  

Sending me a letter by mail without signing it gives it absolutely no validation in my eyes.  It is basically void.

You know, shitty things happen.  It is how life is.  I know this.

It isn't because Jesus hated my joke.  It isn't because God is causing me to suffer.

It is because it is how life is.

Do you think children suffer from cancer because they posted a joke about Jesus and $20? 

Honestly, I am not sure that Jesus would know what a $20 bill looks like.  His time was so long ago and he is from a completely different country.  

This person also assumes that I am even a believer in God, Jesus and Heaven.

Never assume anything about anyone.....

Seriously

Now, I am not admitting whether I am a believer or not.  If you truly know me and know what I am all about, you would already know the answer to this.

Also, if this person who wrote the letter to me was a true Christian, would this be a very christian thing to do?

Take a moment to think about that for a second.

This person who wrote the letter seems to be very interested in what I post, say or do.  They don't "unfriend" me or tell me that I suck and admit who they are. 

They hide behind the curtain of anonymity thinking that this will show me a thing or two.  I am assuming (I know, I shouldn't assume but I am anyway) that this is the same person that sent me the other anonymous letter back in April. 

This person is still a coward.  This person is probably the most unchristian, unhuman, unkind person I know (or not know).

If this person's goal was to hurt me, they failed.

You see, if anyone is making it all about me, it is this anonymous person.

By the way.....The police now have the letter.

This Year's Christmas Letter

Usually this time of year I think about what to write about in my Christmas letter.

I am one of those old school people who send cards with letters in them with actual postage stamps and everything.

I often think my letters are boring.  Well, except that one year when I told everyone that my son was an European soccer star and my 8 year old daughter ran off to marry the prince of some unknown country.  Yes, I actually did write all that since it was amusing and it wasn't the standard "everyone is just great" letter.

This year has been a bad one as far as years go.

I lost my home.  I lost my job.  I lost a battle with the health insurance company and my surgery was denied.

Sometimes I have half a mind to write all of that in the letter.  Family and friends have no idea what kind of crap happens over here.

I always think that the new year will be different, better some how.  It just never seems to get any better.

Oh well...

Maybe I will just write a poem:

Jingle Bells, Santa smells...
This year kinda sucked
Hoping next year is better.

:-)

Anonymity is a Voice of Cowards

Today was a trying day to say the least.

I have been having weird issues with headaches, dizzy spells, metal taste in my mouth, losing hair and abdominal pain.  I saw the doctor today to rule out some things but nothing really got ruled out.  I just have to see a different doctor on May 9th.  I won't say too much about what is going on since I don't have the answers yet.

I can deal with it.  Even though I am worried, I can deal with it.

She did discover that I have a sinus infection...still.  I thought it was cleared up but apparently is it really good at trickery.  So I have some huge horse pills to take.

Isn't that great?

So let's get to the point of this blog entry....

I come home from the doctor to find a letter in my mailbox.  There was no return address and no signature on the letter.

The letter is anonymous.

It goes on to tell me that I need to make the decision to be happy. Apparently, I am not happy and this person gathers this from whatever I post on facebook.

Yeah, facebook drama....

I hate facebook but then again I can't turn away from it.  Isn't that weird.  I suppose that many people have this issue.

Moving on...

the writer of this letter also tells me to move on and to get over it.  I guess I am angry all the time too.  

hrrmmm

The writer of the letter talks about my mother and what she did to me. (look up narcissistic mothers and the damage that they do...just look).  I'm not letting that go, not yet.  My therapist said that it is ok for me to be angry about it.  I am allowed to be pissed off and bitter and have negative feelings.  There is some serious damage done and I am NOT letting that go.  If that bothers you, then too bad.  Too fucking bad....

I guess the writer says that I am passing this anger on to my children.  Um, I don't think so.  I have done a lot of work to not be the kind of mother I had.  I allow them to follow their dreams and do what they love.  I support them emotionally.  I tell them every day that I love them.  And if that is passing my anger on to them, then so what.

The writer also used the phrase "be happy" so many times, I wanted to vomit.  Choose to be happy, just be happy, in fact....be happy were the last two words on the letter.  Really?  Just be happy?  Is that all it takes?  This person must be on some sort of medication or doesn't really understand depression.  

If I don't make the choice to be happy then I guess I prefer to live my life in misery.  Yep, that is what it says.  Sounds like this person doesn't know diddly about me at all.  

Also, the writer stated that my mother, me and my daughter are angry, bitter, drama queens.  

Pfft....whatever.....

Oh and the very best part....wait for it.....

Wait

For

It

The writer says that I suck the good, the positive, and the happiness out of people because of my choices.

Yep....that right there just pissed me off.

So many people enjoy my company.  They enjoy my conversation and my humor.  I have an ability to take whatever stressful situation and put a funny spin on it.  The doctor's office today was a great example.  I can make my broken ovaries a very funny discussion.

If anything sucks, it has been numerous people and what they have done to me.  I have been taken advantage of so many times.  I guess that has been my choice in the past.  I chose these people to be around and they sucked me out of my happiness.  So, I no longer really talk to those people anymore.

The letter goes on the say that my father and my exes help me out and I have a nice place to live and blah blah fucking blah....and I should be grateful for it.  I am grateful, really.  All three of them really caused a lot of hurt in the past and I got over it and moved on.  I forgave the cheater, the pansy and the leaver (I won't say who is who, just that all three of them left me and left me wounded.)  I am grateful for my ability to forgive and my ability to ask for help.  I am grateful that I can look past the past hurts and allow these three people to be a part of my life.

How's that for being grateful?

Therapy has been a very positive choice that I have made.

I have become so much stronger.  I have realized that I am entitled to be angry and pissed off.  I allowed to have feelings.  I am also able to look in the mirror and see what a beautiful person I am despite all the negativity I have dealt with.

Apparently, what I write on the interwebs is always up for criticism.  I never minded that.  I don't really ever give two shits what anyone thinks.  I am who I am.  I am not here to impress anyone.  I never cared about stuff like that.  If you don't like me or what I say, that isn't my problem...it's yours.


This person could have sent me a nice card.  Maybe something to cheer me up, you know, a card with puppies or kittens on it.  They could have told me how pretty I am or how wonderful my kids are.  Hell, they could have not bothered to send anything at all and kept their freaking stupid opinions to themselves.  Now there's an idea.

So whoever wrote this letter and took the time to mail it, is a fucking coward.  This person think they know me and all my crosses, all my hurts, all my smiles, all my thoughts and feelings.

They don't.

They suck at anonymity.  

I know exactly who they are; a cruel, ugly, mean, horrible, stupid, heartless, little person.

and that made me happy to write that.  :-)

Dear Mom...

Dear Mom,

I think this is the very first letter that I have ever written you.  Kind of strange but I have never really moved so far away to where I couldn't just pick up the phone and call you.  This time circumstances are very different.  You are the one who is very far away and I don't believe there are any phones where you are.

I have always been a big letter writer.  Well, you knew that already since you had to put stamps and addresses on every letter I wrote until I was old enough to do it myself.

We scattered your ashes in your favorite fishing spot.  It was the very first time that I was ever there.  It is quite amazingly beautiful and quiet.  You should be at peace there.  It was hard to do.  It is hard to say good bye to someone that I have known my whole entire life.

Mom, I haven't really mourned your death yet.  It has been almost 11 months and I have not allowed myself to cry or mourn.  It is weird.  I think that if I really stopped to do it, I may never stop.  It doesn't mean that I don't think of you.  I think of you every day.  I think of what you are missing.  I think of the cancer that took you away.  I think about how sometimes I wish I could just call you.

Maybe I am mourning you.  I don't know.  I never had a mom die before.

I am thankful that I did get to talk to you the morning on the day you died.  I am thankful that I got to tell you that I loved you one last time and I am also thankful that I got to hear that you loved me too.  That was most important since I couldn't be there when you left.  

I went through all the cards that people sent us expressing their sympathy.  It is strange to look at them now and think that they offered their sympathy then but now we (your family) still hurt and miss you.  

I also went through the slides that I got from you.  It is so strange to look at them now and remember what it was like to be a child and looking at you younger than I am now.  They are good memories.  Thank you for giving me the slides.

I know that I am angry.  I am angry at the cancer that took you.  I am angry at you for not going to the doctor sooner.  I am angry at the cigarettes.  I am angry that there wasn't more time.  I am angry that you will miss life events.  I am just still angry.

I wish I could write more and tell you everything but I am crying now. (I guess I am mourning, eh?)

I miss you so much.

Love,

Me

My mom

Mom's final resting place

Mom's ashes being scattered