Mea culpa

Perhaps an apology is in order.  Nah, who am I kidding?  Only me.  I guess when it comes down to it this blog merely represents what so many of you already know...the only thing I am guilty of is, well, being stupid.  Perhaps it is stupid using a public blog as a form of journal writing.  What I dislike about journals and the need this blog satisfies, is feedback.  Good or bad, I like the feedback.  I like the feedback I get in therapy, which so many of you goodhearted people agree I need.  It helps to focus and deal with some genuine issues in my life.  Like the instantaneous buyer's remorse I had the first day I took over the new house  and saw the walls torn asunder.  My God, what did Carol Channing and I get into...what was I doing buying a house?  Turns out it was all good, thanks to the blessings of St. Carol of Channing.  Losing a therapist to a horrific car accident.  Let's face it, many people in therapy worry constantly what they would do if a trusted long term therapist was lost in a moment.  That is a real anxiety.  There was real depression when 2.0 said she was retiring...another loss.  I may be all that Jack thought I was but I am sincere in my feelings.  When the SoulSucker turned her back on Sophie and me after thirty "frickin'" years, it had nothing to do with car rides.  No, the decision to break off communication lay squarely on their shoulders.  SoulSucker played both ends against the middle, saying one thing to Sophie, something else to me and when she was found to be duplicitous she cut her losses and ran.  The person that thought they might have been the Soulsucker who effectively cut themselves off from me, perhaps at the behest of the spouse.  Whatever it was, I was tired of being the one to always call and not get called in return.  Friendships are reciprocal and where there is no reciprocity there is no relationship worth having.

The fact that I don't drive (by choice...I am even a bad passenger) yes, made me vulnerable to cries that I was using people for rides and when none were forthcoming I got mad.  Not quite the truth.  Phyllis took me, no questions asked, to my Aunt Martha's funeral, even though on the day of the funeral she was suffering the effects of salmonella.  She is a true friend and still is.  I had lost the last of the Aunties, the last of the Taylor side of the family.  A true ending on many levels. .
When my dad died suddenly in 2004, effectively making me an orphan at the ripe old age of 49, The Soulsucker took charge when I was deep in grief.  Organized field trips to Detroit to close the house up.  Everyone who went was offered items to have from the house, from furniture to musical instruments, artwork, sterling silver, crystal vases and so on. If you liked something and wanted it...yours, no questions asked, no money exchanging hands. Also everyone who helped was offered a trip to a destination of their choice as thanks.  I took three people to Europe with me...I would have taken Sophie to Ireland had she wanted to get on a plane instead of waiting for the bridge to be finished. Another person was offered a trip to Thailand.  I take my friendships and obligations seriously.  Jack may not be aware of this or may have forgotten.

Okay.  By my own hand I have cut myself off from some people.  Some Jack mentioned by name (which I never did)...The person I used to love and live with who decided they believed more in serial monogamy with others than me...cut off.  The person who lied to Sophie and to me, cut off (blessedly as it turns off...this person is a racist of the worse sort and hypercritical of Sophie and me for being crude.  Her nascent Antisemitism was so ingrained that she thought it was a compliment to tell me she had "Jewed" the price down).  The crazies at the condominium complex who turned the building into a virtual dorm, cut off.  All mentioned by name by Jack.  The person who warned me of fallout from the blog, cut off years ago for inappropriate behavior insofar as they were unable to distinguish me from them. Someone who, perhaps, was so enamored of themselves that they could not understand why so many people, not just me, were cutting them out of their lives.

And so it goes another day is over and done.  Perhaps is is as Queen Gertrude once said "The lady doth protest too much, methinks".  Mayhap I does but this is the ending of a very long week with a number of idiocies on my part. Jack has been smote and I love a good smiting.  Maybe I should take this opportunity to gloat at the outcome, the redactions.  Rather I chose to lay out some truths for you to ponder.  I am not quite the cold hearted beastie, just me.  

"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."